A/N: After all the criticism I received on the last few chapters, I realized I need to step it up a bit! Believe me...got a LOT of criticism. I wrote the first half of this chapter in my room before I saw the reviews, so I might leave it as is or change it. Not sure yet. Don't want to change it too much because, hello, it wouldn't be me anymore, but I might just add more detail or any of the other things mentioned.
Disclaimer: Don't own. REALLY wish I did, though...
Three Weeks Later
"Roger, wake up!" Mark shoved the man so hard that Roger almost fell off the bed.
With a grunt, Roger answered. "Too early..."
"Work, Rog. You have-to go-to work!" With every emphasis, he pulled one of the musician's legs, trying as hard as he could to get him out of the bed. Nothing prevailed.
Two weeks ago, Roger had gotten the call to come in for a job interview. Liking what they saw, a week after that, they called Roger in for an audition. Roger played one of the Well Hungarian's songs, 'Melting Plastic'. To Mark's surprise, the band's manager was instantly impressed and gave the job to Roger on the spot. Roger ran home, kissing Mark profusely and immediately began to practice the chords.
Yet no matter what Mark saw, he wasn't convinced that Roger could live as a working man, even if it was in the music business.
"Mark, just fucking trust me on this! I know I can do it!" Roger was grinning and Mark knew that he had faith in himself.
Why couldn't he have faith too?
"Okay...I believe you."
"Roger I swear, if you aren't up in three..."
"Ugh..."
"Two."
"..."
"One." With that, Mark placed a tape recorder next to Roger's ear on the bed and pressed play.
Roger, this is your mother speaking!
Roger jumped out of the bed, yelping almost.
If you don't get out of that bed, I swear, I will come over there and make you get out myself!
Roger looked up at Mark, sweating almost and wide eyed.
"What the fuck was that!"
Mark smiled slyly. "Your mother called. I told her you got a job and asked her to leave that as a message. I knew this whole, 'rebellious, non-morning person' thing would come up. What, you think I'm stupid?"
"Bastard..."
"Hey," Mark raised his hands in self defense. "You're the one who wanted to be more responsible."
Roger gave a little grunt in agreement before stepping closer to his blonde roommate and now blonde lover. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, lifting his head to look into his eyes.
"But I did it for you." With that, he pulled Mark into a closer embrace and kissed him delicately yet passionately on the lips. Mark returned the passion, running his tongue over Roger's lips before sliding his own tongue into Roger's mouth. Roger moaned, begging for more, but Mark pulled away.
"Us. You did it for us."
Roger shrugged. "But you matter more."
Mark smiled. "Get dressed. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back, with cash preferably."
"You've never been in a band, have you?" Roger eyed Mark suspiciously. "I don't get paid for band practice."
"Eh, you're sexy, you're bound to get a tip from one person or another." Roger grabbed a shirt and went to whip Mark with it before Mark went running from the room, laughing.
---
"Hey guys, this is Roger." The band 'leader' announced before introducing Roger to the others. His name was James, the drummer's name was Jon and the bassist's name was Chris. None of them gave him a real warm welcome, leading Roger to believe that they'd been through several guitarists in the past.
What'll become of me?
James explained to him what the usual routine was. They go out, they play, they get tips. The Life Café would pay them as well, but that was their own personal cash. Tips were to be split up amongst the members of the band. If it was uneven, they did a rotation as to who the extra would be given to. Tuesday, it would go to Chris, Wednesday, James, Thursday, Jon and Friday, to Roger. Roger decided he liked the teamwork aspect of it all, but still felt a little uncomfortable with the other's staring at him, most likely judging him.
When asking James about it, the brown haired man seemed nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. Nothing against you personally. It'll just take them a while to warm up to you and to what you have to offer."
Roger smiled and nodded hesitantly.
What if I don't have anything to offer?
They practiced a few songs, which Roger liked but deep down, had a desire to change them in some form or another.
They were good, he supposed. They could be better though.
But after making one creative suggestion, Chris asked him if he thought he was better than them and continued to ask what gave him the right to change anything after being in the band for not even a day.
Roger closed his mouth after that and just continued to play, no matter how bad anything sounded to him.
Don't open your mouth, Davis. You lose this job, you might as well say goodbye to Mark.
---
"Good practice guys. Nice job, Roger." James complimented, smiling at the blonde rocker.
"Thanks."
James pulled Roger close to whisper in his ear. "Don't mind Chris. He can be a little bit of an ass from time to time. But he's talented. So we can't afford to lose him."
Roger nodded before packing up his things. Walking out the door with his guitar firmly in his hand, he stopped before exiting completely, seeing something he hadn't seen in a while.
And what he hoped he'd never see again.
Chris looked up at him, needle in his arm. He smiled. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Roger looked to the floor and began to walk off again before Chris spoke. "It's just a little smack. How about it? Wanna shoot up?" Chris slid the needle out of his arm and waved it in front of Roger.
Shit.
"No thanks man, I'm clean now."
Chris laughed. "Pussy."
You're doing this for Mark, no one else.
He left the stage, disregarding everything that happened in the past two minutes.
Mark better love me for this.
A/N: Reviews make me happy...you know what to do. Thanks again to all the reviewers I have, I love you guys immensely. I took a lot of the criticism into consideration and I think it helped me with this chapter. At least I hope it did...