Disclaimer: All characters belong to Jonathan Larson. One would think that
after all this time I would have found some way to kidnap them. But no, I
haven't. Anyway, the song used is by John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls.
Author's Note: Well here it is- the last chapter! I'm kindof sad to see it go up, despite the fact I wrote it a while ago. Thank you all for the consistant and supportive reviews, I appreciate them more than you know. Hopefully I'll keep writing and you all will keep reading. This chapter is pretty fluffy- a bit of a follow-up. But what else would you expect from me?
January:
Curls of smoke crawl their way up to my eyes as I scan the crowd at Brownies for Rick. Roger's first big "headlining" gig is tonight- he's really starting to make an underground name for himself. He gets more solo gigs, more people coming up to him to talk; he actually has a small sized fan base who devotedly attend his regular gigs. He's also in negotiations for a demo.
Roger and I are... together. We hug; we kiss, no matter I time of day it is. Roger's eliminated drugs from his life, claiming I'm his new drug. We're happy, together, boyfriends, whatever you want to call us. We don't really label ourselves and I've never heard him refer to me as his boyfriend. We don't readily tell people, but if people see us together, they deal with it.
Rick still comes to gigs with me. After the little mishap, I told and explained it to Roger who laughed and said something about me being a skank. Rick and I talked about it, and he admitted to having a crush on me, but had never planned to act on it. It was understood, and we got over it.
I see Rick's black hair and take the empty seat left open for me at the table off to the back, near the bar. Roger's already onstage tuning his guitar.
"Hey. Want a drink? I just ordered."
"Nah, no thanks."
"You sure? My treat."
"Corona," Rick waves the bartender over and I order.
The audience begins to applaud as Roger greets them into the mic. He plays a set of songs I've heard and long since memorized, until the last one. He introduces it as he looks at me, "This is a new song, actually. I wrote it while I was having a hard time dealing with some feelings," He smiles, "I'd like to dedicate this to Mark."
He's never even showed any kind of affection at a gig before, and now he's telling an entire room of strangers that this song is for me. There's a low murmur in the crowd and they follow his eyes to the back of the room and turn to look at me. I can't help but smile at him, who's trying to stifle a smile himself. His nimble fingers glide effortlessly over the strings and I immediately recognize the introduction as the song he's been playing lately in the loft; the one that I've never heard all of, except for mumbles of words that he sings too softly to be heard. He rests one foot on the bar of the stool, and the other foot sits on the floor. He closes his eyes and begins to sing a song I know is meant for me...
"Stranger than your sympathy, This is my apology. I'm killing myself from the inside out, And all my fears have pushed you out.
I wish for things that I don't need, All I wanted... And what I chase won't set me free. All I wanted... And I get scared but I'm not crawling on my knees.
Oh yeah, everything's all wrong, yeah. Everything's all wrong, yeah. Where the hell did I think I was?
Stranger than your sympathy, I take these things so I don't feel. I'm killing myself from the inside out; Now my head's been filled with doubt.
It's hard to lead the life you choose, All I wanted... When all your luck's run out on you. All I wanted... You can't see when all your dreams are coming true.
Oh yeah it's easy to forget, yeah. You choke on the regrets, yeah. Who the hell did I think I was?
Stranger than your sympathy, All these thoughts you stole from me. I'm not sure where I belong; Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong.
And I wasn't all the things I tried to make believe I was. And I wouldn't be the one to kneel Before the dreams I wanted. And all the talk and all the lies Were all the empty things disguised as me. Yeah stranger than your sympathy... stranger than your sympathy..."
He doesn't look at me throughout the song, but instead closes his eyes as I concentrate on him. His voice is so natural and rough from years of smoking, but it has a soothing effect on me... It's comforting; I've heard his voice for so many years and it's been a constant sound that's lulled me too sleep countless times. Just hearing it lets me slip into a familiar world where nothing matters but him and me.
The last notes dance around in my head as he thanks the audience above their cheers. He puts his guitar away, walks over to me and immediately plants a kiss on my lips. He's never shown this kind of affection somewhere like this before. I always thought he'd want to preserve his "image." But he wraps his fingers in mine, puts his other hand on my face, and pulls close to me and whispers, "I love you" in my ear, inaudible to everyone but me. We separate and he puts down his guitar. People start coming up to him and he answers their questions and talk to them willingly, still holding my hand.
Rick had gone home when Roger's set was over, and now everyone has pretty much dispersed. We put on our jackets and head out the door into the brisk air, holding hands and huddling together to vainly keep warm.
*
"Wanna go to the roof?"
"Not really."
"Come on... why not?
"It's 40 degrees out! You'll get sick."
"You can keep me warm, I'll be fine."
"No. It's too cold out."
"Mark," He makes those puppy dog eyes at me, "Please?"
"No!" He doesn't look away and I sigh, "Fine..."
We climb out the window and up the fire escape to the roof. He walks over to the corner and lifts up a blue blanket I recognize.
"You planned this," I should have known.
He shoots me a guilty smile, walks over to me and wraps us both up with his arms around my waist, while holding the blanket around us.
"See? I'm warm already."
I roll my eyes at him as he brings his lips to mine; I lift my hands to the back of his neck and intensify the kiss. Feelings of familiarity, lust, intimacy, desire, passion, comfort, and love wash over me as we break apart. He leans his forehead on mine and gives me another short kiss. I turn around and he keeps his hands around my waist. He nuzzles his head into my neck and kisses it. Even after a month and a half, I'm still in disbelief that this is actually happening... I can't remember life before this feeling, and I'm completely content living that way.
-end-
Author's Note: Well here it is- the last chapter! I'm kindof sad to see it go up, despite the fact I wrote it a while ago. Thank you all for the consistant and supportive reviews, I appreciate them more than you know. Hopefully I'll keep writing and you all will keep reading. This chapter is pretty fluffy- a bit of a follow-up. But what else would you expect from me?
January:
Curls of smoke crawl their way up to my eyes as I scan the crowd at Brownies for Rick. Roger's first big "headlining" gig is tonight- he's really starting to make an underground name for himself. He gets more solo gigs, more people coming up to him to talk; he actually has a small sized fan base who devotedly attend his regular gigs. He's also in negotiations for a demo.
Roger and I are... together. We hug; we kiss, no matter I time of day it is. Roger's eliminated drugs from his life, claiming I'm his new drug. We're happy, together, boyfriends, whatever you want to call us. We don't really label ourselves and I've never heard him refer to me as his boyfriend. We don't readily tell people, but if people see us together, they deal with it.
Rick still comes to gigs with me. After the little mishap, I told and explained it to Roger who laughed and said something about me being a skank. Rick and I talked about it, and he admitted to having a crush on me, but had never planned to act on it. It was understood, and we got over it.
I see Rick's black hair and take the empty seat left open for me at the table off to the back, near the bar. Roger's already onstage tuning his guitar.
"Hey. Want a drink? I just ordered."
"Nah, no thanks."
"You sure? My treat."
"Corona," Rick waves the bartender over and I order.
The audience begins to applaud as Roger greets them into the mic. He plays a set of songs I've heard and long since memorized, until the last one. He introduces it as he looks at me, "This is a new song, actually. I wrote it while I was having a hard time dealing with some feelings," He smiles, "I'd like to dedicate this to Mark."
He's never even showed any kind of affection at a gig before, and now he's telling an entire room of strangers that this song is for me. There's a low murmur in the crowd and they follow his eyes to the back of the room and turn to look at me. I can't help but smile at him, who's trying to stifle a smile himself. His nimble fingers glide effortlessly over the strings and I immediately recognize the introduction as the song he's been playing lately in the loft; the one that I've never heard all of, except for mumbles of words that he sings too softly to be heard. He rests one foot on the bar of the stool, and the other foot sits on the floor. He closes his eyes and begins to sing a song I know is meant for me...
"Stranger than your sympathy, This is my apology. I'm killing myself from the inside out, And all my fears have pushed you out.
I wish for things that I don't need, All I wanted... And what I chase won't set me free. All I wanted... And I get scared but I'm not crawling on my knees.
Oh yeah, everything's all wrong, yeah. Everything's all wrong, yeah. Where the hell did I think I was?
Stranger than your sympathy, I take these things so I don't feel. I'm killing myself from the inside out; Now my head's been filled with doubt.
It's hard to lead the life you choose, All I wanted... When all your luck's run out on you. All I wanted... You can't see when all your dreams are coming true.
Oh yeah it's easy to forget, yeah. You choke on the regrets, yeah. Who the hell did I think I was?
Stranger than your sympathy, All these thoughts you stole from me. I'm not sure where I belong; Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong.
And I wasn't all the things I tried to make believe I was. And I wouldn't be the one to kneel Before the dreams I wanted. And all the talk and all the lies Were all the empty things disguised as me. Yeah stranger than your sympathy... stranger than your sympathy..."
He doesn't look at me throughout the song, but instead closes his eyes as I concentrate on him. His voice is so natural and rough from years of smoking, but it has a soothing effect on me... It's comforting; I've heard his voice for so many years and it's been a constant sound that's lulled me too sleep countless times. Just hearing it lets me slip into a familiar world where nothing matters but him and me.
The last notes dance around in my head as he thanks the audience above their cheers. He puts his guitar away, walks over to me and immediately plants a kiss on my lips. He's never shown this kind of affection somewhere like this before. I always thought he'd want to preserve his "image." But he wraps his fingers in mine, puts his other hand on my face, and pulls close to me and whispers, "I love you" in my ear, inaudible to everyone but me. We separate and he puts down his guitar. People start coming up to him and he answers their questions and talk to them willingly, still holding my hand.
Rick had gone home when Roger's set was over, and now everyone has pretty much dispersed. We put on our jackets and head out the door into the brisk air, holding hands and huddling together to vainly keep warm.
*
"Wanna go to the roof?"
"Not really."
"Come on... why not?
"It's 40 degrees out! You'll get sick."
"You can keep me warm, I'll be fine."
"No. It's too cold out."
"Mark," He makes those puppy dog eyes at me, "Please?"
"No!" He doesn't look away and I sigh, "Fine..."
We climb out the window and up the fire escape to the roof. He walks over to the corner and lifts up a blue blanket I recognize.
"You planned this," I should have known.
He shoots me a guilty smile, walks over to me and wraps us both up with his arms around my waist, while holding the blanket around us.
"See? I'm warm already."
I roll my eyes at him as he brings his lips to mine; I lift my hands to the back of his neck and intensify the kiss. Feelings of familiarity, lust, intimacy, desire, passion, comfort, and love wash over me as we break apart. He leans his forehead on mine and gives me another short kiss. I turn around and he keeps his hands around my waist. He nuzzles his head into my neck and kisses it. Even after a month and a half, I'm still in disbelief that this is actually happening... I can't remember life before this feeling, and I'm completely content living that way.
-end-