A/N: So, this is where the fic really starts to get dark (because it was all fluff and rainbows before), in this chapter we meet April and everyone knows how that turns out, though I'm going to do something I've never seen before in the fanfiction world (and you don't get to find out yet). And also, it's the first time Mark ever sees Roger high on heroin... it only gets worse from here on in.
Chapter 8
I was tired from a long day of job searching, but my screenplay wasn't quite right yet, and the early morning hours were always when inspiration seemed to hit. So, I sat on the ratty couch, the notebook opened on my lap, and my pen clutched a bit too loosely in my hand. I was stumped, honestly, stumped. I couldn't think of anything that I wanted to write about, no new direction to take the story in.
I was surprised that I wasn't the only one awake. There was someone else awake, in fact, he was just walking into the loft when I went to go see if we had any milk left in the fridge. "Hey, Roger," I greeted, he had just finished a gig.
Roger looked at me, skinned flushed and grinning like a madman. "Hey kiddo!" he greeted. "I met this great girl!"
Roger was high, I was naive but I wasn't a complete idiot. I didn't know what he was high on, but I could tell he was high, this time it seemed no more then Collins and his relaxed after-pot state. I decided to let it go, and to humour Roger, "Really? What's her name?"
"April," Roger sighed blissfully, "She's got... the most beautiful smile." Roger moved slowly and sluggishly across the loft to join me on the couch, where he sat cross-legged, and scratching absentmindedly at his arm.
I thought of Maureen's laughter and how it made me feel, and suddenly understood why Roger's voice was filled with fascination and admiration. "Good for you, good for you."
I had watched Roger come down from his high, he seemed to have long periods of wakefulness where he would pace, jog and run around the loft, easily hurdling the couch, preceded and followed by times where he would curl up in the armchair, and sleep. A sleep so deeply that even Collin's booming voice would not have woke him, I found myself up that entire night, because every time Roger's chest rose and fell a little too slowly, I would shoot up and lean in close to him, to make sure the breath sounds were still there.
It had never bothered me before that Collins, Maureen, and sometimes Roger smoked pot, but this strange new drug both confused and upset me. The affects had seemed stronger, but I decided this one time, was not a problem, besides, Roger seemed happy.
The next morning, I told Collins about it. Roger had stumbled off to his room, finally, and would be almost comatose until six in the evening. Collins had walked into the living-kitchen area yawning hugely and setting out to find some non-existent food.
"Morning Marky," Collins said, he had picked up the irritating nickname quite quickly.
"Morning Tom," I retorted.
Collins brow crinkled and he frowned, "How about we start over?" he could clearly see that I was not in a good mood, as most of the time I just ignored the name Marky. I nodded in agreement, "Good morning, Mark," Collins said, with a slight smile.
"Morning Collins," I replied, "Though good might be the wrong word for it."
"Why? It's seven am, what could possibly have gone wrong in the 2 minutes you've been up?"
"I haven't gone to bed yet." I told Collins. When he poised to ask the question why, everything just tumbled out, how I was scared and confused because I didn't know what it was, and whether or not the things Roger was doing were the norm.
"Well, I can clear up some stuff for you," Collins said, "Roger is recreational heroin user, the high you described comes just moments after ingesting the drug, and the sleeping, awake, sleeping pattern is called 'on the nod', so Roger is definitely displaying the normal symptoms."
I stared stunned at Collins for a few minutes, "Really? Roger uses heroin?"
"As far as I know, only once or twice a month, but this isn't the first time he's come home high." Collins stated.
"Well, if it is just fun then... I'll forget about it, this time," I said. This time wasn't the problem.
Roger stepped out of his room, fully dressed at 6:30pm, "Mark, we got any food?" he called.
I had been in the kitchen, looking for some sort of food, and replied, from underneath the counter, "Um, nothing yet."
"Whoa, Mark, where are you?" Roger asked.
"Underneath the counter," I replied, as I stood.
"Oh, that explains the disembodied voices," Roger grinned at me, "Check the top shelf of the cupboard, it is where Collins thinks he hides things from me."
I opened the one of the cupboards above the counter, and shouted (perhaps a little too loudly), "Success, a full box of saltine crackers..." I reached up to grab them, but found them just slightly out of my reach.
Roger who was a few inches taller then me, could have come over and helped, but watching me struggle was far more amusing to him. "No wonder Collins hides things on the top shelf," I muttered.
Roger laughed and gently shoved me out of the way, before (finally) grabbing the only source of nourishment in the loft. He opened the box and took a sleeve out before putting the box back on the top shelf. Then, Roger walked away. "Roger!" I cried, then unable to think of anything else a childish phrase came out of my mouth, "Finder's keepers!"
"How about he who actually has the food decides to who gets the food?" Roger smiled. I walked up to him, and reached for the sleeve of crackers, which he held tauntingly above my head. "Oh, I have a question for you, Marky."
"I'm not answering until I get some food," I complained bitterly, "I'm starving."
"Me too," Roger said, ripping open the sleeve of crackers and piling some on the metal table, "Here, we can split these, I'll save the rest." And he threw the crackers back into the cupboard, though I noticed he placed them on the lower shelf.
It was as if the previous night hadn't even happened. This was what I knew, it was familiar, and so Roger and I sat across from each other, splitting the crackers between us. "So, what's the question?"
"Oh, right," Roger said, "You want to come to my show tonight?"
"Sure," I said without a second thought, "I'll bring my camera and film, maybe I can sell the footage and get some fucking money."
"I'm sure that won't be a problem..." Roger hesitated, Roger never hesitated. There was something else, something Roger either didn't want to tell me, or even unlikelier Roger was nervous about telling me.
"What is it, Rog?" I asked quietly, lightly urging him to tell me.
"April is going to be there." He told me, and I laughed, "It's not funny," he protested.
It was funny, "Roger, you've never been nervous about dating a girl before... why now?" I asked, still laughing.
"Because this one is different Marky," Roger had replied in a tone that I was unfamiliar with, it was filled with adoration, "She's just... I don't know, fuck, I sound stupid don't I?"
"No you don't." I had assured him.
The club was dark and dingy and I doubted that my ancient camera could pick up anything except the haze of smoke that drifted around the club, concealing everyone's feet. I sat at the chestnut coloured bar, and faced the stage. The stage was not large, nor was it well-lit, but it had a decent set of speakers, a decent amp, and a decent microphone. The band was not due on for hours, but I had left for hours.
Someone cleared their throat and I looked in the direction of the noise. It was the bar tender, who was tall, skinny, balding and very grumpy looking stared back, "I asked you if you wanted something kid." He said.
I silently counted the bills in my pocket... not too many, three or four, five maybe if I checked the other pockets. "Um...a beer, I guess. Whatever is on tap."
The bar tender flung a dirty rag over his shoulder, and muttered something about, "Cheap kids," before going to get my drink. I rolled my eyes as a beer was slid in my direction, haphazardly.
I looked at the people around me on the stools. The two on either side of me were empty, and I snorted in disbelief, did I honestly repel people? But two stools to my left, there's a middle-aged man, and the best word to describe him is thick. Thick, not as in stupid, but as in he had a thick mass of ginger curls, and his arms and shoulders and neck were thick, to top it all off, there was the pair of thick round glasses sitting on the end of his nose. I pushed my glasses up, and hope I never look like that man, who had at least three or four beers in front of him.
To my right, where the bar curved, so your back would be facing the stage, there was a young, a very young man. He looked no older than me, and seemed both pleased and scared. On his lap was a slightly older looking woman, with false eyelashes, and violent looking nails. I watched as she trailed a lethal-lengthened cuticle from the boy's forehead and down his cheek to his chin.
"Hey Mark," a stranger said, as she sat down on the bar stool beside me. Well, I thought, on one hand, at least I don't smell, on the other, who the hell is she?
"Um...do I know you?" I ask, deciding to take a better look at this girl, to see if I can place her. She's tiny, really tiny, smaller then me, shorter and slimmer, but she has this sort of presence about her, and I feel like I already know her. Her bright red hair was cut short and framed her face, she had hazel eyes and long dark eyelashes, and perfect bow-shaped lips. Then, she smiled at me, and it was even more radiant then Collins' smile, it seemed to light up not only her face, but the entirety of the bar. "Oh, you must be April," I said, "Nice to meet you,"
"Wow, Roger told me you were observant, but I didn't expect an answer that quickly," she tugged at her long-sleeved shirt, almost nervously, and threw me another, this time a nervous, smile.
"Yeah, well, Roger and I have known each other for a long time," I said, "In fact, he asked me to film his show tonight," I didn't mention to April that I wanted to catch her gorgeous smile on film as well, I figured once Roger was on stage, I could just film her in the moment. People always looked their best when they weren't scanning every movement the camera makes.
The lights on the stage came up, and the band cast long shadows in the stage-show lighting effects, the sound-system was slightly crackly, but not so that you couldn't hear what was going on. I even found myself truly relaxed for the first time that night as Roger's familiar low voice drifted into the crowded room.
Girls pushed eagerly to the front of the stage, and Roger gave them his trade-marked smirk, and closed his eyes and sang. Still girls swarmed to get close to Roger, it seemed as if every girl in the club, single or otherwise, was drawn to him. Except for the one sitting beside me.
"Doesn't it bother you?" I asked April, who has been staring at Roger from a distance.
"Doesn't what bother me?" April asked, half-listening, half-gazing at Roger with her intense smile playing across her face.
"Those girl, all shoving and queueing, and..." I looked and saw to my amazement, "Pulling each others hair to get close to your boyfriend."
"Not at all," April said happily, "Because at the end of the night, it's me he walks home and kisses good night."
Roger started a new song then, and I lifted the camera once again, first pointing it at the crowd, then at the band – close up on Roger, and then slowly I turned the camera to April, and captured what I imagined to be one of the happiest moments of her life. The expression she wore was so full of love, and her captivating smile and it was just perfect. It wasn't long before these perfect moments started to disappear.
A/N: A little shorter then the last two chapters, but I initially wanted to end this after the Roger and Mark crackers scene but that just seemed a bit too short. So, I introduced Mark to April. Yay for introductions! R&R!