A/n: I will not to speak of why its been sooooooo MOTHER FUCKING long. Bitter.
This chapter is dedicated to Anthony Rapp's extreme spazticness and Adam's awesome leg bouncing thing he does and how much I love listening to them both sing. I literally almost cannot watch the show if those two are not playing Mark and Roger.
Anyone wanna count how many times I say fuck, fucking or some form of either in here? If you do, leave it in the comments. I'm interested.
Based upon the fact that, if you listen really closely to the movie version of Will I (although I like the OBC one far better), and follow only Anthony, around 1:40 ish, it sounds as if he says " Yes I lose my dignity" As opposed to " Will I lose my dignity"
( I think you can figure out the time once you read it)
Tragic As An After Thought
Everyday acknowledges what is, and what should be
What should be, what should be, what should fucking be.
What isn't
What will never be
Another drink
No other path
Another bar
No other way
Good one irony, you got me.
Ha ha fucking ha.
Because you can't just fucking deal with it can you? Pussy. You can't fucking deal with life.
Just like your goddamn father
Crack head, prescription drugs, cigarettes, now alcoholic.
Cant deal with reality, huh Mr., Actual reality filmmaker?
Ever since high school
You just need that fucking drama, don't you ? After all that, you accuse Roger of being a drama queen.
Can't just let it be.
Can't just…
Ninth grade
White powder
Crack
Rolled foil and pills and needles
Rich kids can afford rich drugs
Pretty little towns have easy access to pretty little toxins
11th grade supplier
Too fucking young
Where the hell did he get it anyway?
Where the fuck did he get it?
Crack head
What a fucking lovely term
The preacher man's son. Wonderful, sweet, polite, little son. Who showed not the slightest sign of a flaw. A problem.
Nope, not the smallest problem.
The needle stuck in his fucking arm
Perfectly fine.
The way-too-thins and shakes and pangs and bathroom breaks. Sleepless.
Damn sleepless.
Ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth.
Grow up. Grow the fuck up. Suck it up. Put up or shut up. Give it up.
Look what you've done. Don't cry Maureen. Roger, don't beg, please don't. I'll break. break.
"Give it up".
Thank god they were clueless.
Dear old mom and dad.
Pass it off as the flu
Same difference. Same, same the fucking same.
No difference…
The only difference:
Pride lack, lack there of.
Will. Did. Will I? Did I ?
Lose my….
College. Severe migraines. Severe migraine prescription.
Fear
Don't do it again damnit don't.
Grab another cigarette. That's good enough. It is. It is.
The world won't be beautiful. You can't make it. They can't make it.
It can't make it worth a shit.
...
...
...
...
Where'd they go ?
Recommended dose? 12,20,2?
Oh 2
Not 8. Not 10. Not every hour. Not every ½ hour.
Meant to be, should be, shouldn't be, might be
Doesn't matter a fuck in the light of what is.
No Benny, I'm fine. Haven't had one in a while actually. Yeah. Huh? Really? Big breasts? Huh? And a twin? Smoking hot? Come with? Well sure, Not a memory holding me back. A person. An idea. A what was. Would have been. What could be. Not at all.
What? Empty bottle?
Hey, yeah they're back coming back. They're horrible. Nearly passed out the other day. Throbs really, hurts impossibly. As soon as you can? Well you don't have to-. Well if you insist. Thank you, my cheesy fake smile and I appreciate it.
Well look at that, all you need to do is take one here, swallow one there. Smoke one here, and twist your mind up some. Look it's twisted and distorted,. It's not real. It's different. Just tweak it some. Just like words.
Overwhelming? You were a student once too and you know how work is overwhelming? You understand? You fucking get me? You appreciate me grades and how great they are?
...
Well, when did that happen?
Now look at that, that empty bottle.
Empty fucking bottle
Shattered fucking bottle
Chipping fucking wall
Throbbing fucking head
Protruding fucking ribs
Sleepless fucking eyes
Needing fucking more
Fuck this
Everyone else with their fucking fake fucking smiles your whole life
And those bottles, those pills
Make you like them.
...
That fact is enough.
No, no I'm alright, just a flu I think. Go to class, I'm fine.
Months.
No, no really. I don't need it anymore. I don't get migraines any longer. Haven't in ages.
Go behind the building and bang your bare fists against a brick wall. Distract from the migraine pain.
Worst.
Wont go back. Wont.
Wont lose it again
Wont lose my….
The loft, a drop out.
New York City, lower East side.
Access, access, fucking access.
No, look at Roger.
Look at the track marks.
Look at Mark's marks.
No. No. He needs you, he does.
What? Want to get off smack?
Need my help?
Yes, of course. Not easy yourself. Not easy any way. Not possible yourself.
I would know.
No, no the cold water helps
I would know
No, you're alright. You can do this. This is the hardest time
I would know
No eat this, you can keep it down. Its one of the few things you actually can
I would know
Do this. Yeah like that. It helps ease the pain.
I would know.
It'll be okay, only a few weeks more
It's worth it, it's worth it, it's worth it….
I'm sure. I promise. I wish. I hope.
It is, it is ..
What? For a woman? A lawyer?
HIV positive? The mirror was right?
you're gunna fucking shrivel up and die in front of me, when it pained so horribly to merely see you in terrible withdrawal?
What? A teaching gig? You're going to send us as much money as possible? Moving out? Allison? Muffy? Rich?
alone
The sinks not even dripping, the wind doesn't even bother to rattle the windows.
Come here its okay.
What? Oh this black eye?
Oh no you didn't do anything. No I fell. Don't cry, come here.
Almighty rock star
Beat the shit out of me during the day, cry and beg for me to hold you at night. Forget it all by morning. It's worth it.
I can handle it. I can
The tiles don't still look red
Promise.
Another drink never hurt
Now where did all these bottles come from?
Don't feel a thing.
There is nothing. Nothing there. I am shallow and emotionless. Promise.
Nothing unrequited. Nothing that's been there forever.
Nothing else the drinking is trying to drive away
Withdrawal=oblivious=ignorance=no-need-to-hide=too easy=more =too far gone= too much
Fucking vodka. And rum. And wine. And whisky. And beer. And Stoli. And tequila. And-
All better. Everything's okay. Everything's calmed down. Everyone's together.
Why don't you stop then, huh Mark?
Everyone's alright, so why are the bottles still accumulating? Huh Mark?
Addiction. Yes that's it. The ONLY reason.
Solely addiction.
Hypo fucking crite
Stop thinking, stop it.
Don't reach out.
If you reach out your and, only the wind will be there.
That's poetic!
That's pathetic.
Get up.
You have life support. You should be there. You promised. don't be more of a fucking hypocrite.
Harassing Roger to come, you're not even there yourself.
Get your ass up .
Oh god that stings
Probably shouldn't have cut that deep
The jean fabric rubbing against it kills
The bartender waves. Cause he knows you that well.
What a big, walking cliché
Cli fucking ché
but what isn't?
" Mark, what the fuck? The school actually has good food for once! Pizza! Why the fuck aren't you eating it?"
" Not hungry Rog"
" You ' haven't been hungry' for three weeks now Mark"
He was pale. Lost significant weight, the last thing he had needed in the first place .and didn't seem to be eating. Dark bags resided beneath his eyes, and he was jittery/ restless , as if he simply had consumed too much coffee. He was a fucking mess.
And Roger wasn't stupid.
In slight denial, maybe, but not stupid,
It wasn't healthy to lose that much weight in such a short time or to appear as Mark did. He knew that something was wrong, it was obvious as hell, but what… - well what?
Drugs? Mark? .. No.
Alcohol? Were those even the symptoms of- . no.
He would then be like his dad. He hated his dad. He would rather be anything than like his dad.
Stress? It was finales week…
Oh god… oh god had his father…?
No, no. He didn't do that.
He may be abusive and drunk, but he hated ' faggots'
Something else? What?Self harm? Eating disorder? (Didn't only chicks have those?)
No, that made less sense than…
It had to be stress and abuse and sleeplessness and forbidden meals due to ' talking back'
Fuck he hated Mr. Cohen
" Well I don't know, school food still doesn't appeal to me. And I have some more shit to do and I'm just… not hungry right now"
" Oh… okay" Roger returned to absently pick at his pizza and Mark scratched the track marks on his arm.
Month six
" C'mon guys, I really need to find a fucking bathroom!"
" Mark" Maureen shoved Roger as he bumped into her " We just stopped on the way here"
" Yeah, Cohen, what's with the lack of blatter control lately?" Roger asked, examining a window display
" I cannot …." Mark spoke in fragments, as if he couldn't concentrate on the mere task of speaking " be held… responsible. For my. Bladder control"
" but-"
" or lack there of" he finishes a few moments late.
" But dude, the mall is packed, you honestly think we'll be able to find a bathroom not jammed with people? Even the guys rooms are filled."
" I dunno Rog, I think he really has to go. He's like… trembling"
"No its not… cause of that. I had. Coffee earlier… and…. Oh what? Oh and I thought it was de-café. Apparently. Not" They never questioned him. Anyone else, they would be beyond suspicious. Not him.
" Yeah, look it's 12 p.m. on a Saturday at a Mall. You think you could at least wait a little so the bathroom line isn't extending ALL THE WAY OUT HERE? C'mon Mark you're a big boy"He doesn't look pleased. Maureen hated it when they got snippy at each other.
" Yeah Mark, you know neither of you have ANY patience. At all. You think you could… Wait? I mean… yeah."He looked pissed now. But he wouldn't' snap at Maureen. He refused. He just wouldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to.
" Yeah c'mon guys lets go in here. Mark forget about-"
" Shut the fuck up Roger! Jesus Christ, you know what? I gotta piss, and I don't give a shit if anyone comes with or not. I'm going to find a fucking bathroom. Good bye asshole" He glared at Roger and turned away, quickly falling into that wide, heated stride ill-tempered men tend to get when ruffled in public - Because we all know what that looks like-. Maureen winced. It's not like she wasn't used to such occurrences, Mark and Roger had extremely ill tempers alike, despite differentiations in which the trait manifested itself. Conventionally, she was unfazed, yet Mark had been acting so contrary to himself lately, that she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Under usual circumstance, Roger snapped and got pissed, while Mark turned quit and cold. Fire and ice. Mark let Roger get pissed and yell or whatever, and let him get over it. If Mark did get pissed, it was in a cold indifferent way, that lacked any sort of lashing out. Yet, his temper, or his management of it rather, had seemingly gotten worse over the past four… maybe five? months or so. She hated it. She hated their fighting. They were a breed of best friends she had never before witnessed, and them fighting just didn't… seem right. Something didn't seem right. It hadn't for a while.
"Ass" Roger murmured, pushing past a group of people and making his way toward an instrument store. Maureen sighed, and followed behind Roger, acting as if she didn't catch that glimpse of worry splayed through out his eyes .
His mind kept reverting back to the same thing . He knew what this was. He knew this. But it couldn't be. Mark was Mark and there just wasn't a way.
Mark found them a little while later, seemingly happy and considerably calmer. Maureen smiled, and Roger followed a while later. And when he pulled Mark by the crook of the arm, willing him to follow as they departed from a store, he didn't notice the way Mark flinched.
Because he hadn't run his fingers along a sore spot, where the needle was shoved in just a little too hastily, a little too carelessly.
Because that wasn't there
Not at all
Year 3
Shit shit shit shit shit shit
Moneymoneymoneymoney
"Please mom? Any chore you want. I really want to stop being the moocher when I go out with friends. No ones highering anywhere. I looked every possible place for a job. Mom, c'mon"
Jesus he needed a hit.
His mom wouldn't even let him WORK for fucking money.
What could he sell?
There was nothing left. He had nothing left of value, He'd sold it already. Shit
The watch! The watch his uncle had given him!
" Mom I'll be back, I'm going to grab some film, I'm out-"his mom wouldn't even let him go fucking out. So what if it was after nine? He was 17 for fucks sake. It was close enough to 18, he would be fine driving. Who cares if it wasn't exactly legal? It was close fucking enough.
Shit
He'd have to wait till she slept
Shitshitshitshit
Considering it was 10 o'clock on a Wednesday night in the middle of July, there wasn't much option
Roger! He'd call Roger
" Hel-"
"Hey man! Can you do something? I need to get out of this house" Roger almost never questioned Mark when he claimed he needed to get away. They both knew how his dad was. Mark never talked about it. Ever. He refused. But Roger had witnessed it and they both knew. It was unspoken
"Oh shit Mark, I just got in huge ass trouble. My ass is grounded. But I mean if he's being really bad or you just need to get out I can just tell my rents to shove it-"
" No, no its okay" His dad wasn't even home and now that he considered it, he didn't really want Roger to see him like this. He wasn't quite sure of himself at this point, and Roger wasn't stupid
In denial, maybe, but not stupid
" No its okay lets just.. Do you have time to talk? I mean if you don't or whatever-"
" Mark! Its fine. Of course I do. Hey, wanna hear about this dream I had last night?"
"I'd rather not here of your sexual life, and considering the only sexual life you posses is that of girls In your dreams, I'm good" A small glimpse of the normal Mark. Rare those days
" Shut up you ass wipe, and listen. No it wasn't that" Roger laughed, and he could hear Mark smile through the phone
It was an achievement
Two hours later, and they were still babbling. Cause they tended to do that.
" And then a fucking marshmallow showed up" Roger was recounting his weirdest pot trip, while Mark was laughing and shaking and sweating and wishing his mom would GO TO FUCKING BED ALREADY. " And then-"
"SHIT"
" Mark!"
"Roger don't get off-" and then he's running to the bathroom to puke and wretch and wish he was fucking dead and that his mom would go to fucking bed. The contents of his stomach are quickly emptied, seeing as he barely ate anymore, and he was soon wondering why the fuck it just wouldn't stop, because nothing was coming out, and the dry heaving hurt his fucking ribs like a bitch. Finally he stopped, and despite every fucking little bone and joint and whatever the fuck else he hadn't cared enough to listen about in science class in his body protest to the full and most painful extent, got up. He splashed his face with water, rinsed his mouth and begged his legs to at least make it back to his bed. His muscles were catching in his shoulders and his head was beginning to pound, and he was shaking and sweating like crazy and just wanted to fall on the ground and fucking die. But Roger was on the phone, and Roger was waiting, and he knew Roger hadn't hung up and was beginning to worry, because he knew Roger.
"Hey" oh god it had been an adventure getting back across the room.
" MARK! What happened! I heard you getting sick, are you okay?"
" Yeah I just" Wait what? What had he been saying...? He couldn't remember and- oh shit that hurt. Something hurt. What hurt? Everything. Everything? His head. His muscles, his bones, his skin, his blood. He was shaking so fucking hard now. How long had it been since he had a hit? 5 hours? Oh god that was an eternity. He curled up in a little ball and prayed he would just stop fucking shaking. And that his mom would GO TO FUCKING BED.
" Mark!"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, sick I think. A flu"
"Man that sounded bad, I'm coming over-"
"NO! no man, my, my dad and…" he trails off. Sensitive subject. Good lie. He wouldn't prod.
"I.. oh man Mark are you sure? I could probably take him-"
"No. No. I'm a big boy Rog. I'll be okay. Really"
"I - but.. I mean... fuck…. you… I could.. You didn't- you don't. You.. I…. okay. Yeah you, you just uh.. You know." Sensitivity and displays of affection were NOT his thing. But Mark heard unsaid things just as well as said
"I know. I will."
" Okay good. Now you just, you… uh"
"Will do Rog. And yes I promise I'll call tomorrow. Night"
" Oh okay.. Uh… feelbetter. Night"
Dark! It was dark! The hallway, his moms room. Dark. He quickly snuck out of his room and down the stairs, having memorized long ago exactly where to step and where not. He quickly retrieved his keys and was off, supressing the overwhelming desire to speed, for getting caught when he wasn't legally supposed to be driving, while experiencing obvious withdrawal symptoms and sporting fresh track marks and crack cocaine in his system was not a good idea. Soon, eventually, after a few moments or years or days or minutes or he didn't know or care he arrived at his dealers place and made his way to the basement window. He snuck in quickly, relieved to find it was still open at that the eleventh grader was still awake. And apparently so were his buddies. As Mark entered the basement, he found a seemingly upbeat party taking place, despite it's slightly down scale size, and quickly pushed his way through and located his dealer, who was lounging on an old sofa sideways and stoned, along with some buddies of his .He seemed amused by Mark's appearance, and quickly realized the opportunities presenting themselves to him.
"Hey kid, you really really need a hit don't you"
" You know I do asshole" Mark never lashed back. But he needed it so fucking bad
"Ooo, snippy snippy. Maybe I shouldn't give you shit. I've got enough customers, no loss of mine"
"No wait" Mark had dignity. A lot of it. Almot too much sometimes. If he could see himself right now, he would call the kid a shameless fucking little junkie, and comment on how he couldn't believe the kid had no dignity or self respect and how sick it made him. And probably add a slap in there. He would be disgusted. But he felt nothing but need " please, please I'm sorry. Just, just please. I'll do anything."
" You really want that hit" He looked around at his friends, all wearing identical amused looks, and ready to have some cruel laughs out of this desperate kid " Do what I say" Mark nodded eagerly. He couldn't even think.
His dealer looked around at his friends, and they exchanged a few whispers before he turned back and smiled icily at Mark.
"Get naked"
Mark was there in seconds. The dealer busted into laughter quickly, prompting everyone else to follow suit, despite lack of explanation. " You're so fucking small! Look at you kid! What is that, a shriveled up piece of broccoli?" It was contrary really, Mark was actually abnormally large, not only for his age, but for a male in general. Yet,
His dealer enjoyed being cruel.
And apparently, everyone else in the room did as well, as they all stared and pointed and laughed .A few began throwing things at him, and others shouted obscenities. He just took it.
"Hey kid, do me a favor. See that empty coke bottle over there? Well no one wants it anymore, so why don't you go ahead and shove it up your ass. And I'm serious, now go do it or try and find someone else who had access to half the shit I do."
And so Mark did.
He walked over, allowing others to smack his ass, his balls, his penis along the way. Seemingly unaffected by the cheers and jeers and cat calls. He grabbed the bottle, walked back to his original spot in front of the dealer, and promptly inserted it into his ass. Hard.
It hurt like fucking hell.
He cried out in pain, the first response from the daze he'd been in. Everyone else merely laughed.
"Oh god man this is hahahhha, this is- oh wait I got something else!" He whispered to a friend, who ran up the stair case and returned a few moments later, a mild sized, fuzzy dog clutched in his hands. A collie Mark realized later.
" Not only are you to suck, and jack off my dog, but you are to fuck him as well"
Everyone clapped and laughed and yelled as a response, and Mark didn't process a thing. He merely did as he was told.
Not only was it difficult and odd, and eventually hurt, but he now sported many bruises and scratches.
But they weren't done
"Lie across that table right there, and sit still" He did as told.
And was promptly whipped, tortured, and degraded for quit some time. Fingers and other things, including markers and pill canisters and vegetables were inserted into him, he was forced to suck varying body parts of others, and was clothed in varying items such as wigs, makeup, clown clothing. He was made to do or say certain things, and eventually was told to get up from the table and kneel in front of his dealer. The dealer then pulled out a little baggy, and swung in front of Mark's face
" You want this now? Huh? You want it? I think you deserve it after all that, don't you?"Mark simply began to shake harder and stare at the packet as if it held every element of his life. The dealer slowly began to hand it to Mark, who began slowly moving his hand to snatch the plastic away and run. Yet his dealer pulled away at the last second ,waiting only until Mark's finger tips had grazed the plastic slightly, and quickly smacked Mark's face, unzipped his fly, and shoved himself into Mark's mouth.
"Suck damn you. Suck or you aren't getting shit"
And Mark did.
And Mark chocked, and his eyes watered, and he was ready to pass out from pain and oxygen deprivation but he did it. And swallowed when the man finally came. The dealer then promptly punched him in the eye, and shoved a packet into the boy's hands and told him to " get the fuck out, and you're not getting your fucking clothes back dumbass"But he did hand Mark 4 packets, as opposed to his usual one.
Maybe he did have a heart.
And Mark ran home and ran to the bathroom and ran for his needle and shot up a little too much and ran to his room and got dressed and ran to his bed and fell asleep so he could just keep fucking running.
Year 4
"Roger, I think Mark has a problem" Maureen sighed, staring at the figure passed out on her bed.
" Ha really? No shit. This is the 6th time in the past two weeks we've found him at some party or shit and he's been high." Roger sighed, and eyed the others boys rising and falling chest wearily, attempting to extinguish the irrational fear that he would stop breathing altogether
Roger wasn't stupid,
In denial maybe,
But not stupid
" I feel like a fucking parent" . Under usual circumstances, Maureen would have snapped back at him, retorted something offence assonating with his bithchy nature and testostirone leves, and promptly shut him up or walked away. Yet, as he relaxed onto the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, she couldn't find the heart to do so, and instead knelt down beside him. They sat in silence for a few moments before Roger suddenly stiffened up with a sharp intake of breath, his muscles tensing, and got to his feet. He made his way to the opposite side of the bed, and haphazardly reached for Marks wrist. He grabbed at it, and pushed the others sleeve up roughly, holding his breath in anticipation… In fear
A mere 4 track marks rested upon the surface of the others skin, and he allowed an audible sight to escape his lips. They had reached him before addiction. Oh thank god. If Mark..
He shuddered.
didn't want to think about it
"there are only 4 track marks here. We got to him before he got in too deep-"
"Oh god he shoots up?" She sounded as if the wind had been knocked out of her. It actually had " Oh god h-"
"Hey. At least we got him before…" He swallowed, quickly becoming aware as to what a pussy he was being. He stiffened up and focused intently on keeping his voice under control " before he became addicted"
"Yeah…" Maureen sighed, moving to sit beside Roger, who had dropped to the floor and was resting his back against the bed. She dropped beside him and rested her head on his shoulder " Yeah I guess"
They never thought to check his other arm.
Or to wipe the makeup he 'borrowed' from his sister off of the one they examined.
For the first week, once or twice a week
for the first month, 4-5 time a week
Third month, once a day
Fifth, 4 times a day
Eight, six times a day
The next three years : Every few hours or less
Do the math.
2 days later
"Please Roger, you have to talk to him. You're the only one he'll listen to. Roger he just yelled at me, Roger he just hurt me. Mark. Hurt ME. Maureen. I reached for his arm, I was going to ask him what was going on, and he grabbed my wrist and yanked me away. I have a bruise Roger. This is serious. He's not addicted yet, he only has four track marks, maybe one more. But he must be getting close. So you have to go. Go. Do it. Now" She shoved the teenager into the others general direction, and Roger shot her a half hearted glance of annoyance, took a deep breath, and proceeded to Mark's side. The filmmaker was sitting beneath a tree, a forgotten lunch tray resting beside him, and a book on his lap that he was falling asleep into. He jumped as Roger voiced his name, and upon the others waking, Roger couldn't help but notice the bags under the others eyes, the way he tapped his fingers anxiously against the ground.
Roger wasn't stupid
In denial maybe, but not stupid
"Mark, we need to talk" he plopped down beside his best friend
"About?" His eyes darted away and back, away and back. His finger continued to tap.
" About… about those" He pointed to the crook of Mark's clothed elbow, knowing the other was perfectly aware of what he was referring to. " About how we've been picking you up from all these parties and you've always been high… god I sound like a parent… Mark we.. What I' trying to say.. We.… " Sigh " Mark, I think you have a problem"
Mark sat quietly for a few moments. Roger feared his response, anger, violence, emotion? He really did. He braced himself. What he didn't expect, however, was hysterical laughter.
"HAHHAHAHHAHAH Roger, you're.. you gotta be fucking kidding….. HAHAHHAHA"
It has been FOUR FUCKING YEARS, and ' I think you have a problem' FOUR FUCKING YEAR, and they JUST started to figure this out, they THINK he has a problem? He couldn't help it. The hysterical laughter simply couldn't be suppressed, and he found himself completely losing control .
"Roger" He smiled, wiping away a tear, and suppressing more laughter at the sight of his friends face. His hysterics could have and had easily been interpreted incorrectly by Roger, implying that Mark had found the feasibility a problem existed humorous, as opposed to the real humor mentioned, quit tactlessly might I add, above. "Roger I don't have a problem. Don't worry, I've just been trying shit. I haven't done the same drug twice, and don't intend on it either. I just wanted to get all the testing and shit outta my system. And-" Roger looked slightly skeptical, so Mark was perfectly aware of what must be said to rid Roger of any nagging suspitions and himself of Rogers questioning " My grades and shit and my parents and my … my dad lately" He sombers up, coughing into his hand to hide the smile that threatened as Roger did as well. " So you know. I wanted to get out of the house and have a little fun. But I mean-"
" I heard you hurt Maureen earlier" Mark scoffed
" I did not. She's such a drama queen. I was late and she was all grabbing at my arm and trying to be all serious. She wouldn't let go, so I took her hand away and moved on, not a big deal"
"But you.. You-" Yet he cant really find anything further to discuss, so he simply adds a comment about Mark not going to parties anymore. This grabs Mark's attention
"Roger, you're not my mother. I might still go every now and again, at least until I'm finished with all the applications to schools."
" But Mark, you cant keep getting fucking high as a kite all the time-"He was starting to itch, and squirm and sweat, and did NOT have the patients for this
" Jesus jack ass I don't, so what I experiment with drugs or alcohol every now and again at parties, Who the fuck doesn't ? Besides who the HELL gives you the right to-"
And then a scene had begun, and Mark and Roger yelled some more, before Maureen came running over crying and beging him to stop using, and finally the entire thing stopped and Mark promised them he would too, and Maureen hugged him and walked away, while Roger gave him an awkward macho back pat, before looking around to see if the coast was clear, and pulling the other into a tight hug. As Mark patted Roger's back, a sinking feeling slowly settled into his stomach, for now he knew he couldn't back out. That he had to do this and they were right anyway.
Winter break ( when he usually stayed at Roger's almost the entire time or vise versa)He and his family were 'going on vacation' as he endured a horrible, painful withdrawal. He was out of school for another week after school began again as well, with a horrible ' flu'.
And Roger, wasn't stupid.
In denial maybe,
No, not maybe.
Defiantly in denial.
And it made him stupid.
But not stupid
Did I lose my-
"Mark man Jesus! What's going on? Should I call someone!" Benny leans near his new dorm mate, who is currently doubled over in pain and has already thrown up into the garbage can residing beside him, and attempts to form coherent thoughts. He'd never been one for handling urgent situations.
"No, no Benny just… just calm down" He's forcing words out through grit teeth " it's a migraine. SHIT SHIT! FUCK AHH! I- I'm prone to them just- just get me the medicine it's, it's in the drawer. My bed side- SHIT - table" Yes, migraines he's prone to, with medications that are meant to prevent them from getting this absolutely excruciatingly unimaginably painful. Yet, pretty little pills make for pretty little addictions. This, he knows too well. And so, he doesn't recall the last time he let one of this pills, one of those… touch his lips.
"HERE! HERE IT IS! Here Mark I… oh shit water ahhhhh hold on…" He runs off and Mark probably would have laughed at the way he was panicking like a teenage girl… he really would have laughed
If he weren't in unimaginable splitting pain
"HERE, here's the water and.." Mark grabs the pills and water out of the others hand desperately, because this is just SO FUCKING RIDICULOUS
And then, what isn't?
What isn't fucking ridiculous and scarred and un finished and just.. What could have been and what should have been and what will never be? What isn't tainted and scratched and killed by that, and that.. that wishing and that knowing that the wishing isn't worth it, no matter how badly you want it to be.- Even atheist need something to believe in.- That there is nothing here, but at least you can complain about here and state that you're trapped and forced to live with nothing, as opposed to the truth. That there is nothing any and everywhere. Where is SOMETHING? And you say this, and you say that, but it doesn't matter. Because everything , everything is always so FUCKING FUCKED UP , even if its not. Hell, its more fucked up than ever if nothings wrong. If everything's right and pretty and perfect. Because its not. Its FUCKED UP. And it always will be. Nothing can make the world be beautiful. Nothing can make it be fucking worth it or anything. Such a fine, fine line between pure morbidity and truth.. because its SO FUCKING WRONG AND SO FUCKING FUCKED UP. and this. there isn't even a way to say it anymore. You can say whatever you want, words and words and millions of words… And you wont say a fucking thing. Obscenities, expressions, the strongest words you can think of. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK and you still haven't said anything. Not a word. I FUCKING HATE YOU and you've hardly made a point. And is it because they're deaf? Are they forced to be, or do they choose to be ? Are they afraid and can't deal? Or is it because you simply haven't said anything, so they're hearing is fine… there is just nothing for them TO hear. And it is just so fucking RIDICULOUS and so fucking FUCKED UP and I've said it hundreds of thousands of millions of trillions of countless times but it never (seemingly) leaves my lips and Its never enough. Its never there. And if the world were to end today, blow up and end existence and leave it with a big void and nothing... It wouldn't be any different than now,. Because there is nothing, And there will never be anything.
He awakes in his bed, his vision blurred and a vague hangover like feeling lurking behind his eyes. This happens sometimes, when the migraines get exceptionally bad. His thoughts blur together and begin to ramble, and he passes out. Some of his most profound and fucked up -why does it feel like that phrases has occurred a little too frequently as of late?- thoughts were born by these unconscious rants. He sits up to find Benny, pacing like a fucking lunatic , beside his bed, casting worried glances all about the room and debating, seemingly with himself, weather to call for help or not.
"Mark!" he cries, upon the realization the other has awoken "What… what the fuck happened? Are you alright?" Mark flinches, for the others voice is irritatingly loud and shrill, and rubs at his eyes
"Benny shut the fuck up you're loud. I'm alright, this happens sometimes. Just hand me my glasses" Benny silently does as he's told. Mark adjusts to the light and flinches , because his head fucking hurts, and it usually takes a while for the pills to kick in fully anyway " How Long 've I been out?"
"Only about 15 minutes. Jesus Mark, what the fuck? I read the back of that pill package, aren't you supposed to take that shit to PREVENT this from happening? I mean what?… I mean… Jesus you fucking scared me" Despite the pain continuing to filter in and out of Mark's head, he cant help but smile at Benny's spastic display of affection
" Yeah well, I haven't gotten one in a really long time. Figured I didn't need them anymore. That judgment went straight to hell." Then he laughs " Awwww Benny wenny was a-scared for me. You gunna be okay, or you need to change your big boy undies?"
"…. ass"
"Indeed I am. A sexy one at that"
"…. just start taking your fucking medicine"
"No, actually I was thinking of NOT taking it, you know? I mean what's better than unimaginably splitting pain and feeling as if a rusty nail is being driven directly in your forehead and forcing your brain in half? In fact, lets make a bet, how long can I go BEFORE I have to be taken to the hospital! Now why the FUCK would I take my meds, when we could have all this fun without them?"
…
" I fucking hate you, and your damn sarcasm"
"Love you too roomy, love you too"
You wont get addicted, you wont get addicted, you wont get addicted …..
Empty bottle
Oh shit.
Oh shit oh shit oh fucking shit
His hand hit's the wall hard
He'd bothered to read the bottle once. After he'd over dosed drastically and purposely. He was only supposed to take two. He took 8
Then he stated taking 10
Some every hour
Some every half hour
And it'd been months and here he was
Here he fucking was
With the bottle shattered against the wall because he fucking RAN OUT and he fucking NEEDED IT and his ribs protruding to all hell and his eyes lined with bags that looked about to weigh his entire head down, because it was so FUCKED UP. And-
" Hey Mark? You here?" He quickly cleans off his bleeding hand with a bed sheet and kicks the shattered remains of the bottle beneath the bed, before exiting the room and slamming the door shut.
" Yeah , hey what's up ?"
" Man I just met these two-" He stops mid sentence as he catches his first glimpse of Mark
" Whoa Man, I thought you were trying to get more sleep. What the fuck, you look even worse. Did the migraines come back? By the way, how have they been lately?" Mark can feel his finger nails shoving into his palms, and pulls them out before they cause damage.
" I'm fine Benny I've just been… well out at night lately" He feigns a smug smile " And well... you know" Benny laughs
"Well look at you, you stud! And about the migraines?"
" I haven't gotten any in a really, really long while " Because you've been too fucking high off the shit 24/7 to even feel it if you did. " But What were you saying?" He's succeeding at suppressing the shaking, yet he feels it begin to intensify, and needs to get out before he can no longer push it down
" Oh yeah, I met these two fucking HOT chicks. I got us dates with that shit man! They're smoking hot, huge breasts, and get this, TWINS! Fucking TWINS man! I got us set up to meet them in an hour at the Starbuck across campus. Whadaya say?"
Roger. What was. What would have been, what could have been. What could be. Roger-
"Yeah, yeah sure" cue cheesy fucking smile " Love to man! Shit I gotta shower real quick then, meet you back out here in 20" He feels himself shaking so fucking hard as he walks off
He collapses the moment the door closes
"Hello? Yeah hey Doctor Cremler ? Hey its Mark Cohen. Ha- yeah Hi,. Uhm, actually I'm at Brown, majoring in ..law" He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice " Hahaha, yeah yeah, Oh yeah defiantly! Hahahahah yes of course" That cheesy fucking laugh he promised himself he would never master " Yeah well, it seems my migraines have come back, and that I've run out of my they're actually really, really bad, and quit painful... Oh no, I'm alright, there's just so much stress right now, that was probably the cause. Yeah. Yeah, as long as I have the medication im alright though. Yeah, Uh huh. Oh yeah, only the recommended dose, sometimes smaller, and at varying rates. Sometimes I need to take them everyday for a week or so, and sometimes I only need them once or twice over a few weeks . Mhmm. Yeah. And I have a roommate too, so. Yeah… yeah… alright thank you, very much, I really appreciate it. Yeah, uhm send it to the CVS , on Perry Street, directly next to the campus. Yeah. Alright. Alright. Hahhahahahah alright, will do. Alright. Thanks again" Yes really, my cheesy fake smile and I appreciate it " alright." His hands are fucking shaking to all fucking hell " Alright, take care, Alright bye"
He slams the phone down
And slams the phone against the wall
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
Hunched over and bleeding and coughing and shaking and hurting and wishing and fucking wishing and hating and and and and-
Fucking ridiculous
This is fucking ridiculous
You can't make the world beautiful
You can't
They can't
Can't
And just fuck
Words are such shit
Such shit
Words have never meant shit anyway
Never.. Made any sense
Or were loud enough to make anyone fucking listen
Cause nowhere days, you gotta scream to be heard.
All those fake smiles
Those fake fucking smiles he loathed with every fiber of his being his entire life.
Those fake fucking people..
The pills
They make him like them…
With that fake fucking smiled plastered on and that fake fucking sense of understanding and giving a shit and.. And everything
And he was like them
...
That was enough
" Mark baby, you still look like shit. I guess this isn't an over night thing, huh ? You want me to stay with you? The teachers can shove it-"
"No Benny its fine I-" He buried himself further under the covers, because Benny isn't dumb, and if he sees the shaking… oh god it hurts " I'll be alright. Besides you've actually been working in some of these classes, don't ruin that because of me, go. I'll be okay" C'mon Mark, close the deal " Although I will miss you " He smiles slightly, almost meaning it, and Benny runs his fingers through the others hair one last time.
" Well… alright.. But if you need anything, you don't hesitate to get me. But call! Don't you get your skinny -yet sexy- ass outta bed, or I'll come home and mutilate it " He leans over and pecks Mark, who is suppressing a sarcastic retort, lightly on the lips, before turning to leave
"Love you babe"
"Love you too"
-well of course they were together at one point, why the fuck do you think Roger hates the guy so fucking much?-
Oh Jesus he needed it. He needed.. He needed
Think of Roger.
Think of Maureen.
Oh and Benny, of course Benny.
You have to…
Shit
Fucked up
He turns and burries his face in the pillow
And screams
Cause nowhere days, you gotta scream to be heard
Will I lose my-
He doesn't remember when it started
Yes he does
He just doesn't want to
When he found out that Roger was going to die
Bar after Bar and drink after drink
No one noticed
No one was around to notice…..
He's nearly to life support
The first night he came home completely drunk, Roger was at home, High as fucking hell, having used the last of stash, because he wanted to quit and was going to, but he missed April so bad, and it hurt so much, and why waste what's left? Roger barely knew where the fuck he was, and considering the fact Mark was not yet calloused to alcohol consumption, he didn't either.
Well… not entirely
He runs in, now realizing how late he is and slows down out side the doors, so not to draw attention to himself. He walks in slowly, and is met with a heavy sense of pain and fear a regret
Fucking great
He knew enough. He had sobered up slightly at the bar, having already thrown up a few times and regaining the capability to at least make it home. He knew he was in the loft. He knew Roger was high. He knew Roger would do whatever Mark wanted him to
He smiles at the usual crowd. Maybe missing one, maybe missing two from before. Dead, in the hospital. He didn't know. He didn't care
….
Yes he did
Get down on your knees bitch. That's right. Pretty little rock god. You aren't so high and mighty now, are you ? On your knees in front of me
Doesn't bother to smile at anyone
Yeah you spread your legs, whore. I'm in charge for once. I'm in fucking control of fucking something…. Oh god…
Takes his place with his camera and begins to film
He wont bother to get tested. Doesn't matter. He was on top anyway. He was the one being sucked. He did the kinky shit to Roger. Not the other way around.
A lone man stands up. Scarred and hollow and scared and fucked.
"Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?"
Yeah you fucking will
in and out and up and down and oh god oh god
And screams of Aprils name shouldn't have hurt like they did
No. they fucking won't.
And he shouldn't be able to remember it when Roger can't
No, you fucking won't.
I would know.
Join in, you're supposed to join in
Roger didn't… doesn't even know
And it's all so fucking fucked up
And he looks up
And look who's fucking there
Who's fucking walking In and taking a place beneath Collins' arm
Looking down at the ground
And trying not to-
Mark can't help but smile
He just has to fucking smile
How ironic
How fucking ironic
Haha good one irony, you got me
Ha ha FUCKING ha
And it's so fucking ridiculous
Will I lose my -
Will I lose my-
Will I lose my-
Will I lose my-
Open your fucking mouth and sing Mark. What are you afraid of ? The truth may come out?
He meets his eyes
Everyday acknowledges what is
And what should be
And what will never fucking be
"Yes I lose my dignity"