Author Notes: Sorry this took so long. My old computer died so I had to set up my super old one which lacks a lot so it took a while to set up. But I'm back! I hope you're enjoying this so far...so.. yes...here is the next chapter.
All I Have is You
Chapter 5: Painful Blue
Roger sighed, setting his guitar down on the floor. He glanced up at the clock. 11:00 pm. Mark had been gone for over two hours.
What could be taking him so long? It's only a few blocks to the Life...
Roger figited a bit with his jacket, then stood and paced around the room. His eyes glancing back and forth from the door and the clock. Waiting, visualizing Mark walking through the door any minute.
Chill out Roger. He probably met up with a friend or something and got caught up. his lazy and optimistic side said to him while another part of him said You idiot it's almost midnight in New York! He could have been mugged. Go find him.
"Jesus Mark." he muttered, grabbing his leather jacket and running out of the loft.
You'd better be alright.
Mark shook, shiviering, scared and alone in an abandoned alleyway he knew was only a block or two away from the loft. His body was stinging with pain, blood that had flown down his face from the cut had dried and his ribs exploded with pain as he breathed. He knew that there were probably more cuts and bruises on his body, but these were the injuries that caused him the most pain. He tried to stand many times and limp his way back to the loft but he couldn't. His vision was blurry from not having his glasses and the longer he tried to see without them, the dizzier he got.
I'm going to die...it's so cold. Where's Roger?
"Mark!" Roger ran down the block, checking the corners and alleyways, seeing if his friend was there, always hoping he wasn't.
You're overreacting. He's probably sitting, warm in the Life Cafe' chatting with someone.
'Mark wouldn't forget you...' his mind told him.
Dammit...Mark wouldn't leave me for that long. He said he was going to get dinner, he wouldn't just ditch me and leave me hungry that's not like him. That self-sacrificing bastard.
Suddenly, in the midst of his running, he heard a crunch under his boot and stopped.
"What the hell.." he muttered, looking down and seeing a pair of now completly crushed glasses.
"Glasses?" he bent down to take a closer look.
No...shit please don't let these be...
Thick, what looked like to be square black frames.
"Mark...these are Marks..." he looked up, noticing an alley a few feet away.
"Mark?" he shouted running to it. As he peered through the darkness he saw what he feared to be Mark. A small figure, curled up into a ball and shaking.
"Mark?" the figures head rose.
"Ro...ger..."
"Shit." Roger muttered, running to his friend and bending down.
"Mark..."
Marks eyes met his, Roger gasped, swallowing a huge lump in his throat as he stared his best friends face. Blood and brusies covered his paler than normal face. His glasses were gone, his hair was covered in grime and dried blood and he was shivering. '
"Oh Mark..."
"Roger...thank..." Mark's voice was hoarse and strained.
"Shhh, don't talk I've got you now. It'll be alright." Roger placed his hands on Marks but pulled away quickly.
"So cold.." he muttered.
"Rog..." Mark choked out.
"Shhh, it's ok Mark." Roger pulled off his leather jacket and put it around the smaller man's shoulders. Mark's hands that held his legs to his chest came apart as his engergy began to decrease, his mind shutting down as Roger began to take care of him. His legs fell weakly to the ground, his lack of energy showing. He managed to reach a hand out and grasp the front of Roger's shirt. Roger looked down, his attention on Mark's hand. Mark looked up at him, his eyes that normally held so much passion and wit were now a painful blue. Roger placed his hand over Marks hand that gripped his shirt for dear life.
"It's ok. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
"Hurts Rog..." he said.
Roger felt tears sting his eyes. He'd never seen Mark so weak. He used his other arm and pulled Mark to his chest, hugging him and burying his head into Marks hair. He felt Mark shake with tearless sobs, he was too cold to cry.
"I've got you." he kept muttering into Marks ear.
After a few minutes he felt Mark calm down, looking down he saw the poor boy had passed out.
"I've got to get you back home." he said to himself. He looked around the alley and saw Marks bag that had been rummaged through laying a few feet away. He leaned Mark up against the wall while he picked up the bag and made sure everything important was in there.
Well his camera is here...that's all he really cares about.
Swinging the bag around his shoulders he bent back down and picked up Mark.
He's so light. Dammit we need to eat more.
Carefully he walked out of the alley, where the street was dimmly lighted by street lights. As he approached their bulding be began fumbling to pull his key out of his pocket, with little success as he tried to balance Mark in his arms at the same time. Just when he thought he had the key in his hand, they slipped from his grasp and slid a few feet ahead of him.
"Fuck" he cursed.
"Roger."
The rocker looked up and saw a tall figure standing by the phone booth.
"Collins!"
"No wonder you didn't pick up...holy shit Mark!" the anarchist exclaimed, seeing the bloody, passed out filmmaker in Roger's arms.
"Jesus man what happened to him?" he asked, running up to him.
"He's hurt bad. Beaten I think. Get my keys I need to get him upstairs, he's freezing." he motioned his head to the ground where his keys lay. Collins bent down and picked them up and they raced to the loft.
Collins slid the door open, stepping aside so Roger could walk in. The musician raced in and lay his friend on the couch, where the smaller man started to shiver. Roger took Mark's bag off and lay it on the ground.
"Get my blanket, it's in my room." he said. Collins obliged, coming back with a torn, old grey blanket.
"Daamn, no wonder you guys are freezing." he said, handing the blanket to Roger who lay it on Mark.
"He's so cold..." he muttered.
"How long was he out there?"
"I don't know...2 hours...I think."
"Looks like they got him pretty bad. You might want to clean those up before they get infected." Roger nodded.
Collins stood. "I'll get some water and towels."
Minutes later, Collins returned with hot water and a few washclothes. He began by wiping the blood off Mark's face.
"Where are his glasses?" Collins asked.
"Broken, I think they're still in the alley...they didn't even look like they could be fixed. Does he have a spare pair? He can't see for shit with out them."
Collins nodded. "I think he does...somewhere. I'll look in a minute, this cut looks pretty bad. Check and see if there are any more like this."
Luckily, there weren't anymore cuts, just a lot of brusing.
"He's still cold..." Roger commented.
"I know...go find another shirt of his and see if he has a spare pair of glasses. I'll be done cleaning him up when you get back." Roger nodded and went to Mark's room.
Collins continued to give his small friend a once over. Noting the brusies that coverd his stomach and chest where it looked like he'd put up a fight. He couldn't help but notice how skinny Mark was. He could clearly see his ribs, as usual, he doubted Mark had been eating.
Man Mark...what did you get yourself into...
He began shivering again.
"Roger! Where's that shirt?"
Roger bolted out of Marks room, a long sleeved shirt in hand, as well as a small case.
"I found his spare in his drawer." he said, holding it up.
"Good, he'll need it. Um, Roger besides the Life the other day what has this boy been eating?"
"I was wondering the same thing myself...he was so light Collins."
They slipped Mark's shirt on and covered him in the blanket, yet he still shivered violently.
"Rog..." he muttered. Collins looked at the small boy, a sad look in his eyes.
"Roger..." Mark muttered again, his eyes sliding open.
"I'm right here Mark.." he said.
"So...cold.." he mumbled. Roger stood up and sat on the couch, pulling the filmmaker into his arms.
"Shh..it's ok I'm here." Mark continued to shake. His eyes were filled with fear.
"Mark it's ok man. We're here." Collins said, laying a hand on Mark's leg. Mark gave a small nod, as if letting them know he knew they were there, then he curled up in Roger's arms and fell asleep.
"He's still so scared." Roger said. Collins nodded.
"I hope it didn't traumatize him...but we'll see once he's rested. In the meantime you'd better stick close to him."
"I intend to."
"You gonna stay here tonight?" Roger nodded.
"I'm not leaving him...not tonight."
Collins smiled. "He needs you. I'm gonna crash in your room ok? Yell if you need anything." Roger nodded as Collins walked off into his room.
Roger streatched out on the couch a bit, still holding Mark close to him. Every now and then he would wimper and moan, shiver and cry Roger's name. And every time Roger would hold him closer, tell him it was alright and that he was here. It always calmed him down.
"Shh...it's ok." he whispered as Mark shivered.
The night went on. And that night, Roger didn't sleep.
Author Notes: Oook sorry this took so long. Review! Thanks again for reading! Next chap should be up soon. I dont have school the rest of the week (yaay for senior skip days!)
