Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's. I am most respectfully playing with his characters, that's all.
Mark had been pacing all morning, throwing things around in spurts of hissy fit each time he tried to do anything. He made focusing quite difficult, and Mr. Beckett is not a simple man. "Are you all right, Mark?" Not insane? Nah, I knew he was insane, but he had got bugs under his skin and I knew why.
Mark paused mid-pace to glare at me. Rather than pretend there was nothing wrong, which he usually does, he snapped, "No, I'm not!"
"Well, is there something you'd like to say?" Jeez, this boy's a knacker and a half. He had to be backed into a corner and wheedled before he acknowledged the problem. I was already fairly sick of his tantrum.
"What the hell do you tell him?" he demanded. "It's like you scare him away! Why do you do that?"
I won't pretend that didn't hurt. But Mark needed to calm down before we could have a decent conversation, and the only way I saw was for him to angry himself out. "Who?" I asked.
"Roger! Who else?" Mark strode over to the couch and kicked it, as if to get my attention.
"Hey." I didn't bark at him, but I warned him. I would take a lot of his demented, selfish, angry bullshit, but I was not going to take violence, not from him. He could scream all he wanted. "What do you think, Mark?"
"'What do you think, Mark?'" he mocked. Anyone else, I would've clocked him. "Why do you think I asked? Because I don't know!" He huffed and crossed his arms, looking down at me.
I should not do this. I gave Roger my word. Well, I won't tell him but I won't lie to him, either. "Why do you think Roger leaves, Mark?" I asked, trying to remind him that I was his friend.
"You scare him off." He squirmed uncomfortably under my stare and he un-crossed and re-crossed his arms. Good. I was making him uncomfortable. It is much more difficult to maintain anger when uncomfortable. Discomfort demands analysis. "You don't like him," he accused.
"I like Roger. I think he's good for you. He's a good kid."
"Then why do you--"
"Mark, have you ever seen me do or say anything inappropriate to Roger?"
He hates it when I'm right. "No, I haven't."
I nodded. Damn right he hadn't. I liked the kid, I wasn't lying about that. "Well then why would you say something like that?"
He plopped down on the couch next to me and rubbed his temples, not bothering to answer my question. "Do you think it's me?" He glanced at me. "It's me, isn't it? Oh fuck, I don't know how to date properly..."
Whoops. I forgot: Mark's Jewish. I sighed. "Hey, c'mere." I hugged him. "It's not you. Roger loves you, Mark. And he's just as confused as you are, probably more, he just has his own life that he has to get back to."
Mark liked to say then that he "let" me hug him. Adorably insecure immaturity. He repeated his question, this time not accusing but seeking an answer, "So what do you tell him?"
"I tell him the secrets of the universe," I replied, completely serious.
"Since when have the secrets of the universe been better than sex?" Mark whined.
Better than sex? I knew Mark's jump should not have upset me. After all, he and Roger had taken that step and I knew that, but why was sex Mark's first thought? He shouldn't be dating someone like Roger if-- aww, shit. I'd gone soft on Roger. Hell, I always knew I liked the kid.
"You know, I don't think you're really ready for the Secrets of the Universe," I teased, "but I'll tell you one if you're sure you want to know."
"Well you've piqued my interest, so now you have to tell me."
I cleared the cups off the table, went to the sink and started washing, leaving Mark sitting alone and looking like a kicked puppy. "Relationships," I told him, "are about more than one person. I'm sure Roger loves your cock, Mark, but what he loves more is having someone to lie beside at night. I'm not calling your boy selfish, but he cherishes the fact that he's not alone."
Mark joined me, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. "Well, no shit. I may know very little about relationships, but at least I knew that." He rolled his eyes.
I flicked dishwater at Mark. "You were never this petulant when you were my student," I told him. "Maybe you know it, maybe you don't know how important it is. Especially to someone like Roger."
"Has… has he talked to you about this?"
I shook my head. I wish. But first he'll have to overcome his toxic fear of me. "Mark, I don't really tell him the Secrets of the Universe. Roger doesn't trust me." Which was actually very sad for me, because I liked him very much and he had no idea what he was doing. It's hell for a teacher not to be able to teach, especially, G-d help it but I was (am), an idealist. "We chat, nothing important. Weather. Coffee. Cupcakes."
Mark scoffed. "Right. Cupcakes. Like you two could actually talk about cup--" He stopped and looked at me. "He doesn't trust you? Why?"
"Could you please be a little more paranoid?" I tossed Mark a dishtowel. "Here. You can dry. And yes, we talked about cupcakes. Roger made cupcakes, remember? They're red." And sitting right in front of you.
Mark caught the towel and began drying the dishes. "'Course I remember. They were delicious."
"Well, there you are then. I told him his cupcakes were good. You've known me for years, Mark. Would I lie to you?" I'm joking of course, because the answer is yes. I once taught an entire class session, then turned around and told the class that I'd made up every damn word. Question authority, children. They were self-important Ivy Leaguers who took themselves far too seriously. Now go forth and practice what you've learned today. Go forth. Get out!
The answer comes easy enough, "Yes, you would."
"Exactly." The trick is to know when I'm lying. "Are you okay, Mark?" I asked, serious. "You in the singular and the plural." I do care. But then if he hadn't figured that out yet, he never would.
"Yeah, I'm… we're… fine. I think." He dried the last cup and tossed the dishtowel.
"Mark, you're a grown-up--" unlike Roger! "--so it's your call. You know I'm here if you want to talk."
"Yeah, yeah. I know you're here."
"So do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing wrong!"
Right…
TO BE CONTINUED!
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