[Rent] Falling Is Like…
Characters: Roger-centric.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Roger’s dying, but not alone. Never alone.
Notes: Post-Rent. Time unspecific but Mimi and Collins are dead. Remixed by seimaisin here.
originally posted to speed_rent 4-16-06 for challenge #93
Rock star Roger Davis really should have come from a crappy home where his father beat him and his mother tried to drink away her pain. His father would have been a construction worker, coming home to the trailer park every night bone tired and bitter. His mother worked the nightshift at a crappy dinner where all of the cool kids at Roger’s high school liked to hang out, when she was sober enough to function. That Roger dropped out the second he turned sixteen and ran like the wind.
Roger should have been raised by his tough, strong mother who got knocked up by some jerk who left the second he heard the word “baby”. That Roger would have done his best to make his Momma proud, but she would have begged and pleaded with him not to get that job bagging groceries and to go follow his dreams. His once wild and willful mother would understand.
Maybe Roger’s should-have dad was a strict, old-school military guy who’d fallen for a hippie chick. Roger’s would-be mother just couldn’t handle anything but drifting from community garden to commune across the nation only sending the occasional postcard. 18 years of hospital corners and “sir, yes sirs” and Roger would run like hell for New York City.
Roger Davis should have had shitty, neglectful parents. Parents who didn’t give a fuck. A mom who wasn’t pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead as he lay dying, a dad who wasn’t strumming at Roger’s guitar and telling him “we love you son, no matter what, we’ll always love you”. Roger didn’t deserve these parents, not when he was laying there resenting them for keeping Mark and the rest of his friends away.
“Do you remember the time we all went house boating?” Roger’s mom asks. She’s been asking these questions since she got to the city. As if reminiscing might keep Roger alive a day or two longer.
“Yeah, mom,” Roger tells her, his voice scratchy and weak from coughing. He can’t ignore her, not when he’s dying. He loves her too much for that, even if he didn’t love her enough to go to college, enough to stay away from drugs and dangerous. He loved them enough to call and tell his parents he was dying.
“It was a great trip, but man that lake water was freezing!” Roger’s dad fakes a jolly laugh and Roger thinks there’s nothing quite as depressing as fake laughter. Except maybe watching your kid die, so he’ll give his father that.
Roger misses Mark. He’s too tired to be nice, and he wants his best friend around so he doesn’t have to be. The beauty of MarkandRoger is that Roger can, on his death bed, tell Mark to shut the hell up and not only be forgiven, but be grinned at and punched in the shoulder. Gently, much too gently, but punched nonetheless.
Mark hasn’t been around in awhile, not since Roger’s mom came bursting into the room cooing “oh, my poor baby!” with his father at her heels two days ago. He left the room squeezing Roger’s hand quickly to give the Davis’ time alone. Roger hasn’t been alone since.
“Mark?” he murmurs, hoping his parents will assume delirium and not deny their dying son even a fever-induced wish.
“I’m right here, sweetie,” his mother tells him patting his cheek. Damn, she misunderstood.
“Mom?” Roger asks, opening his eyes. “Where’s Mark?”
His parents exchange looks. “He had to…”
“Go,” his father finishes lamely.
“Where? Why? Is he okay?” Roger knew it would be hard for Mark to watch this, but he wasn’t dying right now and Mark wasn’t the type to just abandon a friend. If Mark had left for two days and not come back something was wrong. Roger tries to sit up but is pushed back down by his mother.
“Honey,” she says gently, “we thought it might be better if he weren’t here.”
“Why? Is he alright?” A flash of fear coursed through Roger, images of Mark sobbing out of control, of Mark alone and isolated in the loft, of Mark’s dead body in the bathtub, wrists slit.
“It’s just… not proper.”
“What’s improper about having my friends around me as I die?” Roger asks, confused. The I,V,s were making him slow, apparently. And Roger used to enjoy having things shot into his veins. The ultimate irony, he’d have to remember that to tell Mark.
Roger‘s father stops strumming at the guitar. “We know you and Mark are more than just friends, son.”
“Of course,” Roger agrees. “He’s my best friend and I want him here. And Maureen and Joanne and anyone else who will come,” he adds. “But mostly Mark.”
“Roger! Stop upsetting your mother!” The tone of voice Roger’s father was using was not conciliatory and kind. In fact, the whole scene was eerily reminiscent of high school. Roger had always been a stubborn ass and he wanted his way.
“Stop upsetting me!” He exclaims. “I’m the one who’s dying!”
Roger’s mother gasped a sob and he felt momentarily guilty. But he was dying and he didn’t want his last memory to be reminiscing about house boats with his parents.
“Roger Davis! That’s a terrible thing to say!”
“Why?” He asks gently. “It’s true.”
“Oh, sweetie, you’re going to get through this. You are.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Roger had tried to make a point of explaining that to his parents when he called. That he wasn’t sick, he’d been sick before, this was it. This was the end.
“You got a lotta years left in you champ,” Roger’s father says with conviction.
“No, Dad, I don’t.” Roger tells him. “I fucked up. I threw away those years for… for nothing, for a girl and an escape that didn’t work.”
Roger’s mom gasps back another sob and he realizes that they understand, they’re pretending this is something other than what it is so that they don’t have to deal with really sitting around his deathbed.
He never thought it would really be anything other than a useful way to get Mark, and Collins and Mimi and Maureen and Joanne, off his back, but suddenly Roger thinks about LifeSupport and how it might be really helpful for his parents. He reaches for the phone.
“What are you doing?” Roger’s mom asks.
“Calling Mark.” Roger cuts off his parents protests. “I need to get some information from him.”
He dials the number without looking, even though he can’t remember ever calling the loft before. Well, Santa Fe. And sometimes when he was living with Mimi. Or spending the night with April. Or the band. Or was drunk and needed someone to get him home. Okay, Roger’s called the loft plenty of times.
“SPEAK!” Roger’s going to have to remind Mark to change that once he’s gone.
“Mark. Loser, it’s me. I know you’re there. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, man. Don’t leave a dying man hanging. Aha, hanging-”
“Roger?”
“Hey.”
“Um, hi?” Roger falls silent listening to his best friend. He’s really gonna miss that kid. “Why are you calling?”
“Because you’re not here,” Roger replies and it comes out angry. He didn’t mean for it to be, but on second thought, yeah, he is angry. Mark just abandoned him, his parents are holding him hostage and all he wants to do is die in fucking peace, maybe have a little fun on the way out.
“Roger,” Mark sighs, sorrow echoing in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Roger says and means it. “I’m just being a jackass. Because I’m dying and my best friend isn’t here.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Mark follows the script, but his heart isn’t in it. In fact, Roger thinks he hears tears in his friend’s voice.
“Look, if you’re gonna cry will you please just come here and do it? And maybe call up some people and have them come here and cry? Oh, and bring directions to LifeSupport.”
Mark laughs, still crying by the sounds of it. “Yeah, yeah. Your parents gone?”
“No.“ Roger glances at them. “They’re here ‘il the bitter end I think.”
“Oh. Well then maybe I shouldn’t…”
“MARK!” Roger’s voice isn’t much anymore, but it’s enough. “What the hell?”
“I just don’t really think they want me there. They said some things-”
“What things, Mark?” Roger snaps. His throat aches from the amount of talking he’s doing but it doesn’t matter. Not when Mark’s afraid to visit him as he’s dying. “What did they say to you?”
“They think we’re… you know… and they don’t approve of that sort of thing.”
“No, I don’t know. What do they think we are?”
Mark coughs lightly and laughs uncomfortably. “Gay. Together.”
Roger’s too weak to really laugh, but he rasps and grins broadly. “Well I am dying of AIDS after all.”
“Yeah. And I was just so offended by their disgust, I mean Collins and Angel, and Maureen and Joanne, that, anyway, I didn’t deny it. I just, kind of…”
“Got huffy and left?” Roger supplies.
“Yeah.”
“So get un-huffy and come back. With people. And the LifeSupport stuff.”
“Please?” Mark suggests.
“Thank you.”
Mark sighs, but Roger can tell he’s smiling and not crying. “Anything else you need?”
“Just you.”
“Gee, I wonder why your parents have some mistaken ideas about the nature of our relationship,” Mark teases and then gently. “I’ll be there soon.”
Roger’s tired from his conversation and wants to rest before Mark and everyone gets there, but he needs to speak to his parents. He turns and glares at them.
“You chased my best friend away when I need him most,” he accuses, putting special emphasis on the friendship part.
“Honey, he was hovering,” Roger’s mom says. “Holding your hand.”
“…because I wanted to know that I wasn’t alone.” Roger said. And because he needed to know that I’m not going anywhere, not really. I’ll always be right by his side. The rest of Roger’s explanation goes unspoken because he can’t figure out how to say it in a way that sounds totally hetero. He’s not sure it is a totally hetero explanation. He loves Mark fiercely, always has, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Roger’s eyes start to water and his parents misinterpret, yet again, the reason.
“We didn‘t realize you felt so alone,” his father says in a way that hints further explanation would be desirable. If Roger were still sixteen he’d roll his eyes.
Instead he closes them and yawns.
He must fall asleep, because he wakes to the sound of someone stammering and then Mark’s voice saying, “I didn’t realize. I’ll come back when he’s awake.”
“Don’t you dare,” Roger growls, surprising everyone because he didn’t think he could growl anymore.
Mark dumps his armload of… whatever, Roger can’t tell, at the foot of the bed and lunges for him, hugging him tight.
“Missed you,” he says fiercely into Roger’s ear and Roger can think of a thousand ways to make that Mark’s fault or make fun of him, but he wraps his arms tight around Mark and tells him he missed him too.
Mark tries to let go, but Roger won’t budge. He’s realized that this is as close to Mark as he’s ever going to get. His eyes start to burn, realizing that this is it for him, for them. This is how their friendship ends.
After awhile Mark starts to squirm, “Rog…”
He pulls away, knowing that his eyes are bright with unshed tears. He doesn’t care. For the first time putting on a brave face doesn’t matter.
“Roger, don’t,” Mark’s voice is tight and tense. A brave face doesn’t matter, but protecting Mark does. It’s always mattered, will always matter.
“Sorry,” Roger runs a hand over his eyes. “So when’s everyone getting here?”
“Soon. I asked Maureen to give me some time first.”
“Good idea.”
“Maureen didn’t think so.”
Roger grins. “Exactly.”
“Roger, dear,” his mother clears her throat and says. He’d forgotten his parents were even there. It was all Mark in his mind. “Do you really think having people over is a good idea?”
“What’s it gonna do, Mom? Kill me?” Roger asks gently.
“Yes. Maybe.”
Mark sighs and Roger shrugs. “So I have a few last great hours instead of a few drawn out days. I’d rather go out with a bang anyway.”
Roger‘s dad leans forward. “Have you considered just… ending it?” Roger’s mom looks away, it’s clear they’ve talked about this possibility.
“No!” Roger’s vehemence surprises his parents who have watched their tired, cranky son grow more and more frustrated with his quality of life with every passing hour. Mark puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not a coward!”
An awkward silence descends over the room, at last broken by Maureen throwing open the hospital door and bursting in.
“God Roger, you look like shit!” She’s trying to be jovial dramatic Maureen, but it doesn’t fool Roger.
He tugs her close when she hugs him and kisses her temple. “Take care of him, okay?”
Maureen pulls back and looks mildly offended. “Of course.” Roger can’t help but laugh.
“Hey, Joanne.”
“Hi. How… um…” She stammers. “Hi.”
“I bet you’re so glad you met Maureen,” Roger says conversationally. “You might not have gotten to watch nearly as many people die otherwise.”
His parents are aghast and Mark’s shaking his head. Joanne looks sort of shocked but Maureen’s laughing as she wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s waist. “Does that make me angel, Roger?”
“Yeah,” Mark looks up. “Of death.”
Roger looks at his best friend. “Like there’s any other way in hell I’d call Maureen an angel?”
The four friends laugh and Roger’s parents get agitated.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Roger?” His mother asks.
“Twenty eight years old, and on my deathbed my mother makes me stick to social niceties,” he groans.
Maureen laughs again, and it makes Roger feel nice, being able to make someone smile.
Joanne sticks out her hand in the Davis‘ direction. “Joanne Jefferson, nice to meet you. Well, not under the circumstances, but, I mean, um…”
“Pookie.” Maureen stops Joanne. She nods at Roger’s parents. “I’m Maureen.”
Conversation between the friends and the Davis’ is awkward, and there’s so much still to say. Roger knows time is running out.
“Guys,” he interrupts a conversation about National Parks and if they’re overrated. “I’m getting… tired.”
“Oh! Oh of course,” Joanne says, ever the epitome of propriety. “It’s getting late, we should be going.”
“No.” Roger says forcefully. “Not that kind of tired.”
Maureen closes her eyes tight and reaches for Roger’s hand, fumbling blindly for a moment. “I… I think I’m gonna miss you most.,” she says. “You were always really…great.”
“Great?” Mark echoes doubtfully.
Maureen starts to find another way to say whatever it is that she means, but Roger squeezes her hand. “I get it. We’re a bad combination, but I know you.”
Maureen opens her eyes and smiles, bright and full, just for Roger. “Yeah you do.”
Joanne meets Roger’s eyes. “Roger, it’s been… fun. Really interesting and intense and… fun.”
“For me too.” It’s weird, literally saying goodbye to his friends like this. But Roger feels himself weakening, he’s not going to make it through the night. Hopefully he’ll just drift off in his sleep and the next time people will see him he’ll be dead. Roger turns towards Mark.
“Mark…” Mark meets his eyes. Mark wants to show him his goodbye and Roger needs to hear it. Feel it. “..say something.”
“This isn’t fair.” Mark states. “We went through too much together for this to be how it ends. I can‘t… I can‘t…”
Mark swallows heavily and looks at the floor. He won’t look back up.
“Mark, I love you.” Roger tells him. He looks around the room, “I love you all. And it’s gonna be okay. Me and Collins and Angel and Mimi and April, we’re gonna tear it up up there. And when you guys get there, after very, very long lives full of kids and laughter and stories, it’s gonna be like,” Roger has to stop talking for a second and swallow heavily, “it’s gonna be like no time has passed at all. We’ll dress up and dance on tables and just… It’s gonna be okay. Someday it’s gonna be amazing.”
Mark’s crying now, which is not something Roger ever meant to do. “I’m a shitty best friend,” he says. “I’ve made you cry too much.”
“No!” Mark finally looks up. “God, Roger, you’ve been amazing. Look at all the things I never would have done without you. You made me live! I dated a lesbian because of you! I saw withdrawal first hand, and concerts and… You helped me be an artist. You helped me be a person! I… I love you, too.”
“I’ll always be with you,“ Roger smiled gently and took his friend’s hand for the last time. No more words were necessary.
He nodded at Maureen.
“Come on, Mark. Time to go,” She told him, taking his hand.
“What? No. I thought I was going to… Roger!” Mark protested.
“It’s time, man.” Roger bit his lip. “I’ll be okay. So will you.”
Mark looked back, once, tearfully, as he allowed himself to be lead from the room.
Once the heavy door swung shut Roger closed his eyes and let the tears spill through his lashes. He swallowed hard.
“Honey…” Roger’s mother said gently.
“I’m really gonna miss those guys,” Roger’s voice squeaked out as more tears threatened. He hadn’t thought he’d cry at his own death, but never seeing his friends again? That though hurt. “I loved them.”
“I know sweetie.”
Roger’s dad flips off the lights as his mother takes his hand and Roger Davis leaves the world as he came into it, in a hospital room full of his parents’ love.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Roger’s dying, but not alone. Never alone.
Notes: Post-Rent. Time unspecific but Mimi and Collins are dead. Remixed by seimaisin here.
originally posted to speed_rent 4-16-06 for challenge #93
Rock star Roger Davis really should have come from a crappy home where his father beat him and his mother tried to drink away her pain. His father would have been a construction worker, coming home to the trailer park every night bone tired and bitter. His mother worked the nightshift at a crappy dinner where all of the cool kids at Roger’s high school liked to hang out, when she was sober enough to function. That Roger dropped out the second he turned sixteen and ran like the wind.
Roger should have been raised by his tough, strong mother who got knocked up by some jerk who left the second he heard the word “baby”. That Roger would have done his best to make his Momma proud, but she would have begged and pleaded with him not to get that job bagging groceries and to go follow his dreams. His once wild and willful mother would understand.
Maybe Roger’s should-have dad was a strict, old-school military guy who’d fallen for a hippie chick. Roger’s would-be mother just couldn’t handle anything but drifting from community garden to commune across the nation only sending the occasional postcard. 18 years of hospital corners and “sir, yes sirs” and Roger would run like hell for New York City.
Roger Davis should have had shitty, neglectful parents. Parents who didn’t give a fuck. A mom who wasn’t pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead as he lay dying, a dad who wasn’t strumming at Roger’s guitar and telling him “we love you son, no matter what, we’ll always love you”. Roger didn’t deserve these parents, not when he was laying there resenting them for keeping Mark and the rest of his friends away.
“Do you remember the time we all went house boating?” Roger’s mom asks. She’s been asking these questions since she got to the city. As if reminiscing might keep Roger alive a day or two longer.
“Yeah, mom,” Roger tells her, his voice scratchy and weak from coughing. He can’t ignore her, not when he’s dying. He loves her too much for that, even if he didn’t love her enough to go to college, enough to stay away from drugs and dangerous. He loved them enough to call and tell his parents he was dying.
“It was a great trip, but man that lake water was freezing!” Roger’s dad fakes a jolly laugh and Roger thinks there’s nothing quite as depressing as fake laughter. Except maybe watching your kid die, so he’ll give his father that.
Roger misses Mark. He’s too tired to be nice, and he wants his best friend around so he doesn’t have to be. The beauty of MarkandRoger is that Roger can, on his death bed, tell Mark to shut the hell up and not only be forgiven, but be grinned at and punched in the shoulder. Gently, much too gently, but punched nonetheless.
Mark hasn’t been around in awhile, not since Roger’s mom came bursting into the room cooing “oh, my poor baby!” with his father at her heels two days ago. He left the room squeezing Roger’s hand quickly to give the Davis’ time alone. Roger hasn’t been alone since.
“Mark?” he murmurs, hoping his parents will assume delirium and not deny their dying son even a fever-induced wish.
“I’m right here, sweetie,” his mother tells him patting his cheek. Damn, she misunderstood.
“Mom?” Roger asks, opening his eyes. “Where’s Mark?”
His parents exchange looks. “He had to…”
“Go,” his father finishes lamely.
“Where? Why? Is he okay?” Roger knew it would be hard for Mark to watch this, but he wasn’t dying right now and Mark wasn’t the type to just abandon a friend. If Mark had left for two days and not come back something was wrong. Roger tries to sit up but is pushed back down by his mother.
“Honey,” she says gently, “we thought it might be better if he weren’t here.”
“Why? Is he alright?” A flash of fear coursed through Roger, images of Mark sobbing out of control, of Mark alone and isolated in the loft, of Mark’s dead body in the bathtub, wrists slit.
“It’s just… not proper.”
“What’s improper about having my friends around me as I die?” Roger asks, confused. The I,V,s were making him slow, apparently. And Roger used to enjoy having things shot into his veins. The ultimate irony, he’d have to remember that to tell Mark.
Roger‘s father stops strumming at the guitar. “We know you and Mark are more than just friends, son.”
“Of course,” Roger agrees. “He’s my best friend and I want him here. And Maureen and Joanne and anyone else who will come,” he adds. “But mostly Mark.”
“Roger! Stop upsetting your mother!” The tone of voice Roger’s father was using was not conciliatory and kind. In fact, the whole scene was eerily reminiscent of high school. Roger had always been a stubborn ass and he wanted his way.
“Stop upsetting me!” He exclaims. “I’m the one who’s dying!”
Roger’s mother gasped a sob and he felt momentarily guilty. But he was dying and he didn’t want his last memory to be reminiscing about house boats with his parents.
“Roger Davis! That’s a terrible thing to say!”
“Why?” He asks gently. “It’s true.”
“Oh, sweetie, you’re going to get through this. You are.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Roger had tried to make a point of explaining that to his parents when he called. That he wasn’t sick, he’d been sick before, this was it. This was the end.
“You got a lotta years left in you champ,” Roger’s father says with conviction.
“No, Dad, I don’t.” Roger tells him. “I fucked up. I threw away those years for… for nothing, for a girl and an escape that didn’t work.”
Roger’s mom gasps back another sob and he realizes that they understand, they’re pretending this is something other than what it is so that they don’t have to deal with really sitting around his deathbed.
He never thought it would really be anything other than a useful way to get Mark, and Collins and Mimi and Maureen and Joanne, off his back, but suddenly Roger thinks about LifeSupport and how it might be really helpful for his parents. He reaches for the phone.
“What are you doing?” Roger’s mom asks.
“Calling Mark.” Roger cuts off his parents protests. “I need to get some information from him.”
He dials the number without looking, even though he can’t remember ever calling the loft before. Well, Santa Fe. And sometimes when he was living with Mimi. Or spending the night with April. Or the band. Or was drunk and needed someone to get him home. Okay, Roger’s called the loft plenty of times.
“SPEAK!” Roger’s going to have to remind Mark to change that once he’s gone.
“Mark. Loser, it’s me. I know you’re there. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, man. Don’t leave a dying man hanging. Aha, hanging-”
“Roger?”
“Hey.”
“Um, hi?” Roger falls silent listening to his best friend. He’s really gonna miss that kid. “Why are you calling?”
“Because you’re not here,” Roger replies and it comes out angry. He didn’t mean for it to be, but on second thought, yeah, he is angry. Mark just abandoned him, his parents are holding him hostage and all he wants to do is die in fucking peace, maybe have a little fun on the way out.
“Roger,” Mark sighs, sorrow echoing in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Roger says and means it. “I’m just being a jackass. Because I’m dying and my best friend isn’t here.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Mark follows the script, but his heart isn’t in it. In fact, Roger thinks he hears tears in his friend’s voice.
“Look, if you’re gonna cry will you please just come here and do it? And maybe call up some people and have them come here and cry? Oh, and bring directions to LifeSupport.”
Mark laughs, still crying by the sounds of it. “Yeah, yeah. Your parents gone?”
“No.“ Roger glances at them. “They’re here ‘il the bitter end I think.”
“Oh. Well then maybe I shouldn’t…”
“MARK!” Roger’s voice isn’t much anymore, but it’s enough. “What the hell?”
“I just don’t really think they want me there. They said some things-”
“What things, Mark?” Roger snaps. His throat aches from the amount of talking he’s doing but it doesn’t matter. Not when Mark’s afraid to visit him as he’s dying. “What did they say to you?”
“They think we’re… you know… and they don’t approve of that sort of thing.”
“No, I don’t know. What do they think we are?”
Mark coughs lightly and laughs uncomfortably. “Gay. Together.”
Roger’s too weak to really laugh, but he rasps and grins broadly. “Well I am dying of AIDS after all.”
“Yeah. And I was just so offended by their disgust, I mean Collins and Angel, and Maureen and Joanne, that, anyway, I didn’t deny it. I just, kind of…”
“Got huffy and left?” Roger supplies.
“Yeah.”
“So get un-huffy and come back. With people. And the LifeSupport stuff.”
“Please?” Mark suggests.
“Thank you.”
Mark sighs, but Roger can tell he’s smiling and not crying. “Anything else you need?”
“Just you.”
“Gee, I wonder why your parents have some mistaken ideas about the nature of our relationship,” Mark teases and then gently. “I’ll be there soon.”
Roger’s tired from his conversation and wants to rest before Mark and everyone gets there, but he needs to speak to his parents. He turns and glares at them.
“You chased my best friend away when I need him most,” he accuses, putting special emphasis on the friendship part.
“Honey, he was hovering,” Roger’s mom says. “Holding your hand.”
“…because I wanted to know that I wasn’t alone.” Roger said. And because he needed to know that I’m not going anywhere, not really. I’ll always be right by his side. The rest of Roger’s explanation goes unspoken because he can’t figure out how to say it in a way that sounds totally hetero. He’s not sure it is a totally hetero explanation. He loves Mark fiercely, always has, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Roger’s eyes start to water and his parents misinterpret, yet again, the reason.
“We didn‘t realize you felt so alone,” his father says in a way that hints further explanation would be desirable. If Roger were still sixteen he’d roll his eyes.
Instead he closes them and yawns.
He must fall asleep, because he wakes to the sound of someone stammering and then Mark’s voice saying, “I didn’t realize. I’ll come back when he’s awake.”
“Don’t you dare,” Roger growls, surprising everyone because he didn’t think he could growl anymore.
Mark dumps his armload of… whatever, Roger can’t tell, at the foot of the bed and lunges for him, hugging him tight.
“Missed you,” he says fiercely into Roger’s ear and Roger can think of a thousand ways to make that Mark’s fault or make fun of him, but he wraps his arms tight around Mark and tells him he missed him too.
Mark tries to let go, but Roger won’t budge. He’s realized that this is as close to Mark as he’s ever going to get. His eyes start to burn, realizing that this is it for him, for them. This is how their friendship ends.
After awhile Mark starts to squirm, “Rog…”
He pulls away, knowing that his eyes are bright with unshed tears. He doesn’t care. For the first time putting on a brave face doesn’t matter.
“Roger, don’t,” Mark’s voice is tight and tense. A brave face doesn’t matter, but protecting Mark does. It’s always mattered, will always matter.
“Sorry,” Roger runs a hand over his eyes. “So when’s everyone getting here?”
“Soon. I asked Maureen to give me some time first.”
“Good idea.”
“Maureen didn’t think so.”
Roger grins. “Exactly.”
“Roger, dear,” his mother clears her throat and says. He’d forgotten his parents were even there. It was all Mark in his mind. “Do you really think having people over is a good idea?”
“What’s it gonna do, Mom? Kill me?” Roger asks gently.
“Yes. Maybe.”
Mark sighs and Roger shrugs. “So I have a few last great hours instead of a few drawn out days. I’d rather go out with a bang anyway.”
Roger‘s dad leans forward. “Have you considered just… ending it?” Roger’s mom looks away, it’s clear they’ve talked about this possibility.
“No!” Roger’s vehemence surprises his parents who have watched their tired, cranky son grow more and more frustrated with his quality of life with every passing hour. Mark puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not a coward!”
An awkward silence descends over the room, at last broken by Maureen throwing open the hospital door and bursting in.
“God Roger, you look like shit!” She’s trying to be jovial dramatic Maureen, but it doesn’t fool Roger.
He tugs her close when she hugs him and kisses her temple. “Take care of him, okay?”
Maureen pulls back and looks mildly offended. “Of course.” Roger can’t help but laugh.
“Hey, Joanne.”
“Hi. How… um…” She stammers. “Hi.”
“I bet you’re so glad you met Maureen,” Roger says conversationally. “You might not have gotten to watch nearly as many people die otherwise.”
His parents are aghast and Mark’s shaking his head. Joanne looks sort of shocked but Maureen’s laughing as she wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s waist. “Does that make me angel, Roger?”
“Yeah,” Mark looks up. “Of death.”
Roger looks at his best friend. “Like there’s any other way in hell I’d call Maureen an angel?”
The four friends laugh and Roger’s parents get agitated.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Roger?” His mother asks.
“Twenty eight years old, and on my deathbed my mother makes me stick to social niceties,” he groans.
Maureen laughs again, and it makes Roger feel nice, being able to make someone smile.
Joanne sticks out her hand in the Davis‘ direction. “Joanne Jefferson, nice to meet you. Well, not under the circumstances, but, I mean, um…”
“Pookie.” Maureen stops Joanne. She nods at Roger’s parents. “I’m Maureen.”
Conversation between the friends and the Davis’ is awkward, and there’s so much still to say. Roger knows time is running out.
“Guys,” he interrupts a conversation about National Parks and if they’re overrated. “I’m getting… tired.”
“Oh! Oh of course,” Joanne says, ever the epitome of propriety. “It’s getting late, we should be going.”
“No.” Roger says forcefully. “Not that kind of tired.”
Maureen closes her eyes tight and reaches for Roger’s hand, fumbling blindly for a moment. “I… I think I’m gonna miss you most.,” she says. “You were always really…great.”
“Great?” Mark echoes doubtfully.
Maureen starts to find another way to say whatever it is that she means, but Roger squeezes her hand. “I get it. We’re a bad combination, but I know you.”
Maureen opens her eyes and smiles, bright and full, just for Roger. “Yeah you do.”
Joanne meets Roger’s eyes. “Roger, it’s been… fun. Really interesting and intense and… fun.”
“For me too.” It’s weird, literally saying goodbye to his friends like this. But Roger feels himself weakening, he’s not going to make it through the night. Hopefully he’ll just drift off in his sleep and the next time people will see him he’ll be dead. Roger turns towards Mark.
“Mark…” Mark meets his eyes. Mark wants to show him his goodbye and Roger needs to hear it. Feel it. “..say something.”
“This isn’t fair.” Mark states. “We went through too much together for this to be how it ends. I can‘t… I can‘t…”
Mark swallows heavily and looks at the floor. He won’t look back up.
“Mark, I love you.” Roger tells him. He looks around the room, “I love you all. And it’s gonna be okay. Me and Collins and Angel and Mimi and April, we’re gonna tear it up up there. And when you guys get there, after very, very long lives full of kids and laughter and stories, it’s gonna be like,” Roger has to stop talking for a second and swallow heavily, “it’s gonna be like no time has passed at all. We’ll dress up and dance on tables and just… It’s gonna be okay. Someday it’s gonna be amazing.”
Mark’s crying now, which is not something Roger ever meant to do. “I’m a shitty best friend,” he says. “I’ve made you cry too much.”
“No!” Mark finally looks up. “God, Roger, you’ve been amazing. Look at all the things I never would have done without you. You made me live! I dated a lesbian because of you! I saw withdrawal first hand, and concerts and… You helped me be an artist. You helped me be a person! I… I love you, too.”
“I’ll always be with you,“ Roger smiled gently and took his friend’s hand for the last time. No more words were necessary.
He nodded at Maureen.
“Come on, Mark. Time to go,” She told him, taking his hand.
“What? No. I thought I was going to… Roger!” Mark protested.
“It’s time, man.” Roger bit his lip. “I’ll be okay. So will you.”
Mark looked back, once, tearfully, as he allowed himself to be lead from the room.
Once the heavy door swung shut Roger closed his eyes and let the tears spill through his lashes. He swallowed hard.
“Honey…” Roger’s mother said gently.
“I’m really gonna miss those guys,” Roger’s voice squeaked out as more tears threatened. He hadn’t thought he’d cry at his own death, but never seeing his friends again? That though hurt. “I loved them.”
“I know sweetie.”
Roger’s dad flips off the lights as his mother takes his hand and Roger Davis leaves the world as he came into it, in a hospital room full of his parents’ love.