Disclaimer: Rent was created by Jonathan Larson. Someone else now has the rights to it; I'm not sure who, but not me. I'm only having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me... pretty please?
Mark decided to sleep in for a few minutes and felt Roger slip out of the bed. He heard the shower running, then sat up and stretched. He rolled out of bed and thought that he'd help out and make it for once. Because his mother told him to always pull the sheets off and put them back in place, he took off the blankets and the top sheet. He separated the sheet from the pile of covers and started to spread it when something caught his attention. On the bottom sheet were a few dark spots. He inspected the top sheet and found the same thing. What could it be?
He looked at the stains a little closer. They were a dark brown color that stood out against the light blue sheets. When he got closer he realized they were bloodstains. There wasn't any pattern to them, but they were on the lower half of the bed only. Mark looked down at his boxer-clad legs. He hadn't scraped or cut himself so he didn't think the blood was his. It had to be Roger's. Why would Roger be bleeding?
Roger showered quickly. He lathered his body and hair with soap until he was even paler than, well, than Mark. Then he stood under the spigot until the water ran clear and toweled himself dry. He balled up the towel and his dirty boxers and shoved them into the laundry basket, then dressed and returned to the bedroom.
As soon as he saw the state of the bed, and Mark dealing with the sheets, he hurried forward. "Don't worry, I'll take care of that." He'd thought the sheets weren't too dirty--he'd only changed them four days ago--but if they were bothering Mark he needed to change them now.
Mark looked over at Roger and decided that he better make certain that Roger was okay. The doctor in him wouldn't let it go. "Roger, are you hurt anywhere? When I went to make the bed, I found some drops of blood on the sheets."
He shook his head. "I'm fine," he assured Mark. "Probably just caught my arm on a corner somewhere," he said. He started to take the quilt out of its cover, then the pillows.
Mark shook his head. "It's on the wrong spot for it to come from your arm. It's definitely the lower half of your body. If you're injured, let me take a look. I don't want you getting an infection or something."
"It's nothing, I'm not injured." He fetched fresh linens and started to cover the mattress. Maybe if Mark saw that he was getting along all right, he'd forget about the blood.
"Then where did the blood come from?"
"I don't know, Mark." He tensed, but kept working.
Mark saw Roger's muscles tense up and knew he was hiding something. He decided to keep pressing because Roger's health was important. He hoped it was just a scrape or cut that he was embarrassed about, and not a symptom of a serious illness or something. "Roger, I better take a look and see if I can find out where that blood is coming from. It could be the indication of something really serious, especially if you don't know where it's coming from."
"I'm fine, really," Roger assured him. He finished putting on the sheets and tucked the quilt in at the foot and sides of the bed, turned down. Then he arranged the pillows. He'd gotten so good at this he could be a hotel maid. It wasn't even because Robert had liked it--Roger liked sleeping in a clean, tidy bed. It helped him relax.
"Let me be the judge of that. I don't want anything to happen to you."
Roger knew when he had lost. "Wh-what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Take off your pants and get on the bed. You can keep your boxers on for now."
Roger looked at him, not understanding. He knew what Mark was after, but... "Wouldn't it, wouldn't it be easier for you to do if I took them off?"
Mark furrowed his brow, then realized what his words must have implied. He blushed. "Oh! No, I don't mean that, Roger. I'm just going to check your legs for cuts and abrasions. If I find the source of the bleeding, then I know it's not anything too serious. Keep your boxers on for now."
Roger pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them. He sat on the edge of the bed with his arms across his thighs, focusing on the floor by Mark's feet
Mark looked at all the exposed flesh on Roger's legs carefully. He couldn't find anything unusual until he looked above Roger's knees. He could see a slight discoloration near where his boxers covered his legs. "Could you move your arms off your thighs? I'm going to move the boxer legs up to check there."
"Please don't," he whispered. He didn't care what Mark wanted with him in sexual terms, but he had been beating himself so Mark didn't have to do it, because he knew Mark wouldn't want to, and he didn't want Mark to have to. Besides which, he didn't want Mark knowing how awful he had been.
But his innate desire to please won out and he moved his arms off his legs.
Mark gingerly lifted the fabric of Roger's boxers and gasped. His thighs were covered in bruises and welts. Some were very fresh, others were starting to heal. They were obviously the source of the blood. He could see the edges of whatever made the marks... a ruler or belt or something like that. These marks were too new to be made by Roger's ex, so they obviously were self-inflicted. He looked over the wounds and made certain they were clean and not infected. "These are pretty clean and clear of infection. You can put your pants back on."
"Thank you." He pulled up his pants quickly. The bed was made already, so he picked up the dirty linen and went to collect the dirty laundry from the bathroom.
Mark followed Roger down the stairs. He wanted to say something about the injuries, but he wasn't sure what. Finally he just said, "We'll have to have a talk tonight, OK?" in what he hoped was a calm tone
That concerned Roger. What about? What had he done wrong? Was this about the sheets? Should he have changed them earlier? "Wh-why? I-if this, if it's the, the sheets, I, listen, I promise, all you've got to do, just tell me how often you like them changed, I'll take care of it!"
"It's not about the sheets. I only changed them because of the blood. Once a week is fine. It's not about the sheets, it's about your legs. I think we need to talk about how you got your bruises."
"N-n-no, we d-, we don't need to talk about that."
"I think we do. I'd like to talk now, but unfortunately, I probably have five chest coughs waiting for me in the office already today. I think it's important that we discuss it though."
Roger wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere, or maybe throw up, but he nodded. There was plenty of time for throwing up and curling in corners while the sheets were in the wash. "Okay," he whispered.
Mark led Roger downstairs to the kitchen, where he poured himself a coffee, thanking his mother silently for the coffee pot that worked on a timer. "I'm going to try to get back a bit earlier than usual today, Ok?"
Roger nodded. "Okay," he said, and made a mental note to have dinner ready a little earlier than usual.
Mark went into the study and grabbed his briefcase. He made a mental note to also look up articles about self-harm in the psychology journals he had already placed in it. Maybe they could give some insight into the situation. Mark was concerned about Roger. He hoped he'd know how to handle him and for a moment wondered if he should try to find a counselor through the office to talk to them both. He was scared of making things worse for Roger.
He came out and gave Roger a quick hug. "Have a good day. I'll see you when I get back."
Roger made sure everything was perfect. It had to be, if Mark was going to forget about earlier. He had dinner ready, the house clean--he'd been cleaning like mad, had done the laundry, everything anyone could ask for, Roger had done. Well, within reason, but surely Mark would see how good he was being! Mark was reasonable. He couldn't overlook...
And Roger knew this. He still wanted to run and hide, but he forced himself to remain upstairs and just fret until Mark came home.
Mark had a full day, but it wasn't overly busy. Most of the patients that day had problems that were relatively easy to solve and most of them were somewhat in a hurry so the chatting was kept to a minimum. Mark even had time to read a few articles that he thought would help him understand what was going on with Roger. Unfortunately, they didn't offer him any new insights or advice about how to handle the situation. He considered calling an old classmate of his, who specialized in psychology, but he wasn't sure what he would say. Roger's behavior was unsettling and definitely not healthy, but he wasn't entirely convinced that Roger needed direct intervention. Yet.
The articles he read made Mark see that Roger's problems could get worse, but he hoped that a positive stable environment would help him. If it didn't they could always look to therapy and even medication, but Mark decided not to think about that unless it was necessary. He knew getting Roger to talk to anyone in a clinical setting would be a battle. He already felt guilty about costing Mark money for food, so medical expenses would be an issue for him.
As he promised, Mark managed to finish up early and arrived home by 4:00. When he walked into the house, he was struck by how clean it was. The scent of cooking food was wafting through the house, and a pie was on the cooling rack on the counter. He's trying to please me again, thought Mark. One of the articles about abused children he read talked about sometimes having a need to please in order to feel a sense of worth.
He looked around for Roger, but couldn't see him immediately. "Roger!" he called. "I'm home. Where are you?"
Roger was in the bathroom when Mark arrived home. He'd tried not to be, he really had, but he'd drunk milk to calm himself and after a while, the milk was through with him. He'd sat a long time, what felt like forever on a full bladder, and finally had to run to the bathroom. And just his luck that he should be in there when Mark returned home!
Roger finished up quickly, scrubbed his hands and dashed out. "Hey, Mark." He smiled, and found to his surprise that he wanted very much to run up to Mark and hug him.
Mark grinned at Roger. "There you are! How was your day?"
"Good." He found cleaning very relaxing, but even if he hadn't he wouldn't have told Mark so. "How was yours?" Roger asked.
"It was fairly calm. The old ladies didn't want to talk all day today. No great disasters happened." Mark sat down for a moment and pondered if he should bring up Roger's legs at this moment. He decided to do so, but from a purely medical perspective. "How are your legs? No heat or redness on the marks?"
"They're fine," he answered stiffly. He realized that he couldn't get out of this one.
Mark decided there was no time like the present than to start talking. "Roger, I'm concerned. How did you get the bruises?" He already knew, but wanted to see if Roger would admit what he had done.
Roger opened his mouth and couldn't make words come out. His muscles tightened. Surely there was some alternative explanation! He couldn't think of any, though, maybe because he knew the answer.
"I don't want to talk about this," he whispered, staring with all his might at a spot on the floor.
Mark tried another tactic. "Did you do this to yourself?" he asked, again trying to get Roger to admit something.
His chest constricted. Roger squeezed his eyes shut. This is not happening, this is not happening. "I don't want to talk about this," he repeated. His voice was higher than it had been the last time he spoke. He pressed his nails into his palm.
Mark was frustrated but he didn't want to scare Roger or make him think he was angry. He asked a third time: "Roger, did you make the marks on your legs?"
He whimpered. There was no way to get out of this. "Yes," he whispered.
"Why?" His voice was soft, not accusing.
"Because... because... please don't, please," he whimpered. Roger was beginning to feel dizzy. The room tilted and whirled around him. He sank down to his knees to keep from falling.
"Roger, I want to know. Was it something I did?" he pleaded with the younger boy. Mark knew it was hard for him, but he thought it was better to keep pushing him, for now.
"No, no!" How could Mark think that? He was perfect, amazing, there was nothing wrong with him. Roger covered his head with his arms, trying to disappear.
Mark slowly got closer to Roger and slid a hand onto his shoulder. "Why do you feel you have to hurt yourself?"
He hugged himself tightly. "Please stop," he whispered. He couldn't tell Mark. Mark would hate him, be furious with him, maybe even make him leave
Mark decided to change the topic. Roger obviously wasn't ready to answer yet. "If you can't tell me why, can you tell me when you did this? How many times?"
"I don't know." He grabbed handfuls of hair and pulled. "Yesterday. Today. Three days ago." He couldn't remember every time he had needed to.
Mark wrapped both his arms around Roger. "Did you do this before you came here?"
Roger tried to speak but only managed a squeak. He shook his head.
"Are you sure it's not something I'm doing then?"
"No! It's not!" he insisted. "Please stop, Mark," he begged softly.
Mark's heart wrenched at the distress that Roger was feeling, so he decided to back down a bit. He didn't want to let it go completely, though. "Roger, you know I care about you. I trust you for now, but I want you to do something for me. When you need to hurt yourself, come and tell me. I'm not going to stop you. I won't ask questions. I just want to know when you've done it so I can make sure you get medical attention if you need it."
"Okay," he whispered. Then he considered the consequences. If he told Mark... what if Mark was asking because he liked that? If it was his kink?
"Oh, no." Roger pulled away. He couldn't go through this again. He couldn't be with someone like this. "No, no, no," he whimpered, scooting away. When he hit the wall he didn't think, mid-panic, of an alternative route. He stayed there, shaking.
Mark realized that touching Roger would probably be a bad idea, so he tried to soothe him using words alone. "Calm down, Roger. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not angry. I just want to make sure you're ok and don't suffer unnecessarily. I'm not going to hurt you further."
Roger nodded. He shook slightly. "Okay," he whispered. "It's... I..." Then he didn't know what to say. I'll stop? But that was a lie, and he knew it was a lie, just like I'll tell you would be a lie.
Mark realized that it was time to drop the issue for now. Roger just couldn't take any more. He decided to change the subject. Food always was safe. "Is dinner going to be ready soon? It smells delicious."
Roger nodded. "It's in the oven," he said softly. "It's ready when you want to eat."
"I'm a little hungry now. I only had a light lunch today." He smiled. "I've gotten so spoiled by your cooking, the sandwiches from the coffee shop down the street just don't seem appealing any more."
Roger nodded. He stood shakily, not expecting his legs to support him--but they did. He made his way into the kitchen. He'd made enchiladas, one of his favorite recipes because it was a messy food. Roger loved cooking messy foods. Oh, he had done his best and made the kitchen shiny again, but he'd had fun.
He put two on a plate and set it on the table for Mark, then covered the pan with tin foil.
Mark watched Roger serve the food and was surprised when he didn't take any for himself. "Aren't you going to eat, too?" he asked.
"I'm not hungry," he explained. He put the pan in the 'fridge.
"Keep me company while I eat?" he asked, as he cut into the enchiladas with his fork. He took a bite. "Delicious. I don't think I've ever had homemade enchiladas before. My mother only specializes in the standard Jewish fare." He ate a bit more. "Where did you find a recipe for these?"
Roger shrugged. "I didn't really use a recipe," he admitted. "I can try to make one if you want." He enjoyed watching Mark eat and slowly began to relax.
"I'd like one, but you'll have to give me lessons in order to follow it. You're a culinary genius, you know. Did you ever consider going to cooking school and becoming a chef or something?" he said around another bite.
"No," Roger answered shortly. So as not to seem rude, he added quickly, "School was never for me." He hated that. He had liked school. He wanted to go, learn more. He loved the feeling of accomplishment with each new piece of information. But it had been drummed into him that school was not for him, and Roger bowed to that fact.
"Really? Adam gave me the impression that you did pretty well when you went."
"I did. I got straight A's." Well. There had been a B in eighth grade physics, but generally he had done well.
"That's great. Why would you say school was never for you when you enjoyed it so much?" he asked.
"It just wasn't," Roger said. "I mean... I was living with Robert, I... there were more important things for me to do than..."
"Oh." Mark realized it was another way that Robert controlled Roger. "Do you think you'd ever want to go back?" he asked.
Roger shook his head. "I wouldn't graduate high school until I was twenty-one," he said. It would be too embarrassing for him to manage.
"There are other ways to do it," Mark suggested. "You could get an equivalency degree or take correspondence courses, like we told my mother. If you want, I could look into that for you."
"Do you think I should do that?" Roger asked.
"It's entirely up to you, but it may give you more opportunities. It's hard to find a job these days if you don't have high school. Also, if you find a career that interests you, you won't have so many steps to take."
"But..." He glanced at Mark. No, no, of course Mark would let him have a job. Roger licked his lips, afraid they might crack. He hadn't left the house every day in years. "Okay," he said. He nodded. That felt good. "Okay. Maybe I could try correspondence school."
"I'll look into that for you tomorrow. I can give you a hand in Math and the sciences. You're on your own for English." Mark grinned. "Not that you'll have any problem with it."
Roger smiled shakily. He knew it was a sort of a cop-out but it was a step in the right direction. "I do it because you don't," he blurted, before he could think about it. When Mark looked at him strangely, he said, "The... the thing with my legs. It's just easier if... I don't have to tell you when things go bad, when I'm..."
Mark was pleased that Roger confided in him about the self-abuse, but was a little confused by the reasoning. "I won't what? Hit you? Roger, you haven't done anything bad. In my eyes anyway. What do you mean by things going bad?"
"Oh..." Roger thought for a moment for the last things he had done wrong. "Yesterday I burned dinner," he said. He had managed to salvage the meal, but it was a waste of Mark's money and a waste of good food.
"I'm sure it was an honest mistake. Roger, I don't consider things that are accidents to be bad. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."
"It was," he said. "An accident, I mean." He certainly hadn't meant it. But it was still a waste and still Roger's fault for not paying attention.
"If you know how much food I've ruined by cremating it, undercooking it, or letting it spoil in the fridge because it took me 3 years to learn the meaning of expiration dates, you wouldn't mind a little burned dinner by accident. Sometimes people have things on their mind." Mark continued. "I can't condemn you for wasting food. It would be hypocritical."
"Okay." Roger shifted awkwardly. "If... I just... I thought it would be easier, and you would still want me here if, if I just took care of it myself and didn't bother you..."
"Roger, there's nothing you can do short of murder that would make me want to get rid of you. I've come to care about you a lot during the time you've been here. Of course I want you here." Mark looked him in the eyes. "You're not bad Roger. You may make mistakes but you don't deserve punishment for them. You don't deserve to be hurt."
Roger blushed. He had to disagree, but he wasn't sure how to do it without, well, disagreeing. "I'll try to be better," he whispered. "I don't like getting punished."
Mark looked over at him again. "I know you're human. Humans make mistakes. If it's an accident, then you shouldn't have to punish yourself. If there's something you think is bad, I'd rather know about it and talk to you about why it is or is not bad. Don't worry about bothering me. It bothers me more that you feel like you deserve to be hurt."
Roger nodded. "I'll come to you next time," he promised softly. He traced designs on the table with his fingertip. "What... what if I do something that you do think is bad?"
Mark knew that Roger needed consequences in his life so he couldn't just brush off the question. "If that happens, we'll discuss it and come up with a punishment we both can agree upon. And I can tell you, most likely it won't involve physical punishment. I can't hurt someone else. It goes against the oath I swore as a doctor."
Roger hadn't thought about that before, though of course he knew what the Hypocratic Oath was. "What happens if you don't follow the oath?" he asked, curious.
Mark blanched at the question. He didn't like thinking about that time in his life, but he owed it to Roger to be honest, even if it was painful. "I've never broken it intentionally, but when I was an intern in a hospital, I prescribed some medication to a patient. I read her chart and did a history. I didn't know she had allergies to certain drugs when I prescribed them. She died." He paused for a moment. "I got really depressed for a while. I talked with Rabbi Himmelfarb but he didn't help all that much. I had a hard time eating and sleeping. I constantly doubted my abilities as a doctor and couldn't do my job. My attending physician referred me to a psychiatrist and she helped me work my way through it."
"I'm sorry," Roger said softly. It had not been his intention to bring up such painful memories for Mark. "D-did everyone in your office take it?" he asked. "The oath."
"Well, all the doctors have. I'm not sure about the nurses. The technicians and receptionists and clerks don't take it."
"Oh." He had wondered if his ex had taken it, if he could be, well, stripped of his employment. He noticed that Mark had stopped eating and without a word took his plate to the sink to wash it.
"One of the things that doctor taught me was that we're all human and we all make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes have bad consequences, but it doesn't us bad for making them. I had to learn to forgive myself."
Roger wondered if that applied to him, too. He wouldn't soon be forgiving himself for what he had done to his family, but he wanted to make it right. "When I was with Robert, he... he used to get really upset sometimes. He hated one of his bosses so after a bad day, he would come home and if I did something wrong, he said I did it to annoy him. On purpose. Part of me knew I didn't but I kept thinking that if I tried hard enough..."
"No, Roger. You didn't do those things on purpose. I bet there were times when he'd get angry over things that he didn't mind on other days. Am I right?"
Roger nodded. "There were good days," he said. "There really were." He returned and sat opposed Mark. "May I ask you a personal question?"
Mark nodded. "Go ahead."
"What was your first time like?"
Mark thought back to the experience and tried to put it into words. "I guess it was good. I was sixteen and I thought I was in love. Jason was about three years older than me. I knew him from school and we had been dating for about six months. He had just gone away to college in the city and was back to do laundry and visit family and friends. He told his mother he was going back on Sunday night, but he picked me up and brought me to an inn instead."
Mark smiled at the memories. "He made it really romantic. He had rose petals on the bed and candles around. Normally, I'm not that schmaltzy, but I could tell he wanted to make our first time together special. I told him before that I was a virgin and nervous, so I appreciated the extra effort. He was really sweet about it. We'd done some things before, so he knew some of what I liked and made sure to kiss the right spots and touch me all over. He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world."
"He prepared me well and made sure to use lots of lube, but it still hurt. To tell you the truth, I didn't really like it all that much at first, but his attention and the way he cared for me and was so concerned about me more than made up for it. And once the endorphin rush hit, I was flying."
Roger smiled. "He sounds like a great guy," he said. But in truth, he was angry. Happy for Mark, but angry with the man who had taken his virginity in such an unpleasant way. He wanted to kill him.
"He was. I'd dated a few other guys before him, but he was my first serious boyfriend. He taught me to respect myself and not to be ashamed of who I was. I think being with him helped all my other relationships." Mark smiled. "He's still living in the city. He met his current boyfriend his second year at college and they've been together ever since. Do you mind telling me about your first time?"
Roger nodded. "Do you think... we could go upstairs and... I just feel safer when you're holding me," he whispered, blushing.
"Of course." Mark took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to their room.
Roger stripped down to his boxers and slipped under the covers, facing the wall.
Mark also removed his clothes to his boxers and climbed into bed behind Roger, wrapping him in his embrace and giving him a small kiss. "You're safe with me" he whispered. "Do you want to talk now?"
"I was thirteen or fourteen. And I was small. He laid me down and kind of... rubbed lubricant on me. Then he told me that he loved me. He kissed me. He told me it always hurt the first time but he would make it gentle. It hurt and I cried. He told me that... it would... it would hurt less with time. It felt like I was being torn apart. I begged him to stop. After, he held me. I couldn't walk right for days. He let me stay until I seemed somewhat normal."
"Oh Roger." Mark held him close. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't have been that way." Then a thought occurred to him. "How much longer did you live with your family after that?"
"I didn't. My dad kicked me out." Roger gave the reply matter-of-factly, because he couldn't stand to remember how he had felt that day.
"That makes it worse, doesn't it?" Mark commented softly.
Roger shrugged. He blinked rapidly, desperate not to cry. "I lived with Robert... and he was right. It did stop hurting after a while."
Mark sighed. "I find that sad. Sex shouldn't be a duty, but an expression of feelings for each other." He paused. "Was it fun for you? Or more something you had to do because you were his boyfriend?"
"It wasn't something I had to do," Roger answered quickly. Even he understood that this was wrong. "I could easily have said no."
Mark tried again. "I don't mean that he forced you or anything, more like an obligation or something like that. Did you get anything from it at all?"
Roger thought hard on that one. He certainly hadn't enjoyed it, for the most part. "He was in a better mood after," Roger said. Surely that was something.
"That's all?" Mark was shocked at how much Roger had missed out on. He was angry at that man for never considering Roger. "I take it he wasn't concerned about your needs then. Sex can be really enjoyable, especially when your partner wants it to be as good for you as it is for him."
"If you say so." Roger didn't like sex. It was uncomfortable and usually hurt, and if it happened too often he hurt when he walked and went to the toilet. But he wouldn't outright disagree with Mark.
Mark was saddened by this reaction. He knew Roger's experiences were brutal, but the fact that his partner had never given him a positive experience was very worrying to Mark. He longed to take the hurt away and teach Roger that sex wasn't a bad thing, or meant for only one person to enjoy. And though he knew Roger was no where near ready for more physical aspects to their relationship, he longed to teach Roger about pleasure and the passion that could be expressed between two people.
But for now, he just wanted to keep Roger safe and help him build trust in people again. He cuddled against Roger and gave him a little peck on the cheek. "Maybe one day you'll find out for yourself." he whispered.
to be continued!
Reviews would be very much appreciated