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find_rightbrainTitle: In the Eyes of a Young Girl
Chapter: Twenty-Three - Detach from Feeling Alive
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Roger/April, Mark, Collins, Maureen
Word Count: 2007
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
Chapter Index
Chapter Twenty-Two
"A man who embraces the voice of evil when it whispers in his ear is no less evil than the whisperer." - Shadow of the Giant, Orson Scott Card
April held her breath as Tom pushed open the door to the hospital room where they were keeping Roger, unsure what she was afraid of seeing—he was awake, after all—but let out the breath when she stepped in, past Tom, and saw Roger awake and with the oxygen mask off, turning to look at her and Tom as they entered, and Mark in a chair beside the bed, quiet, not quite as pale as he’d been before but still clearly worried. She rushed over to the edge of the bed, tempted to hug him, but aware that that probably wasn’t the best idea if he had a broken rib. Instead, she sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over.
“Are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth twisting into a wry smirk. “Yeah, it hurts. I broke a rib. It’s not exactly fun…”
She clenched her jaw, irritated by the sarcasm in response to a simple question, but fought down her annoyance. “Well, I mean, aside from that. When I was in here before, you didn’t look like… You didn’t look so good.”
Roger rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotten these questions about twenty times from Mark—” Mark looked at the ground at that, a little embarrassed— “and every single doctor or nurse who’s been in here since I woke up. I’m fine. I wish you’d all just believe me when I say so.”
April sighed, trying to fight down her frustration. She didn’t quite manage it, and snapped, “I’m sorry, Roger. You’ve got to expect people to be a little worried about you when you’re stupid enough to get yourself almost killed. I talked to the doctors, Roger. You stopped breathing for a while. I’m sorry if I’m a little concerned after hearing that, but you’re just going to have to put up with it.”
He stared at her in disbelief and annoyance, wordless for several seconds. He rubbed at his arms unthinkingly as he did so, and April flinched as she noticed that, only drawing her eyes away from his arms when he spoke again. “Are you actually… Are you serious? I almost got myself killed? That car slammed into me, or didn’t the doctors tell you that?”
For a second or two, April just watched him silently. Mark and Tom eyed her in concern, neither of them liking the turn of the conversation but uncertain how to interrupt. April’s eyes flickered to Roger’s arms again, back to his face… Her voice was quiet when she finally said, “You pulled out into the middle of an intersection. Through a red light. So either you just weren’t thinking, or… Were you high? I don’t suppose they’d have had the time to test for that while they were trying to keep you alive, would they?” She fought the urge to rub at her own arm through the sleeve of her sweatshirt. God, it hurt, and…
His expression darkened as he looked up at her, and he growled softly, “No, I wasn’t.” But he shifted his arms a little bit as he said so, so the others couldn’t see the insides of his forearms. April saw, and pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. Damn it, he had been, and… She couldn’t bring herself to push him any further on that point, though.
“So why didn’t you tell them that you were allergic to penicillin before they gave it to you? Did you just not know, or…?”
“He knew,” Mark said quietly from beside the bed. That earned him a glare from Roger, but Mark kept his eyes down, avoiding looking at either Roger or April. This entire conversation made him uncomfortable, and April could see it. She watched Mark for a moment before turning back to Roger.
Roger preempted her question before she could say anything. “I forgot to tell them. It didn’t seem important at the time, and—”
April slid off the edge of the bed, stalking to the other end of the room. She couldn’t sit beside him right now, not when she was tempted to just smack him for sheer idiocy. “Didn’t seem important? Roger, were you even listening to me before? Does any of this get through your head at all? You almost died. That’s important, damn it!”
“But I didn’t die,” he said stubbornly. “I’m sitting right here, alive and to be perfectly honest getting annoyed that you won’t stop lecturing me like a five year old. If you’re not going to—”
April laughed, though it was a laugh with no humor to it at all. “A five year old has more common sense than you do, Roger.At least they know that red light means stop and green light means go. You scared me to death. The last thing I need after this past month is to get a phone call and hear that you’ve been in a car crash after my best friend…” She sighed and folded her arms over her chest, turning away from him. Her cuts stung as the sweatshirt sleeve rubbed against them. “I’m sorry, Roger, I can’t stay here right now. Because if I do, I’m afraid I might have to smack you. When you can act your age, I’ll talk to you again.”
She stepped out the door before Roger could protest, and when Tom started to follow her, she waved him away. “I can get home by myself, Tom. I’ll be fine.” Arms still folded over her chest, her cuts stinging enough that she could feel the pain in time with the pulse of her heartbeat, April stalked down the hallway with her head bowed. She couldn’t be sure, at the moment, whether she felt more upset with Roger or with herself.
*
“Mark, stop hovering over me.” Roger gave his friend an irritated look over his shoulder as the two of them made their way up the stairs to the loft. “And you’re going to make me hit you if you keep it up.”
Mark sighed. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright… that you’re not going to fall down the stairs or anything… I mean, you’re still hurt, your rib’s still...”
“Mark. I wasn’t kidding about hitting you. They wouldn’t have let me go if I weren’t fine.” He pushed open the front door of the loft and called out, “I’m back!”
Maureen had been searching through the cabinets for food, but now looked up and stared at Roger for a second. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”
Roger stared back at her then smirked, replying in his most sarcastic tone, “Oh my God, I am!”
Walking into the loft past him, Mark gave Roger a look. “Don’t be an ass, Roger. If you weren’t injured, I’d smack you right now.”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Sure you would, Mark.” He strolled calmly to the table, started to jump up on it, and then winced and changed his mind as the movement produced a pain in his chest. “Okay, not doing that any time soon,” he muttered, and looked to Maureen, leaning back against the table instead of sitting on it. “So where are the others?” By which he meant, mostly, Where’s April? He hadn’t seen her since that last, unpleasant conversation in the hospital, if it could be called a conversation…
Maureen pulled a cup of yogurt out of the refrigerator and grabbed a spoon before sauntering over to the table. She paused for a moment beside him, considering pulling out a chair, but instead hopped up on the table right next to where he leaned against it, her legs dangling over the edge. “Collins and Benny went out together, I guess. Didn’t tell me where—I was still in bed when they left. And ‘Ril’s at work. Don’t know when she’s coming back, but judging from how she’s been working lately… shouldn’t be back until late.” She was silent for a moment, eating her yogurt, and then looked up at Roger, pulling the spoon out of her mouth. “So. You pulled out into the middle of an intersection, huh? What, d’you have a death wish or something? Or are you just an idiot? Oh, wait… never mind.”
He sneered at her and pushed himself away from the table. “Fuck off, Maureen.”
She smirked and watched him as he stalked off to his room. “Okay, someone’s in a bad mood… I suppose getting almost killed will do that to you, won’t it?”
As Roger stepped into his room, he heard Mark say quietly, “Maureen, stop. Why can’t you just leave him alone?”
And then Maureen’s voice, cold and faintly irritable. “Because he’s… He’s hurting my April. No one’s allowed to do that to her. Not even him.”
“Your April?”
“She was my friend a long time before he even knew her. She’s my April.”
Roger closed the bedroom door behind him, but didn’t lock it. No need to—Mark would knock before he came in, and Maureen made a point of never coming in his room if she could help it. And if April wasn’t coming home soon… he had some time. He walked straight to the closet and pulled down a box from the shelf inside, above the coat rack. Inside the box, a needle, a little smack, a few other things—not much smack, but enough. A couple days in the hospital, not even a chance of getting a hit… He couldn’t even remember how he’d managed it in California.
Somehow, as he prepared the needle, he didn’t notice the voices in the living room—Maureen’s, and someone else’s… April’s. His attention was elsewhere, on the needle, on anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he’d never be able to explain the accident to April, that when she came home the two of them would probably end up screaming at each other, just like at the hospital, but… worse. Better to forget that at least for the moment than to focus on it…
April walked in when he had the needle in his arm. He started as he looked up at her. She stared at him for a second, her mouth open in shock, and then quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The two of them didn’t move, April watching Roger, her eyes flickering over his face, and then lingering on his arm, the needle… He met her eyes steadily, waiting for her to say something, to shout at him, anything.
Instead, she stepped forward, towards the bed, self-consciously tugging down on one sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Does…” She trailed off for a second, looked away from him, and then back, to his face. “Does that really make you numb?”
He hesitated and pulled the needle out of his arm slowly. “For a while, yes.”
April sat down on the bed beside him, her eyes still on his face. She still looked a little uncertain, but there was something odd to her expression too, something he couldn’t quite place. “Then… could I have some? Please?”
Roger stared at her blankly, not sure he’d heard the question right. Did she seriously…? But her expression was completely serious, absolutely unwavering, and he couldn’t exactly argue with her without sounding… hypocritical, at the least. Roger sighed and closed his eyes, his jaw tight as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he was actually going to do this, to taint his angel. “I’ll do it for you,” he said quietly. “Show me your arm.”
She pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt on her right arm and held it out to him, wordless. He took her gently by the wrist, sighed and met her eyes. “You’re sure?”
Her mouth twisted into a bit of a grimace and she closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “Just do it, Roger.”
Roger nodded and looked down to her arm. The blue veins stood out all too clearly against her pale skin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter: Twenty-Three - Detach from Feeling Alive
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Roger/April, Mark, Collins, Maureen
Word Count: 2007
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
Chapter Index
Chapter Twenty-Two
"A man who embraces the voice of evil when it whispers in his ear is no less evil than the whisperer." - Shadow of the Giant, Orson Scott Card
April held her breath as Tom pushed open the door to the hospital room where they were keeping Roger, unsure what she was afraid of seeing—he was awake, after all—but let out the breath when she stepped in, past Tom, and saw Roger awake and with the oxygen mask off, turning to look at her and Tom as they entered, and Mark in a chair beside the bed, quiet, not quite as pale as he’d been before but still clearly worried. She rushed over to the edge of the bed, tempted to hug him, but aware that that probably wasn’t the best idea if he had a broken rib. Instead, she sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over.
“Are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth twisting into a wry smirk. “Yeah, it hurts. I broke a rib. It’s not exactly fun…”
She clenched her jaw, irritated by the sarcasm in response to a simple question, but fought down her annoyance. “Well, I mean, aside from that. When I was in here before, you didn’t look like… You didn’t look so good.”
Roger rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotten these questions about twenty times from Mark—” Mark looked at the ground at that, a little embarrassed— “and every single doctor or nurse who’s been in here since I woke up. I’m fine. I wish you’d all just believe me when I say so.”
April sighed, trying to fight down her frustration. She didn’t quite manage it, and snapped, “I’m sorry, Roger. You’ve got to expect people to be a little worried about you when you’re stupid enough to get yourself almost killed. I talked to the doctors, Roger. You stopped breathing for a while. I’m sorry if I’m a little concerned after hearing that, but you’re just going to have to put up with it.”
He stared at her in disbelief and annoyance, wordless for several seconds. He rubbed at his arms unthinkingly as he did so, and April flinched as she noticed that, only drawing her eyes away from his arms when he spoke again. “Are you actually… Are you serious? I almost got myself killed? That car slammed into me, or didn’t the doctors tell you that?”
For a second or two, April just watched him silently. Mark and Tom eyed her in concern, neither of them liking the turn of the conversation but uncertain how to interrupt. April’s eyes flickered to Roger’s arms again, back to his face… Her voice was quiet when she finally said, “You pulled out into the middle of an intersection. Through a red light. So either you just weren’t thinking, or… Were you high? I don’t suppose they’d have had the time to test for that while they were trying to keep you alive, would they?” She fought the urge to rub at her own arm through the sleeve of her sweatshirt. God, it hurt, and…
His expression darkened as he looked up at her, and he growled softly, “No, I wasn’t.” But he shifted his arms a little bit as he said so, so the others couldn’t see the insides of his forearms. April saw, and pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. Damn it, he had been, and… She couldn’t bring herself to push him any further on that point, though.
“So why didn’t you tell them that you were allergic to penicillin before they gave it to you? Did you just not know, or…?”
“He knew,” Mark said quietly from beside the bed. That earned him a glare from Roger, but Mark kept his eyes down, avoiding looking at either Roger or April. This entire conversation made him uncomfortable, and April could see it. She watched Mark for a moment before turning back to Roger.
Roger preempted her question before she could say anything. “I forgot to tell them. It didn’t seem important at the time, and—”
April slid off the edge of the bed, stalking to the other end of the room. She couldn’t sit beside him right now, not when she was tempted to just smack him for sheer idiocy. “Didn’t seem important? Roger, were you even listening to me before? Does any of this get through your head at all? You almost died. That’s important, damn it!”
“But I didn’t die,” he said stubbornly. “I’m sitting right here, alive and to be perfectly honest getting annoyed that you won’t stop lecturing me like a five year old. If you’re not going to—”
April laughed, though it was a laugh with no humor to it at all. “A five year old has more common sense than you do, Roger.At least they know that red light means stop and green light means go. You scared me to death. The last thing I need after this past month is to get a phone call and hear that you’ve been in a car crash after my best friend…” She sighed and folded her arms over her chest, turning away from him. Her cuts stung as the sweatshirt sleeve rubbed against them. “I’m sorry, Roger, I can’t stay here right now. Because if I do, I’m afraid I might have to smack you. When you can act your age, I’ll talk to you again.”
She stepped out the door before Roger could protest, and when Tom started to follow her, she waved him away. “I can get home by myself, Tom. I’ll be fine.” Arms still folded over her chest, her cuts stinging enough that she could feel the pain in time with the pulse of her heartbeat, April stalked down the hallway with her head bowed. She couldn’t be sure, at the moment, whether she felt more upset with Roger or with herself.
“Mark, stop hovering over me.” Roger gave his friend an irritated look over his shoulder as the two of them made their way up the stairs to the loft. “And you’re going to make me hit you if you keep it up.”
Mark sighed. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright… that you’re not going to fall down the stairs or anything… I mean, you’re still hurt, your rib’s still...”
“Mark. I wasn’t kidding about hitting you. They wouldn’t have let me go if I weren’t fine.” He pushed open the front door of the loft and called out, “I’m back!”
Maureen had been searching through the cabinets for food, but now looked up and stared at Roger for a second. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”
Roger stared back at her then smirked, replying in his most sarcastic tone, “Oh my God, I am!”
Walking into the loft past him, Mark gave Roger a look. “Don’t be an ass, Roger. If you weren’t injured, I’d smack you right now.”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Sure you would, Mark.” He strolled calmly to the table, started to jump up on it, and then winced and changed his mind as the movement produced a pain in his chest. “Okay, not doing that any time soon,” he muttered, and looked to Maureen, leaning back against the table instead of sitting on it. “So where are the others?” By which he meant, mostly, Where’s April? He hadn’t seen her since that last, unpleasant conversation in the hospital, if it could be called a conversation…
Maureen pulled a cup of yogurt out of the refrigerator and grabbed a spoon before sauntering over to the table. She paused for a moment beside him, considering pulling out a chair, but instead hopped up on the table right next to where he leaned against it, her legs dangling over the edge. “Collins and Benny went out together, I guess. Didn’t tell me where—I was still in bed when they left. And ‘Ril’s at work. Don’t know when she’s coming back, but judging from how she’s been working lately… shouldn’t be back until late.” She was silent for a moment, eating her yogurt, and then looked up at Roger, pulling the spoon out of her mouth. “So. You pulled out into the middle of an intersection, huh? What, d’you have a death wish or something? Or are you just an idiot? Oh, wait… never mind.”
He sneered at her and pushed himself away from the table. “Fuck off, Maureen.”
She smirked and watched him as he stalked off to his room. “Okay, someone’s in a bad mood… I suppose getting almost killed will do that to you, won’t it?”
As Roger stepped into his room, he heard Mark say quietly, “Maureen, stop. Why can’t you just leave him alone?”
And then Maureen’s voice, cold and faintly irritable. “Because he’s… He’s hurting my April. No one’s allowed to do that to her. Not even him.”
“Your April?”
“She was my friend a long time before he even knew her. She’s my April.”
Roger closed the bedroom door behind him, but didn’t lock it. No need to—Mark would knock before he came in, and Maureen made a point of never coming in his room if she could help it. And if April wasn’t coming home soon… he had some time. He walked straight to the closet and pulled down a box from the shelf inside, above the coat rack. Inside the box, a needle, a little smack, a few other things—not much smack, but enough. A couple days in the hospital, not even a chance of getting a hit… He couldn’t even remember how he’d managed it in California.
Somehow, as he prepared the needle, he didn’t notice the voices in the living room—Maureen’s, and someone else’s… April’s. His attention was elsewhere, on the needle, on anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he’d never be able to explain the accident to April, that when she came home the two of them would probably end up screaming at each other, just like at the hospital, but… worse. Better to forget that at least for the moment than to focus on it…
April walked in when he had the needle in his arm. He started as he looked up at her. She stared at him for a second, her mouth open in shock, and then quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The two of them didn’t move, April watching Roger, her eyes flickering over his face, and then lingering on his arm, the needle… He met her eyes steadily, waiting for her to say something, to shout at him, anything.
Instead, she stepped forward, towards the bed, self-consciously tugging down on one sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Does…” She trailed off for a second, looked away from him, and then back, to his face. “Does that really make you numb?”
He hesitated and pulled the needle out of his arm slowly. “For a while, yes.”
April sat down on the bed beside him, her eyes still on his face. She still looked a little uncertain, but there was something odd to her expression too, something he couldn’t quite place. “Then… could I have some? Please?”
Roger stared at her blankly, not sure he’d heard the question right. Did she seriously…? But her expression was completely serious, absolutely unwavering, and he couldn’t exactly argue with her without sounding… hypocritical, at the least. Roger sighed and closed his eyes, his jaw tight as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he was actually going to do this, to taint his angel. “I’ll do it for you,” he said quietly. “Show me your arm.”
She pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt on her right arm and held it out to him, wordless. He took her gently by the wrist, sighed and met her eyes. “You’re sure?”
Her mouth twisted into a bit of a grimace and she closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “Just do it, Roger.”
Roger nodded and looked down to her arm. The blue veins stood out all too clearly against her pale skin.
Chapter Twenty-Four