It was late. Not like Roger really took note of time anymore. He sat on the window ledge gazing up at the sky through the grimy window. He wished he could see stars. It would be beautiful to see them again instead of the pollution that clogged up the New York City sky. He sighed and went back to his tattered notebook. The damn thing had been through so much and went with him everywhere. It was almost like Mark with his camera. Roger made sure he emphasized the almost part to himself. At least he was not always hidden in the damn thing, but… "No buts, Davis," he told himself. He intently scribbled down some more chords and tweaked some lyrics here and there before picking up his battered, out of tune Fender to test how his chicken scratch sounded when sung.
Roger was absorbed by his music, so absorbed that he did not even hear Mark when he returned from a long day of filming. The young boy situated himself at the songwriter's feet and listened to these words that were not yet meant to be heard. "That was beautiful, Rog."
Roger looked up from his notes, stunned. "You heard that?"
Mark's blonde head bobbed up and down.
"All of it?"
"Not all. Just a bit of the end. Why?"
"It's just…I urm…I wasn't quite ready for anyone to hear it yet." He bit his lip.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's my fault. I wasn't paying attention."
"I really liked it though," he replied, blue eyes staring intently into green eyes full of longing.
"Would you like to hear all of it?"
"If you don't mind."
"Might as well. No turning back now." He gave off a weak smile as calloused fingers brushed lightly against the cool, metal strings as the opening chords rang through their loft apartment. Roger's voice, rough from being neglected for so long began to sing out.
When you feel all
alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment
please to tame your wild wild heart
I know you feel like the walls
are closing in on you
It's hard to find relief and people can be
so cold
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you
can't take anymore
Let me be the one you call
If you jump
I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the
night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If
you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
When
you feel all alone
And a loyal friend is hard to find
You're
caught in a one way street
With the monsters in your head
When
hopes and dreams are far away and
You feel like you can't face the
day
Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your
fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you
need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to
crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
'Cause there has
always been heartache and pain
And when it's over you'll breathe
again
You'll breath again
When you feel all alone
And
the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment please
To
tame your wild wild heart
Let me be the one you call
If you
jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into
the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken
heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
Roger eyes locked with Mark's once he was done. A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he watched Mark come to, realizing that his song had transported him somewhere. "Well, what do you think?"
"Wow, Rog. I don't know what to say."
"I knew I shouldn't have played it for you. It was stupid of me." He hurriedly began to collect his belongings to head back to his room.
"What are you saying that for? I like it, love it actually. It just…it's…I'm speechless. It's that good."
Roger put back down the guitar and notebook, a meek smile gracing his lips. The pair briefly locked eyes again but Roger looked away quickly and began to study his hands. "Rog?"
"Yes," he answered, slowly bringing his gaze back to meet Mark's.
"I um…never mind. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."
"Night," he whispered. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Hey, Mark," he shouted.
Mark turned in his doorway. "Yes?"
"I love you."
"What?" Roger could just make out his puzzled face through the moonlight.
"I love you," he said, stronger, convincing himself it was true.
"I love you, too. Well….goodnight." He disappeared into his room to undress.
"Mark, wait," he cried.
"Hold on. I'm changing."
Roger was past the point of caring. He charged into Mark's room, the young filmmaker squealing while being walked in on in just his boxers. "Roger! I said I was changing!"
"I know. I'm sorry." His cheeks tinged pink for the second time that evening as he soaked in the beauty of Mark's pale form in the moonlight.
"Are you ok?"
He stammered. "Yea…sure. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."
Mark pulled a t-shirt on over his thin frame. "You don't look so good. Sit." His hand motioned to the tousled bed.
Roger took a seat. Mark sat beside him. "Tell me what's wrong." His eyes pleaded, they knew Roger was holding something back.
Roger said nothing. He drunk in all of his roommate, assuring himself this was what he felt and what he wanted. Tenderly he placed a hand on Mark's cheek, eyes watching eyes, his head leaning in, a slight brush of the nose, and lips sweet and ready to deliver the final blow. Eyes opened, searching Mark's face for the worse. All that could be found were pink cheeks, blue eyes hidden under still closed eyelids, and lips wanting more. "I love you," he whispered harmoniously into the young man's ear.
"I always knew you did."
He smiled before crashing their lips, teeth, and tongues together in an attempt to quench his ever-longing thirst.
