So I was going through my stuff and saw the date that I had last updated this, and was completely shocked to see that its been like 3 months…it really didn't seem that long, probably because that whole time I have been writing for this fic, just most of it future chapters. So, I felt massively guilty, found the three different places where I had almost this entire chapter written in different bits (the beginning on my laptop, a part of the middle on my typewriter, and some more in my immigration studies notebook), put it together and put on an ending just a few minutes ago. I am sorry that it took so long, I really did have most of it for a while, but I've been thinking about future chapters too much…oh, that and classes, work, and two organizations.
Don't own RENT or any of the characters therein.
Good Fun with Good Friends
"I win again!"
"No fair, you're not supposed to be that fast." Reye pouted.
Mark smirked. "Want to play again?"
Reye smiled. "Sure, but I'm going to whoop your ass this time!" She challenged as she set up the cards for another game of Speed. Mark took the opportunity to eat a few more bites of his sesame chicken that would be forgotten again as soon as the cards were set up. He had to admit that despite the fact that all they'd done since Reye had gotten off work was play card games and eat cheap Chinese food, he was having fun; plus he loved being in Reye's apartment for some reason. It was a nice change from the café, which, despite how they acted, was both a public venue and, technically, a business.
His instant agreement with the place also could have been caused by the comfy chaos of the apartment. It was a great deal smaller than the loft, but more cozy since it had more furniture. The surfaces were covered with interesting little knickknacks, art pieces, and decorations. The fact that none of it had any sort of color scheme that lasted more than a foot's width, or any sort of organization to the style just made it more appealing. There wasn't even a piece of furniture that matched any other piece in the apartment. It nearly looked cluttered, but was too clean to be. Mark settled on the appraisal that it had character.
After a few more games of Speed, with their food now long ago eaten, Reye stood up. "I'm getting a little tired of cards…"
"Because you're tired of it or because I keep beating you?" Mark teased.
She stuck out her tongue. "Oh shut it, Sweettooth…Hey, you wanna meet Adam?"
Mark's brow crinkled in confusion. "Who's Adam?"
She grinned and yanked on his arm to pull him up. "Com'n and see!"
Mark grudgingly got up and followed her to the back of the apartment, past the graffiti on the halls that read quite interesting things. He didn't manage to read very much, but he did catch a few scribbles that had arrows pointing to the rooms at the end of the hall.
"'Beware'?" he scoffed. "Rabid penguins ahead?"
She turned and laughed. "Hey, I was thirteen when I moved in here, remember? There's a lot of childish stuff written on these walls…and don't worry, Marshall made me get rid of the penguins after they attacked his last boyfriend."
Mark stared for a second then laughed. I certainly know how to find the characters.
There were two doorways at the end of the hall. One to the left hand side, and one straight ahead. The one to the left was completely painted burgundy, including the doorknob which was chipped in a few spots because it was house paint over a metal knob. There was an old black and white photograph at head level of the door of an extreme close-up of a human eye.
Creepy. Mark thought, starring at the eye that was very distinct and clear, despite the photo's faded edges.
Reye disappeared through the doorway straight ahead of him, which had no door, just a black curtain followed by a multicolored, wooden, beaded curtain.
"My room." Reye stated in explanation as she reached out and pulled Mark through the curtains.
Well, her room fits her. Mark thought as he looked around. Reye had, in terms of furniture, a wooden vanity desk, a stool, a bed, and a bookshelf. The vanity was lavender, but had been painted many times in different colors, as was proven by the paint chips all over it that showed the different layers underneath. The mirror wasn't very helpful since it had a crack going all the way across it and it only reflected from the center since Reye had covered the edges with pictures and various papers. The desk was cluttered with various jewelry, make-up, and random pieces of ribbon, buttons, lace, bottle caps, and other odds and ends. Against the mirror were small baskets and boxes that held more jewelry and make-up. The bookshelf was spray painted black, and all four shelves, plus the top, were filled to the limit with books of all lengths, many of which appeared to be heavily read. The stool had a cushion made out of ripped t-shirts and duct tape, but appeared sturdy. The bed was a mattress on the floor and was a mess of pillows of random sizes and color, rainbow handmade quilts that were falling to shreds, and, to Mark's amusement, My Little Pony bed sheets. The floor was a messy disaster of shoes, clothes, books, papers, and random hard objects that made Mark wonder how Reye ever made it from the bed to the door alive. Every inch of the ceiling was covered with photographs, drawn pictures, magazine clippings, cut outs from posters, and loads of other random things, including some objects glued to the ceiling: dice, a slinky, a mutilated doll head, vinyl records, etc. The walls were the only thing uncluttered, which was strange. There was nothing on the walls except for about twenty paintings, all hung in a straight row that went all the way around the room, with a few starting a new row above the old ones. Mark immediately noticed that the paintings went in order, because they progressively got better.
Reye went over to the corner of the room near her bed, and pulled up a glass terrarium that Mark hadn't noticed. Inside was a fat mouse.
"This is Adam." Reye declared proudly.
Mark wrinkled his nose slightly. "You keep a mouse as a pet? …in New York City?"
She scowled at him. "That's precisely why! I found Adam in the kitchen almost three years ago, and I was so impressed that he had survived it out on those tough streets with all those vicious New York rats and alley cats that I decided that he needed early retirement. He's the sweetest thing, lets you hold him without a problem. And I give him baths, so he's not even dirty." She explained. "I used to have another one, one I bought from the store for Adam to have company. Snake food, technically, but still a good pet."
"Let me guess, Eve?"
Reye smirked. "No. Steve." Mark laughed. "But Alas! Steve was not to last, poor thing died after not even a year. Poor Adam was heartbroken, but he's recovered. I'd get him another one, snake food is super cheap over at the pet store, but I don't want to put him through the loss again; domestic mice just don't have the same gumption, they aren't survivors like Adam."
"I see." Mark said, looking at the very content looking mouse. "I think you're feeding him too much."
"Adam doesn't live by media-enforced, unrealistic beauty ideals. I'm not going to deny him food so he can look like those anorexic mice on tv." They both laughed, before she put the cage down.
Mark looked around the room again, eyes falling on the paintings. "Did you paint those?" he asked.
Reye shook her head. "Nah. Marshall did."
"Marshall did those?"
"Yep. Every one."
Mark looked at her, surprised. "I didn't know Marshall paints."
She smiled. "Yeah, I'm the only one who does, and I probably wouldn't if I didn't live with him. He doesn't like to make a big deal out of it, says that its just a medium for a type of artistic drive he can't express through photographs." She motioned to the paintings on the walls. "He tried to throw those all out…tries to throw everything he paints away, says they're not good…so I started pulling them out of the trash, because I can't stand for them to just be thrown away. I'm not sure if he even knows that I started saving them, since he doesn't really come in here."
"He probably doesn't want to get eaten."
Reye smacked him on the arm. "Oh lay off, I just cleaned in here…last week."
Mark gave her a look.
"Well…maybe it was two weeks ago…whatever, I know where everything is and that's all that matters."
"If you say so…I think that it makes tent city look like a maid's quarters, but okay." He teased.
There was a moment of silence before Mark spoke, "So…speaking of Marshall, where's he at?" he asked, careful to keep his tone casual and nonchalant.
Reye grinned at him teasingly. "Careful, Marky. Don't want to get needy now."
The filmmaker rolled his eyes. "I was merely curious. Curiosity does not equate need."
She smirked. "Oh you know I'm just messing with you, Sweettooth. Marsh is working, shooting a wedding or something. He should be back in a few hours."
"I see."
They lounged in Reye's room and talked about pretty much nothing of terrific importance for about an hour, before Reye decided that she was going to go to sleep and Mark could stay or go. He decided to go, afraid he'd creep out Marshall if he was just hanging around waiting for him.
LINELINELINELINELINE
Mark walked into the loft, putting his bag down and going to the kitchen. "Hey." He said to Roger, who was working on a crossword puzzle in the paper. "How's Mrs. Powers doing?" Mark asked.
Roger ignored him. Mark sighed; The Silent Treatment. He hated The Silent Treatment. Maureen used to do it to him all the time, but at least when Maureen did it he deserved it…or she thought that he did. Mark decided that he wasn't going to let it get him down, though. He'd had a really nice day with Reye, and he wasn't going to get upset just because his roommate was behaving like a five year old.
Going into the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and blatantly counted Roger's pills. Upon seeing that Roger hadn't taken his dose that he'd been due to take at just about the time Mark got there, he took a pill and set it on the table in front of the musician, "Take your AZT." He said, part of him hoping to get even an angry reaction of Roger and part of him angry that Roger was so set on avoiding him that he hadn't even gotten up to take his AZT just because Mark had come home and was in the kitchen.
Roger didn't even look up.
Shrugging, Mark went into his room, figuring that since it was still early, he could at least work on editing the film he'd done over the past few weeks. Most of it was rather uninspired, but it gave him something to do. As he sorted through the rolls, he found some images of the two, potentially, homeless girls and couldn't help smiling. In the film, they were in the park, doing cartwheels, rolling around in the grass, play fighting and wrestling, sword fighting with sticks, etc. They looked, for all intents and purposes, as if they had no cares in the world. I need to stop filming them…someone's going to think that I'm a pervert or something. He put the reels aside in the box that was becoming their own.
Going through some more reels, he grabbed a reel that was of an old man sitting under a bridge, asking for spare change. Most people ignored him as the hurried past. He flipped through a few more reels, most of them were images of homeless people and Reye, Marshall, and himself.
Mark picked up another reel and after looking at it for a moment, couldn't resist putting it on the projector. After a few minutes an image of Reye appeared on the wall.
Reye messed around with a radio that she kept in the back of the counter. As the music came on, she began dancing, her hips moving slightly awkwardly since she lacked natural rhythm, a fact that Mark and Marshall teased her mercilessly for. Mark put the camera down. Within a moment, Reye picked it back up. Mark surprised himself by not making a move to stop her; he was beginning to trust her with his camera more. She pointed the camera at the boys as Marshall danced around the café with Mark. They danced close, Marshall's body moving with the music a lot more smoothly than Mark's rigid frame. Marshall put his hands on Mark's hips, guiding his pelvis to sway and gyrate with the unfamiliar salsa beat. Mark learned the steps easily, but continued to have issues with the hip movement, which no one minded since Marshall just liked to have fun and Mark loved the warm pressure of Marshall's hands on his waist.
Mark watched the scene with a huge smile on his face, the unpleasantness with Roger already forgotten.
LINELINELINELINE
PS: Thank you, everyone for the lovely reviews!! Glad to see that people are intrigued by the sneak peeks ;).
Feel free to review again:P
