Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
A/N: I'm not too happy with this chapter, but it's more for Marky to realize some stuff. The next one is better. Not only do reviews make me happy, but they also make me update faster. –grins-
Chapter 4
Mark waited until Roger was out of the loft until he called Maureen. Still adamant about paying for his AZT, he headed over to CBGB's to see if Dave would give him his old job back. Dave and Roger had been good friends, but they really hadn't talked since Roger got sick.
He had scrounged up all the money he had hidden in his room. Enough for one prescription of AZT, his share of the rent, and three boxes of Cap'n Crunch. The doctor was right and Roger was wrong. There was no way they could do this on their own. Mark dialed Maureen's number and slumped down in the kitchen chair as the phone rang in his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey Maureen, it's Mark."
"Hey, baby, what's up?"
"Listen, I really hate to ask this, but um, do you think you could lend me some money? It's either food or AZT this month and… I don't want Roger getting any skinnier…"
"No, no, no, it's fine," Maureen said on the other end. "Anytime you need something, just call. Joanne and I are happy to help you two."
"Thanks, I really, really appreciate this," Mark talked into the phone, "I'll be over soon."
"Bye."
Mark arrived at Maureen and Joanne's cozy apartment a half hour later. He looked tiny and scared when Maureen answered the door and welcomed him inside.
"Here, baby," she shoved an envelope into his hand and let him come inside.
"Thanks," he stuffed it in his pocket. He knew there was probably way more than he needed in there, enough for maybe two more months of AZT for him and Roger. "I'll pay you back as-"
"No, don't worry about it," Maureen sat on the couch. "Marky, you look thin. How long have you been sacrificing food for Roger's medicine? You know you can always call."
"Well, we haven't been sacrificing," Mark started, staring at his hands, fighting back the tears. "It's just that now, we need two prescriptions of AZT."
"Aw, baby," she wrapped him in a hug. "I'm so sorry."
Mark leaned into her, wetting her shoulder with his tears. It was right that Maureen was the first person to know – besides Roger. After all, she was the one he and Roger came out to first. "I knew it was coming, it was all a matter of time I guess."
"You know when Joanne finds out she's going to practically become your mother."
"When I find out what?" Joanne entered the apartment, her court case ending early. "Oh, hey Mark."
Mark gave a little wave, lifting himself out of Maureen's grasp.
"Marky just needed a few bucks," Maureen explained, "for food and medicine."
"You okay?" she sat down on his other side. She touched her hand to his forehead, "Do you have a fever? Are you sick?"
"Yes," he replied. "I mean, yes I'm sick, but it's worse than a fever. I got tested a few weeks ago…" he trailed off.
Joanne nodded. "If you need anything, just call here, okay?"
Mark nodded. "I better get home before Roger gets back. He might get worried."
"Bye, baby," Maureen hugged him again, wiping away his tears with her thumb. She gave him a smile and sent him on his way.
Mark walked into the loft to find Roger sitting on the couch with his guitar.
"Where were you?"
"I was at Maureen's," he replied. "I told her and Joanne."
Roger nodded. "Dave wouldn't give me my job back. Said I was too old or some bullshit."
Mark sat next to Roger. "It's okay. I've got us covered for a little while," he patted the envelope in his pocket.
"Where did you get money?" he asked. "You weren't whoring yourself out on the street again, were you?"
"No, Roger, that was you six years ago… for heroin," Mark sighed. "Maureen gave it to me."
"Your mom called," Roger changed the subject. "She left a message," he gestured at the answering machine.
"What did she want?"
He shrugged. "She didn't say, just said to call her. You should really tell her you know."
Mark walked to the phone, but didn't pick it up. "I don't want to talk to her."
"Did you think you could get away with this forever?" Roger stood up, leaving his guitar on the couch. "I don't want to be a secret anymore. If something happens, they're going to be even more pissed because you didn't tell them."
"Do you know how fast they'll come up here and drag me back to Scarsdale?" Mark turned to face him. "They'll make me spend every waking hour in a synagogue getting saved or something."
"Tell them," Roger said, his voice firm. "Or at least update Cindy on your situation."
Mark nodded. He could tell Cindy. She was the only family member that knew about Roger. "Fine. Just Cindy."
"For now."
Mark sighed and nodded. He knew Roger was right, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't even want to accept the fact that he was dying. And if he couldn't, there was no way in hell his parents would.
