Touch and Tell Lullaby
Chapter II: All Through the Night
Roger doesn't mean for it to become a habit, but it does.
"It's easier than listening to you whine all night," he tells Mark, even though Mark never really asks. He doesn't seem to mind when Roger crawls in bed with him. As soon as Roger has his arms around the other boy, Mark stops kicking at the sheets and can actually sleep without hurting himself. Roger feels better with a body pressed against his, and after a few minutes of listening to Mark's even breathes he drifts off as well.
There's nothing wrong with it, Roger reasons. He just can't sleep with all the screams and flailing go on across the loft, and it's easier not to think about Mimi when he has something to hold onto. It's a friendship thing, that's all. There is nothing weird or queer about it.
After a while neither boy even thinks about it. Mark waits up for Roger, and Roger doesn't stay up all night so that Mark won't be alone in bed. It's just two best friends being there for each other, and Roger is pretty sure Mark knows that, too. He can't be sure, because neither of them talk about it, just like Roger never talks about Mark's nightmares and Mark never talks about the way Roger will sneak down in the middle of the day to mope in Mimi's apartment. There are just some things not worth talking about.
Mark apparently doesn't think so.
He's already under the covers when Roger gets done trying to sort out the last few chords of Mimi's song. If Roger didn't know better he'd think Mark is a sleep, but there is no kicking or whimper, which is a dead give away.
He pulls off his shirt and slides under the covers. Mark remains completely still with his back towards Roger.
"You okay?" Roger asks. He settles down on the mattress and reaches for Mark, wrapping his arms around his friend's small waist, because that's what they do every night. Mark is supposed to move back into Roger, and then they both fall asleep and not think about what they're doing. This is how it's worked for about a month now, and Roger doesn't see any reason for that to change.
Mark stays completely still when Roger's arms go around him.
He says, "I'm fine," before turning around to look at Roger. Roger lets him go, not sure what's meant to happen at this point. This isn't the pattern they'd worked out.
Mark is biting at his lip. "What are you doing?"
Roger would like to think he has no idea what Mark is talking about. "What do you mean?"
Mark opens his mouth, but cuts himself off with a long sigh. He shakes his head and says, "Never mind."
Roger assumes this is the end of them trying to talk and goes to pull Mark closer to him again.
Mark shrugs him off. "I'm too hot," he says, rolling over to the other side of the bed with his back towards Roger.
It's November and the loft's heating is complete shit. Roger says, "You'll have nightmares." He doesn't mean for it to sound so much like a threat.
When Mark doesn't say anything, Roger gets out of bed and stomps off to his own room. Let Mark kick and scream all night if that is what he wants, Roger figures. It's not like he needs Mark to get to sleep. Roger had just been playing the part of a good friend. Mark is the one who had to go and get girly about the whole thing.
Roger flops down on his bed and waits for the one-sided struggled in the next room to start. Like clock work, Mark gets his nightmares and there is no one there to save him.
Roger doesn't sleep at all that night.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Mimi fits in Roger's arms.
They mostly stay at Mimi's place, and Roger knows this worries Mark. Every time he stops by the loft Mark is there to hover over his shoulder and make sure nothing is wrong. Roger hates it. He tells Mark to piss off a few times, but just like some sort of utterly obsessive dog, Mark stays loyal to his cause. The worse part is that Roger knows why he's doing it, and that makes him hate Mark all the more for his over protective mother routine.
He tries to comfort Mark with words like, "I think Mimi's getting better," and "She's hasn't been using for two weeks now." Hints that Roger is doing fine, that he pulled through this and so would Mimi. Even if not everything he tells Mark is true, it's true enough. He isn't going to loose Mimi again, he promises. Not like he lost April.
That's why it's easier to stay in Mimi's apartment, where he can watch over her like Mark insists on watching over him.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Mimi leaves Roger in the middle of the night.
She doesn't think Roger knows, or maybe she just doesn't care if he notices or not so long as he never brings it up. Roger never does, because if he tries they'll end up in another one of their fights, like the one that sent him to Santa Fe, and he doesn't want that. So he stays silent even when these midnight trips away get longer and longer. He wakes up after Mimi's side of the bed has cooled off and spends the rest of the night tossing and turning until he hears the door creek open and Mimi sneaks back into his arms, smelling of smoke and liquor and dark street corners.
Roger's not an idiot. He knows where Mimi goes at night, but he almost lost her once because of some stupid argument. That keeps him quiet.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
After a month of sleepless nights, Roger feels ready to explode. He's never been the most patient guy, but his temper is starting to get out of control and everything gets under his skin. It doesn't take Mark long to figure out something is wrong.
"What's with you?" Mark asks after Roger goes off on Maureen for - as far as the others can tell - being too upbeat. Maureen had tried to give Roger a speech, something she'd thought was dramatic and would work well with her character no doubt, but Joanne had the sense to drag her girlfriend away before Roger blow up. Not before she told Mark to make sure to call her later and maybe they could meet up for lunch?
This little display had not helped to calm Roger down. If Mark needed to talk to someone, he would talk to Roger and not his ex-girlfriend's latest keeper. As if Mark didn't already have a perfectly suitable best friend.
"Nothing." Roger sits down on the old couch they'd dug up from the dumpsters three years ago that had gone from pinkish-yellow to green-and-brown in their care. The loose springs dig into his back and he nearly rips the couch apart for it. "It's just... How did you ever stand her, Mark?" Mark gives Roger a weary look, trying to figure out what he can do to defuse the situation. Roger doesn't care if his friend thinks he's going crazy. He's spent a month up in bed worrying, and it feels good to be able to yell at something. "I mean, she has to be the most ridiculous girl on the face of the planet. God knows she's wants the part, with all that fake laughing and..." Roger pulls at his hair, hiding his face in his hands and trying to clear out some space in his mind.
"You know how Maureen gets," Mark says after he realizes the yelling has stopped for the time being.
"Yeah. Annoying." Roger gets off the couch and heads towards the kitchen, wanting something to wake him out of this state of insomnia, or maybe just take his mind of it for a while. Mark follows.
"Look, if there is something wrong between you and Mimi-" Mark is cut off when Roger turns on his heels and nearly knocks Mark backwards.
"There's nothing wrong," Roger growls.
Mark puts his hands up in surrender. "I just thought you might want to talk about it," he says, again left to try and calm Roger down before he did something he'd regret. Roger has done nothing but things he's regretted for the past three years. It doesn't seem like now would be a time to stop.
"No," Roger shouts. "You thought you might want to talk about it, Mark. What is it you want? You want to play martyr again, first with me and then with Mimi?" Roger doesn't mean to say the things he does, but they're spilling out of his mouth and he doesn't have a choice. Mimi's got her drugs and doesn't need Roger. Not like Roger needed Mark and it's unfair. Unfair that Mimi doesn't want to change and doesn't want Roger to help her while Roger was forced to change and clung to Mark the entire time. He's Roger. He shouldn't need anyone.
"It's not like that!" Mark says. His face is twisted and hurt. "I... I just thought you might need someone to talk to, that's all."
"Well I don't," Roger spits. "All you want to do is talk, Mark, but that never gets you anywhere. Scripts and narratives didn't help Mimi the first time around and they aren't going to save her now. Why can't you get that through your head? Why can't you just leave it alone? Stop pretending you care. Stop pretending that all this drama is anything but camera feed for you, Mark."
It takes a lot to make Mark shout, but some how Roger always manages to bring it out in him. "If that's what you want, fine!" He yells, pulling on his coat and grabbing his camera hard enough that his fingers look dead white against the black handle. "You say I don't care? If I didn't care you think I would stick around through the smack and the withdraw and all your other problems? If anything I-" Mark trails off, chewing on his lower lip while his words sink in. "If all you wanted to do was leave me and wait for Mimi self destruct why didn't you just stay in Santa Fe?"
Roger leaves wondering what hurt more: Mark's words or Roger's fist in his friend's face.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
That night when Mimi leaves, Roger does too.
He can't stand the idea of waiting up all night in that little apartment filled with trinkets and reminders of her and where she's going. He thinks he'll go crazy if he has to spend one more night up there. Without thinking about earlier and without thinking at all Roger climbs out of bed and stalks back to the loft. He needs to get away.
His room is filthy. It's always filthy, but having been abandoned for nearly two months it looks even worse than usual. It's all scraps of paper with half written chords and dust. It's all empty and cold. Roger can't stand it. He picks up the closest thing he can find, a bottle of beer that's half empty and weeks old, and throws it against the wall.
There is a loud crash as glass and stale beer fly around the room. It feels good.
In less than a minute the room is completely trashed.
Anything that Roger can pick up off the ground gets shredded and shattered against the concrete walls of the apartment. He's not at all picky about what it is: his radio, his magazines, his amps. Anything and everything has to be just as broken as him.
Mark gets there just as Roger is picking up his guitar. "What the hell?" Mark asks, eyes wide and clouded with sleep as he takes in Roger's room. When it registers what is going on he lunges for Roger, wrapping his hands around the guitar right as Roger tries to swing it against the wall.
"Roger," Mark grunts when Roger pulls at the Fender, growling and demanding that Mark let go. Mark doesn't. "Roger, stop it!"
"Fuck you!" Roger drops the guitar, backing far enough away that there is space between Mark and the wall. He kicks at his bed, hard enough that the room echos with the sound of his bones crunching. If he can't tear up his room he wants to tear up himself.
Mark is careful to put the guitar in a corner far away from Roger's violent actions and hidden in the shadows. He keeps it safe like he keeps Roger safe. "Rog..." He starts, but isn't sure what to say. Talking things out had never been a part of their friendship. Yelling and punching and ignoring, this he could do, but talking it out was so much harder and Roger would never have listened to him even if Mark could find the words.
Mark slides his arms around Roger's back and lowers him into bed. Roger refuses to meet his eyes, staring at Mark's sleep shirt while he's tucked in. It's the one with that stupid cartoon figure on the front and has enough holes in it that it can't be any warmer than sleeping shirtless. Without thinking Roger lifts a hand to one of the large holes right bellow the collar.
Mark moves a little closer. Close enough that Roger's hand is trapped between their bodies and the two of them are nearly snuggling. It reminds Roger of when him and Mimi sleep together, before she gets up to leave him. It doesn't feel weird that him and Mark would sleep like this.
Mark says, "I have nightmares when you're not here."
Roger snorts. "You always have nightmares."
"Not always." Mark wiggles around until his face is pressed against Roger's chest and Roger can move his arms from between them and wrap them around Mark's waist. This doesn't feel weird, either. It feels comfortable and warm, and it doesn't take long for Roger's body to remind him how he hasn't been sleeping, how exhausted he is, and how Mark isn't going to leave him in the night.
The thought barely flickers in the background of Roger's mind before he's drifting to sleep.
He doesn't wake up until mid-afternoon the next day, and Mark is still cuddled against him.