A few weeks later, everything had returned to what constituted for normal in the teens' world. Sure, Mimi wasn't speaking to any of them (especially Roger and Joanne), Maureen and Angel were fast becoming infamous for their random kisses in the hallway and Mark would disappear for fifteen minutes every lunch period and show up late with rosy cheeks and a dazed smile, but after the drama of the gig, it had calmed down. The five friends would always be seen together for lunch, so it was a surprise to three of them when Joanne didn't show up one day.
"Hey Rog," Mark said as he slid into a plastic seat, actually on time for lunch. He looked around the room, saw Maureen and Angel heading towards them but didn't see the resident brainiac. "Where's Jo today?"
"Yeah, I wanted to talk to her, where's my Jojo?" Maureen asked with a giggle. Angel smoothed her dark hair behind her shoulders, earning himself a warm smile from his girlfriend.
Roger scowled slightly at Maureen. "She doesn't like being called that, Mo. She's at an interview for a scholarship… But it worked out perfectly. Now I can talk to you guys. It's her birthday next week… can you guys help me plan a surprise party? And before you ask, Mark, Collins can come too." The geeky filmmaker blushed when Roger gave him a pointed look. "Just… decorations, music, who else to invite, all that shit that I'm not good at. We can have it at my place, my parents will be gone. So will you?"
Maureen nodded and squealed happily. "Ooh, this sounds so fun! Ang, do you want to go shopping with me after school?" Angel nodded, taking hold of her hand on top of the table. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. The display made Mark sigh a bit. They all knew what that meant. So… they weren't surprised when he excused himself a few minutes later to get to the bathroom before class started. Lunch didn't end for another twenty minutes.
Maureen and Angel seemed involved with each other, so Roger pulled out his notebook and pencil to work some more on Joanne's birthday present. It wasn't right yet…
Mark decided that he didn't like white days. White days he had math (which he hated,) gym (which he hated even more,) chemistry (in which he had to deal with an idiotic teacher who should have retired years ago,) and English (which wasn't that bad, but his final class on blue days was much more preferable.) Besides, he didn't get to see Collins at all during those days except for at lunch. However, Collins had been inviting him to his apartment after school, so the lack of contact during white days was bearable.
This particular day, Mark was sitting in Collins's small apartment on a patched leather couch while his older (dare he think it) boyfriend was in the kitchen-esque area, getting them iced teas, but splashing a hint of Stoli in his. He had just told Collins about Joanne's party, and he had yet to say anything about it. Mark was watching him carefully. Finally he couldn't take the silence. "So, what do you think?"
Collins brought the glasses out to where Mark was sitting, set them on a low table and slid down next to the blond. "I don't know, baby," he said lowly, gathering the smaller man in his arms. Mark sighed, content for the moment, but he was still tense waiting for the rest of Collins's answer. "There'll be other kids there from the school, yes?" Mark nodded, slowly stroking Collins's fingers. "How will we hide us? It's easy in school, but if I see you dressed up for the party and there's music playing… you're just far too tempting, Mark, and that might be disastrous." Mark laughed a little when Collins nuzzled into his hair before planting a kiss on the top of his head.
"Please?" Mark twisted in Collins's lap to pout up at him. He quickly learned how much the pout affected Collins. The filmmaker rarely used it, but now seemed like an appropriate occasion. Collins groaned deep in his chest. "Pleeease?" The anarchist sighed and nodded. Mark smiled and leaned up for a light kiss. Said kiss soon turned much deeper, surprising Mark. Before he knew it, Collins was half on top of him, reducing him to a Mark-shaped puddle. A warm brown hand teased his sweater up, inching over pale stomach. Shivers sailed down the blonde's spine. He moved his hands from Collins's back to the front of his jeans, trying to undo them.
He whined a little when Collins gently moved his hands away from his pants. The older man sat up, bringing Mark with him and kissing his hands softly. "Not yet, my heart. It'll be sweeter if you wait." Mark sighed. Collins had been like this every time he tried to go further than hot kisses and hands wandering on chests. But in some way, the gesture touched him. He smiled at Collins to show he wasn't angry before giving him another soft kiss. The two cuddled on the couch again, sipping iced tea and chatting quietly.
Maureen leaned up against her car, waiting (impatiently) for the arrival of Angel after school. She hadn't been able to concentrate in any of her after lunch classes, partially due to Angel, but because of party plans. She'd spent all of History making a list of things they should get as well as who to invite and what everyone needed to bring. She'd tried to come up with a good idea for a present, but that hadn't worked as well.
She grinned when she saw him walking towards her. God, he was cute. How she managed to hook him, she'd never know. Maureen promptly planted her lips on his, kissing him hello. He smiled, twirling a strand of her hair around one of his fingers.
"You ready?" Maureen asked.
"Mhm," Angel hummed, walking around the car to the passenger's side.
"I made lists," Maureen said, pulling them from her bag before starting the car. "Here." She thrust them into his lap as she sped out of the parking lot. "What do you think?"
"That's a lot of stuff," Angel said, skimming the pretty pink scribbles on the paper.
"I know," she nodded. "Just ideas. But we need balloons, streamers…"
"Music."
"And cake!"
Angel giggled at her exclamation. "Yes, cake."
"Ooh, we could make a cake!" she said, bouncing in her seat. "Can you bake?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
"Good, cause I almost failed Life Skills in middle school. My cookies come out like rocks."
Angel laughed again.
"I'm not kidding," she said straight faced as she drove through a parking space at the mall. "My dog won't eat them."
"Come on," Angel said, tugging on her hand. "We've got a lot of shopping to do."
Joanne picked up her pink plastic telephone receiver and pressed her red fingernails against the glowing buttons, dialing the number of a geeky blond rather pale boy she sat next to in computer class.
"Hello?"
"Hi, may I speak to Mark, please?"
"One second," the girl-ish voice chirped. "Mom! Where's Mark? There's a GIRL on the phone!"
Joanne giggled, thinking about Collins.
"Umm, he's not here right now. Can I take a message?"
"Could you tell him that Joanne called? Just a quick question about homework."
"Sure. Bye."
Joanne hung up the phone, sighing. Maybe Collins would know. Of course Collins would know. He gave the assignment. Her sister had been friends with Collins back in high school and he'd spent a number of evenings at her house, drinking and talking. He'd befriended Joanne as well and she was glad he was teaching computer class.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Hello?"
Finally. "Collins?"
"Hey Jo," he said, panting slightly. "What's up?"
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Mark, that tickles, cut it out… no. You're not. What's up?"
Joanne sighed. That's where Mark was. She should have known. "Um, nothing. Just had a question about the homework. But it can wait."
She could hear him talking to Mark, not even listening to what she wanted.
"Sorry, Jo, what?"
"Nothing," she said. "Talk to you later."
She set the phone down in the receiver a little harsher than necessary, but it made her feel better. She rolled over, staring at the huge pile of AP History homework she had to do. Maybe she'd call Maureen, procrastinate a little.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Maureen there?"
"No, I'm sorry, she's not. Who is this?"
"Joanne."
"Joanne, I think she's over at Angel's."
"Thanks," she sighed, hanging the phone up… again. What the hell? Did no one want to talk to her?
Roger.
Roger would talk to her.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"S'me. Roger. Leave a message. Maybe I'll call you back."
Joanne grumbled slightly. "Hey Rog, it's me. Just wanted to chat. Call me back."
What the fuck! Did everyone have lives but her? She flopped backwards on her bed, sighing angrily. Joanne didn't like feeling ignored, not one bit.
Roger Davis didn't hear his phone ring. He was busy constructing the perfect birthday gift up on the roof. He'd climbed out his bedroom window, guitar in hand (not an easy feat to accomplish, mind you) and had nestled into a small bend in the roof, strumming clumsily as he scribbled on his notepad.
Joanne glared at the stack of homework sitting on her computer chair. It was mocking her. Teasing her. She had no life. All of her friends were out having fun without her and here she was, stuck with this fucking AP book and five million assignments. She turned over, back to the book and yawned slightly. She was tired. Today had been a long day. Maybe she'd take a quick nap… do homework… later.
"Maureen! Where are you?"
"Over here," she shouted back, stuffing her arms with brightly colored streamers. "Come here."
Angel hurried over, basket in hand, locating the drama queen in an aisle of the party store in the mall. She dumped the streamers into the basket and sighed happily. "Good colors? I got orange. And yellow. And green."
"Sure," Angel shrugged, slipping his hand through hers as they walked.
"Balloons!" she squealed, grabbing a package of assorted colors. "We should get helium balloons! Hearing Mark on helium would make my life."
Angel nodded, laughing in agreement. "We'd have to get them the night of the party so they don't deflate."
"Good," Maureen said. "More time together."
Angel squeezed her hand gently as she chucked the balloons into the basket.
"Oh, look!" she said, picking up another package. "It's those… blowy thingers. You know? You blow it and the tail pops out."
"A noise maker?"
"Sure," she said, adding that to their collection of party things.
Angel shook his head slightly, smiling, as she dragged him off down another aisle.
Collins reached down to remove Mark's hands from where they were currently undoing his pants. "Come on, baby…" he said in a heavy voice, still panting a bit. "I told you we should wait…"
The anarchist wanted to cry with sexual frustration when the smaller man rolled off of him. He sat up, adjusting his jeans carefully. His young blond boyfriend noticed, crawled to the side of the couch on his knees and reached between Collins's legs. The feeling of Mark's hands touching him through denim undid him for a moment, making him tilt his head back, muffling a moan by biting his lip. However, when he felt skin on skin, he reacted. He pushed Mark away harder than he meant to.
The filmmaker fell into the coffee table. Collins quickly re-buttoned his pants and scrambled down next to his boyfriend. "Oh, Mark… Oh my god, baby, I am so sorry… Are you hurt?"
Mark pushed away the gentle hand searching for injuries and glared at the anarchist, tears in his eyes. "Is it me, Collins?" Collins started to protest, but Mark cut him off. "No. I don't want to hear it. Call me when you figure it out and when I'll be allowed to love you like I want to."
Collins spluttered as Mark grabbed his scarf and left.
Collins let himself fall forward, landing face-first on the floor with a rather painful thump. Shit. He knew this day would eventually come. It wasn't that he didn't want Mark. He did, with every fiber of his being.
Collins had overestimated his own control. He thought it might be easier to have a relationship with someone younger, but it was just as hard. Harder, even. He had fallen for Mark faster than he ever imagined he could fall for anyone. It had been amazing for the past month, but now came the hard part.
Sex. He longed to make love to Mark. He ached for him, to see his lithe body moving perfectly beneath him, to feel his warmth, to taste his sweat -
A high-pitched beeping interrupted his thoughts. Collins sat up, shuddering out a sigh. "AZT break," he muttered to himself in a forlorn voice. He sniffed back threatening tears as he trudged into the bathroom. Painfully, Collins choked down the pills, plagued with guilt, sorrow and disease.
