Disclaimer: RENT and its characters don't belong to me.
Author's notes: Thank you reviewers. I'm not really gonna explain it in the story, but a couple of you were curious as to why Collins said he understood, so I thought I'd explain it here. The way I see it, Collins is the type of guy who tries to see things from every angle, and I was trying to express that Roger wasn't completely alone in being upset about his boyfriend keeping something important from him. It was just to show that Collins could see where he was coming from. And I am so sorry about the delay. I'll try to be quicker.
Roger couldn't keep himself from freaking out. Of all the things he had imagined Mark doing while he was on his way over, catching him about to shoot up was not one of them. So he didn't think when he stormed further into the room, and ripped the needle from Mark's shaking hand.
"Roger?" Mark asked in a sudden surprise, glancing around in an almost confused manner.
Roger didn't respond. He continued to storm through the room, opening a window, emptying the needle of its contents into the street, then tossing the needle out. It wasn't the safest way to get rid of it, but as far as he was concerned anything was better than having the drugs in the loft. He then closed the window and continued over to Mark gripping his arm tightly, and bending down over it examining more closely. He breathed a little sigh of relief when he didn't see any track marks.
Mark jerked his arm back quickly. "Roger what the hell are you doing!"
"What the hell am I doing!" Roger echoed incredulously. "What the hell are you doing!" He started to pace the room. "I can't believe you of all people…You were going to shoot up Mark! You saw what the smack did to me. You know how dangerous it is. How can you even…Shit Mark, I don't believe this."
Roger continued to rant, as Mark reached into his pockets searching until he pulled out an orange bottle. He tried to open it, but his hands were trembling to badly. He didn't really hear all that Roger was saying, because he was too intent on opening the bottle. He knew that Roger was mad, but he couldn't focus on that; he needed something to help calm things down.
"Now what the hell are you trying to take?" Roger turned to see Mark fumbling with the prescription bottle. This too was ripped out of his hands. Roger read the label quickly. "These must be the painkillers Benny was talking about." He muttered underneath his breath, shoving the bottle into his pocket to keep it away from Mark until he could get rid of it properly. He knew what he had to do. "What else are you on?" Mark didn't answer him. "Mark tell me what other shit you're taking." Roger ran his hands angrily through his hair, which was a better option than pressing Mark up against the wall like he wanted to.
Mark put himself further onto the bed, pushing himself closer to the wall. "Just Halcion." He answered quietly.
"Where is it?" Roger asked carefully, trying to maintain his temper. He knew he had to get everything out of the loft first, so Mark couldn't do anything else. "Mark, where is it?" Mark still didn't answer. It took Roger a few deep breaths before he could try talking again. "Mark, if I'm going to help you need to let me get rid of everything."
"You can't." Mark shook his head.
Roger started to pace again. He wasn't about to let his friend off so easily. "I have to Mark, now tell me where you're keeping it!"
"You can't!" Mark started to fumble with the belt around his arm. "You don't understand Roger. I need that stuff!"
Roger heard Mark's voice straining. He was suddenly reminded of what he had once gone through, what he could remember in any case, and he softened a bit. He turned so that he once more was facing Mark, and started to take more notice of the way that Mark was shaking, and the sweat that was starting to cover him. He frowned. It had only been four months and Mark was already bad enough to have serious withdrawal. He sighed a little, and stepped forward so he was kneeling on the bed, starting towards Mark, who was backing away from him a bit, even though it was impossible to go further into the wall. "Mark, relax." He went back to keeping his voice even, and attempting to be soothing. "I just want to help you get that thing off."
Mark allowed his arm to be taken buy Roger, who started to remove the belt, with far more success than he had been having. It occurred to him that maybe this would be a good time to reason with Roger. "Roger, I need that stuff."
"Why Mark?" Roger put the belt aside, and let Mark remove his arm. He wanted an explanation now. The way he remembered, if he didn't get one now, Mark wouldn't be willing to talk until the worst of the withdrawal was over. "Why do you need that stuff?"
Mark leaned his head against the wall not looking at Roger as he started to rub his arm, that was starting to ache, up and down. "I don't know how to explain it. I just do."
"If you can't explain it then you don't need it."
"But I do! I just feel better with them."
"You felt fine when you were seeing that therapist guy. I remember, Mark. Things were great. We'll just get you clean and seeing him again."
"I can't see him again. Just give me those pills and I can be fine."
"Then we'll get you to a different doctor. But I'm not giving you these pills Mark."
"I'm not going back to any doctor."
"Why not? I know that I didn't know at the time or anything but that guy was helping you Mark. You were happier than I had seen you in along time."
"You hated that I was seeing him."
"I hated that I didn't know you were seeing him." Roger corrected. This was one of the realizations he had come to on his trip. "I hated that you didn't think you could tell me about it or whatever when we were getting so close. I couldn't actually hate something that was helping you." He wanted to comment on how he sounded like something out of one of the soap operas that Maureen and April used to watch together, but quickly decided that now wasn't the best time.
"Then give me back my--."
"Those aren't helping you." Roger cut him off knowing the request.
They were silent. Mark wasn't getting anywhere requesting his drugs back somewhat nicely, and Roger wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell his friend/boyfriend next about how everything was going to be fine and they were going to get him clean. He really didn't want to say more soap opera stuff so soon.
"I just didn't know who I could go to." Mark finally broke the silence after a few moments, looking down to his trembling hands. "Everything that was wrong with me seemed so small compared to what you guys have dealt with. I felt like I couldn't just go to you all with my problems."
Roger knew that by you all he meant everyone, but for some reason felt like it was directed more towards him. "You still could have told us you were going to talk to someone."
"You would have wanted to know why. And if you knew why then you would have been as messed up as I was feeling. And we couldn't have two nutcases living together."
"Why couldn't you tell me why?" At this point, Roger was a little nervous to find out, but he had already encountered enough things that he thought he would never have to deal with in this day, that he figured he could handle it.
"I went to therapist because I was really scared about getting the results of my HIV test. And I was getting tested because I realized that we weren't careful when you helped me with my hands."
"Fuck." Roger muttered. "Are you saying that I gave you--."
"No it came back negative. I have to go in for a few more checks to be sure, since it might not show up for awhile, but they're pretty sure I'm negative. But the whole thing scared me. So I went to that guy."
"Oh. Well. Good. That you're negative." Mark didn't answer , but it didn't really matter. Roger was ready with a plan. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to move back here. I'm gonna have Joanne get my stuff from Collins' place because I'm not going to be leaving this loft until you can leave the loft. And you're not leaving the loft until you're clean." He could vaguely remember Mark telling him words like this but it was just a flicker in his mind. "We're gonna get through this Mark." Mark nodded, though very unsurely. "We're gonna get through it Mark."
Instead of answering, Mark clenched his jaw and a fist that he pounded into the wall. "Shit this hurts."
"I know." Roger reached over and grabbed Mark's hands in sympathy. "You should try and get some sleep before it gets any worse."
Mark started to comply, fully intent on staying where he was, in Roger's bed. He stretched out laying his head on the pillow and clutching the other end of it tightly in one hand. "You're gonna stay?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna stay."