Authors note: Hey guys! Kris here!
I know I owe another chapter of Vous sont manquant à partir de moi, but This is a new chaptered fic im starting. Vous sont manquant à partir de moi is getting ready to head around the bend towards closing, and alot more chapters are coming, no worries, but I had to write this one. This is also gonna give you guys something to read while you wait for the other. I never do two chapter fics at once, but I wanna challenge myself. Patience, though, Updates will come!
Its so funny how I got the idea for this. I went to bed last night, upset at how I had writers block, and I had a dream about this. Stuff in here is actually right from my dream, and though my alarm went off before I could have any good details, I was able to have enough of a skeleton to plug in the pieces for details! enjoy! this one is gonna be full of angst! please let me know what you think! im working on chapter two as we speak!
For right now, its going to remain as friendship, but I warn you, by the end, it will be romance. Mark/Roger. If you dont like it, dont follow it.
Also, this has nothing to do with all dogs go to heaven. I haven't seen that movie since I was like five, but for the idea of this fic, I thought the title was clever, and it just fit. I hope you enjoy! I dont own Rent or any characters from it.
I dedicate this fic to my two favorite Rent-heads in the world. Toni (kisstheboy7) and Nic 3 I love you both more than I can put into words! This has been a PSA. -krisrog out-
Mark Cohen wandered around the empty apartment complex by himself, surveying the different places with a heavy sense of indifference. He pulled Roger's worn leather jacket around himself more tightly as he felt a sudden chill sweep past from around him. Walking through the small court yard, he was about to pull out his camera, but stopped himself. What was the point anymore? he had no desire to finish his film.
The chill in the air suggested winter was right around the corner. At least he wouldnt be stuck in the loft with no heat. His heart ached. He would rather be there than here. With the one person who was his home. He didnt even want to think of his name, as it would only cause him to hurt more. The truth was, Roger had been dead for almost five years, but the wound still felt fresh, and raw. He could still hear his best friend gasping on the ground, and holding onto him tightly, crying and begging for the pain to stop.
Mark paused, standing still as the wind flowed gently around him. He lowered his head, feeling as if the entire world had turned it's back on him. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
"Pookie!? what do you think of this one?" called Maureen. He jumped at her sudden yell, but sighed, turning around, and shrugging deeper into the jacket as he made his way back over.
Maureen and Joanne had convinced him to move out of the loft, and into an apartment near Times Square with them. They figured it would do him good to not be left alone, and he finally agreed. He saw no reason to stay in the loft where visions of a green eyed rockstar haunted him. He still heard Roger's boot steps in his ears, still felt the vibrations of the loft door slamming as he came home in a less than stellar mood. He forced a weak smile for the diva as she grinned at him.
"It's…. nice.." he murmured simply. Maureen sighed.
"Baby, you've said that for the last six we've looked at… its gonna be your home too… now come on, this is the last one we have to see today." she took his hand, and Joanne watched with a little smile as Maureen tugged him up the stairs.
Mark looked around at the last apartment. Opening the door, it lead to a simple space. It had a fire escape like the loft, and a room or two off to the right and left. Maureen watched him, and giggled a little.
"This isn't it, Mark… wait till you see where your room would be…" she tugged him towards a little spiral staircase in the corner. Mark trudged up it, but his mouth fell open at what it lead to.
It almost looked like an attic room, but bigger. There was a bathroom, and big skylight, and another separate fire escape, with a window sill that was just like the one at the loft. It had a whole view of Times Square, and the empire state building. The entire city stretched for miles. They were high up.
"I… I like it…" Mark murmured, moving all around, and taking it in. "I really like it…" he whispered, trailing his hand along the window sill with a faint smile as he imagined a tall man curling up, and falling asleep on it after being out for hours at the life. "I think this is the place." he said gently.
Maureen let out a squeal of delight before bounding back down the stairs.
"Joanne! he likes it too!"
Mark smiled a little as he leaned over the miniature wall that let him view the rest of the apartment below.
"It's right in our price range too." Joanne said with a smile. "Plus, Mark, it's right near your job, isn't it?"
Mark nodded. He had gotten a small job for a less sleazy news company than buzzline. It was located right around Times Square. Mark enjoyed the fact that he'd be able to walk to work instead of bike quickly in an effort to not be late. He'd be able to film as much as he wanted on the way.
The seller who had been following them stepped inside.
"Well…" she smiled sweetly. "What do we think?"
"We'll take it." Joanne nodded, shaking her hand. Maureen ran up to Mark, and hugged him tightly.
"Oh pookie, isn't this amazing? we're a family and we're gonna be living together… like old times." Mark returned the hold half heartedly. He realized what old times meant. Collins… Benny… Roger…
Collins had passed away before Roger. That was a wound he hadn't quite gotten over either. His heart ached even worse. He had no idea where Benny was now. Probably starting a family with Alison, as Mimi was gone too.
As Maureen let him go, and ran back to Joanne, he sank down to the floor. He pulled out his favorite picture. It had everyone on the table in the life. It was from after Maureen's protest. Mark was laughing in the photo as he was being hugged by Mimi and Roger at the same time. Maureen and Joanne leaned into each other while Collins held Angel, a wide smile on his face. He felt himself choke up as he saw how happy everyone was… how wonderful things used to be. He realized he took moments like these for granted.
He knew the day would come when all of his best friends in the world would be gone… but he never imagined how painful it would be. He held the photo a little tighter as his vision blurred with tears. He missed everyone. He missed his family. His Real family.
He remembered how upset Roger had been after Mimi died that next year. He was so scared the rocker would fall back to drugs, to his crippling state of depression, but to his surprise, he tried to fight it. He stayed clean. Though he was still upset, and barely left the house, he tried. Mark had been so proud of him. Roger… his Roger. His tough, strong, stubborn asshole…
"Mark? are you coming? we have to get our stuff!" Maureen called after him. He quickly wiped his tears impatiently.
"Y-yeah…" he croaked, getting to his feet. "I'm coming…" he walked back downstairs, tucking the photo into his jacket. He felt like a part of him was missing.
A few hours later, they were helping him to move his stuff out of the loft. As he handed them the final box, and they moved down and out to load the car, he paused at the doorway.
He turned around, looking around at the now empty space. He smiled a little as he remembered how it had looked this way before. How Benny had locked them out. How impressed he had been when Angel knocked the padlock from the door like it was nothing. He walked around.
He remembered how pissed he had been when he had to go back to buzzline. He paused at the bathroom door. How upset Roger had been after finding April. Helping him through withdrawal… being there for him every step of the way.
He stood in the middle of the loft. A poster off to the side caught his eye. He quickly made his way over to it. He winced as he realized what it was advertising.
It was for Roger. His picture loomed on the front. "ROGER DAVIS" was in white lettering at the top. Mark smiled, running his fingers over it. They must have forgotten one when they burned the rest for heat. Roger looked so handsome with short hair. He sighed sadly, but nonetheless, plucked the poster from the wall, tucking it into his jacket carefully.
He made his way into Roger's old room, looking at all the dents and scratches in the door, and walls. He knew exactly how they got there. He walked over to the window, looking down at Maureen and Joanne almost finished with packing the car. He knew he'd have to come down soon.
He gave Roger's old bed frame a gentle squeeze before moving towards the doorway. He couldn't stop a sob from escaping him as he closed the door gently behind him.
He heard Maureen calling for him a few minutes later. He moved to the doorway of the loft, looking back on it with a sigh.
"I wanna go home…" he murmured quietly before gently sliding it closed on his way out for the last time. He paused at the top of the stairs, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle at "SURVIVAL 4 LYFE" written in crude graffiti on the wall.
Turning his back on what had been his true home for years, he padded down the stairs for the last time, and climbed into Joanne's car. Leaning his head against the window, He felt another piece of him being torn away as he watched their old building, and the small tent city being left behind them as they drove on.
Later that night, Mark grunted as he carried in his last box. He trekked up the stairs for the last time, and put it down. Maureen and Joanne had already unpacked, and decided to go greet their new neighbors. Mark was almost finished unpacking himself, save for a few things he wanted to hang up.
He had put up small blue and white christmas lights overhead that gave his little space a cozy feel. He bent down, opening the box he dreaded the most.
It was full of pictures.
He began taping them against his only free space, the wall beside his bed. It didn't take him long to run out of room, and begin using the non-opening part of his window.
They were mostly pictures of him and Roger. He smiled a little as he hung a picture of he and Roger making a funny face at the camera. They had been drunk that night.
Another picture showed them hugging happily on the table after Maureen's protest. Another was them having a snowball fight. The next showed them laughing and leaning against each other on the couch. Another showed them on the subway. Roger was sitting up, his arm around Mark, who had his head on the taller man's shoulder, while clutching his camera tight. They were both fast asleep.
One showed Roger smiling sweetly at the cameraman, who happened to be Mark, as he was filmed playing his guitar. A lot more pictures showed them doing stupid, but funny things, and having a great time. Mark blinked away tears as he saw a picture of his and Roger's hands, holding.
His favorite picture, he put up in the center. It was Roger picking him up off the ground in a tight hug. He was laughing, and Mark was too. He couldn't get over how happy they both looked. Mark smiled as he remembered it was from after he had been staying with his sister in scarsdale for almost a year before finally coming home. He didnt expect Roger to miss him as much as he did, but sure enough, when he walked through the door, he wasn't let go for almost twenty minutes.
He longed for another one of Roger's hugs. The musician always held tight. So tight, he usually had a hard time breathing, but he didn't care. He would give anything to feel his best friend again.
He finally hung up Roger's poster last, sighing a little as he stood back, and admired his placement of all the pictures. He was exhausted from a long day of moving, and re-living pain. He finally settled down on his bed, which he had placed right beside the window. All he had to do was open the panel right next to him if he wanted to go out to the fire escape. He looked out at the city. Tomorrow, he had a busy day at work.
Miserable, he pulled Roger's jacket over himself. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what it was like when the taller man would sometimes hold him after a nightmare, and they would sleep together, cuddled up so close, they could hear the other's heartbeat.
"I miss you…" he whispered before he was crying again. He curled up tight, shutting his eyes. It wasn't long before he was asleep, holding the jacket like it was the last thing on earth.
The skylight shone down on his shaking, sleeping form as the stars gleamed brightly overhead. Time doesn't stop for anyone. The night went on.