Author's Note: Here it is. The end of this fanfiction. I made it! All with the help of you wonderful readers and reviewers! Over 100 reviews. I can't believe it. This was great, guys. I hope you enjoy this. :)
CHAPTER TWELVE: Undiscovered
What you need you'll receive
Never be the same.
-- Undiscovered
A couple of weeks go by slowly, and to much dismay it is moving on to one month. It is an unspoken, mutual agreement. Mark and Roger haven't had the chance to make it spoken. They only communicate through Collins (not by choice – by default). Hopefully, Mark will return to the loft soon.
--
The first week was a bit rough for Roger. He cannot stand being alone, no matter how much it may not seem that way. It makes him think too much. Thinking makes him panic. Roger has always depended on someone. Independence doesn't work well with him. So, without Mark there, Roger was fretful and in complete disarray, unsure of what to do and what would happen. Out of desperation, Roger called up his old band mates. They all met up at a bar to catch up, and, before long, they were discussing practice times and possible gigs. Roger went home immediately after that and started working on new songs.
By now, Roger and the other have practiced frequently. Their first gig is the following evening, and Roger is making sure that everybody knows about it. He's determined to pester them all into going. More importantly, though, he's been bombarding Collins with phone calls. Maybe Mark will get the news about the gig and show up. That is what Roger is hoping for, at any rate.
He sits by the window, his guitar resting in his hands. Roger watches one of the first spring showers soak New York City, and the people down on the street who have no where to go to escape the rain. He pushes open the window slightly. A sudden cold wisp of wind hits him instantly, chilling his body. The sound of the rain fills his ears, and he looks up to the dark sky with a questioning face. Roger hopes a thunderstorm is coming soon. He loves the beauty in the chaos. Mark doesn't like thunderstorms. They make him nervous.
Roger closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, breathing in the cool, crisp air. If Mark is at the gig, then Roger knows he will beg for his return to the loft. All of this being away from each stuff is getting out of hand, Roger figures. And, how is he supposed to know if he's gotten better if Mark is never around? A small sigh escapes Roger when he opens his eyes. He closed the window, picks up his guitar, and walks to his room. He's got a long day ahead of him.
--
Just as Roger figured, the next day is busy. He is up earlier than usual, out of excitement and nerves. The first thing he does is take a shower. It relaxes him. Plus, he wants to look good for his first show in forever. He gets dressed, eats a quick breakfast, and picks up the phone. As he calls up the club to double check the time of the show, Roger makes a mental note to talk to the guys about getting some sort of a manager. They have always split the responsibility of booking gigs and doing everything a manager does, and Roger wonders if that's what led them to their break-up in the first place. He scribbles down all the information he gets from the phone call, and then phones up his friends, leaving more messages for them all. This way, Roger knows that they can't use the excuse about not knowing when and were they were supposed to go.
Next, Roger phones up the other band members. He gives them all reminders to bring everything they need to their practice that day, because to hell if he's going to let anything go wrong. He hangs up the phone at long last, grabs his guitar and amp, and double checks for any problems. Satisfied with his search, Roger grabs his jacket and key, and leaves.
The band spends the day practicing non-stop. They use this time ironing out all the bumps and creases, bouncing suggestions off one another like they've never done before. They all know where they stand as musicians and where they want to go, and, for right now, at least, little problems like a messed up chord don't send them all into a fit. It is only when they all agree that everything is as good as it can get that they move all they're things to the club and then go take a couple hours off to hype themselves up.
--
The energy at the club that night is at an all time high. Roger paces on the spot, shaking with the anticipation of returning to something he loves so much. He rolls his neck a bit, stretches and shakes his arms, getting rid of any tension that may be hiding inside of him. There is no room on a stage for tension. He gives his band mates a nod, and once they're in front of a crowd and playing again, each one of them forgets everything. Well, almost everything.
While Roger sings familiar words into the microphone, his eyes scan the crowd for his friends. One by one, he sees them all, and it's like reaching a high off of heroin. The only person he cannot find, is Mark.
Almost right on cue, Mark slips into the club, breathing heavily. He had been sleeping, and thank God he had woken up or else he would've missed the show completely. He moves away from the door, and stands by the bar, watching Roger do what he does best. He sees Roger's eyes roam the crowd before him. To all those people there, it just looks like Roger is trying to make a connection to them. Mark knows better. He moves to a spot in the club where Roger is bound to see him, and waits.
Sure enough, it's only seconds before Roger sees Mark and their eyes connect. A large grin breaks out on to Roger's face, and Mark grins back, even waves a little. He feels a slight bubbling in his stomach, knowing immediately what it is. It is the rebirth of a friendship, and the start of something undiscovered.
Author's Note: Don't be angry about where this is left off. There is a sequel! As soon as I get the Civilian songs, I'll start writing it. Thank you all again. You've made this story a treat to write. I'd love to hear your final thoughts. :many hugs: