Hey everyone! What's new? Sorry I haven't updated in...Ages.
But I'm back! With no more life than this! And I'm here to stay. I promise. :)
Don't really have anything more to say except sorry this chapter is so short--Expect an update within the next few days. A good chapter for all you Fae/Lucas fans, I promise.
As always:
Read, Rave, Review
Mark's POV
Zoom in close, the director with his head in his hands.
Cancer. The word rings out on screen. Que sob.
A picture perfect performance by the director himself, I couldn't help but think.
Hands shake. I hadn't known. Roer and I always ignored the phone when it rang, and only picked up for a few people. Decidedly not my mother. Would've thought she'd leave a message. Cancer isn't some side conversation.
Unless her dementia made her too paranoid to tell her own son his father was dying.
Offstage, footsteps can be heard. The door opens. "Mark?" No reply is given for this line. "Mark?" Roger whispers again. Que his arms sliding around my waist. Shivers down my spine.
I sobbed into his shoulder.
Roger's POV
Mark's sobs quieted slowly, replaced by the long, slow breaths that meant he was asleep. I held him for awhile longer, before moving him onto the bed, and covering him with the thin blanket. Then I slipped out into the living room. I glanced towards the windows, trying to discern Fae's shape on the fire escape. As much as it tormented me to wonder what Mark had been thinking as he sobbed into my shoulder, I know I couldn't wait to talk to Fae. It would be better to talk to her sooner, rather than later. She was a lot like...A lot like April, after all.
She was more likely to do something stupid now, unless she had someone to talk to.
With a sigh, I moved towards the window...door...thing. I glanced at the end where Fae had been before and couldn't see her. Withdrawing my head, I opened the door to the kids' bedroom. Adam and Anthony were huddled together, their blond hair poking out from under the covers. Fae was nowhere to be seen.
I rushed from room to room. Fae wasn't in the house.
Climbing out, back on the fire escape, I looked back to where Fae had been before, hoping, praying, that somehow I had just missed her, and she was still standing there, silhouetted against New York lights.
Yeah. As if I would be that lucky.
"Fuck." I muttered, rushing down the fire escape stairway. I ran from block to block, looking down alleys, and through all the chain-link fence towers. Maybe two hours later, I had to give up and head back to The Loft.
I had no idea how long Mark had been crying into my shoulder. I had no idea how long ago Fae had left. All I knew was she had no place to go.
And she was wandering around the city of murder, rape, and AIDS, alone, at 15.