Noise.
Music? No. An earful of delight? No. Rock and roll? No. It's a pure chaotic mess of noise. Roger's drummer has been sick for two weeks. Before that his bassist was sick for one week, and before that Roger was sick for three weeks. And they're using the loft as rehearsal space, for the first time in over a month. How quaint.
Mark's head is pounding, and for once he isn't even filming.
The phone rings. Just what I need. Mark thinks, grimacing in anticipation of his mother's piercing voice and incessant nagging to stream from his answering machine and add to the throbbing in his brain. He hears his own voice, as well as Roger's, droning "Speeeaaaaak."
And then… was that hospital? Okay, he definitely heard the word severe. "Stop. STOP! Everybody stop playing your fucking instruments!" Mark growls, frantically picking up the phone as he fights to catch his breath. His heart is pounding in his chest and his face is flushed. "Yes, this is Mark Cohen." As he continues to speak into the phone, his speech becomes more staggered, harder to get out. "Yes. Oh…oh, okay. Yea, yea…I, I'll be there. I…yea, th – thanks."
As Mark hangs up the phone he appears lost. He looks up and the entire band is staring at him in anticipation, waiting for him to speak, to explain. "I…" He says, at a loss for words. He looks confused, as if he can't comprehend what is happening. "…Hospital…Anna…yea…"
Roger looks horrified. "What happened?"
"I don't know." Mark says, hazily. He blinks a few times. Then, he walks to his room to get something, comes out, mechanically puts on his coat and scarf, and leaves. All the while the loft is completely silent save for the light pitter of Mark's movements. The change in mood is somewhat insane.
Mark sits in a chair at Anna's side, the fingers of one hand laced with hers. With the other hand he strokes her hair gently. Her head is turned towards him, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. Hers are calm and beautiful. His are bloodshot and wet.
"How can you be so calm?" He asks, his voice hushed but slightly angry. He's not sure whom he's angry with, though. Is it Anna for being so damn serene at such a heartbreaking moment? Is it himself for not giving her enough in the time he's had? Is it the god he doesn't believe in for doing this to her? It might even be Roger, for being so goddamn irresistible and forcing Mark's subconscious to focus less on Anna than he should. And maybe, just maybe, it's all four.
Anna shrugs, as much as she can lying in a hospital bed with various tubes connected to her body. When she speaks, its clear that it's taking a lot out of her. "It's just that I've accepted it. There's no use being upset over the inevitable. You'll drive yourself crazy, Mark."
Mark looks at her, hard. He can hardly believe what she's saying. "You expect me to not be upset?"
"I…I don't know. I guess I'm glad that you are. It's…comforting."
His tone lightens, and gentle tears begin to flow down his cheeks causing fresh streaks over the almost dry stains. "You're silly. Of course I'm upset. I love you."
"I know. But…please try to calm down. I want you to be you. I mean…I'm dying, Marky."
"Don't say that."
"Why not? It's true. I don't understand why it's not okay to talk about it. You want me to not think about it? If I don't think about it then we won't say goodbye. Is that what you want?"
"No. No, I just… it's morbid. It's…it's too sad." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm not ready to think about it."
"We don't have enough time for you to not be ready to think about it."
"I don't understand. There has to be something they can do. You were so healthy…you're so young. You're young and beautiful and perfect and I need you."
"There's nothing. A year ago, they could have done everything. I could be normal. But nobody paid enough attention then. It's over with. And I don't have much time."
"But it's not fair!" Mark cries out in anger, slamming his fist into the mattress. The dull pat is causes leaves him unsatisfied and he takes both hands and digs his fingers into the underside of the bed until his veins pop out.
"Mark, calm down." He doesn't respond, doesn't move, doesn't even look up. "Mark. Mark? Mark!" Each time Anna says his name it's with growing intensity. Finally with her now free hand she takes a finger and pulls his chin up lightly with it, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Marky, dear. You need to calm down. I know it's quick. I know it's a lot to handle, and I know it's not fair. But sweety," She smiles slightly, trying to lighten the mood, "That's life."
Mark allows himself to smile back at Anna, taking comfort in her lightheartedness, as he always has. He leans in to kiss her gently. She allows him to deepen the kiss, but he can tell by her response that she's very weak. It breaks his heart. When she pulls away to break the kiss, she looks weary.
"Mark, we have to talk." She seems sad. There's something she needs to say, but she's not particularly excited about it.
"What is it, sweety?" Mark asks gently, stroking her cheek.
"This is hard for me to say, because I want to be selfish. I want to know that I'm you're only one, and that you love me more than life itself."
"You are." He kisses her on the cheek. "I do."
"I need you to listen to me, okay?" Anna pauses, waiting for Mark to nod. She sighs heavily before continuing. "You should be with him, when I'm gone."
His brow furrows. "I…what?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Marky. Not now. I've ignored it for so long because I love you and I'm selfish and you mean the world to me. But Roger is in love with you, and you're in love with him. You should be together. Just, don't forget about me, okay?" She starts to break now, the tears welling in her eyes. Mark can't do much but stare at her and take in what she's saying as she continues. "It's funny. I always pictured this differently. Roger was supposed to go first. He's supposed to be the one in this bed."
"Anna, I…"
"It's okay, Mark. I just…" Full on sobbing begins, and Mark pulls her close to him, not quite caring at this moment if his shirt gets ruined. It's an awkward position to hold someone in, with him in a sitting position and her lying down, but somehow it works. "I can't be selfish in this. I wish that I could, because I want so very much to be your only one, but I also need you to be happy. Your life has to go on without me, and I know that. And you should be happy. I can't tell you how many times I thought of leaving – of letting you be with him. I thought that you would be together for a couple of years, and then Roger would die, and you and I could be together and there would be nothing in our way anymore." Through her tears she laughs a bit, sounding slightly insane. "Is that crazy?"
Mark pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. "Anna, I–"
"I know. That was a horrible thing to say." She says, averting his eyes.
"Well, yes. But it's okay. Just look at me." He squeezes her hand gently to get her attention, then holds it affectionately as their eyes meet. She's taking deep breaths now, calming down. "Okay, I'm not going to deny that what you said is true. I owe that to you. But I also need you to know that even if I do love Roger, it doesn't change the fact that I love you. I really do love you." He pauses to watch her reaction. He has to make sure she believes him. "I… I have a ring."
"A ring?"
"Yea…I…" He pulls the modest ring box out of his pocket and opens it. "I was going to propose. Next Thursday."
Anna's face brightens. "Oh," she lets out, shocked. "That kind of ring." Then she gets a pained expression and the tears begin to well up again. "It's really pretty." She says, the heightened emotion evident in her voice.
Mark smiles sadly. "I thought you would like it."
"Do you think…" she begins, softly. "You think I could wear it? I want to wear it. Let me be the future Mrs. Mark Cohen, if only for a short while." The words are hard to get out as subtle tears flow down her cheeks. Mark nods, enthusiastic but slow, and slips the ring onto her finger. "But don't let them bury me with it, okay? When I die, you should take it back."
"But why? I thought – "
"You need the money. You should return it."
"No, it's ok. I want you to have it."
"No, Mark. It's no use to me in the ground. Promise me you'll get the money back."
"Are you sure?"
"Yea." She smiles at him and he knows she means it.
"I love you so much." He says, and kisses her on the cheek.
Anna died early the next morning. Mark had spent the night filming her, immortalizing her last few moments of life, and the few hours in which she was his fiancée. It's a piece of film he keeps to himself. He watches it often, but he will never show a soul.
Mark carefully finds his way into the loft around seven AM, doing everything in his power to make as little noise as possible, only to find Roger sitting at the kitchen table wide awake. Mark is clearly distraught, with his flushed face, bloodshot eyes, and fresh trails of water down his cheeks, but he's not as bad as he thought he would be. He'd gotten most of his tears and frustrations out during the night, when she had still been alive.
"What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep." Roger looks up at Mark to see his sad, disheveled best friend, and puts a hand on Mark's arm to show he's there for emotional support. "How is she?"
"She's gone." He says it simply. He can hardly believe something so monumental can be conveyed with such a small, simplex sentence.
"Oh god, Mark." Is all Roger can say as he stands and pulls Mark into the tightest embrace Mark has ever experienced. Mark buries his face in Roger's neck as the hot tears begin to pour from him, and he just can't believe he has so many tears left inside of him. "This sucks." Roger says, as his own tears begin to fall. And it's such a Roger thing to say. Blunt and inappropriate. But at that moment Mark is just so grateful that it is Roger saying it, and that Roger is here for him, that it actually brings comfort to him.
After their tears subside a little, and the death grip they hold on each other loosens, Mark pries himself from Roger softly and gives him a long, hard glance.
"What?" Roger asks, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his beautiful filmmaker.
"I just have to know. Is it true, what Anna said –"
"She told you?" Roger asks. His face has fallen, and suddenly he is staring at his feet.
"She only did because –"
"That's why you've been avoiding my touch and crap? It creeps you out, I knew it."
"Do you remember that kiss?"
"How could I forget it? It was incredible. It's all I've thought about for the past six months."
"Me too." Mark admits, feeling ashamed and blushing furiously.
"Wait. Does that mean…"
"Yes."
"But what about…"
"I loved her. A part of me always will. She took a piece of me with her. But she told me to be with you. She wants me to be happy. Her dying wish was basically for us to be together. That, and for me to get the money back for the ring. She was so fucking selfless. That's crazy, right? On her deathbed she tells the love of her life to be with the love of his life when she's gone? What is that? How can someone be so fucking selfless in death? It should have been her moment, not mine."
"Calm down, Marky." Roger pulls Mark back into an embrace, this time it is less tight, but more soothing. He rubs little circles on Mark's back. "It's going to be alright."
"Don't call me Marky!" Mark snaps. "That was her thing."
"I…I'm sorry." Roger is somewhat startled by this sudden change in tone.
"No, no. I'm sorry. I…don't know where that came from." Mark settles back into Roger's arms, and Roger resumes rubbing light circles on Mark's back, trying to soothe him. As Mark relaxes into him, Roger tentatively begins to kiss his neck, and when he receives no protest he moves to make their lips meet, but Mark turns away. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"But I thought –"
"I know. I just can't right now. I want to be with you, Roger, but give me time, okay? I promise we'll be together, just not today. Not on the day she died."
And Roger can accept that – can understand that. "Okay." Roger says nodding his head in comprehension. He can wait a few days if it means spending the rest of his life with Mark. Because if Mark really feels the way he says he does, Roger knows that what he and Mark have will be beautiful. Mark makes Roger feel alive. Roger has never loved anyone or anything more in his life. "I can wait." He says, and they hold each other like that for most of the rest of the day.
It is the first time of many they will hold each other like that. It the only time Mark will refuse Roger's kiss. And it is truly the start of something extraordinary. Something beautiful. It isn't always perfect. Roger fucks things up and Mark holds things in, and at times agreeing on things can be such a difficult task. But it's the little imperfections that make their love strong; that make them appreciate each other that much more. So no, it isn't always perfect. But if you ask Mark and Roger, they'd kindly disagree.