Sorry about the wait, again...you have to admit, it was a lot shorter this time, though.
This chapter takes place about two days after the setting of the last one. And I know the segments of it are a bit short and jump a bit...I kind of want time to start moving faster in this fic, because I need it to in order to get to the actual real plot of the story... this is my problem with long fics, I tend to make them rather drawn out, sorry about that.
Oh, in case you're wondering, Challenge Central judging is on a bit of a hiatus...college is more work and time than any of us ever counted on. Winners will be announced sometime in March though, hopefully very early March.
I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own this plot, Marshall, Lactose, and Reye.
Phone Calls and Messages
beep Mark, honey? Are you there? Are you still screening your calls? Honey, its just me, your mother, you can pick up a phone, can't you? …Well, I'll assume you're just not home. Call me when you get this, Mark. Its been forever since you called me, I miss you… we both miss you.
Mark groaned, hanging his head for a moment before hitting the Erase button on the machine. He was halfway to his room, still chilled from the ride back from the café and ready to collapse in bed for the rest of the day, when the phone rang. Turning, he watched it with a knowing gaze as it rang until it went to the machine.
'Speak!' "Mark? Mark, are you home? …Okay, well I'll stop filling up your machine, you know how I hate being a nag…Give me a call later. I love you, sweetie."
Mark sighed.
"You need to stop ignoring her."
Mark looked in surprise at the voice coming from the couch. "What?"
"Stop ignoring her. She's been fucking calling here all week, annoying the hell out of me. Just answer a call every once in a while and she'd probably fucking call less."
Mark winced slightly at the roughness of Roger's tone, but quickly remedied this response and had a blank face when he met his gaze to make a reply.
"Me answering her calls would only encourage her. She'd probably start calling twice as often." He reasoned calmly.
"You're just making excuses." Roger accused.
And you're just trying to find ways to fight with me.
"Why the fuck don't you just talk to her once in a while, she's your mother for fucks sake. Not a very good son, are you?" His tone grew harsher as he spoke, and Mark found himself struggling to remember the times when Roger had listened to him complain about his parents and sympathized, when he encouraged him to ignore her because he understood…he struggled to remember, and failed.
"When's the last time you've talked to your mother?" Mark muttered quietly.
Unfortunately, not quietly enough.
…
Twenty minutes later, Mark wandered into his room and threw himself down on his bed. Roger had left in a rage, slamming the loft door shut so hard it practically rattled the walls. Despite him being gone, Mark could still hear his voice in his head, screaming at him…screaming at him such horrible, cruel things…
God, it was so bad this time…I don't know if I can…I don't think I can-Ring
Mark lifted his head. The phone rang again. Clenching his eyes shut, he listened as it rang, until-
'Speak!' "Mark, honey? …"
Mark jumped out of bed. A dark look settled in his eyes as he quickly strode over to the phone and violently ripped the answering machine off the table, jerking until the cords ripped out. Before he realized what he was doing, the machine smashed against the wall, the sound of the pieces hitting the ground drowned out by the angry, frustrated, desperate scream that wrenched from his throat.
Collapsing to his knees, he caught his breath, his eyes, still tinged with an edge of darkness, fixed on the broken machine. Finally, quite a few minutes later, he regained a piece of composure and stood. Going over to the coffee table, he noted, with dark amusement, that he had taken out the wrong target; it surely would have made more sense to destroy the phone rather than the answering machine. He sighed, carefully unplugging the phone cord.
Roger is going to be pissed. Mark thought as he gazed at the broken machine. Oh well. He sighed. He knew Roger wouldn't be back for a couple days, at least. Maybe he could scrounge up enough money to buy another at a pawn shop…
I'll figure it out later…right now, I do not fucking care.
With that final thought, Mark staggered back into his room and collapsed on the bed.
LINELINELINELINELINE
"Marshall asked about you last night."
Mark's head snapped up. "What?"
"Marshall, he asked about you." She responded simply, innocently even, although her eyes were anything but innocent.
Mark evened his look, careful to keep his tone calm. "Oh really?"
"Mhm."
Mark waited for her to go on for a few moments before sighing in aggravation. "Well, what did he say?" he prompted.
Reye shrugged, popping her gum before responding, "Oh, not much. He just wanted to know how you were doing…and if you were still coming to the café every day."
"Why would he ask that?" Mark asked, slightly confused.
Reye stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Sweettooth. Maybe he'd want to know when you were here…in case anyone would want to give you something" she stared at him for a second and then groaned at his persistent confused look "…a message perhaps?"
She watched in amusement as realization hit Mark's face.
"Oh! Um…so he's gonna…"
"Well, I think so, sure seems that way…but don't quote me on anything." She interrupted.
"Oh…um, okay." Mark bit his lip almost nervously and then looked up to glare at Reye when she laughed at him.
"Don't worry, I'm sure he's going to do it…you just have to wait for it." She teased him a little at the end.
They were silent for a moment before Reye filled it.
"Roger come back yet?"
Mark sighed. "No. But its just been two days, he's been gone for over a week before."
"I see. Did you get a new machine yet?"
"No, I'm planning to get one at Rudy's tomorrow…Hey, tomorrow's your day off right? You want to come with me?"
"Okay, sure." Reye yawned, leaning forward and resting her forehead on Mark's shoulder. "Man, I am bored."
Mark pushed her off playfully. "So go make me another coffee, Miss Reye."
Groaning, she glared at him. "Make it yourself, Sweettooth. Jeez, you act like you can order me around like a servant."
He laughed. "Um, Reye…you kind of work here…you are kind of like a servant."
She groaned again. "Oh yeah…damn." They laughed, and Mark was once again reminded of how nice it was to have this kind of playful friendship back.
LINELINELINELINE
Almost two hours later, Mark walked into the loft, carrying his bike. Setting it down inside the door, he looked up to see a pair of eyes starring back at him.
Hiding his mild surprise, he nodded at him. "Hey."
Instead of anything resembling friendliness, Roger greeted him with "What the hell did you do to the answering machine?"
Mark stared at him in slight disbelief for a few seconds. Then he grabbed his camera from the basket on his bike. You know what, fuck this. Without giving the musician any response, Mark simply turned and walked back out, shutting the loft door hard behind him.
LINELINELINELINE
There was supposed to be more to this, about another typed page's worth...but I think it'll work better as its own chapter, so that'll be coming out soon, hopefully. Anyways, please review. Remember, I accept flames and love criticisms.
Much Love
