I'm on a writing streak right now, so this is either going to be a long chapter or I'll have a couple of smaller chapters over the next couple of days. Please review if you like/don't like.
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or anything related. Obviously.
I slipped into the bedroom, where Mark was asleep again. He looked a little better, the expression on his face reminiscent of a small child; so innocent and content. If only it were true. He stirred a little bit, opening his eyes enough to see me and wake up.
"You're back." He yawned.
"You're alive." I said back.
He gave a small chuckle, trying not to cough in the process.
"You okay?" I asked. Dumb question, but I didn't know what else to say.
"I should ask you the same thing, your eyes are all red."
I shook my head; he didn't need to worry about me. Not now, not ever again.
"Where did you go?" Mark asked. I could tell he just wanted to hear me talk.
"No where, just walked for a while." I lied softly.
He lay back against the pillows again, eyelids drooping shut.
"You went to the cemetery, didn't you?" he questioned, eyes still shut.
I sighed. "Yeah."
"Come on, sit with me."
I hesitated; I didn't want him to waste his already waning energy comforting me.
"Please." He pouted, turning his lip out.
I took off my jacket and my shoes before perching on the edge of the bed, springs groaning under the extra weight.
"All the way up here, I'm cold." He motioned at me then patted the space next to him.
I shook my head, returning my feet to the cold hardwood floor.
"Please Roger." He asked again, blue eyes pleading.
Those eyes. Bright, clear blue. Tempting, taunting eyes. I could write entire albums worth of songs paying tribute to those baby blues and nothing would compare.
What am I saying? They're Mark's eyes. My best friend's eyes. My very sick best friend's eyes.
I crawled up the deteriorating mattress until I was right next to Mark, I could feel his bones through his fevered skin pushing up against me as he cuddled in. He really was cold. I wrapped my arms around his torso trying to generate some extra heat.
"Thanks." He whispered.
I put my chin on his thin shoulder and he fell back to sleep.
Mark coughed for most of the night, rough body shaking coughs that left him breathless. I held him in between fits, rubbing his back and kissing his sweaty forehead. I remembered doing this for Mimi, and I remembered Collins doing it for Angel before that but this felt different. He tried to push me away every time, not wanting to get me sick too. That was Mark for you, never thinking of himself. He could be laying there dying and with his last breath apologize for the cost of the funeral. Oh wait he was already doing that.
We got maybe three hours of sleep total, which wasn't healthy for anyone but it was literally murder for him. After his first dose of AZT for the day, I knew we had to do something.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?" he croaked back.
"You need to go to a doctor or the hospital or something."
"No." he said as firmly as he could manage.
"I can't take care of you like you need to be taken care of right now by myself. You need a professional."
"We don't have the money." He rasped.
"I don't care! I'll sell my goddamn guitar if it means you live past tomorrow!" I said, trying not to lose my temper. Why couldn't he see that I needed him? I had tears collecting in my eyes, blurring my vision. I couldn't lose him, Mark was all I had left. If he died, it would mean I was next.
"Just to the Clinic. If they can't fix me, forget it." He whispered, seeing my distress.
"Okay." I agreed, knowing full well that if they said he needed to go to the hospital I would carry his skinny ass over my shoulder if I had to.
I helped him put on some warmer clothes, and tie his shoes before wrapping his ever-present striped scarf around his neck. He stumbled the whole way to the door before I put his arm around my neck to support him. Needless to say, it was an adventure getting down the stairs. It made me wonder how he had gotten me home all the times I'd been too drunk or high or both to do it myself.
There was no way I could get him all the way to the clinic like this even though it was only a couple of blocks away. To his horror I dug a crumpled ten from my pocket, and flagged a taxi to get us there while there was daylight.
Our regular clinic was nicer than most. It was clean, relatively well stocked and the staff was always kind. However, it's good reputation made it popular. We waited for at least three hours in a jam-packed waiting room. Mark put his head in my lap and slept for most of it. I barely noticed because he was so light. It scared me.
"Mark Cohen?" a tired looking receptionist called from the desk, after I finished reading my fifth Alternative Press magazine.
I shook Mark awake and guided him into the exam room the nurses pointed us to.
"Hello Mr. Cohen." The doctor said, trying to sound cheerful when we walked in.
Mark lowered himself into a chair, still not fully awake yet.
"What exactly seems to be the problem?" the doctor, whose name tag identified him as Dr. Drake, asked.
Mark opened his mouth to answer, but responded with a choking cough instead. I took that as my cue to answer.
"He's HIV positive, has this ridiculous cough and won't let me take him to the hospital." I said, hoping that was all.
"Thanks." Mark said, temporarily recovered.
"Anything besides the coughing?" The doctor asked, pulling on his stethoscope
"No, I'm just really tired." Mark answered, taking deep breaths.
"Good. Your lungs sound clear. Here are some medication samples that should help for a while, they won't interfere with the AZT so take them both. Get some good food and drink a lot of water or fruit juice if you can get it."
Mark nodded, already making a mental list of what he figured we could afford.
"Just get some rest, but go right to the hospital if you get any worse."
"Thank you." I said shaking his hand as I led Mark out of the room, meds in hand.
I waived down another taxi, using the change from the last one to get us a block away from home. Mark barely made it in the door before his legs gave out. I carried him into bed before calling Collins, I had promised him an update and I needed him to get supplies. I wasn't about to leave Mark home alone again.
"Roger?" Mark asked, looking over at me as I curled back up on his bed.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me that if we don't have the money, you won't keep buying my meds and the extra food."
"No." I said turning towards him so he could look me in the eye.
"I won't take money away from you just so I can die." He said with defiance.
"You're not going to die anytime soon, definitely not before me." I said, trying to convince myself more than anything.
"Just promise me then."
"No way in Hell Mark."
"I'll go get myself run over or jump off the balcony right now, if you don't promise." He pulled out of my grasp and headed for the door.
"Damn it Mark, I promise." I sputtered, exasperated.
"You're lying, but I'm too tired to argue any more." He said, leaning against the doorframe.
"Good. Get your butt back in bed then."
wow my longest chapter yet. let me know if you have any ideas, constructive criticism rocks my world, i won't take offense.