Before Christmas

~tarotgal

One hand gripped a pole as his eyes scanned the mass of tourists and commuters. The other tightened on the strap of his bag. He peaked at his watch, realizing it had stopped long before. No money for a new battery, he'd have to deal

“Rog.”

He looked up with a smile as a disheveled Mark approached from the side. “Hey, Mark.” They greeted each other with pats on the back and a strong handshake. “Let's get home. I've had a long day and I'm exhausted.”

With a nod, he let Mark lead him to the throughway tunnel to the subway platform. Mark was wheezing a bit from the slightly uphill walk. He leaned against the wall as they waited and pushed his glasses up as he coughed into one loose fist.

Noise from the tunnel heralded an approaching train as Mark finished coughing and shook his head.

“Hey, you all right?”
The train settled to a stop in from of them. “A little under the weather.” He sniffed, rubbing at his nose. Then he looked up, avoiding Roger's eyes. “We'll talk about it later.” The doors opened and Mark led the way onto the practically empty subway car. They sat across from each other, able to be free with space.

Roger put down his bag and propped his feet up on the seat.

Mark sat up straight, but rubbed at his nose and tugged a slightly-used, off-white handkerchief out of his pocket. His eyes closed and body shook with a chill before he gave in. “Aeh-ishh! Ahhchooo!” He blew his nose and tucked the hanky away.

Roger sighed. “Only a little under the weather?”

Mark smiled, blushing. “OK, so it's a sniff, sniff, heavy cold.” He quickly cupped his hand over his nose. “Hushoo! AehhCheoo!” He sniffed wetly and wiped his half-gloved hand on his pants leg. “Excuse be. I'll be careful to stay away frob you, though. I dod't wadt you getting sig.” He coughed at the congestion. “I'b sorry this isd't the greatest welcob hobe but at least I could scroudge ub sobe subway fare back. It's a log walk.”

Roger nodded with a slight yawn. He didn't want to push an issue Mark was uncomfortable with. Mark, though frail and weak in appearance, was actually quite healthy and strong for the most part. He only got sick when something else was wrong. From him to catch cold apparently meant something had to be off. “Thanks,” he said towards the subway fare. “I hope it's not my homecoming that's upsetting you.”

“Ehhshoo! Haahchoo! Heh… aahhIhshoo!” Mark shook his head. “It's dot you.” With a smile to show how much he missed Roger, “It's goig to be dice to have you back. Really.”

The subway came to their stop and they headed off to their apartment as quickly as possible to beat the cold winter chill that hung in the air. It was only a little over two weeks before Christmas. Mark, having the key, opened the door, ushering Roger in with a pat. “Welcob hobe.”

Roger smiled, glad it didn't come to being carried across the threshold. Mark the artist tended to have a flair for the dramatic. He looked about for a few seconds. The place hadn't changed much at all. Still the same layout, the same beaten up furniture, the same illegal wood burning stove, the posters of his younger days, the same cold and dreary mess. He was more than happy to see it. “So,” he sighed and looked for a dense spot to clear away papers on the couch. He gave up and scooted some of the mess on the trunk over to sit on it instead. “Is Maureen—“

“Do, she's dot,” Mark answered back with a quick punch and sat down without a care on the paper-covered couch.

A pause, then a sympathetic, “What happened?”

“Sniff, sniff. You dow Baureed.” He sniffed wetly and pulled out his handkerchief, blowing gently.

“You got tired of it?”

Shaking his head. “No, she got tired of me.” He rubbed at his nose violently. “Hey Rog, cad sniff, sniff, can you excuse me for a moment?”

Roger nodded, picking up some of the scrap paper lying about. “Go for it. I'll entertain myself with your latest masterpieces here.”

Mark quickly retreated to his room. A few moments of silence passed, then, “Ahhshhoo! Arshoo! Ehhchoo! Ihhchishh! Ih…eh…ihchoo! AhhChishoo! Ehh-Ihhshoo! Ihhchishh!” A few minutes later, he stumbled back, sniffling into a bunch of tissues.

Roger smiled and shook his head. “You sound like Hell, man.” He leaned forward with intentions of getting up to pat Mark on the back, but Mark pulled back quickly.

“I dod't wad you catchig this. Id's dot a lot of fud.” He left out all mention of what catching a cold could mean to Roger's immune system. It was certainly not the welcome home present he wanted to give. “Do you want to take a look at my latest piece of trash film over dinner?”

“Sure, what's there to eat?”

“D'you mind getting it? I dod't sniff, sniff, feel so good all of a sudded, add breathed od the food…”

“Sure, no problem.” Anything to take his mind off himself.

Mark blew his nose and sniffed again. “There are day-old bagels, sobe, sniff, sniff, left-over takeout add I could really use some hot water add lemon.”

Roger nodded. “I know the drill.”

“We could go out if you'd—“

“No, that's fine.” He didn't want to go out. The trip back from rehab on the bus and subway had been more than enough. Too many people, too many reminders. He'd rather take it easy and comfortable for now. He glanced over at Mark, sniffling, shivering. Their illegal wood burning stove was out of fuel, but it wasn't too cold to bear. Not yet, at least. Later on in the night however…

He first zipped into Mark's bedroo to get a blanket. Draping it over Mark's shoulders from behind, Roger had to smile as Mark clutched it thankfully, tightening it around himself. Mark coughed and closed his eyes. “Thags, Rog.” He sniffled. “I should really be id bed, though.”

Roger shook his head. Not yet. He needed the company, and the friendship right now. Mark was necessary. “I'll get ya some tea and then we can watch your film. Then I'll help you to bed if you're still tired.”

The phone rang before Mark could protest and Roger flinched but certainly did not move to answer it. “Talk to us!” Maureen and Mark's cheerful voice shouted out via the answering machine.

“We deed to record a dew ode,” Mark noted to Roger as the machine beeped.

“Don't I just sound cute on that message? Mark it's me. I know you're there. You're always there… so pick up. We have problems with the production. Mark, come on, pick up for me.” There was a pause. “Call me, Mark.” Then another beep and click.