A/n: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen is the most EPIC SONG EVER. Queen is (one of) the most epic bands ever!
I'm one of those weird kids that walks down the hallway singing/ humming to myself. I love being fucking weird. Title/ a few lyrics are from the AMAZING song Hallelujah.
It's been forever, but Belle here only has two weeks till opening night, and we're getting our mics ( I get a head mic, which should prove interesting, as well as Beast & I ballroom dancing in my HUGE ASS dress, which I have to change in and out of twice in the matter of about 1 minute possibly 2)
I am gunna thank ShadowWolfDagger who reviews EVERY chapter! Thank you so much! And I would also like to thank, amongst all my other reviewers cause you guys rock, EB91, who left me a long ass review ( I'm like about to name my kid after them!) and brought something to my attention. They were right, I said when they were 15/16 it was the last time they would have sex till the beginning of the story at the mugging scene, but then they did it again at 17/18. So yeah, I fucked up. I mean the last time they did it before the first scene was the 17/18 one. Yeah
Yeah so…. Yeah. Long ass author note, as per usual.
This entire chapter was written in the margins of school notes/ packets.
Love Is Not A Victory March, It's A Cold & It's A Broken
They knew when not to disturb him.
The moment one of his 'moods' , as they were commonly known, became apparent they all knew not to provoke him. And at those times, acts as common place and simple as an attempt to converse could be, and were, considered provoking. Roger was known to be moody, brooding and ill tempered, when he wasn't being immature, Irresponsible, reckless, child like, and what he described as fun.
Typical musician they said
They could easily tolerate this
Yet, when one of his truly foul dispositions began to rear its head, they all knew to hastily retreat. No one was to acknowledge him without being addressed first and he was to be isolated and unburdened. Not one bothered or dared to confront him, for it would be in violation of a rigid, silent rule. You simply didn't speak to Roger when he was in such a mood.
Unless you were Mark.
Mark was, as with most other rules in the ' families' relationships, an exception.
The only exception.
Mark, infact, seemed nearly unaffected on the occasion the other decided to turn sour, his only significant acknowledgment being one of transitioning, temporarily, into ginger yet firm persona.
The only conversation, which was held was strictly behind closed door, Roger would tolerate, despite waning others away throughout the day, was from that of Mark only Mark.
This, of course, amongst nearly countless other things, upset/disturbed girlfriends and acquaintances of all variation, but soon came to be accepted by all, amongst many other daunting and unsettling aspects of their… unconventional friendship.
And so, on that specific Wednesday in mid July when Roger decided to storm home in one of those aforementioned moods, the company ( consisting of Joanne, Collins, Maureen, Mimi and Angel) knew to leave him be.
Mimi, however, who was still slightly dissimilar to the group and their customs, began to call this reoccurring circumstance into question. She was, after all, the love of his life, his muse, his love, his everything, so she should easily be capable of curing this rottenness he had been frequently been coming home in. Right?
The group didn't bother to warn or discourage her as she made her way to his door, uneven and teetering from being slammed so many times, for they knew she would learn on her own, just as they all had.
"Baby?" Her eyes wonder about the dark room, Silence is the only response. She stalks in slightly further, stopping every few moments, for the air held such an… eerie presence, her nerves were on end. "Rog baby, where are you? Whats up?" her eye caches a disturbance adjacent to the closet door "Babe?" She creeps toward the corner of the room, and jumps back hastily as the figure whirls around
" Mimi? What the fuck, why are you in here?""I just wanted to see if you were alright..?""Well why the fuck wouldn't I be? Jesus fucking christ cant I get like 5 fucking seconds alone?"
"Well sorry asshole, I wanted to see why you've storming home in these pissy 'Fuck - Off' moods for the past like month and a half"
"Oh fuck off"
And a screaming match ensued. The group, calloused to such occurrences, continued to laze about in the main room, chatting nonchalantly, and, eventually, wondering as to Mark's absence. As if on que, the heavy loft door slid open and reveled Mark, whom looked thoroughly exhausted, his eyes blood shot and sporting bags, his face (and body for that matter) appearing considerably gaunt, and over heated wearing a thick, long sweater and jeans amidst the sweltering July heat. He dropped his equipment heavily on the shabby wooden floors, and brought his rough palm up to the side of his neck, massage at it in an attempt at slight relief from the permanate kink that had stubbornly formed ages ago. His eyes shut and he pushes his back to the wall, sinking to the ground and allowing a dejected, defeated sigh to hiss out. His head lulls back, eyes remaining firmly closed, to rest upon the wall and his knees draw in, his head surrendering and falling into his hands.
"Hey Marky boy" His neck snaps up and he hastily scrambles to his feet.
"Oh hey guys" He smiles uneasily "didn't know you were here.." Sensing how fake it is, he drops it all together and hopes his troubled appearance doesn't arouse questions-
"Mark, what's up with you lately, ya look like shit"
Well… Fuck
"Nothing, I just think I'm developing some case of insomnia or something. Haven't been able to sleep. I'll be fine though." He rubs at his eyes before turning back to the group
"What's with the screaming?" He waves a hand absently at Roger's door
" Oh you mean Mr. Fuck- Off, and Juliet in there? I dunno, he's been pissy lately, he was in one of his moods today and she just insisted on bugging him" Maureen shrugs " Should stop soon" Mark sighs and collapses onto the torn cushions beside Maureen, rubbing in vain, once more, at the side of his neck.
"You still have that kink in your neck babe?" Maureen chirps, leaning over to examine Mark's discomfort. " Here c'mon lemme help" She reaches forward gingerly and touches at his sore skin. When he doesn't flinch away, and no protest is erected from Joanne, she proceeds, massaging the surface of his skin tenderly
"So how does the filmmaking go my dear boy?" Collins lights a smoke and takes a long drag,
"Oh you know" Mark racks his brain franticly " Pretty well I guess. Manhattan is specifically fascinating this time of year, it's kinda entreating to watch clueless tourists being harassed by us city dwellers" he smiles tiredly "and watch them squirm at all the gay couples and the homeless" Collins laughs and retorts something about loving to drag Angel to similar areas on occasion, and watch her cause massive amounts of discomfort. Angel steals the smoke from her lovers grasp, takes a drag, and suggests Mark join them and film next time. He agrees eagerly.
"Jesus christ Mark" Maureen pipes in eventually, working harder at his neck " this is one huge ass kink, where the fuck did it come from?" her fingers slip and catch the edge of his sweater, pulling it down his shoulder momentarily
And that's when they catch a glimpse
The pink and red hickeys
the purple and blue bruises
They fall silent for a few moments
" Mark what the -"
"THERE YOU ARE!" Roger comes bursting into the room, Mimi hot on his heels
"Don't you drag him into-"
"Shut the fuck up Mimi this isn't about you anymore!" He snaps. She promply closes her mouth, for he has never actually snapped at her like this before. He glares at her a moment more before turning back to the silent group before him
" Mark where the fuck have you been going every night?" This is random, seemingly irrelevant and out of blue to the others, yet Mark, knowing better, begins to fidget.
" Huh? Well fucking answer me? I really thought you were going filming at first.. But guess fucking what? I found your hiding place for your camera. You've left it every time. I've been staying awake, I hear you sneaking in at like 4:00 in the fucking morning. Where have you been going? Look at you! You look like shit!" He looks a bit wild at this point, flailing about and screaming. He's breathing heavily, clenching his fists, forcing eyes contact. Mark stares wide eyed at him for a beat
"I- I" he stumbles for a moment " I've been bartending. At that sleezy club a few blocks away, across from Henmen's" Mark confesses, rubbing at the back of his neck roughly "Its pretty shitty and I just.. Didn't think you'd like me working there.. But we needed money so…" he trails off, finally casting his wondering eyes to Roger's. The musician stiffens for a moment
"You're lieing"
"Fuck you Roger, I am not. How would you even fucking know?"
" You did the thing. When the left corner of your mouth twirks that tiny bit. And your right eyebrow flinches" Mark's brow furrows as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth
"I'm not lieing. Why the fuck is it your business anyway? I'm a big fucking boy, as you've said to me so many times, I can take care of myself. You're not my keeper you don't need to know where I'm going constantly" He ups to leave and the group simply sits rigidly, for they had nearly never seen Mark lose his temper. Once, possibly twice before. And although he was keeping pretty well contained now, his anger was evident.
"Like I'm going to listen and leave you alone because you're telling me to fuck off. Remember how that worked out last time? Me getting addicted to smack" Mark pauses on his journey to the door. His fists clench, and he doesn't bother turning around.
"Well I'm not that fucking stupid am I?"
"Well you are an alco-"
"Shut the fuck up!" he turns abruptly. Everyone else flinches "I am fucking not! Don't you get that you fuckwad? Don't you dare accuse me of that again. We've gone over this. Just don't you fucking go there. Jesus Christ you're such a fucking ignorant bastard sometimes, I can't even stand to be around you right now" He turns and begins taking quick strides toward the door. The group cast all eyes back to Roger, whom looks to be debating somewhere between pleading and angry. They were alphabet city, it was 2 a.m. ish and Mark was .. Mark. Only god knows what could happen. where he would head. He was already self destructive.
He would head to a bar
The thought occurred spontaneously and sharply
and he was fighting to swallow his pride.
He would go to bar
The thought churned Roger's stomache
And though he didn't know if he could do, if he could force himself…
But The thought was terrifying…
He would to a bar
It was enough
"Wait" He cries, reaching forward. The group is all furrowed eyebrows and baited breaths.
"Mark wait!" He runs forward and grabs at Mark's arm, spinning him around.
This was a phenomena
This was impossible
Non of them could believe it
They couldn't actually be witnessing this
Roger Willingly..
Roger of his own accord..
Roger
Apologizing
" I.. I'm…. please don't go… I'm.. I was being stupid I just.. .shit.. I worry so much and you scared the shit outta me and… A bar Mark? You shouldn't be working there.. I mean.. just.. Fuck.. I mean… when you wouldn't come home… I haven't been able to..... For the past month.. You… I… I know I.. its just… and what happened in the past… and…. I.. fuck don't go. Please. I'm sorry"
They were completely, totally, and utterly awestruck.
Roger did not, under any circumstance, apologize. Ever. No one, despite feverish and countless attempts, had ever been capable of accomplishing this feat. His pride was far too great , he held stealthy to his firm ideas of dignity, and refused to ever cave. He was a stubborn fuck. And yet there it was, plain as fucking day.
And Mark just fucking sat there! He was completely unphased… well to an extent anyway. He sighs heavily
" Yeah… yeah alright. I am too. I'll start a new job search soon… and you know" He smiles weakly
"Can we uh.. Talk in the other room for a sec?" He motions to his door and Mark nods, issuing an apologetic look to the others. Collins nods and smiles, and affirmation that it was 'all good', and encouragement to go ahead. The rest sit dumbly with their jaws hanging. "So last night-" Roger's gravely voice drifts about the vast emptiness of the loft, before a resounding click echoes, and they are left staring blankly at a door
Silence
"Woah"
silence
"What. The . Fuck" The foul language from Joanne is foreign, but circumstantially fitting non the less. "What the fuck was-"
"Collins" Maureen intervenes suddenly, appearing to have recovered quickly, " You owe me 20 bucks"
"Nuh - uh Maureen" Collins manages, a smile pulling at his lips " the ignorance level is still too great. No revelation has been reached, therefore I owe you nothing" Maureen opens her mouth to protest, but unable to find a reasonable argument, leans grudgingly back in her seat
" You owe me ten though Colly" Angel laughs from her position sprawled about the couch, seemingly enjoying the conversation " And Maureen owes me five"
"Did Roger just... Apologize?" they turn back to Joanne, finding that the lawyer is still sitting indolently and at a loss
Collins and Maureen laugh while Angel smiles at her
"It's Mark sugar, if he's going to apologize to anyone it would be Mark" She laughs a little more, before turning her eyes to meet that of her best friend's.
Her smile wavers
Mimi is standing near the wall, motionless,
a revelent, resentful, pained.…
petrified
look gracing her beautiful features.
Because she fucking gets it now
She turns and leaves the loft
Running.
(A/n: Yes, I made up the word revelent. )
Rarities.
They can be beautiful, they can be surreal
They can be earth shattering
They can be terrifying
Mark slams the door and throws his coat off, disregarding the early (late?) hour, because anyone who was sleeping can kiss his ass anyway. He stumbles, only half lucid, across the loft's main area with the intent of making it to his room, but makes it only half way there, before collapsing on the ground a few feet from the couch. He groans and attempts to roll over, but the fresh sores forming about his chest send him sprawling onto his back once more. He blinks, attempting to steady his swimming vision, and really hopes that's not blood on the back of his pants, because this one had been abnormally large and he didn't have money for a good wash, or new jeans. He considers remaining on the floor for the duration of the rest of his short night, but the thought dawns on him that Roger was sure to awaken before him, and all hell would break loose if he were to be caught in this state. So he, slowly, rises to his feet, stumbling yet managing his balance and making his way towards his bedroom
"Mark?" He curses softly and turns to find Mimi, looking oddly innocent, standing in the doorway, with a robe wrapped tightly around her " Mark, what're you doing?" She mumbles, rubbing sleepily at her eyes
"Nothing Mimi" He replies sharply. She jumps " Just go back to sleep" her brow immediately furrows. Mark had never, ever, been curt or rude to her before, under any circumstance. He was actually the opposite, protective and loving. Brotherly. Never had he lost patients with her, or anyone for that matter, and never had she ever witnessed him in a bad mood. Not Once. And yet there he was, the image of Mr.' Fuck Off' Himself standing before her. She falters for a moment
"Mark are you alright you look-"
" Mimi I said go back to fucking sleep, I am fine" she opens her mouth to protest once more, but quickly decides against it and retreats, because she honestly is afraid. Terrified even. Not of Mark really, as he was.. Well Mark. But of his behavior. She found the extreme rarity of him being anything but passive aggressive and calm to be a terrifying one, for it was as if the world ceased making sense. And the last thing she ever wanted was to be yelled at by Mark. Snapped at. The thought scared her. So she shrunk back into her and Roger's room, only to be brushed aside moments later
"Mark!" Roger barrels his way into the main room, temper already irritated despite him just having woken up. Mimi cringes further back into their room. She doesn't want to see this .
"What the fuck!? Where the hell have you been? You have a day time job now, remember ? Where the hell'd you disappears to now?" Mark, whom usually sits and takes Roger's tantrums, who usually just remains still and emotionless and allows Roger to rant in his face for 10 minutes straight, looks pissed. Fucking pissed. His knuckles clenched to the point his skin has turned white. Mimi hides behind the door frame. " Where the fuck do you keep going? It's obviously not working at Henmen's like you said you used to. Don't you get the fact that I'm sitting here like an asshole wondering where you are? That you're going to get mugged or shot, out there alone being as you are? Do you want it to happen again Mark? Do you? Because when you don't come home I still have fucking nightmares about it. Do you really want it to happen again? Do you realize -"
Crack
Mark's fist colliding with Roger's jaw
Mimi's own drops in astoundment
"you asshole! You bastard fuck face son of a bitch! You have no fucking idea! I'm not out drinking or whatever shit you think, I'm not out doing anything fun for myself! You have no fucking idea. This isn't about me….. " A beat "Just.. just get away from me. Get the fuck away" he's screaming now, and Roger's merely staring at him, rubbing at his jaw. Mimi is on the verge of tears. " you are so fucking STUPID. You don't give a shit about me, you're not worried where I am. You're just fucking using me to kill your guilt. Because I got you through withdrawal and you've done shit in return. Because you were dumbass enough to fuck up your life, Because every time something was wrong, you'd go right ahead and fuck me, and then take it back" Mimi took the fucking thing metaphorically, not literally "because you don't fucking know what to do with yourself. So making a big show, acting like you give a shit about me might let you sleep a little better, Might ease that guilt plaguing the back of your mind obnoxiously even if just a little. Well fuck off. I don't need your pity, fake or not. I don't want your fucking hallow words. Haven't you already proven I'm not enough for you? That what's going on with me doesn't make a fucking difference? So lets just fucking leave it that way! Oh yeah and by the way, maybe if you got off your lazy ass and were making an actually fucking income I wouldn't to be out letting people fu-"
He stops,
sighs loudly
and storms toward his bedroom
Silent tears roll down Mimi's face as she shrinks further behind the doorframe.
Knock knock knock
They all turn to the metal door
"Its fucking open" Mark yells, turning to make his way into his room
"Hey uh" Deep voice. Mark cringes. " Is.. Uhh… what's his name.. the one from the corner of 32nd? Little shit? Blond hair blue eyes? Glasses.. Real cheap? Uhhh. M…m….m… Mark. Yeah, is Mark here? " The subject goes rigid in his tracks
"Who the hell are you ? "Roger scowls, going immediately bitter and defensive. Mimi absently thinks he sounds jealous, but dismisses the idea as the large, husky man in the door way speaks again
"Oh, I'm Derek. Forgot to pay the kid, went back to his man and the guy said I could find him here. He took half of the money though, something about the workers fee or whatever. Anyway, I might be an asshole, but I'm not heartless, and considering the good fucking he was worth, and how he went with that whole fantasy thing, thought it fair to bring him his money. Besides, Didn't wanna mess with Eric's top worker, 'd probably get a hit man after me or some shit. So uh, is he here or?"
Roger just stares.
Blank
His face his eyes,
Blank.
Mimi places her hand over her mouth, feeling she is about to throw up
Mark closes his eyes and inhales slowly before approaching the man.
"Yeah hey, thanks. 'preciate It" Mark says hurriedly, willing the man to leave before Roger makes to murder him.
"Cool" He gives a small wave and exits, neglecting to slide the door shut behind him.
Mimi makes for it quickly and flings it shut behind her, before running down to her own apartment. She can't listen to it.
"Wa-wa-you…" Roger Is wide eyed. Breathing erratic. No. no. no. no. no. no. no.
He cant fathom this.
Mark shrugs
"Now you know" he turns and heads towards his room. Trying so hard to be nonchalant. Had Roger not been in a state of shock at the time, his shaking would have given him away.
"You're a street whore" he's still stuttering.
Mark pauses before grabbing at the door handle
"We needed money. We ran outta food. You ran outta AZT. You got that cold. We needed medicine. Couldn't not do anything .You die, I die"
He moves forward
"But Mark you're -"
The door slams shut, the lock clicks.
"Already dieing."
Metaphorically, of course.