Little Meltdown, Mark/Angel
Let me tell you a secret: I’m in love with the Mark/Angel pairing and I always wanted to do it, so I figured I have to before it explodes and it gets really creepy. So I’m running on twelve ounces of Coke and listening to Sex Pistols, coming up with this sad little tale.
Enjoy and, please, feedback is lovely. Unless you’re some rabid fan screaming, “EW! HOW DARE YOU!”
Disclaimer: I don’t own RENT. Sorry if you didn’t get the memo.
Little Meltdown
By Donna
Mark ran down the paths of gravestones, almost excitedly. It was time for his weekly visit with Angel. He held his camera tight, ready to talk about the events in the past week.
He looked at a row of stones and counted, “One... two... three... four... five!” He ran to the small stone that said, “Schunard.” on it. He kneeled down, weeding through the flowers Maureen planted around the grave. He smiled. They were blue like her nail color of choice.
Mark never fully understood why Angel painted her nails blue all the time. Normal drag queens painted them reds or pinks. But Angel was not a normal anything. She sang and danced, but she didn’t need to lip-sync or rehearse steps over and over again. Hell, she didn’t even have to match clothing half the time. She did her own thing and did it well.
It was probably why Mark was so attracted to her. He just wanted to catch some of the rays from her optimistic views. It did wonders to him, for sure.
Mark sat on his butt and stared at the stone for awhile. He wrapped his scarf more tightly and said, “So... Angel... how’re ya? I’m great! Really... I am! I just made some money for filming some homeless people... and Roger and Mimi are actually getting along! And Maureen and Joanne have been talking to each other for three weeks straight! You must be paying off God or something, because it really is peaceful.
“But you’re probably wondering about Collins. He’s okay. I know he misses you. I miss you, too. A lot. He’s just waiting to see you again. He’s not trying to kill himself. I’m glad. I don’t know if I could handle both of you dying, even though you were always one for drama. A Juliet who could kick your ass, too.
“Remember when Maureen had her protest and the police tried to get you and you kicked their ass? It shows how law enforcement is nowadays. Everyone knows you attack the heels, first, then you make sure that the arms are secure. Duh.
“I dunno where I thought of that, though... I guess it was because I was looking through old film... I tend to do that a lot now... I have trouble remembering some things that happened when you were around... like... what some people said... and... and your face.”
Mark felt like slapping himself. “I’m sorry, Angel! But it’s been a little more than a year and I forgot some things... I’m trying to remember your smell and the way you’d say my name... and I know it sounds stupid, and you were Collins’, but I think if I had the chance, I would have gone out with you. I would have loved to be your guy, Angel. You made me feel like my work wasn’t stupid. I mean, Roger always makes fun of me. Collins sees me with the camera and rolls his eyes. Maureen just calls me a fag. Joanne ignores me. Mimi asks if I’m going to get into porn. You were always nice about it. Maybe it’s because you liked the camera. You didn’t have anything to hide.”
Mark felt tears form in his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it. I would have told you... one of those days... when we were sitting all alone in the loft and we’d be doing some filming... and we’d just talk. I don’t know why I kept denying it. You kept asking me, ‘Mark, are you okay?’ or ‘Mark, you keep staring on me. Why?’
“You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did. You’re Angel. You know everything. Always have, always will. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mark covered his eyes and began to cry. “You didn’t want to pressure me. You figured I’d come out on my own, didn’t you? You were like a fucking mother, Angel. A mother with crazy psychological skills.”
He began to sob so hard that he couldn’t form words anymore. He couldn’t believe it. Why now? He cried a little after the initial death, but he couldn’t grasp that she was gone until just then. It was like a little kid and their dog running away. It seems okay at first until you want to play with the dog and you realize it’s not there. And now Mark came to his senses that he loved Angel, and, guess what? Angel wasn’t there to share this news with him.
He curled into a fetal position and just cried, wailing. He muffled the noise with his scarf, hoping no one he knew would see him. People would wonder.
“No matter how many times I look back on that film I can’t bring back the lost time,” he whispered, “No matter how many times I quote it, I can’t bring you back. I can’t change what happened. I can’t change that you loved Collins and not me.”
He bit his lip, trying to stop crying. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his face. “I... I can’t be pathetic,” Mark murmured, “I gotta be strong. I got nothing else working for me. I’m not forceful like Roger or smart like Collins. I gotta be strong for my sake... for everyone’s sake. I’ll be the last one, anyway.”
He removed his glasses to wipe his tears away. He stood up. “You didn’t love me, anyway.”
He took his camera and kicked the dirt on the ground on the grave. “I was too busy filming what was going on to change anything.”
He took one last look at the grave and began to walk away. He rubbed his nose furiously and began to hiccup. By the time he was back at the loft, his hiccuping had ceased and he went to the couch. He felt something jab him. He pulled at what was hurting him. A drumstick?
“...What?!” Mark yelled, “Is this some kind of joke?!”
He found a note attached to the drumstick. He pulled it off the drumstick and read it:
Mark, don’t be silly. I always loved you.
Mark held the note tightly, his fingers touching the ink on the paper. And he smiled. For some reason, it seemed like the most sincere thing anyone ever said to him since Angel was alive.
END, 1/15/06
Enjoy and, please, feedback is lovely. Unless you’re some rabid fan screaming, “EW! HOW DARE YOU!”
Disclaimer: I don’t own RENT. Sorry if you didn’t get the memo.
Little Meltdown
By Donna
Mark ran down the paths of gravestones, almost excitedly. It was time for his weekly visit with Angel. He held his camera tight, ready to talk about the events in the past week.
He looked at a row of stones and counted, “One... two... three... four... five!” He ran to the small stone that said, “Schunard.” on it. He kneeled down, weeding through the flowers Maureen planted around the grave. He smiled. They were blue like her nail color of choice.
Mark never fully understood why Angel painted her nails blue all the time. Normal drag queens painted them reds or pinks. But Angel was not a normal anything. She sang and danced, but she didn’t need to lip-sync or rehearse steps over and over again. Hell, she didn’t even have to match clothing half the time. She did her own thing and did it well.
It was probably why Mark was so attracted to her. He just wanted to catch some of the rays from her optimistic views. It did wonders to him, for sure.
Mark sat on his butt and stared at the stone for awhile. He wrapped his scarf more tightly and said, “So... Angel... how’re ya? I’m great! Really... I am! I just made some money for filming some homeless people... and Roger and Mimi are actually getting along! And Maureen and Joanne have been talking to each other for three weeks straight! You must be paying off God or something, because it really is peaceful.
“But you’re probably wondering about Collins. He’s okay. I know he misses you. I miss you, too. A lot. He’s just waiting to see you again. He’s not trying to kill himself. I’m glad. I don’t know if I could handle both of you dying, even though you were always one for drama. A Juliet who could kick your ass, too.
“Remember when Maureen had her protest and the police tried to get you and you kicked their ass? It shows how law enforcement is nowadays. Everyone knows you attack the heels, first, then you make sure that the arms are secure. Duh.
“I dunno where I thought of that, though... I guess it was because I was looking through old film... I tend to do that a lot now... I have trouble remembering some things that happened when you were around... like... what some people said... and... and your face.”
Mark felt like slapping himself. “I’m sorry, Angel! But it’s been a little more than a year and I forgot some things... I’m trying to remember your smell and the way you’d say my name... and I know it sounds stupid, and you were Collins’, but I think if I had the chance, I would have gone out with you. I would have loved to be your guy, Angel. You made me feel like my work wasn’t stupid. I mean, Roger always makes fun of me. Collins sees me with the camera and rolls his eyes. Maureen just calls me a fag. Joanne ignores me. Mimi asks if I’m going to get into porn. You were always nice about it. Maybe it’s because you liked the camera. You didn’t have anything to hide.”
Mark felt tears form in his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it. I would have told you... one of those days... when we were sitting all alone in the loft and we’d be doing some filming... and we’d just talk. I don’t know why I kept denying it. You kept asking me, ‘Mark, are you okay?’ or ‘Mark, you keep staring on me. Why?’
“You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did. You’re Angel. You know everything. Always have, always will. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mark covered his eyes and began to cry. “You didn’t want to pressure me. You figured I’d come out on my own, didn’t you? You were like a fucking mother, Angel. A mother with crazy psychological skills.”
He began to sob so hard that he couldn’t form words anymore. He couldn’t believe it. Why now? He cried a little after the initial death, but he couldn’t grasp that she was gone until just then. It was like a little kid and their dog running away. It seems okay at first until you want to play with the dog and you realize it’s not there. And now Mark came to his senses that he loved Angel, and, guess what? Angel wasn’t there to share this news with him.
He curled into a fetal position and just cried, wailing. He muffled the noise with his scarf, hoping no one he knew would see him. People would wonder.
“No matter how many times I look back on that film I can’t bring back the lost time,” he whispered, “No matter how many times I quote it, I can’t bring you back. I can’t change what happened. I can’t change that you loved Collins and not me.”
He bit his lip, trying to stop crying. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his face. “I... I can’t be pathetic,” Mark murmured, “I gotta be strong. I got nothing else working for me. I’m not forceful like Roger or smart like Collins. I gotta be strong for my sake... for everyone’s sake. I’ll be the last one, anyway.”
He removed his glasses to wipe his tears away. He stood up. “You didn’t love me, anyway.”
He took his camera and kicked the dirt on the ground on the grave. “I was too busy filming what was going on to change anything.”
He took one last look at the grave and began to walk away. He rubbed his nose furiously and began to hiccup. By the time he was back at the loft, his hiccuping had ceased and he went to the couch. He felt something jab him. He pulled at what was hurting him. A drumstick?
“...What?!” Mark yelled, “Is this some kind of joke?!”
He found a note attached to the drumstick. He pulled it off the drumstick and read it:
Mark, don’t be silly. I always loved you.
Mark held the note tightly, his fingers touching the ink on the paper. And he smiled. For some reason, it seemed like the most sincere thing anyone ever said to him since Angel was alive.
END, 1/15/06