RENT: Can't Be Fixed
Title: Can't Be Fixed
Characters/Pairing: Roger, Mark
Word Count: 505
Rating: PG
Summary: Some things can't be fixed.
Notes: Written for speed_rent challenge #64.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to.
I always made it a point not to look at Mark when he came in the loft. At least not when I was in a bad mood, and now that I think about it that was actually… a lot of the time for a while there. But that's not the point. If I looked at him, he'd always realize there was something going on, somehow. I still don't know how Mark picks up on those things sometimes. But if he noticed, he'd always feel like he had to fix it.
You know how people's voices get when they're talking to you and they think you're unstable? Higher than usual, and softer, like they expect you to break on them if they even talk too loudly or something? I hate it when Mark sounds like that. I mean, it pisses me off coming from anyone-I got it a lot for a few months after April, and for a while after Mimi too. But it's worse coming from Mark, for some reason, and I never could quite figure out why. It always made me want to pick up the nearest heavy object and throw it at him, or just scream at him to shut up. Never actually did.
Maybe it bothers me most from Mark because he actually cares, and there's no denying it. With everyone else, it could be an act. They could be pretending to be concerned. They could not give a damn. It's easier when they don't. But Mark… He does care, couldn't hide it if he tried. And he's right there, asking me if I'm okay, what's wrong, what he can do, and all the while his voice is doing that high, soft thing that makes me want to punch him.
Which is exactly why I'm not looking up now, when he comes in through the front door. I can hear him setting his camera down on the table, pulling off his coat and scarf, and the whole time I keep my eyes fixed on the street outside, staring quietly out the window and pretending not to notice him. Because if I look up, he's going to see there's something wrong, and he's going to ask about it, and ask me how he can fix it. He'll make me tell him. He'll make me say it, and if I say it out loud it'll be real. That I've been coughing up blood, that it can't be that much longer, that I'm just trying desperately to hold off the hospital visits and doctors and needles… I've seen enough friends go through that to be sure I don't want to. But if I tell Mark all of that, he'll just sit down on the windowsill next to me and give me that half-broken, half-confused look like he doesn't understand me or maybe doesn't believe me, and his voice will get all high and soft when he asks what he can do.
Mark still hasn't learned that there's some things that just can't be fixed.
Characters/Pairing: Roger, Mark
Word Count: 505
Rating: PG
Summary: Some things can't be fixed.
Notes: Written for speed_rent challenge #64.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to.
I always made it a point not to look at Mark when he came in the loft. At least not when I was in a bad mood, and now that I think about it that was actually… a lot of the time for a while there. But that's not the point. If I looked at him, he'd always realize there was something going on, somehow. I still don't know how Mark picks up on those things sometimes. But if he noticed, he'd always feel like he had to fix it.
You know how people's voices get when they're talking to you and they think you're unstable? Higher than usual, and softer, like they expect you to break on them if they even talk too loudly or something? I hate it when Mark sounds like that. I mean, it pisses me off coming from anyone-I got it a lot for a few months after April, and for a while after Mimi too. But it's worse coming from Mark, for some reason, and I never could quite figure out why. It always made me want to pick up the nearest heavy object and throw it at him, or just scream at him to shut up. Never actually did.
Maybe it bothers me most from Mark because he actually cares, and there's no denying it. With everyone else, it could be an act. They could be pretending to be concerned. They could not give a damn. It's easier when they don't. But Mark… He does care, couldn't hide it if he tried. And he's right there, asking me if I'm okay, what's wrong, what he can do, and all the while his voice is doing that high, soft thing that makes me want to punch him.
Which is exactly why I'm not looking up now, when he comes in through the front door. I can hear him setting his camera down on the table, pulling off his coat and scarf, and the whole time I keep my eyes fixed on the street outside, staring quietly out the window and pretending not to notice him. Because if I look up, he's going to see there's something wrong, and he's going to ask about it, and ask me how he can fix it. He'll make me tell him. He'll make me say it, and if I say it out loud it'll be real. That I've been coughing up blood, that it can't be that much longer, that I'm just trying desperately to hold off the hospital visits and doctors and needles… I've seen enough friends go through that to be sure I don't want to. But if I tell Mark all of that, he'll just sit down on the windowsill next to me and give me that half-broken, half-confused look like he doesn't understand me or maybe doesn't believe me, and his voice will get all high and soft when he asks what he can do.
Mark still hasn't learned that there's some things that just can't be fixed.