RENT: Book of Endings
Title: Book of Endings
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Summary: Mark charts Roger’s last hours in his journal.
Disclaimer: I own no one
Mark wonders if paper can absorb a smell the way clothes or skin can.
As he sits by Roger’s bed, he scribbles in the small leather bound book he has kept with him for years. It is his journal, the inner workings of his mind, the type of thing no one knows about him. The only one to get even remotely close to the depths of his mind lies beside him in a coma.
The End is near…I sense it. First it was Collins. He lost his will to live after Angel died. Then it was Mimi. We still don’t know how she managed to survive so long. Now…it’s My Roger… Maureen and Joanne visit when they can, but it’s difficult to find a babysitter, and they aren’t bringing their precious Jeremiah to the hospital. Imagine that… a girl named Jeremiah… that’s Maureen for you. I can’t say I blame them. They need to take care of their newborn daughter.
Mark glances up, a nurse checking an IV drip. Licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, he sighs.
“Any change?” he asks. The nurse shakes her head, injecting his IV. “What is that?”
“I’m flushing it. Breaking anything that might have formed in there. It’s almost time for his Morphine,”
I’m grateful for a nurse who cares. Some of them act like he has the Plague, instead of AIDS. At least he’s comfortable. At least they finally let me stop wearing the hospital gown so I can actually touch him. Does that mean they realize how close he is to the end?
The heart monitor chirps, the crimson numbers flashing angrily. Mark sniffs the paper, wondering if it has absorbed the scent of disinfectant. The more time he spent in the hospital, the more his skin seemed to absorb the scent. No amount of scrubbing would remove it. It sunk into his clothes. It sunk into his pores. Yet, for once, he didn’t care about how he smelled, or how he looked.
“Mark, have you eaten?” Maureen’s voice startles him. “You look terrible.” Mark blinks, glancing up. “Jo’s Mom and Dad offered to watch Jeremiah, so, we got away for a little bit. You need to eat and shower,” Behind her, Joanne nodded. Mark sighed.
“I’ll go eat, but I won’t shower,” he murmured. “I don’t want to spend any time away from him. No more than necessary. Because I don’t want him to die alone…”
Mark picks at the bland meal of turkey and peas. It is all the cafeteria has to offer. He is more interested in his journal. He knows Roger’s time is ending. However, he knows it is for the best.
I just got this creepy feeling. I know Roger is gone. I am fighting every urge to run up there. I don’t want to face the truth. Roger has been a part of my life for ten years. I was the one who held him the night after April killed herself and he was diagnosed. I watched him fall in love with Mimi. No matter how much it killed me, at least, he was happy. Oh no…Joanne just came in…
Her face is stained with tears. Wringing her hands, she just stares at the ground, never once staring him in the eye.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” he murmurs. Joanne nods, her eyes still focused on the ground. Mark inhales sharply. “Was it peaceful?”
“Maureen was holding his hand,” Joanne murmurs. “He just stopped breathing.” Mark sighs.
I missed his last moments? The horrific thought strikes him. Yet, it doesn’t hurt as much as he had originally thought it would. For some reason, he is glad that he can now concentrate on the happy moments.
Joanne leads him up to the room. He is glad for her. Without her, he knows he would have gotten lost.
Maureen sits beside the bed, her face resting in her hands. He hear her softly sobbing.
“He’s happy now.” Mark murmurs as he grips Roger’s hand. He notices that his lover’s skin is still warm. “Probably with his guitar, arguing with Collins.” These fantasies keep him calm. “No more Morphine. God how he hated that shit. He always told me it reminded him of being a junkie”
Maureen and Joanne sneak off, to cry, to laugh to remember. Mark stays with him, waiting for someone to take Roger to the basement.
Where does someone go after death? Is Roger watching me? Wondering why I’m not crying? I know I’ll cry tonight when I realize I’m alone just me and my journal. Knowing I’m leaving him in the morgue will be difficult…
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Summary: Mark charts Roger’s last hours in his journal.
Disclaimer: I own no one
Mark wonders if paper can absorb a smell the way clothes or skin can.
As he sits by Roger’s bed, he scribbles in the small leather bound book he has kept with him for years. It is his journal, the inner workings of his mind, the type of thing no one knows about him. The only one to get even remotely close to the depths of his mind lies beside him in a coma.
The End is near…I sense it. First it was Collins. He lost his will to live after Angel died. Then it was Mimi. We still don’t know how she managed to survive so long. Now…it’s My Roger… Maureen and Joanne visit when they can, but it’s difficult to find a babysitter, and they aren’t bringing their precious Jeremiah to the hospital. Imagine that… a girl named Jeremiah… that’s Maureen for you. I can’t say I blame them. They need to take care of their newborn daughter.
Mark glances up, a nurse checking an IV drip. Licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, he sighs.
“Any change?” he asks. The nurse shakes her head, injecting his IV. “What is that?”
“I’m flushing it. Breaking anything that might have formed in there. It’s almost time for his Morphine,”
I’m grateful for a nurse who cares. Some of them act like he has the Plague, instead of AIDS. At least he’s comfortable. At least they finally let me stop wearing the hospital gown so I can actually touch him. Does that mean they realize how close he is to the end?
The heart monitor chirps, the crimson numbers flashing angrily. Mark sniffs the paper, wondering if it has absorbed the scent of disinfectant. The more time he spent in the hospital, the more his skin seemed to absorb the scent. No amount of scrubbing would remove it. It sunk into his clothes. It sunk into his pores. Yet, for once, he didn’t care about how he smelled, or how he looked.
“Mark, have you eaten?” Maureen’s voice startles him. “You look terrible.” Mark blinks, glancing up. “Jo’s Mom and Dad offered to watch Jeremiah, so, we got away for a little bit. You need to eat and shower,” Behind her, Joanne nodded. Mark sighed.
“I’ll go eat, but I won’t shower,” he murmured. “I don’t want to spend any time away from him. No more than necessary. Because I don’t want him to die alone…”
Mark picks at the bland meal of turkey and peas. It is all the cafeteria has to offer. He is more interested in his journal. He knows Roger’s time is ending. However, he knows it is for the best.
I just got this creepy feeling. I know Roger is gone. I am fighting every urge to run up there. I don’t want to face the truth. Roger has been a part of my life for ten years. I was the one who held him the night after April killed herself and he was diagnosed. I watched him fall in love with Mimi. No matter how much it killed me, at least, he was happy. Oh no…Joanne just came in…
Her face is stained with tears. Wringing her hands, she just stares at the ground, never once staring him in the eye.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” he murmurs. Joanne nods, her eyes still focused on the ground. Mark inhales sharply. “Was it peaceful?”
“Maureen was holding his hand,” Joanne murmurs. “He just stopped breathing.” Mark sighs.
I missed his last moments? The horrific thought strikes him. Yet, it doesn’t hurt as much as he had originally thought it would. For some reason, he is glad that he can now concentrate on the happy moments.
Joanne leads him up to the room. He is glad for her. Without her, he knows he would have gotten lost.
Maureen sits beside the bed, her face resting in her hands. He hear her softly sobbing.
“He’s happy now.” Mark murmurs as he grips Roger’s hand. He notices that his lover’s skin is still warm. “Probably with his guitar, arguing with Collins.” These fantasies keep him calm. “No more Morphine. God how he hated that shit. He always told me it reminded him of being a junkie”
Maureen and Joanne sneak off, to cry, to laugh to remember. Mark stays with him, waiting for someone to take Roger to the basement.
Where does someone go after death? Is Roger watching me? Wondering why I’m not crying? I know I’ll cry tonight when I realize I’m alone just me and my journal. Knowing I’m leaving him in the morgue will be difficult…