To Be
DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.
Roger was surprised to hear an argument coming from Mark's hospital room. They'd moved him out of the ICU, and they were all hoping that he could go home soon.
"What's going on?" he asked, walking in. Joanne sighed and walked over to him.
"He wants to leave. The doctor tried to get him to talk to a psychiatrist," Joanne told him.
"What the fuck for?"
"They think he has an eating disorder," Joanne explained. Roger sighed and walked over towards the bed.
"Hey man," he said. Mark looked up at his friend.
"Would you please to tell…" He paused for a moment to cough, groaning as he caught his breath again. "… those idiots that I don't need a fucking shrink."
"Calm down, okay man? They're just trying to help," Roger said.
"I don't need that kind of fucking help." Mark had to stop again to cough. "Could you find someone to take this stupid thing out so I can go home?" he asked, motioning to the IV line.
"Mark, think about this for a minute. You're still pretty sick. If you go home now, you might just end up back here in a few days, in worse condition than you were," Maureen reasoned.
"I don't give a shit," Mark told her. He closed his eyes. "I just want to go home."
"I know, baby. It's just for another couple of days," Maureen said. She pushed the hair out of his face. "Just a little longer." Roger waited until his friend had calmed down before he said anything else.
"Mark, you know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to just talk to the doctor," he suggested quietly.
"Roger…" Maureen began. Mark shook his head and stopped her.
"No, Mo. Maybe he's right," Mark said. He sighed and took her hand. "I'll do it." She smiled at him before leaning over to kiss his forehead.
LINELINELINELINE
Roger looked up as the psychiatrist walked out of Mark's room. The man had been in there for over an hour. Roger sighed and stood up, walking back into the room. He smiled at his friend as he entered. "Hey. How was it?" Roger asked.
"Okay. He told me I was depressed," Mark said, rolling his eyes. "But he did at least say that he didn't think I had anything seriously wrong with me."
"I told you it would be okay," Roger said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.
"I want to go home," Mark said.
"I thought we already went through this," Roger replied.
"I know. But these four walls are driving me crazy."
"It's not for much longer."
"That's what Maureen said yesterday. I'm sick of being sick," Mark told him. Roger could hear that he was upset. "I'm sick of all of it. I'm sick of hospitals, I'm sick of putting up with all of this shit. I'd rather fucking die than go through all of this."
"Mark, don't say shit like that. You weren't even that depressed…"
"Don't even say it, Roger. I don't want to hear about it," Mark said. He closed his eyes. "Just go, okay Roger? Just leave me alone for a while."
LINELINELINELINE
Roger pulled the pill bottles out of the bag and put them out on the kitchen counter where they would see them. Along with his and Collins's AZT, there were two new bottles. Antibiotics for Mark and a bottle of Prozac. He sighed and picked up the new bottles, getting a glass of water. He walked over to Mark's door and knocked, waiting for Mark to answer. When he didn't, Roger opened the door and walked in, putting the water and medicine down next to his glasses on the bedside table.
"Hey Mark, wake up," he said, shaking his friend gently. Mark opened his eyes and looked up at him.
"What, Roger?" he asked, sitting up. Roger handed him the glass of water and opened the bottle of antibiotics, getting out one of the pills and handing it to him. He swallowed it and put the water back down.
"Hey, wait, you've still got another one," Roger told him.
"I'm not taking that shit," Mark muttered, lying back down.
"I already paid for it. It'll help," Roger said.
"I don't need it, Roger." Roger opened the bottle and took out on of the pills. He picked up the glass and held both out to his friend. "I'm not taking it."
"I'm not leaving until you take it, Mark," Roger said. Mark sighed and sat up, taking the pill and the glass of water again. He swallowed the pill and pushed the glass back into Roger's hand.
"Happy?"
"Mark, it's going to help you," Roger said.
"Yeah, sure." Mark closed his eyes and rolled over to go back to sleep. Roger sighed and left, taking the medicine but leaving the glass of water behind. He closed Mark's door and put the pill bottles back, before picking up his guitar and starting to play softly.