Dislcaimer: I do not any characters from/associated with Rent. I do not own anything Rent (besides my soundtracks, etc.). All of it belongs to Jonathan Larson.
Author's Note: Well ... Here's my latest attempt at a fanfiction. I'm really liking it so far, so let's hope to God that I can keep it up. I'm sorry about the lack of a title. Eventually, one will come to me. Until then, though, it remains untitled. Please, read, review, and enjoy.
Just a note:This will, at some point, become a slash (male/male) story of the Mark/Roger kind. Just so it doesn't spring up on you if you weren't expecting it.
Prologue:
It is one of those nights. Roger stares through the darkness at the wall and shifts under his blanket. He cannot sleep. He doesn't know why he cannot sleep, and tonight, like some other nights, he does not allow himself to get frustrated about it. Instead, he allows himself to think.
Roger thinks of a lot of things when he is alone. He thinks about his childhood and what things would be like had his family moved to California when he was seven. He thinks about life before, during, and after his heroine addiction. He analyzes bits and pieces of his past, and he learns to understand life a bit more. Sometimes, Roger thinks of simpler things. Sometimes he thinks about the way the clouds move on a spring day. He thinks about how a light snowfall can make things seem calmer. He thinks about the beauty of a rose, and sometimes he smiles. Tonight, Roger isn't thinking about any of those. Tonight, Roger is thinking about Mark.
The songwriter cannot say why he's thinking of the filmmaker, and he doesn't care to ask. He thinks about everything Mark has done for him, and everything he hasn't done for Mark. He thinks about the way Mark observes things (sometimes he wishes he could observe like Mark) and he wonders. Roger wonders why Mark behaves the way he does. He wonders how Mark is feeling at that very moment, if Mark is sleeping, and what is playing through Mark's mind.
For a moment, Roger considers going to Mark's room just to talk. He pulls back his blanket and sits up. His eyes wander to his clock and he considers, for a fleeting second, that Mark will not be amused about being disturbed at two in the morning. Letting out a yawn, Roger falls back on to his bed. He curls up in his blanket and closes his eyes while his mind wraps itself around the inner complexity of Mark.
--
Mark tosses and turns lightly in his bed. Sleep is not coming to him tonight, and Mark sighs as he admits defeat. He lies on his back and focuses his attention on the ceiling. At that moment, he wishes there was someone next to him.
He does not mind being alone. Mark has spent so much of his life set apart from everything else that solitude comes easily for him. However, he has gone too long without partnership and he feels constant pangs of loneliness. He wants to love and be loved, he wants to hold and be held. He imagines someone curled up next to him. A phantom warmth spreads through the filmmaker, and vanishes as soon as it appeared. An empty hole that sits deep in Mark's soul grows a bit larger.
Mark wonders if he'll ever find love. He wonders if he will be alone forever, always watching others get what he so desperately wants. He tries to swallows his oncoming sorrow. Somewhere, Mark has heard that there is always someone thinking about him. As sleep finally makes its way to him, Mark wonders if this is true.