DISCLAIMER: Sorry for the long wait, guys! School is right around the corner and I'm trying to finish all my summer homework in time. I tried to do some different things in this chapter for two reasons. 1. It's been awhile since the last update and 2. Depressed Roger makes me depressed. :( Now, there's some Mark/Roger stuff in this chapter. Take it as a really thick friendship or Roger's budding infatuation. It's all your choice. Also, Maureen's in this chapter! It's my first time trying to get inside her character. Let me know how I do? Anyway, here's chapter five. Rent doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Jonathan Larson. "Meant to Live" doesn't belong to me, either. It belongs to Switchfoot. Reviews are absolutely loved. Enjoy!
"Roger, please?" Mark begs me with big, hopeful eyes, only enlarged by the thick lenses of his glasses. "Please. Just... Just try it? It might help. I know you feel sick... I know, but..." At this point, I don't want to listen to him anymore. He knows I feel sick? Yeah, he thinks he knows. This isn't the common cold. It's not the fucking sniffles, Mark. This is a week and a half without any smack in my system, this is my body threatening to kill me if I don't give it what it wants, what it needs. This, Mark, this is withdrawal. And if I ever make it through this, I'm just going to die, anyway. This is my own body betraying me. No. You have fucking idea... I turn away, but when he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it protectively, I can't help but to face him. "But you can't just give up on music because April gave up on you..." I feel my stomach clench and I'm not exactly sure if it's my body's fault or Mark's. That was a low blow. I swat him away and give him a look that says "get the fuck out" without actually having to say the words. He sighs. He's losing patience with me, I can tell. "Alright. I can see you're not ready yet. Just think about it." He leaves the guitar on my lap and leaves my room. I stare at the Fender, but before I know it, my head is inside the plastic pickle tub beside my bed and I'm heaving.
Fumbling his confidence
And wondering why the world has passed him by
Hoping that he s meant for more than arguments
And failed attempts to fly, fly
Mark is fast asleep beside me, snoring gently and clutching at my pillow. I'm wearing his clothes because all of mine are either soiled or soaked in vomit, and neither of us have money for the laundromat. Before he knocked out, I told him he should be in Maureen's bed, not mine, but he refused to leave me alone tonight. Collins left a few weeks ago. He got some kind of fancy teaching job at MIT. Every few weeks he sends us money, but it's just enough for stuff like food and my AZT, so Mark lets me borrow his clothes. They're a bit tight on me, but I'm desperate for warmth. I'm shivering. My hair is still wet from the shower he gave me and it's only making me more cold. I turn onto my side and curl up in a ball. I put my shivering hands in front of my face and I see the blood... I see the crimson beads dripping off of her lips and on to my fingers... I see it, I see it... I can hear myself starting to sob and I see myself thrashing back and forth. It's surreal... Almost like I'm watching a movie. Then I see Mark's arms around me and he's telling me I'm having another nightmare.
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
We're sitting at the kitchen table now. A bowl of Cap'n Crunch and a half eaten cheese sandwich sit before me, one hardly looking more unappetizing than the other. I look across the table at Mark who's giving me an expecting look. I gulp softly, slowly picking up the cheese sandwich, bringing it to my lips, and... God, it smells awful. I put it back on the plate and he sighs. I apologize. I really am sorry... "It's okay, Rog." He says gently. "Just try the other." I nod and lift the spoon out of the cereal bowl. There's hardly any milk, so Mark gives me a glass of water to make sure I get it down. "C'mon, Roger. You have to eat." I stare at the cereal in the spoon before dropping it back in the bowl, then scooping it back up again. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" He gives me a playful smirk and I almost smile. I take a deep breath before shoving the spoon into my mouth and choking down the tiny corn squares. When I finish, I open my mouth and lift up my tongue to prove that the food's gone. Mark had caught on to my trick of hiding the squares under my tongue. I close my mouth and cough a little before taking a drink of the water. He's behind me now, rubbing my back and whispering softly into my ear. "I'm so proud of you, Rog. Really. You're gonna be fine." I want to believe him so bad... I fold my arms over each other on the table and rest my head on them. "Rog? Take your AZT."
Dreaming about providence
And whether mice or men have second tries
Maybe we ve been livin with our eyes half open
Maybe we're bent and broken, broken
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Getting me to eat was one thing, but at this point, I'm pretty sure he's lost his mind. "You need to get out. Let's go." Maureen nods in agreement and I can't help but to smirk. It's about the only time she's ever agreed with him. "Pookie's right, Roger. You need to get out! This isn't healthy!" She whines before leaving Mark's side to cling to mine. She grabs my arm and sighs dramatically, tugging on my shirt like a six year old tugs on his mother's. "You HAVE to come tonight! I'm doing my new performance piece: Toliet Paper: The Abuse of Trees for Our Own Comfort. You just gotta come!" I scoff, wrapping myself in my blanket and lifting myself off of the couch. I take a seat at the window and stare out of it, ignoring the happy couple behind me. "Fine, Roger! Fine. You know, you need fresh air! You're just going to die if you suffocate yourself up here for the rest of your life!" I clench my fists and shudder. I can hear Mark telling her to be more careful with her words. I can hear her artificial apology to him. They're both speaking softly. I don't think they want me to hear them, but I do, anyway. Then it's silent. It's silent for what feels like hours. "We need to get going." Mark finally says in his normal volume. "We'll be at the lot, if you decide to change your mind." I don't say anything, I don't nod, I don't give him any sort of aknowledgement. I just stare out the window until I hear the door close. They're gone, but I still don't turn around. I listen to their footsteps go down the stairs. I watch them as they exit the building, smiling, and kissing, and holding hands as they walk. It finally becomes too much to bear and I turn away.
We want more than this world s got to offer
We want more than this world s got to offer
We want more than the wars of our fathers
And everything inside screams for second life
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live
We were meant to live