Alright, let's get this ball a-rollin'. I've been actually very into writing Bohemia lately, so hopefully some good will come out of it. Basically, the chapters are going to pretty much flow like before (Mark and Benny, Collins and Roger, Angel and Mimi, Maureen and Alison)until the characters start to mingle. Joanne isn't going to show up for a while, and neither is April...at least until everyone gets to know each other.
So, with that said, let's go on to Mark and Benny, shall we? Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Alright, this will be the disclaimer for this chapter and any chapters after it. Jonathan Larson owns these babies, not me. I just merely create the situations and write them down.
One Minor Note: I know I mentioned Mark's camera before in Chapter One. Forget that. I have corrected it; we find out how Mark gets his camera in this chapter. He doesn't have it before this. Just so we're clear, and everyone knows.
Mark slammed his suitcase shut. He looked around the small accommodations and announced, "Well, I'm going," to the empty room. Sophomore year in college, and he was abandoning it all for his dream.Benny was gone; he had to say goodbye to a few people first.
He knew his parents would be furious. His father would say that it was doomed to happen; he could see it in Mark as a child, the ability to go nowhere. His mother would sob and shake her head, wondering who got a hold of her son, who changed her baby?
Later on, they would blame it mostly on Roger, but really it was Benny that started the ball rolling. Actually, Mark would think to himself how similar Benny and Roger really were, even though both of them would deny it straight up and down. Rooming with Benny help prepare him for Roger...in a few ways. But Mark was far from that point now. He was still so naive, still a child. He had always thought about leaving Brown, even when he first got there.
"Here," Benny said their first Christmas, tossing Mark a box. "Merry Christmas, Cohen."
Mark flushed. "Benny, you know I don't—"
"Celebrate Christmas? Well, yeah, I know." The older of the pair rolled his eyes. "Happy Hanukkah, whatever. Just take the damn present, boy!" Benny slapped Mark on the back and grinned.
The wrapping paper was still mostly on the package, so Mark gently tore open a section. "A...a camera?"
"Yeah, a camera! You really want to be a film maker, doncha? Here's your chance, Mark." Benny motioned to the camera. "Film."
Mark flushed and stuttered. "B-but, this is—"
"From my girlfriend, and I don't need a camera anyway," Benny finished, patting the cell phone his mother gave him. "If it were me, I'd probably put it in the back of the closet and it'd never be seen again. But you'd take it out, you'd put it to good use!"
"Thanks," Mark said, and smiled at his roommate. Benny couldn't help but beaming back. It was the first real smile he'd ever seen on Mark's face, and was happy he could make someone happy on Christmas...even if Mark was Jewish.
Benny winked. "So open it up. There are some batteries somewhere, if you need them...I think...maybe...okay, so we might have to go buy some if needed..." And thus began Mark Cohen's love affair with his camera.
Although it wasn't always attached to his side like it would be later on in his life, Mark often had it stashed in his bag, just in case something had to be captured. Mark had always written screenplays, even as a little child, and thought that maybe, with this camera, he could finally get somewhere in the film business. Mark would never forget that Benny gave him the camera; in fact, you could say Benny started this all, that all the friendships and relationships to come were because of Benny.
The camera was packed safely away in its bag, hanging from Mark's shoulder. His suitcase wasn't too terribly heavy, and he lifted it with no real difficulty. Out the door, time to go, time to start your life.
New York was Mark's idea, really. "I'd want to go there," Mark mused aloud one day, and Benny looked over his English textbook.
"Where?"
"New York."
As Mark let out a little sigh, Benny grinned. "Well, we should go there. Together. In the old days," Benny said, looking back to his text, "they said that New York was where you went to become a somebody." And who doesn't want to be a somebody? New York, the Big Apple, the City of Lights...or, State of Lights, Mark supposed, if you wanted to be that correct about it. Plan was simple. Hop a bus line. Not too terribly expensive, but they could go unnoticed. And if the bus line didn't go all the way to New York, well...they'd figure out something, wouldn't they?
Mark boarded the bus, ticket in hand. He had a lot of money saved up (he had fears of going broke...go figure), and had most of it in his pocket. He waited for Benny to come on, sit beside him, and they could talk about what they were going to do as the bus drove into and out of nights and days.
But Benny never came.
Mark started to panic as the bus started to roll. He pressed his face against the window, searching for Benny's face in the crowd...but it wasn't any use.
Benny never came.
Mark felt like crying as the bus sped onto the road, bumping and lurching its way to the highway that would take him to his destination. He shook his head. Dammit. Dammit, what had happened? Benny told him this morning that everything would be okay, that he'd get here on time! What had happened? ...What went wrong? Mark's eyes widened. Oh jesus. Maybe something happened to him! Mark started to search through his bag frantically, trying to find Benny's cell phone number...he had given it to Mark that very Christmas day, saying if they ever needed to get in touch...
And then the note slipped out.
Mark looked at the pure white envelope, sleek and thin. His heart was beating fast, but it seemed to slow down. What...what was this? He opened it, took out the note, and started to read.
"Mark.
By the time you read this, you're probably wondering, 'Where the hell is Benny?' Well, I know how you worry, Mark. I'm okay, don't worry, I'm fine, I'm not at the hospital or anything.
I'm not coming to New York.
Just...hold on. Look, I'm nearing the end of senior year. End of graduating college. Maybe you could afford to skip out on your parents, but I can't. Remember how I told you I worked hard to get into this school? I did, and I can't just waste those four years of my life when graduation is so soon. I...I want to get somewhere in this life, Mark. I need to. I have high goals, and to meet them, I have to do this, I have to stay.
Look, Mark, it's not you. You're a pretty fucking awesome kid, when you stop being nervous and start being yourself. You and I, we were pretty good friends there. I hope we still are, but...well, if you hated me for doing this, I wouldn't blame you either. I just wanted you to know why I'm not on that bus with you.
Don't freak. In the envelope, there's more money for you. I know you have some...and what I gave you is half my share. It's still a pretty good amount, should be able to help you. I'm planning on coming once everything is said and done over here in Rhode Island. But until that time, well...you're on your own, Mark.
Look, I was at NY once. I know some places that should be open to people like you. I've listed the addresses below...and my cousin's apartment. You show him this note, and he should let you in, no problem. Well, I don't know if he's still living there (said he was going to give it to a good friend of his), but the offer should still apply. My cell phone number's also there. I know you too well, Mark; I figured you probably lost it and started to panic trying to find it. But...call me when you get to New York. Don't...don't call me unless you're there. I mean, I would say call me if you need help, but I couldn't really help, could I? Just keep this letter. It should help you find some place.
...Mark, I'm sorry. You're one of the best friends I've had in my life, and that's saying something. You're a good guy inside, even if you are a little naive. Just protect yourself, Mark. Don't get into much trouble. And film some shit, man! I want to see some home movies when I get my ass to NY, you hear me?
I'll see you around, Mark. Keep your head up.
-Benny."
Mark sighed, and read the letter over three times more before looking out the window. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about Benny. The blond peeked into the envelope, and practically squeaked. There must have been three hundred dollars in there! He shuffled through the bills, feeling guilty. He was determined to pay Benny back. But for now...for now, he'd just do what he could to survive.
Five addresses were listed on the letter, and then a single phone number—Benny's. Mark took in a deep inhale, and let out a loud sigh.
Well, here's to nothing. Mark took out his camera, and turned it on.
"It's...October 17th, eight p.m, Eastern Standard time. Mark Cohen begins his journey into the unknown, the poor naive boy not really knowing what lay ahead of him—"
"Could you please shut up?" a woman snapped behind him, and he peeked inbetween the cracks, his blue eyes shining.
"Sorry, ma'am." The woman made a little noise, then snuggled into the seat and closed her eyes again. Mark looked back to the camera and whispered, "It's going to be one fucking hell of a wild ride." He paused. "Let's see what happens."
Click.
Next Up: Somethin' is going down at the loft. We get to meet Roger's bandmates, and of course, more Roger and Collins goodness.
(And I know people read this. In fact, lots of people have tuned into this tiny ficlet. I don't bite! Reviews are wonderful things, dears! I want to hear your opinions! And I'll answer any questions, so don't hesitate to speak up if something is confusing...or I need correcting on something. Ahem. Anyhoo. Much love, poppets!)