Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.
Author's notes: Thank you all reviewers, you seriously make my week a whole lot better.
Sorry this chapter is kind of short and weird. I had major writer's block. The next chapter, which is also unfortunately the last one, will be better.
Italics are the intro thingy.
January 30th 9:00 PM Eastern Standard Time. We are now viewing Mark and Roger's new apartment. It has walls that are have various stages of peeling paint, and wall paper, and places where the wall isn't even completely wall. It has bare open rafter ceilings that made all sound echo horribly. It has paper thin walls between the rooms. All in all it is just as shitty, if not more so, than the loft that had burned to the ground.
Roger is at his job, but will be home soon having worked an early shift at the bar. He had taken to the afternoon shifts when they had moved. It was easier for everyone. Mark was getting more self sufficient. He has his cane, and if he is careful he can go around. It makes him tired, and he still doesn't like to move much as it is semi-painful and completely tiring. Roger likes to be here when Mark is moving around, so he can watch and help him. Mark tends to move more at night, when he finally gets restless from laying on the couch all day.
Mark got restless early tonight and then he got hungry so he chose to get up knowing that they should still have some food left over from Collins' goodbye feast. Somehow, in the midst of getting food, he has fallen onto the floor, and is now waiting there.
"Mark, where are you?" Roger called out, closing the door to the apartment, tossing his keys, jacket, and a package onto the carton they had placed by the door for such purposes. Glancing around the semi-lit, semi-heated apartment he couldn't see his roommate anywhere. "Mark?"
"I'm…uh…in the kitchen." Mark's voice called out in a strained tone. "I've uh…fallen and I can't exactly…get up."
Roger laughed a little. They had made a few jokes like this when the doctor had mentioned getting an alert system for when Mark was alone. It was one of the few things that had been truly lighthearted lately. "Ha ha." He started further into the apartment to their kitchen.
"No, actually, I'm serious." Mark's voice got progressively louder, even slightly stronger as Roger got closer.
"Shit." This came out when Roger got to where he could see behind the table. To where he could see his friend lying on the ground, next to an overturned bowl, where there was a puddle of milk, and scattered pieces of cereal surrounding the floor. He quickly, knelt down in concern, not noticing how his knee, exposed from the hole in his jeans was now placed in the milk. "What the hell happened?"
Mark rolled his eyes a little. Not that the situation was in any way funny, but he had been lying on the floor in the same position for the past hour and a half, staring at the ceiling, and contemplating how he had gotten there. He had processed the concept and moved on. He thought it would have been sort of obvious to Roger what had happened. "I slipped, fell, and couldn't get back up." His eyes met Roger's. "I thought we had established that."
Roger started helping the filmmaker up, ignoring the sarcasm. "Are you all right?" He leaned over, still supporting Mark, to grab the cane that had been sent over to the other end of the table out of Mark's reach, before handing it over, and bringing the two into a standing position slowly.
"Nothing's damaged that wasn't already."
The musician wanted to say something, about the attitude that somehow reminded him of his own…an attitude from the past. It was an attitude that wasn't angry or bitter, just bordered on the two emotions. It was an attitude that wasn't Mark. Roger wanted to say something, as he watched Mark refuse his help any further and make his way to a seat at the table, but for some reason he couldn't.
So he just said something that he knew he'd be able to get away with given his recent caregiver role…something that wouldn't make Mark retract into the shell he had developed. "Tell them about it at your PT tomorrow. Just to be safe..." He trailed off as he bent back down, picking up the fallen bowl and tossing it into their sink. Roger didn't bother to clean the cereal or milk; he'd get to that later.
The two stayed in the kitchen in a silence. Every time something like this happened, where Mark needed help, things would get awkward. They both hated it, but it happened.
Roger knew it shouldn't be, because he was the only one that Mark would let help him in the first place. It didn't make sense to him, yet it still occurred.
Mark stood. They had been watching each other in the silence, but he ended the notion quickly, as though something more important had come up. He turned to the living room, his cane in hand, and started to hobble there.
"Where are you going?" Roger asked starting to follow.
"I have something for you." Mark answered, continuing the journey around to the other end of the couch.
It was a slow walk for Mark, but Roger, who could still move quickly, saw the case on the floor before Mark even had a chance to try and pick it up. "Where did you get that?" He asked in a dumfounded manner.
Mark turned, a small, sort of childlike smile on his face. "I managed to convince Maureen that she owed me and I had her go out and get it."
"How did you pay for it?" Roger continued his line of questioning, not believing what was in front of him.
The childlike smile turned into a much more mischievous smirk. "I told Benny that the doctor prescribed me some painkillers, and he gave me the money in an attempt at preventing an even bigger lawsuit."
Roger laughed a little at Mark's methods as he knelt down in front of the case, and opened it.
"It's used, and the strings aren't gonna last much longer but…"
"It's great." Roger cut Mark off, letting his fingers glide down the neck of the acoustic guitar that was in front of him. "You shouldn't have..."
"Shhh." Mark cut him off in the same manner. "You're gonna ruin the moment if you keep talking like that." His smile transformed once more, into that of someone who had just made someone else happy, with no thought of themselves. His moods had been a bit of a roller coaster ever since the fire. Not that he would admit it.
Roger just looked over the guitar for a moment more, holding it in his hands, and feeling its weight, but he suddenly placed it back in the case and stood. "I almost forgot…" He trailed off and held up a hand. "Stay here." He turned and hurried back to the door, where he picked up the box he had put there earlier, and brought it over to Mark, placing it in the hand that wasn't holding the head of the cane. "Open it."
He watched in an eager anticipation, as Mark made his way to the couch where he could sit and open the box in his hands. "Where did you get this?" Mark asked.
"A very hard to find store." Roger shook his head a little.
"How did you pay for it?"
Roger gave him a look. "I have a job, remember?"
Mark held the camera, that was almost an exact replica of the one he had once owned. "Thank you." Roger didn't have to respond, he knew, so he didn't. The camera already had a reel of film in it, so Mark started turning it on, winding it, in actions that were second nature to him. "January 30 9: 25 PM Eastern Standard Time. Roger has just…"
"Shhh." Roger cut the narration off. "You're gonna ruin the moment if you keep talking like that."
Mark just laughed a little, and stopped, not really caring that Roger was interfering with his style of film. He was more content to be filming for the first time in a month.
Roger watched for a moment, seeing Mark as truly happy. He couldn't help but think back to his conversation with Collins. This was close enough to be being what he had wanted. "Mark I love you." The second the words were out of his mouth Mark's camera lowered, and he could tell that he had shocked his roommate. He couldn't really say much else. He wanted to elaborate, but he couldn't.
"You…love me." Mark placed the camera down repeating Roger's words. Then he was silent.
"Mark say something." Roger broke the quiet after a minute or two.
But Mark didn't say anything. He did however stand and make his way over to the musician that hadn't moved, balancing as he grabbed Roger's shirt collar pulling him down and putting his lips against his own. He broke the kiss for the briefest of moments. "I love you too." And then he brought him back down, joining their lips once more.
Next chapter will be better, I promise.
Oh, and…since I was having such horrible writer's block, I got help from my friend, closetdramafreak, who came up with the whole, "Fallen and I can't get up bit." Thanks Lion.