This started off as a poem...but I realized that it became much more of a story. I hope someone likes it. THERE WILL EVENTUALLY BE ROGER/MARKCOUPLING! If youdo not like this coupling...do not read. It's my favorite!
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did...well...Roger wouldn't be with Mimi...he would be doing quite...unsavory...things with Marky. So it's clear that I don't own them.
Honest Living
"Hold on a sec Rog, I gotta piss. I'll be right back and I'll listen to your song then."
A common excuse he always uses to get away
I know though that its not just that.
I know what he does to himself.
It's not healthy. Not at all. I know he hurts.
I don't know why though. He won't tell me.
He knows I know, at least I think. I'm not sure.
This isn't right. I feel almost guilty for not stopping him.
How can I stop him from dragging the razor across his flesh though?
It's his life. I can't just tell him to stop the one thing that makes him happy.
Can I? He made me stop the drugs after April. But those were hurting me.
Is this really hurting him?
Yes. Yes. It has to be. It's not healthy. If he keeps it up then he may die.
He promised me he'd always be here. He can't leave me, he can't.
I have to help him, have to make him happy. I love him too much to let him hurt.
So the decision made. I walk over to the door. And prepare to open it up.
He's going to start being honest with me again. He's going to live honestly again.
He's going to be happy. Even if I have to hold him down until he talks to me.
I'm not letting him do this to himself anymore.
I prepare myself.
And I throw open the door- not only to the bathroom but to helping Mark.
Last week I wanted just to disappear
"What the hell are you doing Roger! Get the fuck out!"
"Sorry Marky, I can't. And I think it's you who should be telling me what you're doing."
I motioned to his arm. Which was now bleeding. And the razor in his hand. Covered in blood.
His blood.
"I umm...Rog, I umm...oh god. No...NO YOU CAN'T SEE THIS YOU CAN'T KNOW."
I was certainly shocked. This wasn't Mark. This wasn't my Marky.
"Mark...Marky...please put that down and come here. I want to clean that."
Mark had never looked so torn in his life. He looked angry, sad, but so happy and innocent at the same time. He dropped the razor and almost collapsed. I walked over to him all the while whispering that it was okay. That he was okay. That it would all be okay. He looked ready to cry when I walked him to the sink and washed and bandaged his cuts. I picked him up an carried him into my room. I know he likes it in there. He says it makes him feel better to be in there on nights when I stay out too late. As soon as we sat down on my bed and he realized where we were he started to cry. "Roger, Rog, I'm sorry. So sorry. I can't help it. I'm sorry Rog. Don't hate me. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me. Oh god you probably hate me. I need to go. I'm sorry I'll leave." I immediately hold on to him tighter and assure him that no I don't hate him and that he doesn't have to apologize. He just has to be him. And tell me whats so wrong and why he does this to himself. Although not now if he's not ready. He says he's not. He looks so exhausted. So I make him take a nap on my bed. Maybe that'll calm him down. He could use the sleep...he never sleeps. So, I lay him down and go to leave and he grabs my hand and begs me not to leave in his small, broken voice. Well I certainly never could leave him when he asks like that. I lay down beside him and he immediately curls up into me because it makes him feel better I guess. I don't mind. Soon he's sleeping and as I'm watching him sleep, I realize that sleep is the only peace he ever gets and he doesn't get it much. I'm gonna have to make him start sleeping more. Hopefully with me.
Hope you liked it. There will be more than this eventually. Please review if you liked it or have any helpful suggestions! Please! Thanks!