Disclaimer: I don't own the genius that is RENT. That's all Jon, baby. :)
Warnings: Mentions of sex and contains foul language. It's RENT, whatcha expect?
Hey! Second chapter today! I should get like, a cookie or something. Hmmm, anyone have a cookie?
Anyways, hope you like this chapter too:)
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We all have emotions. Whether we cover them up, or wear our hearts on our sleeves, our emotions are there. Our emotions are our very souls magnified; our whole embodiment in one fell swoop of hormones and situation. The place we're in, the life we lead, the people we're with, it all comes into play with our emotions. There are certain situations that make me mad, sad, frustrated, happy, grumpy, elated, etc. My emotions run on a short fuse, and they come hard.
I'm Roger Davis, and I'm an emotional time bomb.
I'll admit, when I get angry, I get angry. When I get sad, I get sad. My emotions run so high; people could get euphoric if they were drugs. My emotions are on such a short fuse; cannons would backfire on a soldier two seconds after it was lit. Sometimes, I just can't control myself. The situation. The people. It all gets to me at once; I just can't handle it sometimes.
Sometimes, I feel so full of emotion, I might explode. I need to vent it. I need to let it go. I'm not Mark. I need to let my emotions show. I have to.
Mark is mad. We fought. He said something that hit me the wrong way. I tried to hold it all in. I tried not to blow up, I really did. But, like I said, I have to let it out. I just have to.
He's shuffled out of his room. He glances over at me on the ragged couch, my hair a mess and my beloved guitar draped over my lap. I pluck its strings every few seconds, too tired to even try to play Musetta's Waltz.
His voice is draped in sleep; it's rough and cracks every once and a while. He heads to the 'kitchen'. "Rog?"
I grunt in response. So. damn. tired.
"You want some coffee?"
Another grunt.
"Okay, I take that as a yes." he says, slightly annoyed. He hates when I don't answer him with words. I hate that he cares.
Why is he suddenly on my nerves?
I rise from the couch, setting my guitar on the make-shift coffee table, and go into the kitchen where he's making coffee. I cross my arms over my chest and clear my throat to get his attention. He turns around and raises his eyebrows. "What?"
"What the fuck is your problem?" I know I'm being an ass. I don't even know why I'm starting this. But, my heart is burning, my hands are clenched, and I can feel my jaw setting hard against itself.
He looks confused. He doesn't know what he did wrong. It makes me angry and I don't know why. I suppose I like the rise out of people. I like the reaction. I want to see people feel as much as I do.
He leans against the counter and surveys me. I can see him trying to figure out what's got me so pissed. I can see his mind working.
That's what 7 years of being best friends does to you, I suppose.
His jaw clenches and unclenches. Mine's clenched still. I can feel it starting to hurt. I need his reaction. I need to let this emotion out. I can't handle it. "What. the. fuck. is. your. problem?" I say again, getting increasingly closer to him.
He doesn't look nervous. His breathing isn't shallow. He's not afraid of me.
His blue eyes flash with ideas. He's trying to figure out ways to turn the anger he knows so well of me, into a lighter, better mood.
Damn him. What if I need this anger? We can't all be bottled up.
I growl. He snorts and pushes me away from him lightly with two of his fingers. His gaze doesn't leave mine. He's discovered how to make it better. And I'm going to fall right into it.
His eyes soften. I can feel the hard ice melting quickly around mine. It's hard to stay mad at my best friend.
He chuckles and throws a tea bag at my head. My mouth opens in shock. He laughs again.
"Oh, you are so gonna pay for that." My eyes are warm. I forgot why I was mad. The happiness I'm venting through this play with him is letting it out. I'm letting it go. It feels so good.
He's laughing. He's just as happy as I am. I'm getting the exact reaction I needed.
Another tea bag hits my head. I growl playfully.
"Oh no! Please, Roger! Spare me!" He's messing with me. I can't help but feel that smile pull at my lips.
Damn him.
I chase him around the living room. I tackle him. We have a pillow fight. We tickle one another. We've become five again for about 20 minutes.
When it's over, his face is red from the exertion. My hair is frizzy and I'm breathing heavily.
He hits my chest and I hit his. We laugh.
"I love you, Rog."
"Love you too, man."
"Still best friends?"
"Always."
I smirk. So does he.
My emotions are vented. I'm free.
Human emotion.
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Chapter two, DONE! As of right now, I only have two more chapters planned. But, if you want me to write more, then tell me! Thank you, all! R&R. :)
Te Amo.
saygnight