Ways Life Never Happened to Mark and Roger, part 9
Title: Ways Life Never Happened to Mark and Roger, part 9
Author: DF
Fandom: Rent
Pairing: Mark/Roger, implied OMC/OMC
Summary: The Well Hungarians do not have a drummer. This is problematic.
Notes 1: If you don't remember/have never read this series, it's a bunch of unconnected AUs which can all be found in the Rent section of my memories. Past chapters include... a pretty crazy list which I'm not going to get into right now.
Notes 2: This was meant to be a lot more comprehensible. Unfortunately, the two other members of the Well Hungarians insisted on telling the story from their point of view, and their thoughts are kind of disjointed. Also, they curse a lot. I hope you don't mind.
The Well Hungarians do not have a drummer. This is problematic.
(Actually, there's a little more to the story than that. A lot more, really, depending on who you ask. If you ask Jason, the recently deposed drummer of the Well Hungarians, he'll tell you that fuck, man, they're all fucking asswipes who deserve to get the shit kicked out of them and he was way too good for them, like, always. And he totally did not get kicked out, he left. On his own, because Roger Davis - well, all of them, but mostly Roger Davis - is a DOUCHE. (The capitalisation will not be stated, but it will be very strongly implied.) If you ask Roger Davis, lead singer and guitarist of the aforementioned band, he'll say that Jason was a dick and couldn't play drums to save his life. He also did not leave of his own free will, did he tell you that shit? because he got kicked out, since no one else could stand his shit.
If you ask Danny, the other guitarist and occasional keyboard player, or Nelson, who plays bass, they'll say that Roger and Jason are both assholes, Roger is just a lot more talented and a little less mean than Jason. Also, they're not entirely sure if Jason got kicked out or whatever; all they know is that Roger and Jason got in this huge-ass fight that ended with Jason storming out the door and Roger yelling, "Yeah, and don't fucking come back!")
The point is, though, that they need a drummer. So they put an ad out because really, what the hell else are they supposed to do?
-
They get a lot of answers to their ad, because this is New York, and everyone wants to be in a band, or a play, or a film, or whatever might make them the Next Big Thing, capitals definitely stated and not implied.
Roger develops an interesting method of weeding through the replies, which mostly involves crumpling them up and trying to shoot them into the garbage can. He'll look at whatever gets in. Sometimes he also finds the ones with the weirdest names and tries to persuade Danny and Nelson that they need someone named Addilon McTuna or whatever in their band.
Danny and Nelson remain unconvinced, mostly because they know that Roger's going to be the one who ends up getting pissed with McTuna if he has no talent, and that they're going to have to deal with the fallout. Eventually they confiscate all the replies and do it themselves. (They would've done this a long time ago, but...well, Nelson hates anything remotely connected to paperwork. Danny's just lazy.)
This is how they wind up scheduling an audition with Mark Cohen.
-
Roger complains a lot because really, Mark Cohen? is such a boring name, but he listens to the kid play regardless.
And you know what? Mark Cohen may have a boring name (really, Danny tells Roger, it's not his fault, it's his parents') but he is a fucking awesome drummer. Seriously. Nelson has this theory that Mark is just such a repressed person (he is, he really is, he's so quiet and everything) that he just fucking channels it through the drums.
Because, man. When the kid is pounding away from behind the drumset? You would totally never guess that he, like, weighs about 100 pounds soaking wet. And it's all emotional, too. Nelson hadn't known drums could be emotional, but apparently they are, because whatever feeling the song has, Mark matches it.
Or, really, whatever feeling Roger decides to make the song have, because he's got some mad power where he can just change a song to sound however he wants it to, sad or mad or happy, and it's fucking fantastic. Sometimes he uses this power for evil, though, mostly to try to fuck Mark up because he can be a dick like that, but after the first couple screw ups Mark catches on and manages to shift with Roger, whenever Roger changes mood.
Oh, yeah, they asked Mark to join the band. (Roger made a fuss, but that's just Roger.) Because really, how could they not?
-
Roger flops down on the beat-up sofa next to Mark and pouts, trying to ignore the fact that a spring is poking him in the ass. "You could at least change your name or something."
Mark looks up from his drumsticks, faintly bewildered. "What?" he asks blankly.
"Never mind," Roger mutters, levering himself off the couch and going to see if the spring like, dented his skin or whatever.
Danny meets Nelson's eyes and makes a face, but they're both pretty sure that it's all going to turn out fine.
-
Their first gig is awesome, even if they only got the job because Danny's brother's friend works at the bar and calls in a favor with the manager. The audience is great, perfect; they scream in all the right places and dance and even seem fucking excited when Roger takes his water bottle and sprays everyone in the front row. (Danny does not approve, since in his opinion you can only get away with that shit if you're actually famous, but he lets it go. Roger gets pissy when you yell at him for stuff like that.)
Roger had worried - very loudly - that Mark wouldn't be able to stand up to the pressure of an actual concert, but both Danny and Nelson decide that Mark did just fine. Maybe one or two flubs, okay, but seeing as they've only been together for two weeks, that's to be expected. (Technically, they maybe shouldn't have had a concert just yet, but they're all broke and have to pay for, you know, rent. And food. All that good stuff.)
Later, Roger grudgingly tells Mark he did a good job. Nelson smiles like a proud father.
-
The post-concert boozefest has been a group tradition for... well, only a couple months, but traditions have to start somewhere, don't they? Anyway, Mark turns out to be a good drinking buddy, much better than Jason, because Jason always got completely wasted and ended up doing something really fucking stupid and then passing out so you had to drag him all the way back to whoever's apartment was closest. He never said thank you, either.
Mark, meanwhile, Mark doesn't seem to have that great of a tolerance (he's only had a beer and a shot and he's looking a little tipsy) but at least he's not tabledancing or trying to hump a donkey. Yet, at least.
Or. Well, Roger and Danny are talking very seriously in a corner, and Nelson doesn't really care about what, but Mark seems to care very much, because he keeps on looking at Roger in a very... wayish way. When Nelson can think of the adjective, he'll supply it. Right now, though, the vodka shots are beginning to erase his vocabulary, so maybe he'll have to wait until he's sober for the word to come to him.
Unless. Unless. Is there a word for looking at someone like you want to kiss him?
"Dude," Nelson says quietly, lurching over to Mark and wow, his motor function is going the same way as his vocabulary. "Please don't tell me you're going to kiss Roger."
Mark looks up, startled, and Nelson tries to see whether he looks guilty, too, but it's hard to tell. "What?" he wonders, the alcohol making his voice sound thick and slightly dreamy. "I'm not that drunk."
"Okay, good, because then you would be like Jason, and Jason was kind of a crappy drinking buddy because me and Danny have to clean up after all his messes, and if you kiss Roger that'll leave one hell of a mess. I mean, you could at least wait until he actually likes you."
"What?" Mark asks, still looking surprised, and then, "Oh."
"Oh," Nelson repeats, and stumbles to the bathroom to throw up.
-
Mark Cohen has lived in New York City for seven months, two weeks, three days and eleven minutes (approximately) and he no longer has a place to stay. He tells the rest of the Well Hungarians that this is mostly because Mark is kind of broke and sometimes a little late with rent because his boss at the video store is not a very organised person. Which is fine, really, fine, because he doesn't have that much stuff and anyway, his drumkit is the only really important thing and that's safe at Nelson's place, where they practice. Besides, he's sure he'll find someplace soon.
Danny translates this as, Mark's roommate is a dick and completely whipped and just wanted his whore of a girlfriend to move in without feeling bad about the fact that he was kicking Mark to the curb for, you know, someone who would probably be working corners if she couldn't find boyfriends to pay for all her shit. (Danny has met Mark's roommate, and he is pretty sure this is completely true.)
Nelson paraphrases, basically Mark is living in tent city with a bunch of homeless people. Which is fine, really, Nelson personally has no problem with homeless people, but he doesn't really like the idea of Mark living with them, because Mark still looks like a high wind could knock him over. Plus, Nelson doesn't want to be in a band with someone who doesn't have the opportunity to shower at least every three days, although of course he doesn't say this out loud, because that would be a little insensitive. He's pretty sure Danny can tell he's thinking it, though.
Roger says, hey, no big deal, you can come live at my place, my roommates will be fine with it.
Mark, Danny and Nelson all say, what?
-
"Dude," Danny says hesitantly, looking at Roger, who is watching Nelson and Mark have some sort of conversation, "are you sure this is the best idea?"
"Why?" Roger asks blandly, but his eyes are twinkling wickedly. Danny is worried.
"Maybe because, I don't know, you've never shown any semblance of actually liking the kid," Danny tells him dryly.
Roger's eyes are still glinting. This is bad. "Oh, don't worry about it," he says casually, which just makes Danny worry more. "It'll be cool. There's just something I want to see."
-
Collins is, pretty much, the most awesome guy on the face of the planet. He and Nelson get along really well, mostly because they're both very laid-back people and very much enjoy smoking pot until they're dizzy, slightly incoherent and convinced they can see patterns in the stars that might tell the fate of the universe or something. Or they might just be pretty, whatever.
Danny and Collins also get along well, not because they're supremely alike, but because Collins is, as said above, the most awesome guy on the face of the planet. Roger and Collins obviously get along, because they share an apartment and haven't killed each other yet, and according to Collins himself, Mark and Collins are going to work out just fine.
That isn't the point. The point is, Collins, as Roger's roommate, is privy to the stupid shit he does at home that he, meaning Roger, will not tell the other members of the band. Mark also live with Roger, and so he, meaning Mark, also knows the sort of stupid shit Roger does, but Mark doesn't tell the other Hungarians for his own reasons. He probably doesn't feel like he's allowed to; it's not like Roger's exactly made him feel welcome, despite the fact that Mark's all, "Ooh, I'm never going to ever say what I actually feel, I'm just going to fucking pour it into my drum kit, which apparently understand me more than any human being in the world."
Actually, that wasn't really the point either. The point is that, if it is moronic, insane, or just Roger enough, Collins will call up Nelson and Danny and tell them what Roger has done. This is how Nelson and Danny find out that, after their most recent show, Roger brings home two male groupies, which is fairly normal. (They're getting up there on the circuit, they're allowed to have groupies. Besides, there's always someone willing to fuck the lead singer of a punk band.) What isn't normal is that, instead of fucking both of them, Roger sends the other one into Mark's room.
"And?" Danny asks eagerly when he heard this. "What happened?"
Collins just laughs and laughs, and Nelson laughs like he gets it, too. Danny is annoyed. He wants to get it. "Just wait," Collins says, and oh, maybe Danny gets it a little.
Roger walks into practice early, not trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation with his groupmate but waiting until they'll have more of an audience. He grins smugly, and Danny rolls his eyes and tells him that they already know what he did last night, he doesn't have to recap it. Roger looks momentarily put out, but the grin reappears full force when they hear Mark's quiet footsteps in the hallway.
"So?" Roger drawls almost as soon as Mark steps in the door. He likes theatrics, but he has no patience. "Did you have fun last night, Marky?"
Mark just raises his eyebrows and says dryly, "Next time try to send someone who gives better head."
Roger desperately tries to keep from showing his surprise. It doesn't really work, but he's saved from potential embarrassment by Mark turning around to close the door. His scarf slips a little, and Danny can see the Oh Fucking Lord is that a hickey on the neck of little Mark Cohen?
Danny suddenly has a lot more respect for their drummer, but Nelson just smiles as if he'd fucking predicted it.
-
Surprisingly enough (or maybe not so surprising, because Roger's weird like that) after that specific incident, Roger starts to like Mark more. Maybe it was some kind of private test or whatever, but apparently Mark passed with flying colors, because Roger stops insinuating that Mark isn't actually a member of the band and starts going back to his weird self where he, admittedly, wants people to be named Addilon McTuna, but is generally a lot nicer.
Nelson privately theorises that Roger was concentrating so hard on being a dick that he was suppressing everything else. Because Roger isn't that bad, not really, or at least not nearly as bad as Jason; Nelson only thinks that when Roger gets pissy for days and does something stupid like, oh, get rid of their drummer.
Jason, that is, not Mark. Roger's not going to get rid of Mark (hopefully) because Mark is actually talented, as opposed to Jason, and anyway, Mark and Roger have just started to get along. It would really suck if Roger drove Mark off when they were just starting to actually become friends.
Plus, then Nelson and Danny would have to kill him. If they have to look for another drummer, they might as well just look for another lead singer while they're at it.
-
"Um, I think maybe you should switch to a G instead," Mark suggests.
The Well Hungarians are writing a song, and trying to do it as a group, which is pretty much a fucking bad idea but somehow they seem to end up doing it again and again. This is probably because the songs always turn out fucking amazing, but the process itself tends to be a bit painful. Roger's really bitchy when he doesn't get his way.
This is new, though, because Mark doesn't usually suggest anything, except now he apparently does. This probably has to do a little bit with Roger actually kind of listening to what he's saying, but only kind of because really, it's Roger, when does he ever listen to what someone else is saying?
Mark is also straying into dangerous territory, because Roger is already getting annoyed. Danny has just vetoed one of Roger's songs (Roger writes most of the lyrics, and generally the basic melody, too) on the grounds that it's too cliched. This isn't unusual; Roger can be kind of predictable sometimes. Then, of course, he'll come up with something that will stop your heart in your tracks, because there is nothing Roger likes better than keeping people on their toes.
"Why?" Roger asks, his voice verging on dangerously annoyed. "I like it the way it is."
"It doesn't sound right."
Roger shifts from annoyed to pissed, which is usually about the time where Nelson shrugs and backs off and Danny just rolls his eyes and says, "Not a chance, Davis." Sometimes Roger agrees after that; sometimes not.
Mark, however, does not have a proven technique for dealing with a Roger Davis Mood Swing, and Danny is a little worried that Roger will kill him.
"I don't care what you think," Roger growls. "We're keeping it."
"No. It's not even in the same key."
"What the hell do you know about it?" Roger yells. "You're just the fucking drummer!"
"Just because I'm the drummer doesn't mean I don't know anything about music theory!"
"Oh, that's right, I forgot, the mighty Mark Cohen went to college for an entire year! Oh, look at you, so much smarter than the rest of us-"
"Don't make thing personal because you're being fucking stubborn and refuse to admit that your chord progression sounds like crap!" Mark yells back, cheeks getting red with irritation.
Well. Maybe they'll both kill each other. Danny makes an abortive motion to stop this before it gets any farther, but Nelson just motions for him to settle back and watch, so he does.
Mark and Roger are getting progressively louder and angrier, but they're keeping whatever homicidal tendencies they have in check. For now, at least. Danny is rolling his eyes and looking away, wondering if he can go get lunch and come back before they're finished arguing, when suddenly the screaming ends and he turns back to see Roger and Mark looking suspiciously at each other.
"So, G?" Mark asks, and Roger nods.
"I want to use my chord progression in my solo, though." Fucking Roger, why does he get so many solos? He's already the fucking lead singer.
"If you want to sound like shit, sure." Mark sits back down, and he's not dead. He's just gotten into a full-on, voice-destroying argument with Roger Davis and lived.
It's pretty impressive, actually, but why the fuck are both of them smiling?
-
"So you took music theory?" Roger asks. They're at the loft, on the couch, legs twisted together and the silence settling around them, sinking into their shoulders.
"Yeah," Mark murmurs, arranging his leg to fit more comfortably in the bend of Roger's knee. "After I realised I wasn't going to be a doctor, like my parents wanted, I just kind of dropped out of all my classes and started going to all the music classes I could. I already knew I was leaving after the year was over."
"So do you play other instruments?"
"Kind of. I'm not great. I decided to focus on drums more than anything else."
"Why?" Roger wonders, actually curious. "Why drums?"
Mark shrugs. "I like it. It holds songs together. Plus, I haven't got the hands for guitar." He looks ruefully down at his fingers, which aren't, like, dwarfed or anything, but definitely can't match Roger's in length. Then again, Roger is practically a foot taller than him - well, okay, not literally, but close enough. Whatever.
"Yeah, but drummers always get shafted," Roger points out, because it's true. No one really remembers the drummer's face behind the cymbals and the stage lights.
Mark laughs. "I don't mind," he says, low like it's a secret, and Roger's body thrums as if it is.
-
It's been five months, three weeks, six days and seventeen minutes (approximately) since Mark joined the band, and somewhere along the way he and Roger have become best friends.
How the fuck did that happen?
-
Roger does stupid shit sometimes. It's not a secret, not really, not at all, but sometimes other people do it with him. For example, sometimes someone will show up to one of their gigs with a bagful of white powder - Roger prefers smack, but cocaine does just as well sometimes - and they'll all take it back to someone's apartment and get high.
This mostly used to happen with Jason, but it starts happening again after Mark comes, eventually. The first time it does, Mark tries it, too, snorts some cocaine out of the inside of a CD case. He spends most of the night dry heaving over Danny's toilet, Roger actually snapping out of his daze long enough to comfort him.
The next baggie comes a couple weeks later, and no one protests when Mark opts out (maybe Roger, a little, but he shuts up pretty quickly and he might just not have wanted Mark to feel left out). Nelson thinks that what Mark hated even more than the nausea was the loss of control, but he doesn't mention it to anyone.
By the time after that, Danny and his girlfriend are getting serious, and she wants him to stop using, so Danny and Mark get to stay clean together. It's a lot easier to not do something when you've got someone to not do it with, so things end up working out.
Well. Kind of.
-
April is really pretty, and she really likes music and she really likes Roger, and the rest of the group likes her too. Well,Mark can be a little iffy sometimes, but not when Roger or April are there to see it and anyway, he's probably just annoyed that Roger went to April like a moth to the flame when it took ages for him to warm up to Mark. Mark just gets all blank and doesn't answer when you ask him about things like that, though, so whatever.
But maybe Mark's right, though, because it turns out that really pretty April who really likes music and really likes Roger ends up really liking drugs, too.
See, the thing is, Danny really likes being clean, for some reason. Nelson, well, he still keeps a stash of pot in his bedside table and the medicine cabinet, but he's mostly kicked the harder stuff (for Danny, he deliberately doesn't think) and he was never that attached to it in the first place, he just liked feeling loose and kind of floaty. He can get that way by listening to the right music for long enough, though, so he doesn't mind.
Roger, though, Roger really likes it, and when he can't do it with the band he does it with April, which is kind of worrying. Or it is for Danny, at least, but then again, he's a perpetual worrier. Mark says he has Jewish blood in his veins, and Mark worries too, so maybe he's right. Maybe he was right all along.
-
"Can we do something?" Nelson wonders, picking out a tune on the bass, just a brief melody that doesn't really go anywhere.
"No," Mark says, voice empty, and Mark's been kind of annoyed lately, probably because Roger hasn't been spending time with him, so wrapped up in April April April.
A thumb-sized splotch of skin on Mark's wrist is faintly blue, yellow at the edges, and he rubs at it absently. Roger storms in, looking faintly annoyed but also somewhat blissful - someone got laid last night - and Mark straightens up, his back hitting the wall. Mark winces, despite the fact that he didn't hit the wall all that hard, and Roger gives him a faintly apologetic look, and Mark shrugs whatever.
There is something Nelson is missing, but he's not sure he's got the energy to deal with it. Roger can be exhausting, these days.
-
The song is sad and Roger's voice is a low throb of emotion, enough to make you cry, but all of a sudden the drums are angry, despite the fact that Mark is perfectly on beat, just like they've done a thousand times before. Roger stops singing and turns around, and Danny and Nelson unconsciously step back a little because fuck, they don't want to get in the middle of this.
"What are you doing, Mark?" Roger demands, and Mark looks back, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
Roger eyes him suspiciously, but Mark has apparently perfected his innocent face, and so Roger turns back around and starts to sing again. Everyone starts playing again, but when Mark jumps in the song goes angry again. Before Roger can yell Nelson suggests they switch to a different song, an angry song, but when they start up the drums sound like they might as well be weeping.
This goes on for five whole days.
-
"Stop it already!" Roger finally screams, and if he hadn't someone else might have had to, because fuck, it's getting annoying. What is Mark trying to do, anyway? What the fuck is wrong with the members of this band?
"No," Mark says quietly, and thank god he's not playing innocent anymore, because that was getting really fucking irritating too. Well, Mark fucking Roger up might have been a little bit funny, but anyone who mentioned that in Roger's vicinity would probably find their heads torn off, so...
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roger demands, stalking closer to Mark and his drumkit.
"Nothing's wrong with me." Mark's voice is flat. He doesn't get like this often, and it's a little scary when he does. Only a little, though.
"So then what do you want?" Roger yells, and Mark's face answers for him. "I'm not breaking up with her!"
"You don't need to. I just want you to stop using."
"You don't understand, you don't understand anything except your precious drums. Those are the only things you love, aren't they? You don't care about anything else, just bottle everything up so you don't have to feel anything-"
Danny backs carefully away, but Roger doesn't notice, too busy screaming at Mark. He sets down his guitar and motions for Nelson to do the same; Nelson doesn't want to, but he goes along with it anyway. Mark says something just as the door closes behind them; neither hears what he says, but it doesn't sound pleased.
-
An hour later, they creep back, trying not to make any noise. Danny slides the door open and sees Mark, still behind his drumkit, but Roger's sitting down too, his Fender in his lap. Both their eyes -and mouths - are closed.
Danny wonders if he and Nelson can come back in now, but then Mark starts to play, just a light tapping on the snare drum but fuck, it sounds... disappointed. Who the hell knew a snare drum could sound disappointed?
Roger plays now, lots of minor chords with a major or two thrown in, but the chord progression doesn't particularly matter. This is quite obviously a response; Danny can't understand it, not like he thinks Mark can, but it sounds. It sounds sorry, maybe? Lonely, angry.
Mark slams down, and Danny backs slowly out of the room, pulling Nelson with him. Maybe they'll wait another half an hour.
-
Things happen like this: Danny breaks up with his girlfriend, but stays clean. (Nelson smiles.) Roger breaks up with his girlfriend, and goes clean. (Mark smiles.) It takes a while, but Roger's dreams eventually stop being haunted by bags of white powder.
(Sometime later, Collins will discover through the friend of a friend that April contracted HIV and killed herself. He will tell Danny, Nelson and Mark, and they will all unanimously decide not to tell Roger.)
-
It's been a year, four months, two weeks, one day, four hours and thirty-eight minutes (approximately) since Mark joined the band, and three months, one week, eight hours and twenty-two minutes since Roger broke up with April.
Roger and Mark show up to rehearsal together (which isn't unusual), smiling (also not unusual), and slightly off their game (unusual). The first song they practice, Roger fucks up twice because he keeps fucking turning and smiling happily at Mark (very unusual - the fucking up, not the smiling). Everything Mark drums sounds happy.
Nelson already suspected (knew) that Mark had a thing for Roger (or else just loud-mouthed lead singers who tend to think they're the hottest thing on two legs), but apparently Roger gets weak-kneed over dorky blond drummers with glasses and scarves. Who knew?
-
They're playing at fucking CBGBs, and they're as famous as they might ever be. Which, hey, isn't all that bad; they've got a fucking record deal, for god's sake, and really? things are good. Everyone rolls their eyes when they say they don't do drugs, but they've got some good reasons not to. Roger's, for example, is slamming a pair of sticks down onto his drums, loud but making sure he doesn't harm his darlings.
"And this is Mark Cohen, the best fucking drummer you will ever meet, even if he's got the most boring name you've ever heard!" Roger yells when he does his introductions.
"Thanks, Roger," Mark says sarcastically, one of the first times he's ever actually spoken on stage, and Roger grins back, wide enough to take your breath away (it does).
It's pretty fucking obvious, yeah, sappy as hell, but not everything has to be rockstar-cool. Danny grins at Nelson across the stage, watches him blush a little, and thinks, yeah. This might not be a movie, but that doesn't mean they can't get the happy ending, right?
Author: DF
Fandom: Rent
Pairing: Mark/Roger, implied OMC/OMC
Summary: The Well Hungarians do not have a drummer. This is problematic.
Notes 1: If you don't remember/have never read this series, it's a bunch of unconnected AUs which can all be found in the Rent section of my memories. Past chapters include... a pretty crazy list which I'm not going to get into right now.
Notes 2: This was meant to be a lot more comprehensible. Unfortunately, the two other members of the Well Hungarians insisted on telling the story from their point of view, and their thoughts are kind of disjointed. Also, they curse a lot. I hope you don't mind.
The Well Hungarians do not have a drummer. This is problematic.
(Actually, there's a little more to the story than that. A lot more, really, depending on who you ask. If you ask Jason, the recently deposed drummer of the Well Hungarians, he'll tell you that fuck, man, they're all fucking asswipes who deserve to get the shit kicked out of them and he was way too good for them, like, always. And he totally did not get kicked out, he left. On his own, because Roger Davis - well, all of them, but mostly Roger Davis - is a DOUCHE. (The capitalisation will not be stated, but it will be very strongly implied.) If you ask Roger Davis, lead singer and guitarist of the aforementioned band, he'll say that Jason was a dick and couldn't play drums to save his life. He also did not leave of his own free will, did he tell you that shit? because he got kicked out, since no one else could stand his shit.
If you ask Danny, the other guitarist and occasional keyboard player, or Nelson, who plays bass, they'll say that Roger and Jason are both assholes, Roger is just a lot more talented and a little less mean than Jason. Also, they're not entirely sure if Jason got kicked out or whatever; all they know is that Roger and Jason got in this huge-ass fight that ended with Jason storming out the door and Roger yelling, "Yeah, and don't fucking come back!")
The point is, though, that they need a drummer. So they put an ad out because really, what the hell else are they supposed to do?
-
They get a lot of answers to their ad, because this is New York, and everyone wants to be in a band, or a play, or a film, or whatever might make them the Next Big Thing, capitals definitely stated and not implied.
Roger develops an interesting method of weeding through the replies, which mostly involves crumpling them up and trying to shoot them into the garbage can. He'll look at whatever gets in. Sometimes he also finds the ones with the weirdest names and tries to persuade Danny and Nelson that they need someone named Addilon McTuna or whatever in their band.
Danny and Nelson remain unconvinced, mostly because they know that Roger's going to be the one who ends up getting pissed with McTuna if he has no talent, and that they're going to have to deal with the fallout. Eventually they confiscate all the replies and do it themselves. (They would've done this a long time ago, but...well, Nelson hates anything remotely connected to paperwork. Danny's just lazy.)
This is how they wind up scheduling an audition with Mark Cohen.
-
Roger complains a lot because really, Mark Cohen? is such a boring name, but he listens to the kid play regardless.
And you know what? Mark Cohen may have a boring name (really, Danny tells Roger, it's not his fault, it's his parents') but he is a fucking awesome drummer. Seriously. Nelson has this theory that Mark is just such a repressed person (he is, he really is, he's so quiet and everything) that he just fucking channels it through the drums.
Because, man. When the kid is pounding away from behind the drumset? You would totally never guess that he, like, weighs about 100 pounds soaking wet. And it's all emotional, too. Nelson hadn't known drums could be emotional, but apparently they are, because whatever feeling the song has, Mark matches it.
Or, really, whatever feeling Roger decides to make the song have, because he's got some mad power where he can just change a song to sound however he wants it to, sad or mad or happy, and it's fucking fantastic. Sometimes he uses this power for evil, though, mostly to try to fuck Mark up because he can be a dick like that, but after the first couple screw ups Mark catches on and manages to shift with Roger, whenever Roger changes mood.
Oh, yeah, they asked Mark to join the band. (Roger made a fuss, but that's just Roger.) Because really, how could they not?
-
Roger flops down on the beat-up sofa next to Mark and pouts, trying to ignore the fact that a spring is poking him in the ass. "You could at least change your name or something."
Mark looks up from his drumsticks, faintly bewildered. "What?" he asks blankly.
"Never mind," Roger mutters, levering himself off the couch and going to see if the spring like, dented his skin or whatever.
Danny meets Nelson's eyes and makes a face, but they're both pretty sure that it's all going to turn out fine.
-
Their first gig is awesome, even if they only got the job because Danny's brother's friend works at the bar and calls in a favor with the manager. The audience is great, perfect; they scream in all the right places and dance and even seem fucking excited when Roger takes his water bottle and sprays everyone in the front row. (Danny does not approve, since in his opinion you can only get away with that shit if you're actually famous, but he lets it go. Roger gets pissy when you yell at him for stuff like that.)
Roger had worried - very loudly - that Mark wouldn't be able to stand up to the pressure of an actual concert, but both Danny and Nelson decide that Mark did just fine. Maybe one or two flubs, okay, but seeing as they've only been together for two weeks, that's to be expected. (Technically, they maybe shouldn't have had a concert just yet, but they're all broke and have to pay for, you know, rent. And food. All that good stuff.)
Later, Roger grudgingly tells Mark he did a good job. Nelson smiles like a proud father.
-
The post-concert boozefest has been a group tradition for... well, only a couple months, but traditions have to start somewhere, don't they? Anyway, Mark turns out to be a good drinking buddy, much better than Jason, because Jason always got completely wasted and ended up doing something really fucking stupid and then passing out so you had to drag him all the way back to whoever's apartment was closest. He never said thank you, either.
Mark, meanwhile, Mark doesn't seem to have that great of a tolerance (he's only had a beer and a shot and he's looking a little tipsy) but at least he's not tabledancing or trying to hump a donkey. Yet, at least.
Or. Well, Roger and Danny are talking very seriously in a corner, and Nelson doesn't really care about what, but Mark seems to care very much, because he keeps on looking at Roger in a very... wayish way. When Nelson can think of the adjective, he'll supply it. Right now, though, the vodka shots are beginning to erase his vocabulary, so maybe he'll have to wait until he's sober for the word to come to him.
Unless. Unless. Is there a word for looking at someone like you want to kiss him?
"Dude," Nelson says quietly, lurching over to Mark and wow, his motor function is going the same way as his vocabulary. "Please don't tell me you're going to kiss Roger."
Mark looks up, startled, and Nelson tries to see whether he looks guilty, too, but it's hard to tell. "What?" he wonders, the alcohol making his voice sound thick and slightly dreamy. "I'm not that drunk."
"Okay, good, because then you would be like Jason, and Jason was kind of a crappy drinking buddy because me and Danny have to clean up after all his messes, and if you kiss Roger that'll leave one hell of a mess. I mean, you could at least wait until he actually likes you."
"What?" Mark asks, still looking surprised, and then, "Oh."
"Oh," Nelson repeats, and stumbles to the bathroom to throw up.
-
Mark Cohen has lived in New York City for seven months, two weeks, three days and eleven minutes (approximately) and he no longer has a place to stay. He tells the rest of the Well Hungarians that this is mostly because Mark is kind of broke and sometimes a little late with rent because his boss at the video store is not a very organised person. Which is fine, really, fine, because he doesn't have that much stuff and anyway, his drumkit is the only really important thing and that's safe at Nelson's place, where they practice. Besides, he's sure he'll find someplace soon.
Danny translates this as, Mark's roommate is a dick and completely whipped and just wanted his whore of a girlfriend to move in without feeling bad about the fact that he was kicking Mark to the curb for, you know, someone who would probably be working corners if she couldn't find boyfriends to pay for all her shit. (Danny has met Mark's roommate, and he is pretty sure this is completely true.)
Nelson paraphrases, basically Mark is living in tent city with a bunch of homeless people. Which is fine, really, Nelson personally has no problem with homeless people, but he doesn't really like the idea of Mark living with them, because Mark still looks like a high wind could knock him over. Plus, Nelson doesn't want to be in a band with someone who doesn't have the opportunity to shower at least every three days, although of course he doesn't say this out loud, because that would be a little insensitive. He's pretty sure Danny can tell he's thinking it, though.
Roger says, hey, no big deal, you can come live at my place, my roommates will be fine with it.
Mark, Danny and Nelson all say, what?
-
"Dude," Danny says hesitantly, looking at Roger, who is watching Nelson and Mark have some sort of conversation, "are you sure this is the best idea?"
"Why?" Roger asks blandly, but his eyes are twinkling wickedly. Danny is worried.
"Maybe because, I don't know, you've never shown any semblance of actually liking the kid," Danny tells him dryly.
Roger's eyes are still glinting. This is bad. "Oh, don't worry about it," he says casually, which just makes Danny worry more. "It'll be cool. There's just something I want to see."
-
Collins is, pretty much, the most awesome guy on the face of the planet. He and Nelson get along really well, mostly because they're both very laid-back people and very much enjoy smoking pot until they're dizzy, slightly incoherent and convinced they can see patterns in the stars that might tell the fate of the universe or something. Or they might just be pretty, whatever.
Danny and Collins also get along well, not because they're supremely alike, but because Collins is, as said above, the most awesome guy on the face of the planet. Roger and Collins obviously get along, because they share an apartment and haven't killed each other yet, and according to Collins himself, Mark and Collins are going to work out just fine.
That isn't the point. The point is, Collins, as Roger's roommate, is privy to the stupid shit he does at home that he, meaning Roger, will not tell the other members of the band. Mark also live with Roger, and so he, meaning Mark, also knows the sort of stupid shit Roger does, but Mark doesn't tell the other Hungarians for his own reasons. He probably doesn't feel like he's allowed to; it's not like Roger's exactly made him feel welcome, despite the fact that Mark's all, "Ooh, I'm never going to ever say what I actually feel, I'm just going to fucking pour it into my drum kit, which apparently understand me more than any human being in the world."
Actually, that wasn't really the point either. The point is that, if it is moronic, insane, or just Roger enough, Collins will call up Nelson and Danny and tell them what Roger has done. This is how Nelson and Danny find out that, after their most recent show, Roger brings home two male groupies, which is fairly normal. (They're getting up there on the circuit, they're allowed to have groupies. Besides, there's always someone willing to fuck the lead singer of a punk band.) What isn't normal is that, instead of fucking both of them, Roger sends the other one into Mark's room.
"And?" Danny asks eagerly when he heard this. "What happened?"
Collins just laughs and laughs, and Nelson laughs like he gets it, too. Danny is annoyed. He wants to get it. "Just wait," Collins says, and oh, maybe Danny gets it a little.
Roger walks into practice early, not trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation with his groupmate but waiting until they'll have more of an audience. He grins smugly, and Danny rolls his eyes and tells him that they already know what he did last night, he doesn't have to recap it. Roger looks momentarily put out, but the grin reappears full force when they hear Mark's quiet footsteps in the hallway.
"So?" Roger drawls almost as soon as Mark steps in the door. He likes theatrics, but he has no patience. "Did you have fun last night, Marky?"
Mark just raises his eyebrows and says dryly, "Next time try to send someone who gives better head."
Roger desperately tries to keep from showing his surprise. It doesn't really work, but he's saved from potential embarrassment by Mark turning around to close the door. His scarf slips a little, and Danny can see the Oh Fucking Lord is that a hickey on the neck of little Mark Cohen?
Danny suddenly has a lot more respect for their drummer, but Nelson just smiles as if he'd fucking predicted it.
-
Surprisingly enough (or maybe not so surprising, because Roger's weird like that) after that specific incident, Roger starts to like Mark more. Maybe it was some kind of private test or whatever, but apparently Mark passed with flying colors, because Roger stops insinuating that Mark isn't actually a member of the band and starts going back to his weird self where he, admittedly, wants people to be named Addilon McTuna, but is generally a lot nicer.
Nelson privately theorises that Roger was concentrating so hard on being a dick that he was suppressing everything else. Because Roger isn't that bad, not really, or at least not nearly as bad as Jason; Nelson only thinks that when Roger gets pissy for days and does something stupid like, oh, get rid of their drummer.
Jason, that is, not Mark. Roger's not going to get rid of Mark (hopefully) because Mark is actually talented, as opposed to Jason, and anyway, Mark and Roger have just started to get along. It would really suck if Roger drove Mark off when they were just starting to actually become friends.
Plus, then Nelson and Danny would have to kill him. If they have to look for another drummer, they might as well just look for another lead singer while they're at it.
-
"Um, I think maybe you should switch to a G instead," Mark suggests.
The Well Hungarians are writing a song, and trying to do it as a group, which is pretty much a fucking bad idea but somehow they seem to end up doing it again and again. This is probably because the songs always turn out fucking amazing, but the process itself tends to be a bit painful. Roger's really bitchy when he doesn't get his way.
This is new, though, because Mark doesn't usually suggest anything, except now he apparently does. This probably has to do a little bit with Roger actually kind of listening to what he's saying, but only kind of because really, it's Roger, when does he ever listen to what someone else is saying?
Mark is also straying into dangerous territory, because Roger is already getting annoyed. Danny has just vetoed one of Roger's songs (Roger writes most of the lyrics, and generally the basic melody, too) on the grounds that it's too cliched. This isn't unusual; Roger can be kind of predictable sometimes. Then, of course, he'll come up with something that will stop your heart in your tracks, because there is nothing Roger likes better than keeping people on their toes.
"Why?" Roger asks, his voice verging on dangerously annoyed. "I like it the way it is."
"It doesn't sound right."
Roger shifts from annoyed to pissed, which is usually about the time where Nelson shrugs and backs off and Danny just rolls his eyes and says, "Not a chance, Davis." Sometimes Roger agrees after that; sometimes not.
Mark, however, does not have a proven technique for dealing with a Roger Davis Mood Swing, and Danny is a little worried that Roger will kill him.
"I don't care what you think," Roger growls. "We're keeping it."
"No. It's not even in the same key."
"What the hell do you know about it?" Roger yells. "You're just the fucking drummer!"
"Just because I'm the drummer doesn't mean I don't know anything about music theory!"
"Oh, that's right, I forgot, the mighty Mark Cohen went to college for an entire year! Oh, look at you, so much smarter than the rest of us-"
"Don't make thing personal because you're being fucking stubborn and refuse to admit that your chord progression sounds like crap!" Mark yells back, cheeks getting red with irritation.
Well. Maybe they'll both kill each other. Danny makes an abortive motion to stop this before it gets any farther, but Nelson just motions for him to settle back and watch, so he does.
Mark and Roger are getting progressively louder and angrier, but they're keeping whatever homicidal tendencies they have in check. For now, at least. Danny is rolling his eyes and looking away, wondering if he can go get lunch and come back before they're finished arguing, when suddenly the screaming ends and he turns back to see Roger and Mark looking suspiciously at each other.
"So, G?" Mark asks, and Roger nods.
"I want to use my chord progression in my solo, though." Fucking Roger, why does he get so many solos? He's already the fucking lead singer.
"If you want to sound like shit, sure." Mark sits back down, and he's not dead. He's just gotten into a full-on, voice-destroying argument with Roger Davis and lived.
It's pretty impressive, actually, but why the fuck are both of them smiling?
-
"So you took music theory?" Roger asks. They're at the loft, on the couch, legs twisted together and the silence settling around them, sinking into their shoulders.
"Yeah," Mark murmurs, arranging his leg to fit more comfortably in the bend of Roger's knee. "After I realised I wasn't going to be a doctor, like my parents wanted, I just kind of dropped out of all my classes and started going to all the music classes I could. I already knew I was leaving after the year was over."
"So do you play other instruments?"
"Kind of. I'm not great. I decided to focus on drums more than anything else."
"Why?" Roger wonders, actually curious. "Why drums?"
Mark shrugs. "I like it. It holds songs together. Plus, I haven't got the hands for guitar." He looks ruefully down at his fingers, which aren't, like, dwarfed or anything, but definitely can't match Roger's in length. Then again, Roger is practically a foot taller than him - well, okay, not literally, but close enough. Whatever.
"Yeah, but drummers always get shafted," Roger points out, because it's true. No one really remembers the drummer's face behind the cymbals and the stage lights.
Mark laughs. "I don't mind," he says, low like it's a secret, and Roger's body thrums as if it is.
-
It's been five months, three weeks, six days and seventeen minutes (approximately) since Mark joined the band, and somewhere along the way he and Roger have become best friends.
How the fuck did that happen?
-
Roger does stupid shit sometimes. It's not a secret, not really, not at all, but sometimes other people do it with him. For example, sometimes someone will show up to one of their gigs with a bagful of white powder - Roger prefers smack, but cocaine does just as well sometimes - and they'll all take it back to someone's apartment and get high.
This mostly used to happen with Jason, but it starts happening again after Mark comes, eventually. The first time it does, Mark tries it, too, snorts some cocaine out of the inside of a CD case. He spends most of the night dry heaving over Danny's toilet, Roger actually snapping out of his daze long enough to comfort him.
The next baggie comes a couple weeks later, and no one protests when Mark opts out (maybe Roger, a little, but he shuts up pretty quickly and he might just not have wanted Mark to feel left out). Nelson thinks that what Mark hated even more than the nausea was the loss of control, but he doesn't mention it to anyone.
By the time after that, Danny and his girlfriend are getting serious, and she wants him to stop using, so Danny and Mark get to stay clean together. It's a lot easier to not do something when you've got someone to not do it with, so things end up working out.
Well. Kind of.
-
April is really pretty, and she really likes music and she really likes Roger, and the rest of the group likes her too. Well,Mark can be a little iffy sometimes, but not when Roger or April are there to see it and anyway, he's probably just annoyed that Roger went to April like a moth to the flame when it took ages for him to warm up to Mark. Mark just gets all blank and doesn't answer when you ask him about things like that, though, so whatever.
But maybe Mark's right, though, because it turns out that really pretty April who really likes music and really likes Roger ends up really liking drugs, too.
See, the thing is, Danny really likes being clean, for some reason. Nelson, well, he still keeps a stash of pot in his bedside table and the medicine cabinet, but he's mostly kicked the harder stuff (for Danny, he deliberately doesn't think) and he was never that attached to it in the first place, he just liked feeling loose and kind of floaty. He can get that way by listening to the right music for long enough, though, so he doesn't mind.
Roger, though, Roger really likes it, and when he can't do it with the band he does it with April, which is kind of worrying. Or it is for Danny, at least, but then again, he's a perpetual worrier. Mark says he has Jewish blood in his veins, and Mark worries too, so maybe he's right. Maybe he was right all along.
-
"Can we do something?" Nelson wonders, picking out a tune on the bass, just a brief melody that doesn't really go anywhere.
"No," Mark says, voice empty, and Mark's been kind of annoyed lately, probably because Roger hasn't been spending time with him, so wrapped up in April April April.
A thumb-sized splotch of skin on Mark's wrist is faintly blue, yellow at the edges, and he rubs at it absently. Roger storms in, looking faintly annoyed but also somewhat blissful - someone got laid last night - and Mark straightens up, his back hitting the wall. Mark winces, despite the fact that he didn't hit the wall all that hard, and Roger gives him a faintly apologetic look, and Mark shrugs whatever.
There is something Nelson is missing, but he's not sure he's got the energy to deal with it. Roger can be exhausting, these days.
-
The song is sad and Roger's voice is a low throb of emotion, enough to make you cry, but all of a sudden the drums are angry, despite the fact that Mark is perfectly on beat, just like they've done a thousand times before. Roger stops singing and turns around, and Danny and Nelson unconsciously step back a little because fuck, they don't want to get in the middle of this.
"What are you doing, Mark?" Roger demands, and Mark looks back, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
Roger eyes him suspiciously, but Mark has apparently perfected his innocent face, and so Roger turns back around and starts to sing again. Everyone starts playing again, but when Mark jumps in the song goes angry again. Before Roger can yell Nelson suggests they switch to a different song, an angry song, but when they start up the drums sound like they might as well be weeping.
This goes on for five whole days.
-
"Stop it already!" Roger finally screams, and if he hadn't someone else might have had to, because fuck, it's getting annoying. What is Mark trying to do, anyway? What the fuck is wrong with the members of this band?
"No," Mark says quietly, and thank god he's not playing innocent anymore, because that was getting really fucking irritating too. Well, Mark fucking Roger up might have been a little bit funny, but anyone who mentioned that in Roger's vicinity would probably find their heads torn off, so...
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roger demands, stalking closer to Mark and his drumkit.
"Nothing's wrong with me." Mark's voice is flat. He doesn't get like this often, and it's a little scary when he does. Only a little, though.
"So then what do you want?" Roger yells, and Mark's face answers for him. "I'm not breaking up with her!"
"You don't need to. I just want you to stop using."
"You don't understand, you don't understand anything except your precious drums. Those are the only things you love, aren't they? You don't care about anything else, just bottle everything up so you don't have to feel anything-"
Danny backs carefully away, but Roger doesn't notice, too busy screaming at Mark. He sets down his guitar and motions for Nelson to do the same; Nelson doesn't want to, but he goes along with it anyway. Mark says something just as the door closes behind them; neither hears what he says, but it doesn't sound pleased.
-
An hour later, they creep back, trying not to make any noise. Danny slides the door open and sees Mark, still behind his drumkit, but Roger's sitting down too, his Fender in his lap. Both their eyes -and mouths - are closed.
Danny wonders if he and Nelson can come back in now, but then Mark starts to play, just a light tapping on the snare drum but fuck, it sounds... disappointed. Who the hell knew a snare drum could sound disappointed?
Roger plays now, lots of minor chords with a major or two thrown in, but the chord progression doesn't particularly matter. This is quite obviously a response; Danny can't understand it, not like he thinks Mark can, but it sounds. It sounds sorry, maybe? Lonely, angry.
Mark slams down, and Danny backs slowly out of the room, pulling Nelson with him. Maybe they'll wait another half an hour.
-
Things happen like this: Danny breaks up with his girlfriend, but stays clean. (Nelson smiles.) Roger breaks up with his girlfriend, and goes clean. (Mark smiles.) It takes a while, but Roger's dreams eventually stop being haunted by bags of white powder.
(Sometime later, Collins will discover through the friend of a friend that April contracted HIV and killed herself. He will tell Danny, Nelson and Mark, and they will all unanimously decide not to tell Roger.)
-
It's been a year, four months, two weeks, one day, four hours and thirty-eight minutes (approximately) since Mark joined the band, and three months, one week, eight hours and twenty-two minutes since Roger broke up with April.
Roger and Mark show up to rehearsal together (which isn't unusual), smiling (also not unusual), and slightly off their game (unusual). The first song they practice, Roger fucks up twice because he keeps fucking turning and smiling happily at Mark (very unusual - the fucking up, not the smiling). Everything Mark drums sounds happy.
Nelson already suspected (knew) that Mark had a thing for Roger (or else just loud-mouthed lead singers who tend to think they're the hottest thing on two legs), but apparently Roger gets weak-kneed over dorky blond drummers with glasses and scarves. Who knew?
-
They're playing at fucking CBGBs, and they're as famous as they might ever be. Which, hey, isn't all that bad; they've got a fucking record deal, for god's sake, and really? things are good. Everyone rolls their eyes when they say they don't do drugs, but they've got some good reasons not to. Roger's, for example, is slamming a pair of sticks down onto his drums, loud but making sure he doesn't harm his darlings.
"And this is Mark Cohen, the best fucking drummer you will ever meet, even if he's got the most boring name you've ever heard!" Roger yells when he does his introductions.
"Thanks, Roger," Mark says sarcastically, one of the first times he's ever actually spoken on stage, and Roger grins back, wide enough to take your breath away (it does).
It's pretty fucking obvious, yeah, sappy as hell, but not everything has to be rockstar-cool. Danny grins at Nelson across the stage, watches him blush a little, and thinks, yeah. This might not be a movie, but that doesn't mean they can't get the happy ending, right?