OOM: Me? I'm here. Nowhere.
Apr. 3rd, 2006 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bohemian_markIf there's one thing that Mark's certain about, it is that he most certainly does not want kids. At the very least, he doesn't want kids for a long-ass while.
Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows. Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play,
Getting back to the Loft, the darkness and quiet seemed almost overwhelming. The only thing Mark could do was plop down on the couch and turn on the TV.
The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you. The earth turns the sun burn, but I die without you
The news is, as always, violent, barren. People getting robbed, shot, raped, along with the usual political shit. Shaking his head and swearing, Mark turns off the TV.
Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves. Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash
Standing, he walks over to the table, where a copy of the Village Voice was lying on the table. The front page was an article about Roger's band, and its new gigs. Grabbing the paper, Mark stares at it for a long moment, then collapses back on the couch.
The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry. Without you, the moon glows, the river flows, but I die, Without you.
A few moments pass, before Mark wipes his eyes, and goes to his desk, scribbling something down on a paper, changing into a suit and tie, then grabbing his bag and camera, a determined expression on his face.
The world revives, colors renew. But I know blue. Only blue, lonely blue, within me, blue. Without you.
He grabs a taxi to the club, and stands in the back while Roger and his band played. Between sets, he gets out his camera setting up a shot for the next set.
Without you, the hand gropes, the ear hears the pulse beats. Without you, the eyes gaze, the legs walk the lungs breathe
Halfway through the set, Roger notices Mark. Turning to the band, Roger whispered a few things to them, then turns back to the assembled crows. "We have a surprise for you, folks. It would seem that we're going have a surprise duet here. Mark, get your ass up here." For the first time in about a week, Mark cracks a smile, walking up to the stage, and stashing his camera in his bag. Roger laughs, eyeing Mark. "Damn, the Oscar-winning director's dressing the part tonight."
The mind churns, the heart yearns the tears dry, without you. Life goes on, but I'm gone, cause I die, Without you.
Mark laughs, shrugging. "Well, I might as well announce this in front of people. Today For You is opening a music recording studio and, as the head of that studio, I want to offer Roger Davis and his band the first recording contract." A cheer goes up from the crowd, Roger just boggling at Mark, then after a moment, glomping his friend.
"Dork, you didn't have to offer me a contract to get me home, but I'll take it." Roger pulls back, then shakes Mark's hand. "On behaf of my band, I accept. Now, sing with me?"
The band starts up the first strains of a song from the film. Mark grins at Roger, taking a deep breath and singing.
Don't breathe too deep, don't think all day, dive into work, drive the other way...
The song goes on, Roger and Mark more singing at each other than the assembled crowd. When the last notes die away, Mark and Roger hug each other tightly.
"I'm sorry, Mark. I overreacted."
"I should have been paying attention, Roger."
"I'll be home after the gig tonight."
"Good."
[ooc: Whitetext Without You from Rent.]
Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows. Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play,
Getting back to the Loft, the darkness and quiet seemed almost overwhelming. The only thing Mark could do was plop down on the couch and turn on the TV.
The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you. The earth turns the sun burn, but I die without you
The news is, as always, violent, barren. People getting robbed, shot, raped, along with the usual political shit. Shaking his head and swearing, Mark turns off the TV.
Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves. Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash
Standing, he walks over to the table, where a copy of the Village Voice was lying on the table. The front page was an article about Roger's band, and its new gigs. Grabbing the paper, Mark stares at it for a long moment, then collapses back on the couch.
The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry. Without you, the moon glows, the river flows, but I die, Without you.
A few moments pass, before Mark wipes his eyes, and goes to his desk, scribbling something down on a paper, changing into a suit and tie, then grabbing his bag and camera, a determined expression on his face.
The world revives, colors renew. But I know blue. Only blue, lonely blue, within me, blue. Without you.
He grabs a taxi to the club, and stands in the back while Roger and his band played. Between sets, he gets out his camera setting up a shot for the next set.
Without you, the hand gropes, the ear hears the pulse beats. Without you, the eyes gaze, the legs walk the lungs breathe
Halfway through the set, Roger notices Mark. Turning to the band, Roger whispered a few things to them, then turns back to the assembled crows. "We have a surprise for you, folks. It would seem that we're going have a surprise duet here. Mark, get your ass up here." For the first time in about a week, Mark cracks a smile, walking up to the stage, and stashing his camera in his bag. Roger laughs, eyeing Mark. "Damn, the Oscar-winning director's dressing the part tonight."
The mind churns, the heart yearns the tears dry, without you. Life goes on, but I'm gone, cause I die, Without you.
Mark laughs, shrugging. "Well, I might as well announce this in front of people. Today For You is opening a music recording studio and, as the head of that studio, I want to offer Roger Davis and his band the first recording contract." A cheer goes up from the crowd, Roger just boggling at Mark, then after a moment, glomping his friend.
"Dork, you didn't have to offer me a contract to get me home, but I'll take it." Roger pulls back, then shakes Mark's hand. "On behaf of my band, I accept. Now, sing with me?"
The band starts up the first strains of a song from the film. Mark grins at Roger, taking a deep breath and singing.
Don't breathe too deep, don't think all day, dive into work, drive the other way...
The song goes on, Roger and Mark more singing at each other than the assembled crowd. When the last notes die away, Mark and Roger hug each other tightly.
"I'm sorry, Mark. I overreacted."
"I should have been paying attention, Roger."
"I'll be home after the gig tonight."
"Good."
[ooc: Whitetext Without You from Rent.]
