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bohemian_markA knock came on Roger's door, softly. "Mark, man, you know you can just come in." Roger shook his head. Only Mark could make a knock sound as timid as that.
Mark walks in, and leans on the wall across from the bed Roger's sprawled on with his guitar. "Hey. Uh, where's Mimi?"
Roger sat up, shrugging. "I think she went out with a couple of the cast girls to get a drink at the restaurant. Don't worry, man. She's out for a while if you need to talk." There's something on Mark's face that worries Roger at the moment. "Get your ass over here and tell me what's going on."
Sighing, Mark wandered over, and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's actually not me for once, Roger. It's, uh, well, something about you."
He stared at the blonde man for a moment, then just raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Alright, so what'd I do to you this time?"
"No, Roger. It's not what you did, it's who I..." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "April's at the bar. I was talking to her the other day. Hell, I don't even know if I should be telling you this or not, but it's probably better to mention it than to just let it hang in the air."
Roger's breath caught in his throat, and he gaped quietly at his roommate. "You've talked to April? How is she? How much've you told her?" So many things crossed his mind, the withdrawal, the pain, the months of trying to write, punctuated by Mark's attempts at pulling him out of it all.
"I've told her what's happened since the film came out. But not much before it. And, well, she's doing well." He pauses. "She wants to come here, Roger. She wants to see you, and Mimi, and the set and things." He pauses, a pregnant question hanging in the air.
"I... I don't even know what to say, Mark. Hell, in some ways, I still love her. I don't know what the hell'd I do if I had to choose between them." He pauses, and then a smirk crosses his face. "But then again... if I didn't have to choose..."
"God, Roger. I didn't need to be thinking that mental picture." Mark facepalms, shaking his head.
"Come on, man. You can't tell me that you haven't thought of Maureen and Sara together. It would be hot, gotta admit that."
"They'd get along like oil and water, Roger, you know that. Sara'd punch Maureen in the face... but come to think of it, that might be... no. I'm not thinking like that."
Roger snorts loudly, cracking up at his friend. "Yes you are, man. Give in to your dirty side. Hell, you've lived with us here for long enough, I think you can handle a few dirty thoughts."
Mark shook his head, face serious for a moment. "Roger, I shouldn't be thinking of your girlfriend and ex-girlfriend like that."
"Hell, Mark. They're hot. I know that. You know that. I know you'd die before you put the moves on anyone I was with, so think all you want, man."
Mark just shook his head. "Still, Roger. I'd feel guilty." He already feels guilty enough for slightly crushing on Angel.
"Don't worry about it, man. Seriously. Come on, let's go get a drink. I think we're both thinking too much. And you're turning into a workaholic on me." Roger smirked.
"I am not! I'm just caught up in what I'm doing. Roger, please smack me if I ever become too caught up in...." Mark was cut off by Roger, smacking him upside of the head.
"You are too caught up in it, Mark. Now just shut up and come on. We should go get smashed, and forget that film and music, and strange bars and ex-girlfriends exist." Roger got up from the bed, and pulled Mark to his feet. "Move it, filmboy. You might have a few Oscars collecting dust, but you're still my annoying roommate."
Mark snorted, shaking his head. "And you might be a huge rock star, but you're still the lump on the couch who calls himself my roommate."
They walked out the door together, laughing, almost as if the past few years were just a blur of possibility.
Mark walks in, and leans on the wall across from the bed Roger's sprawled on with his guitar. "Hey. Uh, where's Mimi?"
Roger sat up, shrugging. "I think she went out with a couple of the cast girls to get a drink at the restaurant. Don't worry, man. She's out for a while if you need to talk." There's something on Mark's face that worries Roger at the moment. "Get your ass over here and tell me what's going on."
Sighing, Mark wandered over, and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's actually not me for once, Roger. It's, uh, well, something about you."
He stared at the blonde man for a moment, then just raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Alright, so what'd I do to you this time?"
"No, Roger. It's not what you did, it's who I..." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "April's at the bar. I was talking to her the other day. Hell, I don't even know if I should be telling you this or not, but it's probably better to mention it than to just let it hang in the air."
Roger's breath caught in his throat, and he gaped quietly at his roommate. "You've talked to April? How is she? How much've you told her?" So many things crossed his mind, the withdrawal, the pain, the months of trying to write, punctuated by Mark's attempts at pulling him out of it all.
"I've told her what's happened since the film came out. But not much before it. And, well, she's doing well." He pauses. "She wants to come here, Roger. She wants to see you, and Mimi, and the set and things." He pauses, a pregnant question hanging in the air.
"I... I don't even know what to say, Mark. Hell, in some ways, I still love her. I don't know what the hell'd I do if I had to choose between them." He pauses, and then a smirk crosses his face. "But then again... if I didn't have to choose..."
"God, Roger. I didn't need to be thinking that mental picture." Mark facepalms, shaking his head.
"Come on, man. You can't tell me that you haven't thought of Maureen and Sara together. It would be hot, gotta admit that."
"They'd get along like oil and water, Roger, you know that. Sara'd punch Maureen in the face... but come to think of it, that might be... no. I'm not thinking like that."
Roger snorts loudly, cracking up at his friend. "Yes you are, man. Give in to your dirty side. Hell, you've lived with us here for long enough, I think you can handle a few dirty thoughts."
Mark shook his head, face serious for a moment. "Roger, I shouldn't be thinking of your girlfriend and ex-girlfriend like that."
"Hell, Mark. They're hot. I know that. You know that. I know you'd die before you put the moves on anyone I was with, so think all you want, man."
Mark just shook his head. "Still, Roger. I'd feel guilty." He already feels guilty enough for slightly crushing on Angel.
"Don't worry about it, man. Seriously. Come on, let's go get a drink. I think we're both thinking too much. And you're turning into a workaholic on me." Roger smirked.
"I am not! I'm just caught up in what I'm doing. Roger, please smack me if I ever become too caught up in...." Mark was cut off by Roger, smacking him upside of the head.
"You are too caught up in it, Mark. Now just shut up and come on. We should go get smashed, and forget that film and music, and strange bars and ex-girlfriends exist." Roger got up from the bed, and pulled Mark to his feet. "Move it, filmboy. You might have a few Oscars collecting dust, but you're still my annoying roommate."
Mark snorted, shaking his head. "And you might be a huge rock star, but you're still the lump on the couch who calls himself my roommate."
They walked out the door together, laughing, almost as if the past few years were just a blur of possibility.
