Authors Note: Oh my gosh! I couldn't believe how many great reviews I received from you all. It definitely motivated me to get this out faster for you and I hope you enjoy what I've produced. Thank you! Once again, Rent doesn't belong to me, I'm just using it for fun! This will definitely start to pick up more Mark/Roger in the next chapter, if anyone is curious. Enjoy!
Chapter 2 – Verbal & Pillow Fights (Mark's POV)
As I slowly open my eyes I feel warm. Warm? I adjust my eyes to the sunlight pouring into the bedroom and see that I am indeed still in the loft. Then I look over and it hits me like a ton of bricks. Roger slept in my bed last night and that's why it's so warm. Back that up… Roger slept in my bed last night? He claimed my bedroom was warmer, but I don't know if I believe him. I wrap the blankets around my body even tighter, trying to keep the warm air trapped within the covers of the bed.
I feel him twist in his sleep and I hope he's not up yet. I need some time to think. Last night wasn't exactly ideal. Yes, we're going to try and get things back to normal, but how normal can they be now? I mean, Roger working, opening up to me, talking about his feelings, all things that are definitely not in the dictionary under 'normal'. Everything seems still very messed up.
He turns over again and I hear him let out a small moan. I sincerely hope he's not waking up because it's going to be rather awkward. Things will definitely not be normal. I turn to look at him and notice his eyes are open. Great…
"Morning Mark," he seems to say, barely audible, but with the close proximity of our faces, I was able to hear it perfectly. He rubs his hands over his face and pulls his blankets closer to him.
"Uh… morning, Roger," I reply.
He seems to becoming more awake and with that he gets this sly smile across his face. "You are totally weirded out, aren't you? You woke up this morning and freaked out? Am I right?"
"No…." I start, but can't resist his smile, "Yes…"
"You look like a deer in the headlights," he replies, turning over while laughing at me.
"Hey, no I don't!" I protest.
He turns back over and pulls himself a bit closer to me. "Yes, yes you do. So stop freaking out. Think of it this way, we both got a good night's sleep and were actually warm for once in this frozen icebox."
"Yeah, I couldn't believe how warm I was when I woke up this morning, I really don't want to get out of bed," I reply, finally relaxing in our quite strained situation.
"Then don't. Or better yet, go grab your camera and we'll film a day of you and me in bed doing nothing!"
"As tempting as that sounds…." I start, but soon enough I'm cut of by him, pulling the blankets over our heads.
"Come on Mark, it'll be fun. I don't have to work today and I know you don't, it can be like our day to relax. Please…." he whines to me and starts with his pouty face. I had to give into him and his argument was quite convincing.
"Alright," I resigned, however as soon as I said it, I could hear my stomach making a large noise signaling to me it wanted to be fed. Roger looks at me with this disappointing look upon his face and I knew at that exact moment we were about to go from happy times to not so happy times.
"Mark, honestly, when was the last time you had a real meal, I mean, last night you ran out on me instead of eating," he asks me.
I try not to look at him in the eyes, to see his disappointment, but I figure I better answer him or he's going to get angry. But I'm assuming his answer is going to make him angry as well. Well, might as well just get it out there. "A real meal? Uh, well… it's been awhile. I mostly eat something little every other day or so…"
I wait for the wrath of Roger to fall down on me, closing my eyes waiting for him to scream at me. But it doesn't come, so I cautiously open my eyes to see what he's doing.
"You afraid I'm going to hurt you or something?" he asks, with a funny expression on his face. In the back of my mind, that's exactly what I was thinking he was going to do.
"Well… that or yell really loudly," I reply, cautiously.
"I thought about it… I am really angry… but I figured that's not going to solve the problem. So let's take a break from our day in bed and go shopping!" he says with excitement in his voice that is unheard of for Roger Davis. Once again, I'm a bit scared by this.
"Okay…" is all I can get out without sounding extremely terrified.
"Don't sound so unsure, Mark, it'll be fun. And your stomach will stop making those horrible noises."
They were getting to be a little out of control, but I couldn't admit that to him. I guess I no longer had any say in this conversation, because the next thing I knew he was pulling the blankets off of the bed and the cold over took me faster than I could imagine. I wrap my arms around my body as fast as I could, but the warmth seemed to float away. Roger had grabbed one of the blankets as he tore them off and wrapped it around himself. Kind of him to think of me, wasn't it? I quickly jumped to the heap of blankets and grabbed one to wrap back around me.
"Now, we can't stay here all day, so let's get ready to go," he so kindly informs me.
"It's so cold, Roger, I don't want to go out," I pout, with my best pouty face. I'm trying to get back at him for pulling off the blankets, trying to act all sad. I think its working.
"How about I go make you some tea while you get ready and then we can go?" he asks me, almost trying to offer a peace settlement. Of course my eyes perk up at that suggestion, as he takes it as a yes and moves into the kitchen to begin making my tea. The amusing part is that I know Roger has no idea how to do it. So, I watch him as he moves about in the kitchen, quite confused, until I can tell he's getting frustrated.
"Need some help?" I ask him, addressing him from the doorway, blanket and all.
"Uh…. well… when you make it… it seems so easy!" he seems to get out.
"That's because I've done it a billion times. Don't worry about it, let's just get ready and go, we can stop somewhere and you can buy me tea," giving him a weak smile as I finish the sentence.
"Yeah, that would be good," he replies, putting away the mess he had seemed to make in the short time.
Thirty minutes later we're walking down the aisles at the nearest market, scanning the aisles for nourishment. Of course I grab Captain Crunch and he picks out some new tea for me. We continue down the aisles until we find enough food that will last a considerable amount of time. We stop in the junk food aisle, which normally is an off limits area when shopping, considering we never have any money for it.
"Let's get some fun food for once," Roger remarks.
"Now that's just foolish, you should save your money for other stuff," I reply to his absurd remark.
"Mark, if we are going to lie around in bed all day, we have to have some fun," he says, pleading with me as he goes to grab a bag of popcorn. I grab his hand away from the bag and turn him to face me.
"Roger, I swear, if one kernel ends up crushed between the blankets on my bed, you are a dead man," I tell him, finally lightening up a little.
"Don't worry, I'm already a dead man, so I'll put kernels wherever I like!" he says, trying to play off his sickness, but it hits me hard. I just bow my head and keep walking away from the cart of food we've collected. He doesn't notice for a moment, but as soon as he does, he drags the cart up to me as fast as he could go. "Mark, what now?" he asks, almost with a hint of anger in his voice.
"You know I don't like when you joke about that," I say, quietly, almost hoping that he doesn't hear me emphasize that. But I can tell he has because he grabs my shoulder and turns me around.
"Mark, I'm sick! I'm dying!" his voice getting louder with every word. He knows I hate when he yells at me, so he uses it against me. "It doesn't matter now, okay? I decided that I'm not going to dwell on it anymore. What's the use anyway? Let's have fun today and worry about that tomorrow." He concludes by getting softer and more sincere. I know he's being serious for once about his health and I can't help but love him for that. I mean… love him in the entirely brotherly sense… right?
What am I thinking? I am thinking entirely too much right now. "Okay, yeah…." is my response to his expressive narrative and we walk in silence up to the register. I stand back from him as he places the items onto the counter and pays for them, considering my ever increasing thoughts on the matter that is Roger. I don't know what has happened to him. After Mimi died, he was depressed for months. I was so worried he was going to commit suicide and I would be left alone. Alone to die wondering what would have happened if things had been different. But now… Roger wants to change things for once and it's scaring me. I can't help it. All these emotions are hard to handle and I feel like the weak one for once.
We walk out of the market as the cold engulfs us with her presence. I wrap my scarf a bit tighter, hoping to keep my neck warm. Neither of us says anything and I know things are weird again. Damn. I knew we couldn't last like that for any considerable amount of time. It's not us at all. What do I do now?
I grab his upper arm with the free hand and pull him to face me. "I'm sorry I don't like when you talk about it. I'm not ready for you to go yet and I'm not ready to face the reality that you won't be with me forever." As honest as it was, it was one of the most painful things I have ever said to him about his disease.
He stares at me and I don't know how to read him. I never know how to read him. I don't know if he just doesn't know how to act now that we've decided to open up to one another like this or if he just doesn't know how to respond to what I've said. I wonder if he's ever thought about it from my point of view. Someone who will watch his closest friends die and he can't do a single thing about it. Someone who will live to be old and only have memories left of the people who changed his life. Doesn't he wonder why I film so much? How else will I be able to remember everything?
I watch as he places his bags down on the ground and grabs me into a hug. It was definitely not what I was expecting, but I welcomed it openly. He seems to pull me closer and closer and finally after a minute or so, pulls away. He picks up the bags and we continue walking down the street. It's all back to normal, right?
We arrive back at the loft and put everything quickly. We played it almost like a game, throwing food back and forth to one another as we put it away. It helped keep us warm, since our heating condition had not improved since we left earlier. As soon as we finish, I turn around to grab my camera and as soon as I turn back he's gone. I scan the apartment and can't see him anywhere, so I slowly make my way back to my room. Of course, I find him grabbing all the blankets and wrapping himself as tight as he can go. I turn on my camera and film this interesting side of Roger.
"As we focus on Roger, who has developed a new infatuation with my blankets and bedroom, we scan around the loft, noticing that it's quite frigid in here. Hence, our plan to spend the entire day, well, after our visit to the store, in bed, and be warm, and do nothing. So, here begins the documentary of the hilarity that is to ensure…" I conclude, placing the camera on the table by my bed. I join Roger, who's already placed himself comfortably in the bed, and grab a handful of blankets and dress myself in them. We both look like bums, if I say so myself, and start to laugh at the way we look.
He frees his right hand and grabs something from behind him. He pulls it around and shoves it into my face while exclaiming, "We've got snacks!"
I pull the bag out of my face and open it, grabbing a handful and passing it back to him. We continue this mantra for a couple minutes, enjoying the food and each other's company. After the bag is over half gone, Roger places it over on the table; we'll save it for later. He lies down, blankets still wrapped tightly around him, making him like a mummy. I mirror his actions and we end up messing up the blankets so we can share them all again. That's when I feel it again, the feeling of warmth, of happiness. It's the same feeling I woke up with.
"What should we do now?" I ask him.
"Grab your camera," he replies. I grab the machine, rather quickly before I notice him forcing the blankets over my head. We're engulfed in layers of cotton and the area we inhabit becomes very small. The temperature rises incredibly and I barely can get control over the camera. As soon as I turn it on, he grabs it from my hands and I don't have the chance to fight with him about it.
"We focus on our dear friend the filmmaker, as he is attacked by thousands of fibers in our little castle we have constructed." After his little narrative, he begins to make quite odd noises… they sound like… a dragon? I think?
I start laughing uncontrollably and try to ask him, "What… what are you doing?"
He continues to pretend to spit fire and make loud noises and I can't stop laughing. He uses my camera to film his quite sporadic actions and I know that this will go down in history as possibly the funniest thing I've ever gotten on film. And maybe even the most random thing I've ever gotten on film, which is saying something. After awhile, he calms down and puts the camera back on the table. Our laughter calms down as we remain underneath the layers of blankets. We both end up lying face up, unable to see each other any more, just feeling our breathing through the layers.
After a couple of minutes just lying in silence, Roger moves the blankets aside so he could see my face. I turn my own face to meet his and am greeted by a bright smile. I haven't seen him this happy in awhile and it's a nice change for once. I wish I could know what exactly happened to make him this way, but I know if he wanted to tell me, he would. I have a feeling he will. But I will wait patiently until then and enjoy his happy mood as a reminder. I feel him grab my hand and this feeling, tingling feeling, runs up and down my spine. A feeling I haven't felt… well, now that I think about it, in an extremely long time. He takes my hand in his and just stares at it for a length of time before he says anything. I had no words to say, so I just waited until he had the courage to tell me what he needed to say.
He squeezes my hand tight before he begins. I know he's being serious. "Mark… I know you. I know in your brain you've been thinking constantly about what's been up with me. I see you acting surprised that I'm being so foolishly happy. I know you're confused and wonder what has caused this change with me. I want to tell you… but I'm not ready yet. Something has happened to me and I can't describe it to you yet. I'm still taking control over it. So, until I understand, I just ask you to wait. That's all I need from you."
"Whenever you are ready, I'll be here," I tell him.
"I know, you're always here for me," he softly replies.
He squeezes my hand one last time before he lets go. What could all this possibly mean? The possibilities are endless. I guess it's futile to try and interpret his vagueness, but I know in the back of my brain I've already begun. I try to shut it off, but I can't. I just can't anymore.
He sits up so that he's out from underneath the blankets. I join him quickly and hope that the uncomfortable feeling in the air passes quickly. I suppose our grand plan to sit in bed all day wasn't such a good one considering we would run out of things to do rather quickly. Then all we'd have is words and neither of us is very good at that, so it's best we try to avoid it as much as possible.
The air clears as I watch him grab his guitar from beside the bed. I hadn't even seen him bring it in here; then again, I didn't even see him come in here. He easily could have grabbed it on his way. He starts strumming a few notes and humming a small tune. I grab my camera and place it so that I'm just getting the view of the strings and his gentle fingers as they strum the instrument. It's beautiful… watching him and the music that comes as a product.
He continues for awhile and I realize that I've stopped filming and am just observing him. He notices it as well, as he pauses from his playing to look at me back. We just stay like that for what seems like an eternity, until he breaks the silence.
"Do I have something funny on my face?" he asks, obviously going for the comic route. Thank God… I don't know if I could honestly respond to what I was doing.
"No, just the usual funniness," I inform him, smiling as we finally break our gaze.
"Alright Cohen, I've had enough of your debauchery, it's time for payback," he informs me, placing his guitar down beside the bed. Out of the blue, I feel a pillow connecting with my face and I'm thrown backwards onto the bed. My camera falls to my side and I try grabbing it to put on the table. I am successful in my attempt to save my dear camera and grab my pillow as I come back up. I place it in front of my face, creating a barrier between me and Roger, waiting for his next attack.
"What, too afraid now?" I hear him ask from behind the pillow.
I drop my pillow down and smile at him, "Seriously Roger, are you going insane?"
"I certainly hope not!" he replies, with a even greater smile upon his face.
"Because you are acting like you are… 12!" I inform him and his response is sticking out his tongue. Wow, I can't believe him. I am seriously in stun mode right now. I pull the covers off and stand up out of the bed. He looks confused and hurt, I think, and stares up at me. As much fun as we were having, I couldn't help but think of the rational side of things. What are we doing? Here we are, two grown men, both acting like we would as teenagers, trying to ignore our problems, which we have hundreds of.
I leave the bedroom and head over to the window. I peer down and watch as the homeless stumble by and as taxis drive quickly down our avenue. Why can't I try and be happy for once? Roger seems to have it figured out somehow, that I personally can't figure out, which is another good topic of discussion. How did he get so happy all of a sudden? Why can't I let him be happy? Why do I have to go and stomp off like this? I know what he's thinking right now: the exact same thing.
Roger and I, sometimes it's like I don't understand why we work together. How we've managed to live together for such a long time and not kill one another in the process. We mesh together so well. It's like fate brought us together to help us find something. We both search for meaning in our work and so far have found it in other ways. Roger, finding his perfect song through Mimi, and I found the reason for my film through Angel and everyone but him. What does that even mean? I don't know anymore. Here I go again, I'm thinking too hard. And about Roger and I, which leads to more trouble. I need to like detoxify my brain and see what happens next.
I'm still glaring out the window when I feel a hand placed on my shoulder. I don't dare turn around because I know exactly what's behind me. He's behind me, he's always there, a presence to be reckoned with. I don't know what he'll say; I don't want to see the hurt look in his eyes anymore. I feel so horrible continuing to hurt him, considering I know the countless times he's hurt me and I know he's done nothing about it. Maybe this is his chance to make up for it. I'm not sure. But I know he's not the only one hurting right now.
"Mark," he says, barely above a whisper, and into my ear. I can't turn around, I can't let him see the tears that are pooling in my eyes. I keep my ground and don't respond to him. "I don't know… I don't know what to say… we were having so much fun, then you turn all melancholy on me the next minute. I… uh… did I do something wrong?"
I just shake my head no in response, avoiding his glare as best as I could. I feel him pull away his hand from my shoulder and step back from me. What else I could I say?
"Mark, we keep having the same fight over and over again. I'm sick of it. What is your problem? Seriously…" he pauses before he continues. "You're moodier than… than… a pregnant woman!"
I smile at his serious remark and finally turn around to face him. He looks angry at me and I don't know what I should do.
"I don't know… I honestly don't," is all I can reply with. It's the truth. I don't know what my problem is.
"Well, until you figure out, that's it. I'm going out," he replies as he walks away from me.
"Roger…" I squeak out as he storms away. He's angry and I know from past experience that I can't stop him when he's angry. "Wait…"
He stops, turns around, and glares at me. "What?"
I kneel down, trying to take everything in. "I'm just… I'm not used to us being like this. I don't know… I guess I wasn't ready for it." The last part comes out quieter than the rest and I don't know if he even heard it.
He drops his hands to his sides and seems to relax a bit. He comes back walking over to me and puts both hands on my shoulders. He stares down for a minute, collecting his thoughts. He looks back up at me and I know maybe, in that instant, things are okay.
"Mark, our lives never stay constant. As much as we try to keep everything in order it seems like there is always something throwing a wrench in things. You can't always expect for bad things to come knocking on our door all the time because good things can happen too. I think… I think I need to explain some things. How about we go get you that tea I promised you earlier and I can tell you about them?" he ends, his voice slightly cracking at the question. The sincerity in his voice is overwhelming and I can't help but want to run away with him.
"Yeah, that's… that's a great idea," I reply.
We both grab our coats, I grab my camera and bag, and we head out the door. I can only hope whatever Roger has to tell me doesn't make me even more riddled with confusing thoughts. I can't even imagine what it is… but I guess I'll find out soon enough.
Thank you again for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!