Author: Ginny

Title: Close Up

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, Romance

Words: 980

Summary: "Really? I thought you were someone else..."

Notes: Belated birthday present for Lisa. Slanted bold like this is Mark's thoughts. Plain bold like this is Roger's thoughts.

Special thanks: To anyone who reviews. You make my world turn. I love you guys.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. They belong to the beloved Jonathon Larson. His memory will live on in our hearts forever.

----

Close up on Mark, a film maker, sitting alone editing his latest film. He is very pale and looks incredibly sick. He has recently begun withdrawing from his social life to finish his films. He spends all of his spare time working on his films, never leaving the loft for anything except to film more fill-in footage.

Enter Roger, a struggling musician who is HIV+ and has a deep understanding and love for Mark. Though a closer relationship began to start between them, Mark's withdrawing had taken it's toll.

Pan left.

Close on the clock on the wall. Zoom in on the hands ticking slowly. Slowly zoom out. Enter in the sound of Roger's musical voice, singing a low chord while finding the identical chord on his fender guitar.

Close up on Mark, who is frowning in concentration on a particularly difficult shot.

"This is a tricky shot. You've got to have a deep appreciation for Bohemia to understand it...and I'm not sure if Buzzline viewers have any idea what that means..." Mark mused to himself. Roger looked up from his notebook and guitar, a questioning look on his face. "Are you talking to me?"
"Not at all," Mark mumbled back softly.

"I haven't gotten to really talk to you lately, Marky. What's going on? We used to be so tight, but now I barely know you. You hardly admit my existance in this world. You are so set on your work, you don't talk to anyone but yourself. You look so pale...are you alright?" Roger asked, concern flooding his voice.

Mark barely looked up. He didn't even acknowledge Roger was talking to him. He continued to stare intently a shot. He was particularly puzzled as to how to handle it. I could easily put another shot in there, but...how would that affect the overall piece?

Close up on Roger's hurt experssion.

"Mark, I really miss you. I miss being with you. The sweet kisses, the late nights...God, where did all that go? You don't know anything except filmmaking. You've forgotten about the things that matter most. You've forgotten how to love. How to live. I don't know how much longer I will be here, Mark, but I want to stay with you forever. I love you so much. Please just acknowledge me. In some way. Just nod if you hear me! Please. Notice me," Roger pleaded. "Please."

Roger's green orbs stared intently at Mark. Please say something. Please. Marky, you've got to understand how much I love you. Please understand. Please respond. Say something. Anything! Just show me you heard me and you understand and you care.

Mark continued to stare blankly at the footage playing on the screen. Maybe I could add in a shot of April...

"Marky, please remember. Please say something. We used to be so close..." Roger began, smiling faintly at a memory that was playing in his mind. "You got me through withdrawal, you were by my side through April and Mimi's deaths, we were together through Angel's death, through Collins' death, our first date, our first kiss. I even gave you your nickname. Marky. Don't you remember?"

Mark looked up blankly. "Of course I do. I'm just busy that's all."

"When are you going to have time for me? Haven't you heard a thing I've said?" Roger asked, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Every word," Mark waved his hand blandly.

You haven't heard a thing. You don't even care. "Oh, Marky..." Roger whispered sadly.

Mark didn't hear anything more as he cut together more of shots. He was coming up to his favourite shot in the whole movie.

"Marky, don't you care anymore? Don't you care about us?" Roger asked, destitute. Mark once again ignored Roger's pleas.

"Just leave me alone, please. I'm very busy, Rog. We can talk later," Mark replied, studying the shot and marking parts to remove.

Roger continued. "No, Marky, we need to talk about this now."

Mark glared hard at Roger before grabbing his camera and heading for the door.

"Hey! Where are you going? Hey!" Roger called after the filmmaker.

"What?" Mark asked, clearly overly-irritated.

"...what's your name?" Roger inquired the retreating figure.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. What's your name?" Roger repeated slowly.

"Mark Cohen, infamous director, screenwriter, and film maker," Mark hissed angrily. "Happy? Can I leave now?"
Roger made no motion to stop him, so Mark turned and left angrily. Not understanding that he would never see Roger again.

"Funny, I thought you were someone else," Roger whispered sadly, turning to go into the pink-stained bathroom one last time.

The projector continues to play the movie that no one ever turned off.

A shot of Roger smiling widely comes across the screen. The camera is turned upside down as Mark is pulled on-screen by Roger. Both are smiling widely.

Roger whispers "I love you" to Mark, who is staring intently into Roger's eyes.

Everything behind them becomes blurred as Mark gently pulls Roger into a kiss. Their first one. Mark stands in Roger's arms, revelling in the stronger boy's embrace.

"I love you, Roger Davis. And I always will." Mark whispers to back to Roger.

The shot ends with white letters flashing across the black screen.

Mark and Roger, Perfect Lovers. Forever.

...Blackness...

---

...Thoughts?