This started out as a 'Mark-is-jealous-of-April' story, but turned into something completely different. The characters ran away from me, and this is the result. The italics are flashbacks, and the normal font is what's happening at the present. I know it's confusing, but bear with me. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson totally pwns me. You know I don't own these characters.
First shot Roger. April's beside him. They're laughing. Capture the moment, Mark, engrave it in celluloid forever. Memories in film.
"April!" he heard Roger call. Sobbing. "April, oh god, April, please, no!" A long bang, knees falling hard on porcelain. Mark dropped his camera on the bed. He thought about picking it up, but was glad he didn't. This didn't need to be filmed. Not this.
April smiles, musses up Roger's hair. Roger gives a fake pout and gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek. April blushes and grins, poking his nose affectionately. Mark wishes silently behind his camera. One kiss, one wish, one more memory to save.
Close on Roger, picking up April's body. Her wrists are streaming fresh blood. Mark fights down his dinner, which threatens to come back up. He sees Roger crying. His tears are turning red on the floor. Mark doesn't know what to do. He's frozen in time. Someone hit the pause button.
April says something. This camera doesn't record sound, but you can see her mouth the words. 'I love you, baby.' Jealousy. It rages, green as Roger's sweet eyes. He can't help it. Roger puts his forehead to hers, says the same thing. Mark wants to cry. This isn't fair. He was here longer than April. Why did she get all the love?
"Roger," Mark says, his voice a squeak. But Roger's crying on the floor, crying out April's name, crying so she can hear him and wake up. She's dead. There's a smile on her face. Mark has to turn his eyes to the floor.
...There's a note. Folded once over, placed neatly behind the faucet. Oh god. She planned this.
Mark left his camera on, once. He accidentally left it, and Roger convinced him to just leave it and go to the store with him. Mark didn't know it was still on.
April found it.
Mark finally gets his wits. He calls the hospital, urgently tells them the address for an ambulance. After this, he goes up to Roger. He lightly touches his shoulder, "Roger..."
"Get the fuck away from me," Roger snarls, reacting violently. "Get the fuck away, Mark." If only he knew how much that hurt.
A brand new camera. Mark had gotten it last week. It was a great recording device. And unlike his old camera, it recorded sound.
"Is this on?" A giggle. "Oh, yeah. Stupid me."
"Roger, the medics will be here soon. You need to—"
"I don't need to do shit, Mark!" Mark touched his shoulder again, and Roger practically slapped his hand away. "NO! April! She's still alive, Mark! I know she is!" Roger looked down to his April, and gently brushed the hair from her face. His tears landed onto her cheeks, making it look like she was crying too.
Crying fake tears. Crying Roger's tears.
Her face, in the camera. "Hey there. Hi, Roger, hi, Marky!" A tiny wave, a small giggle. "God, I must sound pretty stupid, huh?" She grinned, sadly. How simple, how beautiful; so much sorrow in one look. One kiss, one wish, one memory to last. "You guys aren't here right now. I can't believe you left your camera, Mark."
April looked at the camera. Stormy gray eyes swirled, empty. "So I'll tell you this now." Hands in her strawberry blond hair, let's get ready to cry for the camera, April.
Mark somehow manages to pull Roger away. "No, Mark! NO!" he screams as Mark pulls him from the bathroom, his feet scraping on the floor, hands reaching for her scarred arms, purple track marks reaching for her heart. "April! APRIL!" Mark doesn't know what to do.
He hugs Roger. Roger sobs, and it racks his skinny form. Sob, sob, sob. Mark tries to hold him steady, but he's overwhelmed by the irony of the situation. The first hug he ever receives from Roger is when his girlfriend kills herself. Mark finds later that he can never wear these clothes again. April's blood is smeared all over them, from Roger.
"Roger, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I'm sorry, baby." She looks like she's going to cry, going to go hysterical on film, but she holds it together. The marks on her arm are a sick plum purple. "I thought the drugs wouldn't hurt us in the long run. They just felt so good." She stares into the camera. Her eyes are calm, emotionless. Her hands tug down her hair slowly, pulling out huge chunks of her hair in the process.
"We have AIDS."
The medics came in, pronounced her dead. Mark would have to tell Roger this later because he was too worked up to hear anything right now. They removed her body, carried her out sleeping in the plastic black coffin. Roger cries himself to sleep moments later, one of the only times he will ever do so in his life. Mark walks to the bathroom after Roger's on the couch, both of their bloody clothes in the trash can.
The walls were painted crimson.
She gave him a grin, tears starting to run down her cheeks. "Must have been one of the needles, you know? Fucking dealer. Gave us unclean needles." She looks down. April's beautiful in a plain kind of way, something you have to look for. But, god, in her sorrow she looked like a goddess. "I'm so sorry, baby. I loved you. So much. You were a gift to me." Her eyes meet the lens again. "You were a gift to me, but I killed you. Please don't hate me."
Green signals life in the natural world. Living, healthy. Gray was more a symbol of death, dying, decay.
Mark looks at the thick blood—is there really that much blood in the human body?—and again, his eyes stray to the perfectly white note in the sea of red. He picks it up. Roger obviously didn't see it; he was too busy focusing on his lover to notice anything else. It's only folded once, written in pencil. Scribbled in pencil, more like.
"We have AIDS." Short and sweet, as April often liked to be.
"Please don't hate me," she repeats, and blows a kiss to the camera. "I love you, Roger. I'm not going to be here when you get back from the store. I'm going, baby. But don't follow me. For god sakes, don't follow me." She looks hard into the camera. "Mark, don't let him follow me. I'd never forgive you." she pauses.
"I know you love him, Mark. I could see it. Whenever we touched, whenever we kissed on camera...Take care of him, Mark. Love him for me." She gives a wistful smile, and blows another kiss. "I'll always love you, Roger. Always and never." A small glance to the top of the camera, the pushing of a button. But she didn't turn off the camera.
Mark comes back into the room to find his camera on. The battery was almost wasted. He looks at it, curious. He looks to Roger, then takes the camera into his room. He has suspicions.
A few minutes after April leaves the camera, you can hear screams coming from the left. Coming from the bathroom.
"Oh god. Oh GOD! Roger! ROGER! Please–ohh jesus, I don't want to die, Roger! I don't want to die without you! ROGER! It hurts!" Loud sobs. "It hurts so much!" Whimpers, then another short scream as she rakes the edge deep into her other arm. "Oh, Roger, please! Come home! Find me! I'm—I'm bleeding everywhere, I-I can't stop it----Roger, Roger, come HOME! PLEASE! Oh dear god, come home before this! I want to see you!"
She says his name weakly before a loud thump is heard.
Mark watches the footage. He's crying, sobbing. He remembers April in that plastic black bag, discarded like everyone else. He'll never show this to Roger.
Never. Better he see the emotionless note than this. He would never be able to handle it.
"I love you, Roger."
He'll try and love Roger as best he can. Hopefully it'll be enough. Mark can only hope.
"I'm not going to be here when you get back from the store."
However, Mark promises himself that he will always be here for Roger. As he gently brushes Roger's hair from his face, wipes his tear-stained cheeks, he promises he will always be here when Roger returns from the store.
"I'll always love you, Roger." Always.
-fin.