I know this took me a couple days longer than I said it would, but I had some unanticipated trouble with it...I actually don't like this chapter. I just feel the writing is...off. But I couldn't figure a way to fix it, and believe me, I tried a bunch of times to get it right. And it just does not sound right to me. But oh well, I tried and maybe I'll edit it later but for now this is it. Make sure you drop me a review, maybe you can pick up what the problem is. ...I think its the writing, its...not as good as it could have been. I dont know, let me know what you think.
I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein.
Oh, and the next chapter is when the plot actually starts moving forward. And I know Roger seems a bit harsh, and I know it may be getting OOC for him, but this is just how the story is supposed to go. He's supposed to be an asshole right now. Hope its not too over the top.
Teasing and Shouting
"The next thing I know he whips around at me and starts screaming "Give me back my mother, you cunt!"." Mark tries to hold a frown as Reye laughs. "It wasn't funny, Miss Reye. He seriously freaked me out, because then he was lunging for my camera, screaming at me to leave him alone and to get the hell out of his head. I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. So I took off running."
Reye chuckled, shaking her head. "Wow, sounds like some day. Oh the dangers of being a documentarist!"
Mark groaned. "But I asked him if I could film him. He saw me, and I asked him if I could. And he said he didn't mind! Then five minutes later its like a complete switch. He has to have some problems."
Reye shrugged. "Or maybe he was just fucking with you, trying to scare you off. I wouldn't put it past anyone in this place."
"I guess…but I don't think so. I should have known better than to film someone who was arguing with himself. …Hey, maybe my next documentary should be about people with mental illnesses. That would be interesting, and a good cause because people like that are almost completely ignored. If people think you're crazy you're treated less like a human being and more like an animal, its wrong the way society rejects them instead of trying to help them…but I don't think I could find enough people…"
Reye laughed. "Sweettooth, we're in New York City. Eighty percent of the people here have some kind of mental problem. And ninety percent of the rest are tourists."
Mark laughed. "So ten percent of twenty percent of the people here are normal…about how many people do you think that is?"
"One hundred and sixty thousand and two." She responded without hesitation.
He grinned. "Well I guess that's not so bad then."
"When there's nine million people in New York, its not so good either…but that's what makes me love this place. Who wants to be around anyone normal anyways?"
"Okay, there is unique and there is flat out weird and fucked up. I'd rather stray away from the latter. …So, Miss Reye, are you counted in the eighty or twenty percent?" he teased.
She blew a bubble and sucked it back in before answering, mocking indignation. "I'll have you know, Sweettooth, that I have absolutely no diagnosed mental illnesses whatsoever."
"No diagnosed illnesses?"
They both laughed. Then there was silence for a few moments before Reye grabbed Mark's camera and switching it on aimed it at him.
"Reye, knock that off." He said, reaching for it.
"Why? Is the filmmaker camera shy?" she teased.
He laughed, "No, just give it back."
"No…Strike a pose!"
Grabbing his camera he switched it to face her. She dramatically hid her face with her hands, "Oh no pictures! I haven't put my face on yet."
After a moment they stopped laughing and Reye found Mark looking at her thoughtfully.
"What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"What's your story?"
Reye's grin dropped for a moment. She looked honestly surprised. "My story?"
He smiled. "Yeah, you said everyone has a story. What's yours?"
A slow smile crossed her face. "Wow. No one's ever asked me that before… My story… well first off, its not as long as yours…not that I didn't love every minute of your story, I just don't have that much to tell. …are you filming this?" she asked, noticing he had his camera up still.
"Oh, sorry. Do you not want me to?"
"No, I don't mind…Well, I guess I'm just a good, old fashioned runaway. I used to live in Ohio, in a trash heap called Tiffin. My dad bailed on us when I was a kid, my sister got pregnant at fifteen and moved in with her boyfriend, and me and my mother didn't exactly…mesh well together. So as soon as I got the chance I split. I had some crazy dream of becoming an actress. I figured it was foolish to try to get into movies, but getting onto Broadway should be easy so I hitchhiked it to New York. Yeah…Broadway wasn't as easy as I thought. For about two weeks I thought I had an agent, but then I found out he was just trying to be my pimp (I got out of that situation pretty quickly). The whole actress dream died after that. I think that's when I grew up. I ran out of money fast, played the homeless game for a while, and then my luck changed: I met Marshall." She paused, noticing Mark's confused look.
"I thought you said Marshall was your brother?"
She laughed. "Oh sorry. I refer to him as my brother so often I forget that he isn't. He's not actually related to me, but he's the only real family I've ever had. He's my brother in every way that counts, so blood doesn't really matter."
"I understand that."
"Anyways, I found Marshall while he was getting mugged…well, uh technically I was the one mugging him-hey, don't give me that look! You'd be surprised what you do when you're that hungry! But yeah, me and a couple of other homeless people around my age, who I was hanging around with at that time, mugged him. They knocked him down, and since I was the fastest, it was my job to take the bag and sprint off with it while the guy was on the ground. The only thing I didn't count on was for him to recover so quickly and chase me. He chased me for about two blocks when I ran right into a cop. The pig "apprehended" me and assumed (rightly) that I had stolen the bag. Then Marshall came running up, and I was so sure I was going to be sent to juvie but then I heard him tell the cop some story that I was his sister and it was his bag, and I was just late so that's why I was running. He was chasing me because I'd forgotten something. It sounded so fake (Marshall cannot lie to save his life), the cop had to be able to tell it wasn't true, but he couldn't do shit about it. Marshall's wallet and ID were in the bag and strangely enough we happen to look alike. I just stood there agape while the cop walked off without giving us anymore trouble."
She paused as Mark wound up the camera.
"I didn't know what to do so I just thanked him and started walking away. But then he caught my arm and asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat. Before I knew it I was sitting in The Tandor, eating more food than I had in weeks and getting offered a place to live. Now, I wasn't stupid and I didn't just go home with people, but living on the streets taught me how to spot a creep and he wasn't one. Something about him made me think he was a good guy. And I really didn't want to turn down a hot bath and a real bed. So I took him up on it, just for the night originally. Then one night turned to two, then three. We talked a lot and became real fast friends. He introduced me to his boyfriend at that time, Tyler, and any doubts of Marshall's character disappeared after seeing how they interacted. After another week I was getting talked into staying there permanently. He really didn't want me back on the streets, and I couldn't really find an argument. I've been there ever since. I always tell him that one day I'll move out, get my own place, and finally leave him alone…but it never happens. Neither of us really wants it to. After a few months I was able to land this job and start pulling my weight, but he never lets me contribute as much as I should. …I guess I've been in New York for about four years now. And that's pretty much my story."
"That's great. This Marshall sounds like a real good person."
Reye grinned. "He is. Marshall has got to be the sweetest man I have ever met. I really think you two should meet…I know you would like him. …And Marshall would absolutely love you."
Pink touched Mark's cheeks. "So you keep telling me…over and over…almost every day…for the past month since I met you."
"Oh I do not tell you that much!" she interrupted hotly.
He grinned. "You do too! Or at least it seems like it. But jeez, Reye, I don't know…I mean, he sounds great…but the only guy I've ever really had feelings for is Roger, and we both know how that turned out…I don't know, I guess I find guys attractive sometimes, but I'm really more into the fairer sex."
She popped her gum. "I guess I know what you mean…but you two should still meet. Even if no sparks fly, I guarantee you'll be good friends."
He smiled at that. "Okay then, can never have too many friends."
She looked up mischievously, muttering softly under her breath, "…Although you two would make the cutest-"
"Reye!"
She laughed. "Sorry. Hey, are you busy this Friday night?"
"Well I might have to check my schedule. I think I have a "get into random fight" appointment with Roger, but I wouldn't mind canceling."
"Good. There's this party at my friend Canvas' house. You need to come with me. It'll be fun." She tried her best to tempt him.
He thought about it for a moment. What do I have to lose? Might as well start living. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."
She grinned. "Awesome! And Marshall will be there, you two can finally meet. …I'll be sure to give you guys plenty of alone time."
"Reye!"
"Shutting up!"
He chuckled. "No don't shut up. Its nice to have someone pay this much attention to me."
"Roger still not talking?" she asked, concern touching her tone.
He shrugged, putting the camera down and shutting it off. He'd momentarily forgotten he was still filming.
"Not a word in ten days. And I haven't said anything to him either. Its strange, the quiet was beyond unnerving but now its kind of comforting…almost, if it wasn't so fucking lonely."
"That has to be depressing…but it could be worse."
He looked up in surprise. "How, exactly?"
She grinned. "You could go deaf."
LINELINELINELINELINE
"Maureen called."
Mark jumped practically two feet in the air. He turned to face Roger, as if he couldn't believe he had actually spoken. After a moment he recognized what he'd said.
"What'd she want?" he asked cautiously.
Roger sat up and looked at him. "She wanted you to give her some help on her latest protest, she said Joanne didn't have enough time."
Mark nodded absently. There was something wrong with Roger's voice, he was too… tense; like he was…restraining himself.
He watched as the musician's eyes darkened suddenly. "She also asked if I felt better."
Shit.
"Mark, why the hell does she think that I was sick?" he demands, starring him down coldly.
Logic begins to talk to the filmmaker, tell him that it's strange and very …off that Roger's so upset over this. That there's no reason to be this upset. But he's focusing too much on the current situation to listen much to logic.
"Because I told her you were." Mark's voice is just above a whisper.
Roger glares at him. "Well, if you can't tell I'm not fucking sick. I haven't been fucking sick. So why the fuck are you lying about me?"
"I'm not-its just-I mean…it wasn't…" he was grasping at air, unable to find an answer that wouldn't infuriate the singer more.
"How dare you fucking lie about me! What, you trying to get pity points for me? Trying to speed me along to death? Fucking bastard." He was shouting now, on his feet.
"You are fucking unbelievable. Like I would ever do any of that?" Mark's voice was growing hard as well. "I didn't even say you were fucking sick, I told her the weather wasn't good for you and you were sleeping. And I wouldn't have to fucking lie about you if you talked to any of your friends anymore. If you stopped fucking avoiding us like the goddamn plague."
"If you haven't fucking noticed, I never liked Maureen to begin with and I'll take any excuse not to hang around her and I don't give a shit if she knows that. And as for you, what, does Marky miss me?" he mocked. "Look, maybe we'd talk more if you ever had anything fucking different to say, "oh my camera, my film, my movie," whatever. Get a life, Cohen and stop fucking lying about mine." He yelled.
Fucking low blow, Roger.
"Whatever, I'm fucking through with this." Mark muttered before retreating to his room. Maybe the silence is better.
LINELINELINELINELINE
Okay, what'd you think? Please let me know!
The next chapter is going to pick up the pace of the story a bit. I really, really hope my readers stay with me once they find out where this is going. I plan on this fic to be long, so please plan on seeing it through, I swear it will get interesting...I hope. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, I have most of it written...but I'm moving into my college dorm this Thursday and classes start Monday so life is going to get a bit hectic. Hopefully I get it done before Monday at the latest, thats what I'm planning on. And as always, reviews inspire me to write ;)
Oh and Challenge Central still needs more entries, so go check it out and pick one! I swear it'll be fun.
