Finally some action here, if you catch my drift. Actual plot coming up soon I swear! In fact, most likely after this chapter, once I decide what to do. review if you have any suggestions/requests/complaints etc
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to RENT. I do however own this story, the plot etc. hey, I have to take some credit.
"Roger?"
I jerked awake. Mark was standing in front of the couch, peering down at me.
"What are you doing up?" I asked, blinking awake.
"I made dinner."
I looked out the window behind him. It was pitch black save for the abundant neon signs and a full moon.
"What time is it?"
He glanced at his watch.
"Eleven thirty."
"I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you…" I said yawning and sitting up.
He laughed, showing a shadow of his old self.
"Roger, there's no way you have the energy for that. I think this is the most active you've been since the last time you got high."
"You always have to remind me what an asshole I've been, don't you?" I said trying to cover my embarrassment with humor.
"It's okay. Come on, you've got to eat something now too."
He handed me a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
"You're eating too right?"
Mark retrieved another bowl, half full, from the kitchen.
"Before you say anything, it's half full because I've been eating it."
"Good boy." I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
We took up opposite ends of the couch, feet facing each other, eating in silence. I finished at least ten minutes before him, but Mark was finally eating again.
"I think you deserve a reward for being such a trooper these past couple of days." I ventured, while we washed the dishes after he had finished.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked innocently.
"What would you like?" I said, ready to give him the world.
He dried his hands on a towel, took mine still dripping and led me past the table out of the kitchen.
"Mark?"
Without a word he pushed me softly onto the couch and straddled my hips. His blue eyes were blazing like the flame of a gas stove.
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
He fused his mouth to mine, running his pale fingers through my hair and down my neck in an unmistakable response. Pulling back he whispered
"Trust me, this is the best reward I could ask for."
I adjusted myself so I could lay down, with Mark still straddling me. He ran his cool fingers under my shirt, feeling, making me want more and more. I peeled his shirt off; slowly, delicately. The weight he had lost was painfully obvious, ribs protruding.
"I don't want to accidentally hurt you." I said, taking his hands in mine.
"You won't" he whispered, leaning down to kiss me.
"I could and you know it." I said pulling back.
"Please Roger. I need this. I need to feel something. I need to know you love me. I'll tell you if it hurts, I promise."
I could hear the desperation in his voice, born of months of rejection and putting everyone else first. I was scared as hell, but I couldn't stop for anything.
I responded by pulling him down on top of me, I hadn't realized how much I needed this too.
We didn't go too far, just exploring, he was still too weak to exert himself for long. I pulled my shirt back on once he drifted off to sleep. Collins showed up ten minutes later, I had to give him points for timing.
"Hey man, how's he doing?" he said gesturing to Mark with his free hand. We were toasting his slow recovery with a customary drink. I was careful not to get too trashed, I needed to stay sober just in case.
"Better, he gets tired pretty easily but the coughing settled down a lot with the medicine we got from the clinic."
"That's good. That's real good." He responded, patting my back.
"Yeah, but I don't know how we're going to afford it once the samples run out. Mark can't possibly go back to work any time soon."
Collins took a sip of his drink, contemplating what to say next.
"Know of any jobs that a burned out rock star can swing?"
"What ever you can find that's not going to get you killed or addicted to something new?" he suggested.
"That's helpful. I bet there's a club out there I used to play that can find me a job."
Collins just shrugged, I could tell what he was thinking. 'If you do something like that, you better not get yourself in the middle of any drug rings, turn into an alcoholic or sleep with everything that breathes. I don't think Mark can handle putting you back together again.'
Did I ever mention that Collins can say a lot with one look?
"Thomas, sometimes I don't think you trust me."
"I trust you, just not that druggie you used to be, that's still gotta be in there somewhere. I'll help you look for a legit job if you're serious."
"Thanks man."
"Hey, what're friends for?" he slurred.
"I think you're drunk, and not fit to leave this loft any time soon. Help me carry Mark to his bed and you can have the couch."
We easily lifted Mark, and somewhat carefully got him into his own bed. I made sure Collins was set on the couch before climbing fully dressed in to my own bed to get a full night's sleep for the first time in ages.