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find_rightbrainTitle: Perfect Where We Started
Chapter: Three - Corners and Shadows
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Benny, Benny/Alison, mention of Collins
Word Count: 1583
Rating: PG
Summary: Things always return to their natural state, but the way back isn't always easy.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 prompts #86, 75 and 57.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
List of Chapters
Ten years ago
"It's writing a screenplay, Benny, not brain surgery. And it's a first draft. Not everything has to be perfect the first time around."
Benny had been trying to ignore Mark hovering over his shoulder, looking at every word he wrote down, but it was impossible to ignore him when he kept making comments like that. He sighed and dropped his pen, turning in his chair to look up at Mark. "You want to give me a break? You're not the one writing this. Actually, you asked me to write this for you."
"Well yeah, I'm just saying." Mark pulled up a chair to sit beside Benny, leaning against the desk with a bit of a smile.
"Just saying what?" Benny asked, although that smile from Mark did quite a bit to make him forget any aggravation he'd been feeling before.
"That... it doesn't have to be perfect!" Mark answered with a shrug.
Benny rolled his eyes and picked up his pen again, staring at the notebook in front of him and the scene he'd been trying to write. It was crap. He wasn't going to kid himself about that, even if Mark seemed to like his writing... He wasn't sure at this point why he'd let Mark talk him into this. After a pause, he turned to look at Mark again. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"
Mark made a face, reaching over to take Benny's notebook and flip back through the last few pages. "Probably. This is more interesting."
"What is?"
Mark paused and looked up at Benny, looking a little surprised, and he took a moment to answer, as if he wasn't quite sure of the right response himself. "Talking to you," he said after a while.
Benny grinned, not sure why. "Well, regardless of whether it's not interesting, I still think you should be studying. It's... what, a week until finals start."
"What about you?" Mark asked, the question almost a challenge. "Should you be studying too?"
"I have been studying, and what I'm doing now is taking a well-deserved break... if trying to write a screenplay for you can be called a break. Whereas I have yet to see you so much as crack a book."
"Well, yeah..." Mark admitted slowly. "It's just... I can think of about twenty things I'd rather be doing than studying, all of which have far more to do with my future than... whatever class I'm supposed to be doing homework for."
Rolling his eyes, Benny shot Mark an exasperated look. "Name one thing."
Mark didn't actually give his answer aloud. Instead, he leaned forward to kiss Benny full on the lips and, too startled to jump back and demand to know just what he meant by that, Benny just sat there for a moment... and then hesitantly returned the kiss, a little shyly – but Mark was blushing bright red, so Benny supposed he could be forgiven a little shyness. He had to agree with Mark, though. He would choose this over school work any day.
*
Present
"Alison, listen to me– No, you're not..." Benny paused and tightened his grip on the phone, only half-listening to her all but screaming at him, his temper rapidly wearing thin. He couldn't even remember why he was having this conversation, why he'd called her in the first place and what purpose he'd thought that would serve. Half of him wanted to tell her he was sorry, pack up his things and go back to Westport or their apartment in the city... He tried to remember where she'd be staying, just now, and found that he couldn't. He had to wonder if maybe that wasn't some kind of indication of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
Benny waited, silently, keeping his jaw clenched tight so he wouldn't snap at her and say something he'd regret. He couldn't blame her for being mad at him, because he couldn't say he wouldn't do or feel the same in her position, but... God. She acted like it had been love, when at the warmest it was only ever friendship, and they both knew it. He waited until she wound down, until the anger ran out – for now, at least – and then he spoke as quietly as he could while still being heard, if only because he couldn't summon the energy to be angry.
"Ali–" he began, and paused, feeling oddly that that familiar a nickname might set her off again, so he quickly corrected himself. "Alison. I'm sorry, alright? That's... that's all I wanted to say. I don't want anything from you, and God knows I haven't got anything you want, so... that's all. I'll talk to you later. If you want."
He hung up the phone before she could say anything more, and stared at it for a second, half-expecting that it would ring again a minute later, just so Alison could make one more angry accusation.
It didn't.
He left it there, forcing himself to ignore it, as he walked across the bare floor to grab his jacket off the back of a chair. He noted distantly that he ought to get a rug before winter really hit, the floor would get cold then... It almost made him hate himself, that he couldn't even turn his mind away from practical things anymore, even now. He used to be able to, but something had happened between then and now that made it... different.
Benny knew he'd go crazy, sitting here in his apartment, with that phone sitting there. So he walked out, the phone still there on the bare counter top, pointedly not ringing.
It wasn't as cold outside as he'd have expected, being early November already, but nevertheless it didn't particularly surprise him. Winter usually came on suddenly in this city, unannounced, without preamble, one day sunny and only a little chilly, the next gray and bitterly cold. For now it was pleasant, though, so Benny walked the block down to the park, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, eyes slowly shifting over buildings, people, both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. It was strange, to be walking around this part of the city, to live here, and yet not feel at all as if it were home. To be truthful, though, he couldn't think of any place that really was home.
He ended up on a bench in the park, shaded by the trees, a little cold but not enough that he wanted to move. Anyway, it was marginally quieter in this corner of the park, and this place – the park, this corner of the park, this very bench – was one of the few places that felt familiar and comfortable. It had changed, certainly, because everything had, but he could see in corners and shadows reflections of the place it had been, almost ten years ago.
*
Ten years ago
Benny and Mark both slept through their along, though slept throughmay not have been the best term when Benny rolled over at exactly 8:30 AM and hit the button to turn it off. He then turned back to Mark, slipped an arm around his waist once more, and went back to sleep. He woke up again at around eleven, and lay there silently until Mark started to stir as well, some time later.
"What time is it?" he mumbled into his pillow.
Benny propped himself up on his elbow to look at the clock. "Eleven forty five." He glanced to Mark. "Don't you have a class right now?"
"Probably. It's Thursday, right?"
"Yeah."
"I can skip it." Mark pushed himself up, pressed a kiss to Benny's temple, and went to search through probably dirty laundry for a shirt.
"You skipped class the last couple days," Benny pointed out.
"What are you, my mother?" Mark's voice was a little muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head.
"God, I hope not."
Mark grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching Benny. "You want to go get breakfast or something?"
"Actually, I think it's lunchtime by now."
"Okay, fine. Lunch then."
"Sure. I've got to go shower first, but..."
Mark stuck out his tongue, but didn't say anything, just lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Not that the ceiling was very exciting, as far as Benny could tell. Benny started to gather his towel and clothes to go to the shower, but paused in the middle of it, glancing over at his roommate.
"Hey. I, um... I have a friend who lives in New York, and he asked me to come out there for the weekend. Do you... want to come with me?"
He knew how much Mark loved the city, knew he wanted to move there after he graduated, so he wasn't entirely surprised when mark sat up and grinned at him, looking somewhat like a child who'd just been offered a treat. "Absolutely."
Two days later, Mark's blue suitcase sat in Tom's loft in the East Village, and Mark and Benny sat together on a bench in Tompkin's Square Park, a little cold sitting there in the shade of the trees in mid-April, but neither of them particularly noticed that.
Chapter: Three - Corners and Shadows
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Benny, Benny/Alison, mention of Collins
Word Count: 1583
Rating: PG
Summary: Things always return to their natural state, but the way back isn't always easy.
Notes: Written for
fanfic100 prompts #86, 75 and 57.Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
List of Chapters
Ten years ago
"It's writing a screenplay, Benny, not brain surgery. And it's a first draft. Not everything has to be perfect the first time around."
Benny had been trying to ignore Mark hovering over his shoulder, looking at every word he wrote down, but it was impossible to ignore him when he kept making comments like that. He sighed and dropped his pen, turning in his chair to look up at Mark. "You want to give me a break? You're not the one writing this. Actually, you asked me to write this for you."
"Well yeah, I'm just saying." Mark pulled up a chair to sit beside Benny, leaning against the desk with a bit of a smile.
"Just saying what?" Benny asked, although that smile from Mark did quite a bit to make him forget any aggravation he'd been feeling before.
"That... it doesn't have to be perfect!" Mark answered with a shrug.
Benny rolled his eyes and picked up his pen again, staring at the notebook in front of him and the scene he'd been trying to write. It was crap. He wasn't going to kid himself about that, even if Mark seemed to like his writing... He wasn't sure at this point why he'd let Mark talk him into this. After a pause, he turned to look at Mark again. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"
Mark made a face, reaching over to take Benny's notebook and flip back through the last few pages. "Probably. This is more interesting."
"What is?"
Mark paused and looked up at Benny, looking a little surprised, and he took a moment to answer, as if he wasn't quite sure of the right response himself. "Talking to you," he said after a while.
Benny grinned, not sure why. "Well, regardless of whether it's not interesting, I still think you should be studying. It's... what, a week until finals start."
"What about you?" Mark asked, the question almost a challenge. "Should you be studying too?"
"I have been studying, and what I'm doing now is taking a well-deserved break... if trying to write a screenplay for you can be called a break. Whereas I have yet to see you so much as crack a book."
"Well, yeah..." Mark admitted slowly. "It's just... I can think of about twenty things I'd rather be doing than studying, all of which have far more to do with my future than... whatever class I'm supposed to be doing homework for."
Rolling his eyes, Benny shot Mark an exasperated look. "Name one thing."
Mark didn't actually give his answer aloud. Instead, he leaned forward to kiss Benny full on the lips and, too startled to jump back and demand to know just what he meant by that, Benny just sat there for a moment... and then hesitantly returned the kiss, a little shyly – but Mark was blushing bright red, so Benny supposed he could be forgiven a little shyness. He had to agree with Mark, though. He would choose this over school work any day.
Present
"Alison, listen to me– No, you're not..." Benny paused and tightened his grip on the phone, only half-listening to her all but screaming at him, his temper rapidly wearing thin. He couldn't even remember why he was having this conversation, why he'd called her in the first place and what purpose he'd thought that would serve. Half of him wanted to tell her he was sorry, pack up his things and go back to Westport or their apartment in the city... He tried to remember where she'd be staying, just now, and found that he couldn't. He had to wonder if maybe that wasn't some kind of indication of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
Benny waited, silently, keeping his jaw clenched tight so he wouldn't snap at her and say something he'd regret. He couldn't blame her for being mad at him, because he couldn't say he wouldn't do or feel the same in her position, but... God. She acted like it had been love, when at the warmest it was only ever friendship, and they both knew it. He waited until she wound down, until the anger ran out – for now, at least – and then he spoke as quietly as he could while still being heard, if only because he couldn't summon the energy to be angry.
"Ali–" he began, and paused, feeling oddly that that familiar a nickname might set her off again, so he quickly corrected himself. "Alison. I'm sorry, alright? That's... that's all I wanted to say. I don't want anything from you, and God knows I haven't got anything you want, so... that's all. I'll talk to you later. If you want."
He hung up the phone before she could say anything more, and stared at it for a second, half-expecting that it would ring again a minute later, just so Alison could make one more angry accusation.
It didn't.
He left it there, forcing himself to ignore it, as he walked across the bare floor to grab his jacket off the back of a chair. He noted distantly that he ought to get a rug before winter really hit, the floor would get cold then... It almost made him hate himself, that he couldn't even turn his mind away from practical things anymore, even now. He used to be able to, but something had happened between then and now that made it... different.
Benny knew he'd go crazy, sitting here in his apartment, with that phone sitting there. So he walked out, the phone still there on the bare counter top, pointedly not ringing.
It wasn't as cold outside as he'd have expected, being early November already, but nevertheless it didn't particularly surprise him. Winter usually came on suddenly in this city, unannounced, without preamble, one day sunny and only a little chilly, the next gray and bitterly cold. For now it was pleasant, though, so Benny walked the block down to the park, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, eyes slowly shifting over buildings, people, both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. It was strange, to be walking around this part of the city, to live here, and yet not feel at all as if it were home. To be truthful, though, he couldn't think of any place that really was home.
He ended up on a bench in the park, shaded by the trees, a little cold but not enough that he wanted to move. Anyway, it was marginally quieter in this corner of the park, and this place – the park, this corner of the park, this very bench – was one of the few places that felt familiar and comfortable. It had changed, certainly, because everything had, but he could see in corners and shadows reflections of the place it had been, almost ten years ago.
Ten years ago
Benny and Mark both slept through their along, though slept throughmay not have been the best term when Benny rolled over at exactly 8:30 AM and hit the button to turn it off. He then turned back to Mark, slipped an arm around his waist once more, and went back to sleep. He woke up again at around eleven, and lay there silently until Mark started to stir as well, some time later.
"What time is it?" he mumbled into his pillow.
Benny propped himself up on his elbow to look at the clock. "Eleven forty five." He glanced to Mark. "Don't you have a class right now?"
"Probably. It's Thursday, right?"
"Yeah."
"I can skip it." Mark pushed himself up, pressed a kiss to Benny's temple, and went to search through probably dirty laundry for a shirt.
"You skipped class the last couple days," Benny pointed out.
"What are you, my mother?" Mark's voice was a little muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head.
"God, I hope not."
Mark grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching Benny. "You want to go get breakfast or something?"
"Actually, I think it's lunchtime by now."
"Okay, fine. Lunch then."
"Sure. I've got to go shower first, but..."
Mark stuck out his tongue, but didn't say anything, just lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Not that the ceiling was very exciting, as far as Benny could tell. Benny started to gather his towel and clothes to go to the shower, but paused in the middle of it, glancing over at his roommate.
"Hey. I, um... I have a friend who lives in New York, and he asked me to come out there for the weekend. Do you... want to come with me?"
He knew how much Mark loved the city, knew he wanted to move there after he graduated, so he wasn't entirely surprised when mark sat up and grinned at him, looking somewhat like a child who'd just been offered a treat. "Absolutely."
Two days later, Mark's blue suitcase sat in Tom's loft in the East Village, and Mark and Benny sat together on a bench in Tompkin's Square Park, a little cold sitting there in the shade of the trees in mid-April, but neither of them particularly noticed that.