-1My respects to Mr. Larson, who created this world and owns the people. Much thanks for letting me borrow them for a while to play in mine.
Ready For The Fight
(Mark's Perspective)
"We need something better to do." Roger said from his place on the couch. He'd been tooling around with his guitar (though not actually playing it) all day. "How about a change of scene?" He asked, resting his guitar against the couch as I wiped a little bit of sweat from my forehead, wishing we had a fan or an air conditioner for about the hundredth time.
"Such as?" I asked, though I all ready knew the answer. I looked up from my camera and at Roger. I'd been filming him most of the morning.
"The roof." He told me.
"Ok." All week we've been going back and forth between the loft and the roof. We've been up there so much I think I'm in danger of getting some actual color on my skin.
Roger grabbed his shoes and put them on, all ready in a better mood.
(Roger's Perspective)
I waited a little bit for Mark but when he didn't move from the kitchen table I said,
"Come on." I was feeling pretty impatient and restless. I tapped my fingers against my thighs, waiting.
"Go ahead." He said, writing something down in a notebook.
"What?" I asked.
"You go. I'm gonna stay here." He told me.
"But-"
"I just want to finish this. I'll be right up." He said trying to encourage me.
"…Ok." I bit my lip and headed for the door, kind of freaked out.
"Leave the door open, ok? Try and get some air moving through here." Mark said.
It was a convenient lie, and I was grateful for it.
Yes, it's June and it's hot in the loft and yes, leaving the door and windows open might create a little cross-breeze, but I knew he really just wanted to be able to watch and listen for me if I came back down before he went up.
He's still cautious and I'm still afraid.
I smiled and headed up the stairs.
(Mark's Perspective)
I positioned myself so that I could easily see through the door and into the hallway and then set about working on one of my screenplays.
I had no intention of going up to the roof. Roger and I have been taking little baby steps for a few weeks now.
It started when I stopped sleeping in his bedroom in front of the door, though that just means that I sleep on the couch instead. We've been working on it, little by little.
When he sits on the fire escape I'm only slightly afraid he'll get the urge to go down those stairs.
The new challenge is going up to the roof by himself.
It all seems so condescending- Will Roger be able to handle being alone? But… it's the way it has to be. For now.
Roger had been gone for about five minutes when the telephone rang.
"Speak." Came the greeting from our machine.
"Hey, it's Collins." Pause. I got up to go get the phone, happy he called. We haven't heard from him since he left, with the exception of two MIT postcards. "I'm going to keep talking until the tape runs out, or you pick up the phone, whichever comes first. Oh. Unless it's not a good time. In which case I'll leave it at-"
"Hey, Collins." I greeted him.
"Took you long enough."
"Just testing your dedication." I replied with a laugh.
"You sound good." He told me, a little surprise in his voice. I decided not to be offended by it. "How're things there?"
"Really pretty good. Looking up. How about you? How's MIT?" I asked. "Took you long enough to call."
"It's good, it's good. Right now I'm just filling in for a professor who got sick. It's cool because since they're summer classes I can dick around with the guy's syllabus all I want and they'll never know. I'm giving it my own, personal flair." Collins said and I laughed.
"So will you be able to come home at all this summer?" I asked.
"Probably not. They've got me for both summer sessions. And, hopefully, if these go well I'll get a contract for the fall." He told me. I could tell he was excited about it.
"That's great!" I lied, bummed that he'll be so far away.
"Yeah." Pause. "Is Roger up for a phone call?"
"He's up on the roof." I told Collins proudly.
"What? Is that-" He began, but I cut him off.
"Safe? Yeah. He's doing really well, Collins. Really good." Pause. "But don't worry. I'm keeping my eye on him."
"Door open?" Collins guessed. I laughed.
"You know me too well." I responded.
"I'm omniscient." He told me matter-of-factly. "How're things with you and Maureen?" Collins asked. How are things with me and Maureen? Currently, pretty shitty.
"Uh, we're ok. We're… hanging in there." Pause, then, "She's her usual self." Whatever that meant.
"Wonderful." Collins replied sarcastically. "Have you-"
"Whoops, hang on." I said, hearing the sound of feet running down the stairs.
Roger suddenly launched himself into the apartment and flung the door closed, locking it. He then ran into his room and closed that door, locking it as well. I could hear him pacing back and forth inside.
"Roger? What's going on?" I called through the door. I half expected someone to start banging on the door to the loft.
"Nothing!" He called back to me.
"Are you ok? What's wrong?" I asked, concerned. I heard him stop moving. "Roger?"
"Don't you dare laugh at me." He said from his room.
"…Ok…" I agreed, completely confused.
"If you laugh at me I swear to God I'll deck you." He warned.
"Ok." I repeated. He unlocked the door and opened it, then stood there trying to appear macho, but really he just looked awkward.
"I saw my dealer." Roger told me, freaked out. He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Ok." I said for what seemed like the twentieth time. "Where was he? Did he see you?"
"No. He was down on his corner." Roger said, mopping up some sweat from his forehead with his hands and wiping it on his jeans. I could feel the corners of my mouth trying to twist upward into a grin and fought it with every fiber of my being. The image of Roger spotting his dealer down on the street and running back here was just too funny not to laugh at, regardless of the gravity of the situation. "Don't you dare laugh at me!" Roger repeated, but suddenly seemed to find the humor in it himself.
While we laughed, I remembered that Collins was waiting.
"Go talk to Collins. He's on the phone."
(Roger's Perspective)
"Are you ready?" Mark asked me from the doorway to the loft. The two of us were going to go to the grocery store.
"Uh, yeah." I said, getting up from my place at the kitchen table and walking towards him. I was grateful that we were going early in the day. I didn't think I'd run into anybody that I couldn't handle. They're probably all too drugged out to face the light of day, anyway.
It's so fucking scary to realize that that used to describe me, too.
Mark and I left the loft and trudged down the three flights of stairs to the front stoop. I paused there and looked around me. I hadn't been out of the building in over two months.
Things were still run-down and forgotten. There were still homeless people scattered here and there, most heading in the direction of the lot. This stuff I knew. These things I saw from our windows and from our roof. These things I knew.
It was the petrified feeling of insignificance that I didn't know. That I hadn't- ever- known before.
"You ok?" Mark asked me.
"Uh, yeah." I told him, breaking away from my thoughts.
(Mark's Perspective)
We set out for the Emporium at an easy pace. It was still early so it wasn't too hot. I could sense Roger's getting more and more agitated as the few blocks to the Emporium passed under our feet. His eyes were darting everywhere and his hands were clenched into fists in his pants pockets. He gradually started walking faster and faster, not even aware that we were nearly jogging.
Maybe this was a mistake. One too many steps in too short an amount of time.
"Roger? You ok?" I asked him, a little out of breath. His strides are a lot longer than mine.
"Yeah. Yeah. Let's just- it won't take long, right?" He asked, staring at the Emporium, which was looming ahead of us.
"Not long at all." I said. We went inside into the refreshing air-conditioned air. Roger walked just slightly behind me as I grabbed the essentials- bread, cheese, coffee, some lunch meat, and milk. We didn't get much because we didn't need much. And we didn't have money for more, anyway.
"We're done?" He asked, his hands folded across his chest. I could tell he was actively trying to get himself to stop moving nervously.
"Yeah. We've just got to pay." Pause. "Are you sure you're ok?" I asked him, getting kind of worried. He gave a non-committal sound and we got in line at the register. After we paid, I grabbed his arm and led him outside. He was really starting to freak out. "I'll race you back home." I said jokingly. He didn't hear me. His eyes were back to quickly scanning everything around us. Sweat was starting to break out on the bridge of his nose and his upper lip.
We went home just as quickly as we had left, Roger almost running by the time we got to the front steps. I was trailing behind, encumbered by my short legs and grocery bag. Roger was in the door and up the stairs way ahead of me.
This was so stupid. This was a mistake. I should have known better. He's still fighting himself. I should have known better.
Roger was waiting for me outside of the loft, looking both apologetic and angry.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly.