Dying By Surviving Chapter 13
Title: Dying By Surviving
Chapter: 13/15
Rating: PG-13 this part
Pairings: Mark/Roger
Summary: Set three years postRENT. Roger and Mark deal with losing friends differently. How does Mark deal with the knowledge that he may very well be the last one of their group left alive? What if Mark can't take the pressure?
33 minutes later:
Gray-blue eyes stared out at nothing as the wind cut a stinging path across his face. Chris sighed and let out a puff of air to blow aside some errant strands of hair. As far as he was concerned, heartbreak wasn’t worth the love it took to get there. It was a big part of the reason he’d refused to make any real attachments to anyone in the past. He’d learned the hard way when he was younger and more naïve.
Funny that a man who reminded him of the person he was, the person he’d hated and spent years changing into the jaded young man he was now, could bust right through all the walls he’d built up around himself. His lips tilted up in a smirk at the irony of it. Ironic, but so Goddamn typical. He let out another sigh, leaning his face on a hand and bringing a lukewarm latte to his lips.
The café was mostly deserted. Chris liked it that way. He needed to be alone when he wanted to brood, and if he could brood and drink coffee at the same time, that was all the better. It might be pathetic, but that didn’t bother Christian so much as the dull pain he felt running through his body. This sucked.
Chris was nothing if not a pragmatist. He could always salvage something from a bad situation, but in this case nothing seemed salvageable. All he could see stretching out before him was an empty future full of casual sex. Without the one thing he really wanted. Without Mark.
He wondered again how he’d managed to be stupid enough to fall in love. He’d always thought that after…that…he’d be able to bring himself above such deplorable emotions. Mark had certainly brought him down a peg, in more ways than one. Jesus. Just the thought of that first meeting they’d had, the shiver that shook him when that intense blue gaze and lopsided grin had been turned on him…
He cut off the thoughts before they could become too painful. Mark loved Roger. He had to keep telling himself that. The only way Mark would ever really be happy was if he was with Roger. Chris couldn’t give him that. He couldn’t be the man Mark wanted, and that wasn’t his fault. Mark couldn’t stop loving Roger anymore than Christian seemed to be able to stop loving Mark. There was the crux of the matter, and sitting here brooding wasn’t going to change that.
He took another sip of his drink. Well, brooding wasn’t about changing things. Brooding was about giving Chris a little time to grieve what he’d lost.
What you never really had, he reminded himself sharply.
After a single life-changing incident a few years ago, Chris had always considered himself a cold-hearted bastard. Before Mark, if he’d wanted something, he would have gone after it, consequences be damned. If this was just a matter of wanting Mark, he would’ve done everything in his power to get Roger out of the picture. But it wasn’t just wanting Mark. It was more than that. It was something a little harder to define, something that Chris still didn’t fully understand himself.
He’d been surprised, after all. He never thought he was capable of loving someone so much that he’d be able to step aside, just to make them happy. Thinking of someone else before himself was a relatively new experience for Chris.
Maybe there’s some hope for me yet, he thought with a smile.
And even if he was feeling like shit now, he knew he’d get through this. It would be hard, but Chris was a stubborn son of a bitch. There’s no way he’d let this beat him. Besides, he’d gladly go through any agony in the world to be there for Mark, to protect him, to make sure at least one of them got what they wanted.
Christ. If he didn’t watch out, he’d turn into some damn closet romantic. It would totally ruin his image.
It would all be okay. Somehow, it would turn out alright. They’d all make it through this. The world kept turning whether or not Christian held a depressing and fruitless love for an unavailable filmmaker. And cliché as the old saying was, it felt true to Chris. Better to have loved and lost…
He took a last gulp of his drink, stood, and walked out of the café. He pitched his empty cup into the first garbage can he saw. It was time to grab a bite to eat, then go out and pick someone up. Chris was good at cutting his losses after all. With a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he let go of the pain on the next gust of wind.
His face lit with a humorless smile. Damn. Didn’t work. Well, it was worth a try.
10 minutes earlier:
Roger wasn’t even aware of the loud honking of horns that came with a rush hour traffic jam. The ten-minute taxi ride to Mark’s apartment had already taken a little over twenty minutes. It would probably be another twenty before they got there. Thank God Roger could afford the fare now. Well, just this once. He wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.
He was almost thankful that it was taking so long. It was giving him some time to sort out a few last questions. Christian had cleared a lot of his rotating thoughts up, but Roger wanted to be completely sure he was doing the right thing. Well, sure that it felt like he was doing the right thing, at least.
He did a mental recap of everything he’d come to conclude. The first and most obvious was that he loved Mark. And now he knew that it wasn’t because Mark was a replacement for Mimi. He’d had years to do that, but he hadn’t. He’d never really wanted anyone since Mimi until he realized how he felt about Mark. And now, looking back, he could see hints of the attraction even before Mimi had come into the picture.
Before, he’d always written off the thrill that would run through him when Mark would give him a real smile. He hadn’t given much thought to how comforting it had been to hold Mark’s hand, to be held by the filmmaker during his painful withdrawal. He’d rationalized it when he’d felt that dull ache in his chest whenever Mark had given him a disappointed frown afterwards, when he’d refused to leave the apartment. He’d even ignored the way his heart would speed up when Mark would squeeze his shoulder and tell him the newest song he’d written was beautiful.
A second thing he’d been hung up on was the thought that he didn’t really deserve Mark. He realized now what complete bullshit that was. It didn’t matter if he didn’t think he deserved Mark. Mark obviously loved him, and didn’t Mark, more than anyone Roger knew, deserve what he wanted? And while Roger might not understand why Mark wanted him, it was kind of pointless to let it hold him back. Especially when it was what Roger wanted, too.
Another thing he’d been afraid of was that he would hurt Mark. Christian had given him a rude awakening on that one. He was probably hurting Mark more now than he ever could if they were actually together. His gut clenched at the thought of what he was putting Mark through. He knew he had to get over the pain and the guilt of it all, because more than anything else, he wanted to make Mark happy.
Besides Mimi and April, he’d never really felt that way about someone. He wanted to do everything in his power to make Mark smile, to make his gorgeous blue eyes light up with a laugh. And he’d be more than happy to spend the rest of his life doing it.
That brought him to the fear of his disease. The fear that he’d get Mark sick, and that he’d leave Mark devastated when he actually went, as he knew he would in the near future. The idea of his impending mortality had always scared him, but…shit… now it terrified him.
He’d made some peace with the fact that Mark knew what he was doing. If Mark wanted to take the risk, then it was his decision to make, not Roger’s. And they could be careful. Roger would make sure they’d be careful. He would never be able to live with himself if they didn’t take every precaution and something happened. But it wouldn’t. He had to keep telling himself that.
The other fear, that fear of leaving Mark, had been put to rest, once again, by Chris. Strange as it was, that look in the other man’s eyes hadn’t driven Roger crazy with jealousy as it normally would have. Okay, to be honest, it had made Roger a little jealous. But more than anything, it had eased his worries. He could see that Chris loved Mark just as much as he did. He knew that when it was his time to go, he’d be leaving Mark in good hands. He could trust Chris to take care of him. And that took a huge weight off his mind.
The final thing he’d realized was that he didn’t even feel that need to have Mimi here anymore. Sure, he still missed her, but he couldn’t honestly say if she was here that he would choose her over Mark. He was a different person now, and he wanted different things. Mimi had been right for him then, and he would always love her for that, but she wasn’t what he needed now. He needed Mark.
He might feel a little guilty about it, but he pushed that emotion away. It was pointless to feel like that. The fact of the matter was that Mimi had been gone for a long time. His friends were right when they said he should move on. And he somehow felt that Mimi would understand. Hell, if he’d been the one to go, what was left of his spirit, soul… whatever would feel the same about Mimi. He would want her to find someone else to spend the rest of her time with. No one deserved to be completely alone.
Almost as if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, he could clearly feel the cold, metal sensation of his wedding ring weighing on his hand. He twirled it on his finger, finally making the biggest decision he’d made since he’d decided to move to LA.
It took a little bit of wiggling and pulling, but the ring that had been a constant presence on his left hand for the past three years slipped off. He studied it in the light, watching the sheen that lit up the gold. After a moment, he put it back on, only this time, it rested on his right ring finger.
The relief he felt, the freedom, was almost palpable in the air. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. It was strange, but the love he felt for Mark swelled up in his chest, and for the first time since this whole thing had started, he couldn’t wait to hold the filmmaker in his arms. Without any hang-ups, and without any regrets.
It was time to stop living in the past.
15 minutes later:
Mark lay slumped on his couch, staring at the ceiling. His brow was knit together in a frown, and his eyes looked right through the stucco without really seeing anything. In passing, he wondered how long he’d been lying here, but he dismissed the thought. It really didn’t matter anyway.
On top of all of his worries and insecurities about what had happened with Roger, now he felt bad about how he’d treated Christian today. His friend had been genuinely worried for him, and Mark had ignored him. He’d avoided him all day, actually, and then when Christian had tracked him down, he’d dismissed him without a second thought. He didn’t feel like he could deal with the concern, or, God forbid, the pity he was sure would have filled his friend’s eyes if he’d told him what had happened. Plus, Christian was volatile on a good day. There was no telling what he’d end up doing if he knew the whole story.
The truth was, he could deal with Christian’s concern and worry, but what he couldn’t deal with was the deep affection, maybe even love that he knew his friend felt for him. It hurt too much, to know that he was doing to Christian what Roger was, in effect, doing to him. While the circumstances weren’t the same, the underlying principle was. And there was no way he’d be able to handle seeing his own pain reflected back in Christian’s eyes.
There were times when he’d been tempted to just give in to him. Christian was gorgeous after all, and it wasn’t like Mark was immune to that. He was attracted to him, sure, even loved him to an extent like he loved all his friends, but there was no way what he felt for Christian even came close to the all encompassing love, the passion he felt for Roger. And it wasn’t fair to Christian to risk their friendship over nothing more romantic than a physical attraction on his side. God knew the guy deserved to be loved back as much as anyone else.
So he’d detached, and pushed away from a relationship that reminded him too much of the pain he was already going through. It had nearly killed him to see the look of hurt in his friend’s eyes before he left the cutting room. It couldn’t be helped, though. After all, Mark had his own problems to focus on right now, as much of a selfish bastard as that made him feel.
He had thought that after a day or two, the slight feeling of hope that had come after Roger’s phone call would fade. It had a little, but it was still there, and it was driving Mark crazy. He’d tried to control it, to extinguish it, but nothing worked. And he knew that it would only hurt him more in the end. The logical side of him understood that there was no way Roger was going to decide in his favor.
That’s where the self-depreciating thoughts came in. Why would Roger choose him, a pale, skinny, unattractive, Jewish boy, when he could have any number of gorgeous girls or guys with his rising rock-star status? Mark had only been fooling himself when he’d thought that Roger could feel for him as anything more than a friend. He’d be lucky if they could salvage their friendship at all.
Mark had never felt so used in his life. It hurt like nothing ever had before. The idea that Roger would do something like that to him, the man who, for all his trying not to, he still loved, the man who had been his best friend for years… it left him with a bad taste in his mouth, a lump in his throat and a twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He honestly didn’t think he was capable of crying anymore. At some point it was like everything had just… stopped. All he seemed to know now was the weight on his chest and the dull pangs that swamped his body from time to time. He tried to fight it back, to focus on something else, but it seemed to require all of his attention. All that was left of his heart was a throbbing, mangled mess of guilt, fear and grief.
He wished he could just skip this part. He’d never been good at grieving. He just wanted to get past it and move on. Before, it would have been easy for him to detach and go on with his life, or at least be able to pretend that nothing was wrong. This one hit too close to home, though.
He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust anyone again. This just reinforced all the old fears he had of opening himself up to other people. He could easily see himself digress back into how he’d been in New York before Angel, falling back into his old routines and burying himself in his work. It was so much easier than dealing with all of… this.
With a ragged sigh, Mark sat up. He swung his legs off the couch and propped them on the coffee table. After a moment, he realized that he didn’t even know why he’d deigned it necessary to change positions in the first place.
Maybe all of this wasn’t worth it. Maybe everything he’d thought about his life up to this point was a lie. Maybe Angel had gotten it completely wrong. Maybe there was no point in believing in love. He could almost feel something in him break at that last thought.
Maybe it was time to just give up.
8 minutes later:
Roger wiped clammy palms on his jeans as he walked up to Mark’s apartment. The ride over had taken almost forty-five minutes. And while it had taken longer than he thought it would, it still didn’t seem like enough time to prepare him for this. He felt like a nervous wreck.
His mind was convinced of a lot of things, but now he was worried as to whether Mark would actually forgive him for what he’d done. He knew he didn’t deserve it. So now he was terrified that he’d realized everything too late, and that Mark would simply walk out of his life forever.
It was something he had to do, though. He owed them both at least that much.
With a shaking fist, he knocked tentatively on the door. After nothing happened for a few minutes, he swallowed down his fear and knocked louder. He hoped to God that Mark was home.
Mark heard the first knock at the door and decided to ignore it. He didn’t care who it was, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone right now. Only when the second knock came did he sigh and get off the couch. He walked over and peered through the peephole to see who it was.
When he saw Roger standing there, a rush of blood in his ears blocked out his hearing for a minute.
He took a moment to calm down, braced himself, and opened the door. His breath caught in his throat at the wave of emotions that crashed through his small frame. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just bury himself in Roger’s arms. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. Roger didn’t want him.
Roger nearly broke down at the sight of his best friend. Chris had been right. Mark looked like he hadn’t slept at all since he’d last seen him. Roger knew he couldn’t look much better, but to see that Mark’s usually youthful face seemed to have aged years in the past few days… Roger wanted nothing more than to pull the filmmaker into a hug, to try to kiss away the shadows he saw lingering in his eyes.
He stood awkwardly in the doorway. He didn’t want to mess things up even more.
“Hey,” he croaked out after a second. Mark, who’d seemed to be frozen before, jolted back into action.
“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let Roger in.
Roger walked past Mark, nervously glancing back. He finally took his cue from the filmmaker when Mark went over and sat on the couch. Roger joined him, but made sure to sit a foot or so away. He didn’t feel like he’d earned the right to be any closer than that.
An awkward silence stretched out between them. Roger had no idea how to start, and Mark was getting ready for the rejection he was sure was coming. After a while, Roger cleared his throat.
“Fuck… I… I don’t really know how to start,” he admitted. Mark let out a slight sigh.
“Me neither.” He finally looked at Roger’s face, making eye contact for the first time since he’d arrived. His eyes widened. “Shit, Rog… what happened?” Roger raised his eyebrows in confusion, and Mark pointed to the bruise coloring the guitarist’s face from Christian’s punch.
“Oh… this?” he asked, wincing as he touched it. “Ah… nothing much. Uh… Chris just knocked a little bit of sense into me.” He smiled a little to try to reassure Mark that it was no big deal. Even though it kind of was, but not for the reasons Mark was thinking.
“Jesus… I mean, well,” Mark stumbled. “I… I didn’t tell him anything. He shouldn’t have done that.” Great, now Roger hated him on top of not wanting him. He probably thought he was a coward who sent Christian to deal with his problems. Could this get any better?
“No… I mean, I know. Chris told me.”
“Oh.”
“Listen… Mark…” Why was this so Goddamn hard? “I… what do you want?”
“What?”
“I mean, out of this, from me. What is it that you want?” Fuck. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say! Why couldn’t he just say it?Mark gave another sigh, his eyes slipping shut.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want me that way, Roger. It’s okay. You just have to say so,” Mark answered. Roger cursed under his breath.
“That wasn’t what I… fuck. Let me just try again, okay?” Mark looked at him expectantly. “I… I’m really sorry that I freaked out,” Roger tried again. “I think I owe you an explanation for that at least.” Mark stayed silent and let Roger continue.
“It’s just that… the first thing I thought about when I woke up was Mimi,” Roger said. He tried to ignore the almost unnoticeable wince Mark gave at that, the pain that flashed in his eyes. “I mean, it was the first time I’d been that close to anyone since her, and I guess I just panicked. I didn’t want to make you into a replacement for her. You don’t deserve that.
“I walked to the park after that, sat there thinking for a while. I was terrified, Mark. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t want to lose you either. What had happened between us was… scary. It was so fucking powerful… and… I didn’t know if I could handle that.
“Really…I really loved every second of what had happened… but at the same time… I had to live with the fact that I could get you sick. I’ve never been with anyone who wasn’t positive since April, and… well, you’re my best friend. I’d never forgive myself if I got you sick.”
Roger found it was easier to keep going once he got started, but he wished that Mark wasn’t so transparent. He could plainly see that a lot of what he was saying was hurting him. It was almost as if Mark was just waiting for the killing blow. Roger was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, though.
“I felt all confused about it,” Roger continued. “Part of me felt like I didn’t deserve you… that I’d somehow just fuck you up with everything that’s wrong with me. And I have this death sentence hanging over me. I was scared of you having to deal with that, even though that was fucking stupid, because you already have to. But I didn’t want to feel like I’d have to leave you just when I’d… found you.”
He ended there, going over what he’d said and trying to think if there was some way he could explain it better. Mark finally spoke, however, and cut off the thoughts he’d been having.
“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, Rog…” Roger had to look away. It was killing him to see the pain in those blue eyes. “Can we… can we still be friends?” Roger’s eyes widened. Mark really thought he was going to reject him, didn’t he?
“I don’t know, Mark,” Roger said, and instantly regretted his choice of words when Mark seemed to break a little more. “No, I mean… I don’t want to be just friends.” Mark’s eyes snapped up to meet his again. “I want to… to be with you.” He winced at how lame he sounded, but there. All the cards were on the table now.
Mark was almost in shock. He’d never truly thought that Roger would want this. Hadn’t he just listed all the reasons it was a bad idea?
“But… you just said…” Mark managed to stutter out after a second.
“I know, but I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Roger replied, much more adamant now. He scooted over a little on the couch and took one of Mark’s hands in his. Even that small contact sent a shock through both of them. “I was being so Goddamn stupid. It’s not up to me whether or not you want to risk it. It’s not up to me whether I deserve you or not. You aren’t a replacement for Mimi, and you never will be. I don’t want her. At least not anymore. I want you.”
Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Roger wanted him? But at the same time that elation surged through him at those words, there was fear, anger, even resentment. How could he just pretend like nothing bad had happened between them and forget it all?
“Fuck… I wasn’t… didn’t expect that,” Mark muttered after a second. A pang of guilt hit Roger then at the self-loathing in Mark’s tone. He must have been a bastard to make Mark doubt that he would want him so deeply.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” he said.
“Roger… shit… I want to say yes,” Mark whispered harshly, his eyes squeezing shut, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I want to say yes, but… you hurt me, Rog. I felt like you… used me. I… I don’t know if I can get past that so easily.” Roger could feel Mark’s hand shaking in his. He hated himself when he heard Mark’s tone. He’d broken his friend’s heart. How could he even hope that Mark would forgive him for that?
I royally fucked this one up, didn’t I?
“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but you have no idea how sorry I am,” Roger offered quietly, trying to push away the lump in his throat, the guilt at what he’d done.
“I know… it’s just…” their eyes locked then, and Roger could see one question burning in Mark’s gaze.
Why? Why do you want this? Why do you want… me?
“Shit,” Roger muttered. “I’m such a bastard. I guess I should have started with that, shouldn’t I?”
Mark looked at him questioningly, but Roger just pulled the filmmaker closer, wrapping his arms around him. For a minute, he thought Mark was going to resist, but with a shuddery sigh, he relaxed against him. Roger tightened his hold, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Mark’s back. Holding Mark felt just as right, just as perfect as he knew it would.
“I swear I’ll never hurt you like that again,” he whispered, placing a kiss on Mark’s temple. “And please, Mark. If you give me another chance, I swear to God I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you don’t regret it.”
He pulled back slightly then, looking into Mark’s eyes, feeling his own swimming with tears. He leaned forward slowly, giving the filmmaker plenty of time to pull away. He needn’t have bothered. Mark wouldn’t have been able to pull away if he’d wanted to.
The feel of their lips pressing against one another was like coming home. With an almost desperate sob catching in his throat, Roger pulled Mark closer, bringing one hand up to bury itself in Mark’s hair. Mark wrapped his own arms around Roger’s neck.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but before he knew it, he was practically lying on top of Mark, who was stretched back on the couch, his hands fisted in Roger’s shirt like his life depended on it. Heat coursed through him, arousal heightening his senses when Mark opened his mouth slightly. Roger took the invitation, his tongue darting inside.
Then Mark’s tongue was rubbing against his, pushing back to explore Roger’s mouth the way Roger had mapped his out only moments before. With a start, he realized they were both shaking. It was fast, hot and desperate, the way they moved against each other, trying to get impossibly closer.
Almost like I want to crawl under his skin, Roger thought, smiling against Mark’s mouth.
As nice as this was, it wasn’t what Mark needed right now. Roger slowed it down, turning the desperate kisses into a long, slow exploration of the filmmaker’s lips, tongue and teeth. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back, smiling at Mark’s whimper of protest. He dotted the filmmaker’s face with kisses, placing another short kiss to his neck before he stopped.
He looked into Mark’s heavy-lidded eyes and gave a soft smile.
“I want to be with you because I’m in love with you, Mark,” he whispered, raising a hand to Mark’s face, his fingers gently tracing his features. He finally rested it on Mark’s cheek, his thumb stroking along his jaw. “I love you more than anything.”
And for the first time that day, Roger got Mark to smile.
Roger leaned back and brought them both up into a sitting position. He pulled Mark into his arms again, simply holding him. He thought he’d burst from the affection flooding his chest when Mark curled up against him and tucked his head under Roger’s chin. They sat like that for a long time, Roger stroking his hands rhythmically up and down Mark’s arms and back.
“So,” Mark said finally, “I guess this means we’re… what, dating?”
“Mmm, I guess that’s what you’d call it,” Roger allowed with a smile.
Mark leaned back and looked at Roger’s face, his own warring between a smile and a frown. Roger studied him. There was one thing the guitarist could see plainly. Even though things seemed like they were going to work out, Mark still had some pain he had to work through. It would be a while before he trusted Roger completely.
He leaned forward and put their foreheads together, resting a hand on the back of Mark’s neck and massaging lightly.
“I’m gonna have to earn you back, aren’t I?” Roger asked quietly. Mark’s eyes snapped open and gazed into his. He had that worried look on his face again. Roger just smiled.
“It’s okay,” he said, placing a light kiss to Mark’s lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Mark gave him another small smile, pulling Roger into another kiss.
“For some reason,” he said when the kiss ended, “I am too.”
Roger laughed and held Mark close. Mark let out a sigh that, for once, wasn’t tired or sad.
He could get used to this.
Chapter: 13/15
Rating: PG-13 this part
Pairings: Mark/Roger
Summary: Set three years postRENT. Roger and Mark deal with losing friends differently. How does Mark deal with the knowledge that he may very well be the last one of their group left alive? What if Mark can't take the pressure?
33 minutes later:
Gray-blue eyes stared out at nothing as the wind cut a stinging path across his face. Chris sighed and let out a puff of air to blow aside some errant strands of hair. As far as he was concerned, heartbreak wasn’t worth the love it took to get there. It was a big part of the reason he’d refused to make any real attachments to anyone in the past. He’d learned the hard way when he was younger and more naïve.
Funny that a man who reminded him of the person he was, the person he’d hated and spent years changing into the jaded young man he was now, could bust right through all the walls he’d built up around himself. His lips tilted up in a smirk at the irony of it. Ironic, but so Goddamn typical. He let out another sigh, leaning his face on a hand and bringing a lukewarm latte to his lips.
The café was mostly deserted. Chris liked it that way. He needed to be alone when he wanted to brood, and if he could brood and drink coffee at the same time, that was all the better. It might be pathetic, but that didn’t bother Christian so much as the dull pain he felt running through his body. This sucked.
Chris was nothing if not a pragmatist. He could always salvage something from a bad situation, but in this case nothing seemed salvageable. All he could see stretching out before him was an empty future full of casual sex. Without the one thing he really wanted. Without Mark.
He wondered again how he’d managed to be stupid enough to fall in love. He’d always thought that after…that…he’d be able to bring himself above such deplorable emotions. Mark had certainly brought him down a peg, in more ways than one. Jesus. Just the thought of that first meeting they’d had, the shiver that shook him when that intense blue gaze and lopsided grin had been turned on him…
He cut off the thoughts before they could become too painful. Mark loved Roger. He had to keep telling himself that. The only way Mark would ever really be happy was if he was with Roger. Chris couldn’t give him that. He couldn’t be the man Mark wanted, and that wasn’t his fault. Mark couldn’t stop loving Roger anymore than Christian seemed to be able to stop loving Mark. There was the crux of the matter, and sitting here brooding wasn’t going to change that.
He took another sip of his drink. Well, brooding wasn’t about changing things. Brooding was about giving Chris a little time to grieve what he’d lost.
What you never really had, he reminded himself sharply.
After a single life-changing incident a few years ago, Chris had always considered himself a cold-hearted bastard. Before Mark, if he’d wanted something, he would have gone after it, consequences be damned. If this was just a matter of wanting Mark, he would’ve done everything in his power to get Roger out of the picture. But it wasn’t just wanting Mark. It was more than that. It was something a little harder to define, something that Chris still didn’t fully understand himself.
He’d been surprised, after all. He never thought he was capable of loving someone so much that he’d be able to step aside, just to make them happy. Thinking of someone else before himself was a relatively new experience for Chris.
Maybe there’s some hope for me yet, he thought with a smile.
And even if he was feeling like shit now, he knew he’d get through this. It would be hard, but Chris was a stubborn son of a bitch. There’s no way he’d let this beat him. Besides, he’d gladly go through any agony in the world to be there for Mark, to protect him, to make sure at least one of them got what they wanted.
Christ. If he didn’t watch out, he’d turn into some damn closet romantic. It would totally ruin his image.
It would all be okay. Somehow, it would turn out alright. They’d all make it through this. The world kept turning whether or not Christian held a depressing and fruitless love for an unavailable filmmaker. And cliché as the old saying was, it felt true to Chris. Better to have loved and lost…
He took a last gulp of his drink, stood, and walked out of the café. He pitched his empty cup into the first garbage can he saw. It was time to grab a bite to eat, then go out and pick someone up. Chris was good at cutting his losses after all. With a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he let go of the pain on the next gust of wind.
His face lit with a humorless smile. Damn. Didn’t work. Well, it was worth a try.
10 minutes earlier:
Roger wasn’t even aware of the loud honking of horns that came with a rush hour traffic jam. The ten-minute taxi ride to Mark’s apartment had already taken a little over twenty minutes. It would probably be another twenty before they got there. Thank God Roger could afford the fare now. Well, just this once. He wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.
He was almost thankful that it was taking so long. It was giving him some time to sort out a few last questions. Christian had cleared a lot of his rotating thoughts up, but Roger wanted to be completely sure he was doing the right thing. Well, sure that it felt like he was doing the right thing, at least.
He did a mental recap of everything he’d come to conclude. The first and most obvious was that he loved Mark. And now he knew that it wasn’t because Mark was a replacement for Mimi. He’d had years to do that, but he hadn’t. He’d never really wanted anyone since Mimi until he realized how he felt about Mark. And now, looking back, he could see hints of the attraction even before Mimi had come into the picture.
Before, he’d always written off the thrill that would run through him when Mark would give him a real smile. He hadn’t given much thought to how comforting it had been to hold Mark’s hand, to be held by the filmmaker during his painful withdrawal. He’d rationalized it when he’d felt that dull ache in his chest whenever Mark had given him a disappointed frown afterwards, when he’d refused to leave the apartment. He’d even ignored the way his heart would speed up when Mark would squeeze his shoulder and tell him the newest song he’d written was beautiful.
A second thing he’d been hung up on was the thought that he didn’t really deserve Mark. He realized now what complete bullshit that was. It didn’t matter if he didn’t think he deserved Mark. Mark obviously loved him, and didn’t Mark, more than anyone Roger knew, deserve what he wanted? And while Roger might not understand why Mark wanted him, it was kind of pointless to let it hold him back. Especially when it was what Roger wanted, too.
Another thing he’d been afraid of was that he would hurt Mark. Christian had given him a rude awakening on that one. He was probably hurting Mark more now than he ever could if they were actually together. His gut clenched at the thought of what he was putting Mark through. He knew he had to get over the pain and the guilt of it all, because more than anything else, he wanted to make Mark happy.
Besides Mimi and April, he’d never really felt that way about someone. He wanted to do everything in his power to make Mark smile, to make his gorgeous blue eyes light up with a laugh. And he’d be more than happy to spend the rest of his life doing it.
That brought him to the fear of his disease. The fear that he’d get Mark sick, and that he’d leave Mark devastated when he actually went, as he knew he would in the near future. The idea of his impending mortality had always scared him, but…shit… now it terrified him.
He’d made some peace with the fact that Mark knew what he was doing. If Mark wanted to take the risk, then it was his decision to make, not Roger’s. And they could be careful. Roger would make sure they’d be careful. He would never be able to live with himself if they didn’t take every precaution and something happened. But it wouldn’t. He had to keep telling himself that.
The other fear, that fear of leaving Mark, had been put to rest, once again, by Chris. Strange as it was, that look in the other man’s eyes hadn’t driven Roger crazy with jealousy as it normally would have. Okay, to be honest, it had made Roger a little jealous. But more than anything, it had eased his worries. He could see that Chris loved Mark just as much as he did. He knew that when it was his time to go, he’d be leaving Mark in good hands. He could trust Chris to take care of him. And that took a huge weight off his mind.
The final thing he’d realized was that he didn’t even feel that need to have Mimi here anymore. Sure, he still missed her, but he couldn’t honestly say if she was here that he would choose her over Mark. He was a different person now, and he wanted different things. Mimi had been right for him then, and he would always love her for that, but she wasn’t what he needed now. He needed Mark.
He might feel a little guilty about it, but he pushed that emotion away. It was pointless to feel like that. The fact of the matter was that Mimi had been gone for a long time. His friends were right when they said he should move on. And he somehow felt that Mimi would understand. Hell, if he’d been the one to go, what was left of his spirit, soul… whatever would feel the same about Mimi. He would want her to find someone else to spend the rest of her time with. No one deserved to be completely alone.
Almost as if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, he could clearly feel the cold, metal sensation of his wedding ring weighing on his hand. He twirled it on his finger, finally making the biggest decision he’d made since he’d decided to move to LA.
It took a little bit of wiggling and pulling, but the ring that had been a constant presence on his left hand for the past three years slipped off. He studied it in the light, watching the sheen that lit up the gold. After a moment, he put it back on, only this time, it rested on his right ring finger.
The relief he felt, the freedom, was almost palpable in the air. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. It was strange, but the love he felt for Mark swelled up in his chest, and for the first time since this whole thing had started, he couldn’t wait to hold the filmmaker in his arms. Without any hang-ups, and without any regrets.
It was time to stop living in the past.
15 minutes later:
Mark lay slumped on his couch, staring at the ceiling. His brow was knit together in a frown, and his eyes looked right through the stucco without really seeing anything. In passing, he wondered how long he’d been lying here, but he dismissed the thought. It really didn’t matter anyway.
On top of all of his worries and insecurities about what had happened with Roger, now he felt bad about how he’d treated Christian today. His friend had been genuinely worried for him, and Mark had ignored him. He’d avoided him all day, actually, and then when Christian had tracked him down, he’d dismissed him without a second thought. He didn’t feel like he could deal with the concern, or, God forbid, the pity he was sure would have filled his friend’s eyes if he’d told him what had happened. Plus, Christian was volatile on a good day. There was no telling what he’d end up doing if he knew the whole story.
The truth was, he could deal with Christian’s concern and worry, but what he couldn’t deal with was the deep affection, maybe even love that he knew his friend felt for him. It hurt too much, to know that he was doing to Christian what Roger was, in effect, doing to him. While the circumstances weren’t the same, the underlying principle was. And there was no way he’d be able to handle seeing his own pain reflected back in Christian’s eyes.
There were times when he’d been tempted to just give in to him. Christian was gorgeous after all, and it wasn’t like Mark was immune to that. He was attracted to him, sure, even loved him to an extent like he loved all his friends, but there was no way what he felt for Christian even came close to the all encompassing love, the passion he felt for Roger. And it wasn’t fair to Christian to risk their friendship over nothing more romantic than a physical attraction on his side. God knew the guy deserved to be loved back as much as anyone else.
So he’d detached, and pushed away from a relationship that reminded him too much of the pain he was already going through. It had nearly killed him to see the look of hurt in his friend’s eyes before he left the cutting room. It couldn’t be helped, though. After all, Mark had his own problems to focus on right now, as much of a selfish bastard as that made him feel.
He had thought that after a day or two, the slight feeling of hope that had come after Roger’s phone call would fade. It had a little, but it was still there, and it was driving Mark crazy. He’d tried to control it, to extinguish it, but nothing worked. And he knew that it would only hurt him more in the end. The logical side of him understood that there was no way Roger was going to decide in his favor.
That’s where the self-depreciating thoughts came in. Why would Roger choose him, a pale, skinny, unattractive, Jewish boy, when he could have any number of gorgeous girls or guys with his rising rock-star status? Mark had only been fooling himself when he’d thought that Roger could feel for him as anything more than a friend. He’d be lucky if they could salvage their friendship at all.
Mark had never felt so used in his life. It hurt like nothing ever had before. The idea that Roger would do something like that to him, the man who, for all his trying not to, he still loved, the man who had been his best friend for years… it left him with a bad taste in his mouth, a lump in his throat and a twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He honestly didn’t think he was capable of crying anymore. At some point it was like everything had just… stopped. All he seemed to know now was the weight on his chest and the dull pangs that swamped his body from time to time. He tried to fight it back, to focus on something else, but it seemed to require all of his attention. All that was left of his heart was a throbbing, mangled mess of guilt, fear and grief.
He wished he could just skip this part. He’d never been good at grieving. He just wanted to get past it and move on. Before, it would have been easy for him to detach and go on with his life, or at least be able to pretend that nothing was wrong. This one hit too close to home, though.
He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust anyone again. This just reinforced all the old fears he had of opening himself up to other people. He could easily see himself digress back into how he’d been in New York before Angel, falling back into his old routines and burying himself in his work. It was so much easier than dealing with all of… this.
With a ragged sigh, Mark sat up. He swung his legs off the couch and propped them on the coffee table. After a moment, he realized that he didn’t even know why he’d deigned it necessary to change positions in the first place.
Maybe all of this wasn’t worth it. Maybe everything he’d thought about his life up to this point was a lie. Maybe Angel had gotten it completely wrong. Maybe there was no point in believing in love. He could almost feel something in him break at that last thought.
Maybe it was time to just give up.
8 minutes later:
Roger wiped clammy palms on his jeans as he walked up to Mark’s apartment. The ride over had taken almost forty-five minutes. And while it had taken longer than he thought it would, it still didn’t seem like enough time to prepare him for this. He felt like a nervous wreck.
His mind was convinced of a lot of things, but now he was worried as to whether Mark would actually forgive him for what he’d done. He knew he didn’t deserve it. So now he was terrified that he’d realized everything too late, and that Mark would simply walk out of his life forever.
It was something he had to do, though. He owed them both at least that much.
With a shaking fist, he knocked tentatively on the door. After nothing happened for a few minutes, he swallowed down his fear and knocked louder. He hoped to God that Mark was home.
Mark heard the first knock at the door and decided to ignore it. He didn’t care who it was, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone right now. Only when the second knock came did he sigh and get off the couch. He walked over and peered through the peephole to see who it was.
When he saw Roger standing there, a rush of blood in his ears blocked out his hearing for a minute.
He took a moment to calm down, braced himself, and opened the door. His breath caught in his throat at the wave of emotions that crashed through his small frame. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just bury himself in Roger’s arms. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. Roger didn’t want him.
Roger nearly broke down at the sight of his best friend. Chris had been right. Mark looked like he hadn’t slept at all since he’d last seen him. Roger knew he couldn’t look much better, but to see that Mark’s usually youthful face seemed to have aged years in the past few days… Roger wanted nothing more than to pull the filmmaker into a hug, to try to kiss away the shadows he saw lingering in his eyes.
He stood awkwardly in the doorway. He didn’t want to mess things up even more.
“Hey,” he croaked out after a second. Mark, who’d seemed to be frozen before, jolted back into action.
“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let Roger in.
Roger walked past Mark, nervously glancing back. He finally took his cue from the filmmaker when Mark went over and sat on the couch. Roger joined him, but made sure to sit a foot or so away. He didn’t feel like he’d earned the right to be any closer than that.
An awkward silence stretched out between them. Roger had no idea how to start, and Mark was getting ready for the rejection he was sure was coming. After a while, Roger cleared his throat.
“Fuck… I… I don’t really know how to start,” he admitted. Mark let out a slight sigh.
“Me neither.” He finally looked at Roger’s face, making eye contact for the first time since he’d arrived. His eyes widened. “Shit, Rog… what happened?” Roger raised his eyebrows in confusion, and Mark pointed to the bruise coloring the guitarist’s face from Christian’s punch.
“Oh… this?” he asked, wincing as he touched it. “Ah… nothing much. Uh… Chris just knocked a little bit of sense into me.” He smiled a little to try to reassure Mark that it was no big deal. Even though it kind of was, but not for the reasons Mark was thinking.
“Jesus… I mean, well,” Mark stumbled. “I… I didn’t tell him anything. He shouldn’t have done that.” Great, now Roger hated him on top of not wanting him. He probably thought he was a coward who sent Christian to deal with his problems. Could this get any better?
“No… I mean, I know. Chris told me.”
“Oh.”
“Listen… Mark…” Why was this so Goddamn hard? “I… what do you want?”
“What?”
“I mean, out of this, from me. What is it that you want?” Fuck. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say! Why couldn’t he just say it?Mark gave another sigh, his eyes slipping shut.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want me that way, Roger. It’s okay. You just have to say so,” Mark answered. Roger cursed under his breath.
“That wasn’t what I… fuck. Let me just try again, okay?” Mark looked at him expectantly. “I… I’m really sorry that I freaked out,” Roger tried again. “I think I owe you an explanation for that at least.” Mark stayed silent and let Roger continue.
“It’s just that… the first thing I thought about when I woke up was Mimi,” Roger said. He tried to ignore the almost unnoticeable wince Mark gave at that, the pain that flashed in his eyes. “I mean, it was the first time I’d been that close to anyone since her, and I guess I just panicked. I didn’t want to make you into a replacement for her. You don’t deserve that.
“I walked to the park after that, sat there thinking for a while. I was terrified, Mark. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t want to lose you either. What had happened between us was… scary. It was so fucking powerful… and… I didn’t know if I could handle that.
“Really…I really loved every second of what had happened… but at the same time… I had to live with the fact that I could get you sick. I’ve never been with anyone who wasn’t positive since April, and… well, you’re my best friend. I’d never forgive myself if I got you sick.”
Roger found it was easier to keep going once he got started, but he wished that Mark wasn’t so transparent. He could plainly see that a lot of what he was saying was hurting him. It was almost as if Mark was just waiting for the killing blow. Roger was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, though.
“I felt all confused about it,” Roger continued. “Part of me felt like I didn’t deserve you… that I’d somehow just fuck you up with everything that’s wrong with me. And I have this death sentence hanging over me. I was scared of you having to deal with that, even though that was fucking stupid, because you already have to. But I didn’t want to feel like I’d have to leave you just when I’d… found you.”
He ended there, going over what he’d said and trying to think if there was some way he could explain it better. Mark finally spoke, however, and cut off the thoughts he’d been having.
“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, Rog…” Roger had to look away. It was killing him to see the pain in those blue eyes. “Can we… can we still be friends?” Roger’s eyes widened. Mark really thought he was going to reject him, didn’t he?
“I don’t know, Mark,” Roger said, and instantly regretted his choice of words when Mark seemed to break a little more. “No, I mean… I don’t want to be just friends.” Mark’s eyes snapped up to meet his again. “I want to… to be with you.” He winced at how lame he sounded, but there. All the cards were on the table now.
Mark was almost in shock. He’d never truly thought that Roger would want this. Hadn’t he just listed all the reasons it was a bad idea?
“But… you just said…” Mark managed to stutter out after a second.
“I know, but I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Roger replied, much more adamant now. He scooted over a little on the couch and took one of Mark’s hands in his. Even that small contact sent a shock through both of them. “I was being so Goddamn stupid. It’s not up to me whether or not you want to risk it. It’s not up to me whether I deserve you or not. You aren’t a replacement for Mimi, and you never will be. I don’t want her. At least not anymore. I want you.”
Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Roger wanted him? But at the same time that elation surged through him at those words, there was fear, anger, even resentment. How could he just pretend like nothing bad had happened between them and forget it all?
“Fuck… I wasn’t… didn’t expect that,” Mark muttered after a second. A pang of guilt hit Roger then at the self-loathing in Mark’s tone. He must have been a bastard to make Mark doubt that he would want him so deeply.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” he said.
“Roger… shit… I want to say yes,” Mark whispered harshly, his eyes squeezing shut, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I want to say yes, but… you hurt me, Rog. I felt like you… used me. I… I don’t know if I can get past that so easily.” Roger could feel Mark’s hand shaking in his. He hated himself when he heard Mark’s tone. He’d broken his friend’s heart. How could he even hope that Mark would forgive him for that?
I royally fucked this one up, didn’t I?
“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but you have no idea how sorry I am,” Roger offered quietly, trying to push away the lump in his throat, the guilt at what he’d done.
“I know… it’s just…” their eyes locked then, and Roger could see one question burning in Mark’s gaze.
Why? Why do you want this? Why do you want… me?
“Shit,” Roger muttered. “I’m such a bastard. I guess I should have started with that, shouldn’t I?”
Mark looked at him questioningly, but Roger just pulled the filmmaker closer, wrapping his arms around him. For a minute, he thought Mark was going to resist, but with a shuddery sigh, he relaxed against him. Roger tightened his hold, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Mark’s back. Holding Mark felt just as right, just as perfect as he knew it would.
“I swear I’ll never hurt you like that again,” he whispered, placing a kiss on Mark’s temple. “And please, Mark. If you give me another chance, I swear to God I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you don’t regret it.”
He pulled back slightly then, looking into Mark’s eyes, feeling his own swimming with tears. He leaned forward slowly, giving the filmmaker plenty of time to pull away. He needn’t have bothered. Mark wouldn’t have been able to pull away if he’d wanted to.
The feel of their lips pressing against one another was like coming home. With an almost desperate sob catching in his throat, Roger pulled Mark closer, bringing one hand up to bury itself in Mark’s hair. Mark wrapped his own arms around Roger’s neck.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but before he knew it, he was practically lying on top of Mark, who was stretched back on the couch, his hands fisted in Roger’s shirt like his life depended on it. Heat coursed through him, arousal heightening his senses when Mark opened his mouth slightly. Roger took the invitation, his tongue darting inside.
Then Mark’s tongue was rubbing against his, pushing back to explore Roger’s mouth the way Roger had mapped his out only moments before. With a start, he realized they were both shaking. It was fast, hot and desperate, the way they moved against each other, trying to get impossibly closer.
Almost like I want to crawl under his skin, Roger thought, smiling against Mark’s mouth.
As nice as this was, it wasn’t what Mark needed right now. Roger slowed it down, turning the desperate kisses into a long, slow exploration of the filmmaker’s lips, tongue and teeth. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back, smiling at Mark’s whimper of protest. He dotted the filmmaker’s face with kisses, placing another short kiss to his neck before he stopped.
He looked into Mark’s heavy-lidded eyes and gave a soft smile.
“I want to be with you because I’m in love with you, Mark,” he whispered, raising a hand to Mark’s face, his fingers gently tracing his features. He finally rested it on Mark’s cheek, his thumb stroking along his jaw. “I love you more than anything.”
And for the first time that day, Roger got Mark to smile.
Roger leaned back and brought them both up into a sitting position. He pulled Mark into his arms again, simply holding him. He thought he’d burst from the affection flooding his chest when Mark curled up against him and tucked his head under Roger’s chin. They sat like that for a long time, Roger stroking his hands rhythmically up and down Mark’s arms and back.
“So,” Mark said finally, “I guess this means we’re… what, dating?”
“Mmm, I guess that’s what you’d call it,” Roger allowed with a smile.
Mark leaned back and looked at Roger’s face, his own warring between a smile and a frown. Roger studied him. There was one thing the guitarist could see plainly. Even though things seemed like they were going to work out, Mark still had some pain he had to work through. It would be a while before he trusted Roger completely.
He leaned forward and put their foreheads together, resting a hand on the back of Mark’s neck and massaging lightly.
“I’m gonna have to earn you back, aren’t I?” Roger asked quietly. Mark’s eyes snapped open and gazed into his. He had that worried look on his face again. Roger just smiled.
“It’s okay,” he said, placing a light kiss to Mark’s lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Mark gave him another small smile, pulling Roger into another kiss.
“For some reason,” he said when the kiss ended, “I am too.”
Roger laughed and held Mark close. Mark let out a sigh that, for once, wasn’t tired or sad.
He could get used to this.