A/n: I have to be honest, I'm really nervous about posting this, because it is different than the first chapters, it was the hardest to write, and I got very emotionally involved while writing which is weird for me. This is the last chapter, I originally planned to make it four chapters long and I've stuck with that for the sake of the story… I never expected to get such a positive reaction from so many people. I appreciate the reviews more than I could ever express in words, thank you for sticking with me and I hope the last chapter does not disappoint.
"You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend."
-Psalm 88:18
Chapter 4: Without You
"Zoom in on the bed…on Roger… well, I mean…. I guess it's not really Roger anymore… just his body. A dead body. That's all…."
Pale sweaty hand gripping pale sweaty hand.
"I called Joanne and Maureen yesterday, but they weren't there. I left them a message…I think I said, he's dying…and then hung up…"
It hurt to hold on to that hand, nails pressing into skin, bones almost cracking… but it hurt more to let go.
"I've got to stop…blinking so much."
Harsh, wheezing coughs that stifled, that smothered, that
He turned the camera handle, methodically, tilting down to a small bowl of soup on the floor.
I can't eat anymore, Mark. I can't…it takes too much energy. And no way in fucking hell am I going to let you feed me! I'll spit it back in your face! Do you hear me?
Yeah…
You eat it, Mark…
"Zoom in on cold soup…cold…tomato soup. It's red, well no, sort of orange…I guess. But it's cold anyway and wasting away below the man who wasted away…"
Eat the fucking soup Mark.
The camera panned left to discarded film reels, barely hidden under the bed.
Let's watch old film strips, Mark, it'd be fun...it'd be…it'd be something to do. Y'know?
Yeah I know.
His eyes were blurry, not with tears, but with the need to blink.
Rodge, I could…I could move the projector in here… we never had to go out there. You didn't have to prove anything!
Forget it.
It's not a problem…I mean it won't take much to-
I said, forget it.
The camera focused on one of Roger's hands, as though expecting it to move, to twitch back to life. But this wasn't a movie…no happy endings here.
It's not gonna be like in the movies y'know. People in the movies, they die… and in their last breaths they get to make their last confessions, tell the people they care about that they love them and they'll be watching over them. I won't be…able to do that, y'know this is real fucking life.
Yea I know Rodge…I remember with April…with Angel…with Mimi…with Collins. I remember with all of them.
In the movies they make it look so beautiful when people die. They find this peace and this look comes over their face like they're happy…they're happy to be gone, but I can't… I might not… It won't be like that…
I know.
I remember with Mimi, she looked like she was… in so much pain. Her face..she was frowning still. She couldn't talk or even see me anymore through the pain. Just fucking died like that…She died crying …and I can't promise that I won't…
It's okay Rodge…if you cry when you die… it's okay. I'll understand.
A harsh laugh, laced in coughs
Real rockers, like me… don't cry.
He felt weak…on the verge of collapse, but he refused… Not yet. Not here.
Mark stumbled out of the room, setting the camera down, as he made his way to the bathroom. So sick. He flung himself over the toilet, hurling stomach acid into the basin.
Sweating, shaking…convulsing on the bed with sickness. Bile spread across a white pillow case.
I can't do anything I can't do anything I can't do
Dying…he's dying. And oh God so much pain. In those eyes. In his eyes.
Grip on to his sweat drenched arms, be strong for him. Don't cry for him. Detach if you have to but don't fucking cry.
Mark! Please… Mimi…someone please, it hurts! It hurts, fuck…it hurts… I can't see… I can't…
The wheezing coughs stopped the heartbreaking wails of pain.
Hold on to him. Don't let go. Grip on to his hand, so he has something to hold on to… something to push the rest of his strength into holding on to... Give him something!
And the dying man before him was crying… the rocker hadn't cried since Collins' funeral, but he was crying now.
It was the end…
He was crying and weeping, yelling and losing all his strength…and it was his end.
Hold on to his hand, even though it's not holding on to you anymore.
Hold on to something…
Mark pulled off his clothes; the darkness that had just flooded his vision did not discourage him from taking a shower. Disgusting… he felt so disgusting. Like he'd never get the smell of death off of him, the smell of Roger…
Roger? Roger, wake up. I need you…I can't do this. Roger…please, please wake up…wake up! Open your stupid eyes, your fucking stupid green eyes and tell me to fuck off tell me I need to accept that in a week you'll be dead, but not now! Not now! Roger! Roger!
He turned the hot water up so high it was burning his skin, turning it red. His legs lost their strength and he collapsed in the tub…scolding water spraying his back, steam rising around him.
Oh God… oh God…
Hours later he stumbled away from the hand, away from the body, and went for the camera, his only remaining friend.
Oh God…
Blue eyes focused on the water flowing down the drain, but he couldn't stop the memories from flooding back into his head.
Hey Mark when I… y'know...go, you're not gonna go all fuckin hermit on the world are you?
What?
Like stay in the loft and not leave for…months?
Oh like you did?
Fuck you.
…
Okay...yea, like I did. You're not gonna do that are you?
No I guess…not.
Well what are you gonna do?
I dunno…I try not to think about it.
Don't do that either.
Don't do what?
Y'know…not think about it. Detach. It's not good for you.
Thank you, Mr. Run-away.
I'm trying to be serious, Mark.
Well there's a first time for everything.
…
Ow!
Aw, poor Marky did the pillow kick your ass too hard.
Fuck you.
But really, Mark…don't detach. I mean it….
What am I supposed to do?
Face it. Y'know…like the nightmares. Face it.
I don't know if I'll be able to do that…
Yes you will… eventually.
Yea, maybe when I know I'm going to die soon…
The water was freezing… from fire to ice in five minutes. Or maybe he'd been lying there longer… The shower spit sharp icicles on his back, his shivers had progressed to convulsions on the tub floor, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
He heard screaming in the other room.
Maureen had found Roger…
He hadn't even heard her come into the loft…
Maureen asked about you and me once… asked if we'd ever been gay together or if our relationship was strictly platonic…
Hah, typical Maureen. What'd ya tell her?
I told her that we weren't gay together…but we weren't really platonic either…I don't know…I couldn't really describe it…
The bathroom door was flung open. Another scream, as warm hands turned off the water and warm hands grabbed his freezing skin, wrapping him in a towel. Mutters of being sorry, not getting the phone call till a couple hours ago…
Nah, I know what you mean… I mean best friends, lovers, room mates… they all seem too fucking stereotypical...too boxed up. Like labels, y'know…that's not us at all.
Yea…words are highly over rated.
Roger smiled, Yea…they really fucking are.
"Mark, are you okay?"
Joanne? His eyes strained to see through the fog the steam had created on his glasses. Two blurry figures were standing over him…next to him?
Oh screw this shit…
Mark trembled in the warm blankets that were tossed over him, and he felt heavy, "I think I'm gonna sleep now…"
Stupid eyes
What?
Your eyes…I hate them. They're all blue and they give all your fucking emotions away.
So?
Soooo, they make me feel guilty when I'm mean to you.
Poor baby.
Shuddup.
…I hate your eyes too.
Really?
Yea..they're all green. And they show when you're really hurting or scared or-
Hey! I'm Roger 'sex god' Davis. I fear nothing.
Hah, that's a laugh.
Yea, I know I get scared sometimes too.
No I meant the sex god part.
I should kick your ass for saying that…but I'm a merciful sex god. I pardon you.
"Shh…Mark, it's okay. Everything's fine…Everything will be okay."
And he knew that everything was not okay, but he didn't want to say it. He couldn't bring himself to formulate those words.
If he could die now…he'd be happy.
If he could die now…
I get scared sometimes … scared of what'll happen to me after you're…
Yea, Mark, I know… that scares me too.