heroeswork: (Black and white serious)
Billy Collins ([personal profile] heroeswork) wrote2015-08-12 05:57 pm

I'm screaming from outside in, Tell me where I've been

Billy stepped out of his building hands shoved deep into his pockets. Even without anyone really knowing his face, he still wore sunglasses and kept his head down. If it weren't the middle of a hot summer day, he would have added a hat and a high-collared jacket as was demanded of him.

He wasn't happy. Far from it. They were in the heart of New York City. Just like he'd always dreamed. He was selling records like crazy. He had droves of fans. Always top of the charts. More than most people could ever achieve at the young age of 22. But it all seemed like it was happening to someone else. Because he only ever saw the studio or his home. Even after moving to New York a few months ago, he still didn't actually see anyone who liked his music. Because he was forbidden from performing. From even having his photo on his albums. Not even his real name appeared anywhere. He was billed as "CHAOS" and nothing more.

He wasn't supposed to even be outside. His manager forbid it unless he was present as well. But he was off dealing with some business for the day and Billy couldn't stand staying cooped up another moment. He bought a copy of Rolling Stone off the news vendor and ducked into a coffee shop. He found a dim corner away from everyone else as he sipped at his drink. He shoved his sunglasses on top of his head as he flipped opened the magazine. He was after a specific article, listed on the cover.

"True CHAOS" the headline yelled in bold, red letters. The subheading added "Fans and journalists alike demand 'Who is He?!'" The article went on to detail the mystery surrounding his own career. Statements from fans. Attempts to stalk the studio. Pleas for information. An analysis of his music trying to guess at what his accent when when he wasn't singing.

Billy scrubbed at the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand.
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (Hating convention hating pretension)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-14 08:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Mark--"

"Just take it."

Roger, though, can't quite process it. He's not sure if they're shitting him, but he glances from Billy to Mark to Billy and back to Mark, who can't help the small grin on his face as he raises an eyebrow.

"This is for real," Roger sets his guitar down, one last nervous look at Mark. "What the hell did you--"

"Roger."

Roger's hands were shaking, but that had nothing to do with his disease or how much medication he was taking. Mark was curious, too, and he leans in just a bit, still holding his camera.

"You know CHAOS? What are they like?" And he opens his hands to accept the gift.
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (Default)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-14 09:57 am (UTC)(link)
Mark is staring, not at the paper, not in curiousity, but at Roger, and he moves his hand to grab Billy's shoulder, squeezing it gently, as he picks up the camera and rises. It was his way of saying he won't film the letter, or even Billy. Just Roger's face.

It's no wonder, too, because Roger--strong, steady Roger, Roger who has been through so much. Through his last girlfriend, through Mimi's unfortunate end, to this. This moment.

There's only this, Mark thinks. Right now, this is everything. This is the moment, this is connection in an isolated age. Suddenly, this isn't about art. This isn't about a documentary. This is Mark desperately trying to film his best friend just before he dies. He just wants a fond memory. He wants this moment.

"Wow," Roger finally says, and his voice cracks just a touch. "I... I don't know what to say," Roger tries again, and Mark slides over so he's on the couch's arm, camera down, touching Roger's shoulder this time. Roger doesn't take his hand but he does lean into it, still staring.

"I'd say you paid for this to happen, but you're just as broke as me," He finishes finally, and Mark laughs, finally peering over the paper. Roger, looking up--desperate, with tears in his eyes--gets up and, without any warning, proceeds to wrap Billy up in a bear hug, whooping with delight.

"I'm going to finish it," Roger's saying. "I'm going to finish one great song. Mark?"

"Rolling." He lifts up the camera as Roger scrambles out of the way so Billy can't be seen.

"Hey, AIDS! Zoom in on this--" both middle fingers in the air, and he turns around only to drop his pants and moon Mark's camera.

"Eloquent," Mark observes, and Roger, laughing for the first time in ages, moves back to the chair.

"Holy shit," He pushes his hair away from his face. "I just got a letter from CHAOS."
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To being an us for once instead of)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-14 10:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh. Sure, I can drop you off if you want--cabs don't stop in Alphabet City," He hastily explained. "Roger, what if--"

Too late. Roger had grabbed his guitar and had begun playing. It was Musetta's Waltz, as usual, but he had already blocked out the entire world.

"Angel will be coming up soon, I'm going to drop Billy off." And as an side to Billy once he grabs his bike: "He's not going to be able to hear a damn thing for at least 72 hours, he's got his inspiration back. And..."

The moment they're out of Roger's sight, Mark closes the door with his foot and sets his bike down in the hallway. It's... It's not that this is difficult, it's just that this is weird. Awkward. "Hey, um..."

Try again, Mark.

"I was thinking.."

One more time.

"I wanted to thank you. I mean, I pretty much walked in in the bitchiest mood I'd been in since my last girlfriend dumped me and I took it out on you. And now you're doing this for me and we haven't even met. La vie Boheme, right? But, uh... What you did for Roger. What you did for him, it's... I can't thank you because... God, what does this say about my screenplays when I can't even tell you what I'm trying to say?"
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To more than one dimension)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-14 10:43 am (UTC)(link)
"I'll mix it personally," Mark promises, even though it sounds fake compared to what just happened. To everything, really. He sounds like he's Maureen, wanting to put her nose into everything, her fingers in all of the pie. He means it with sincerity, though--he hopes he gets that across. That Mark will take good care of it because Mark takes good care of Roger, and that Billy won't be disappointed. Maybe it's a mixed metaphor.

Maybe Mark has to stop thinking so much.

Still, it's confirmed. Chaos is a 'he,' not a they.

"I can't believe I called him pretentious. That's the most sincere thing I've heard from Valkyrie records since I started listening to music." They're down the stairs, now, and once outside Mark hops on and waits for Billy to get on the back.

"Whenever you get a break, you should sneak off here more. Or we should meet up somewhere safer, like the park. Either way, I'll catch you around, right? Since the whole CHAOS and Roger thing..."
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (Going insane going mad)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-15 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
This was nice. Almost like he could attach himself to someone, if just for a moment. Roger had withdrawn, sure, and he had a good reason to, but Mark? Mark just hides behind his work. This, though--it's stupid, but he really likes this.

Mark is opinionated, even if it's sometimes the wrong ones--there's a reason him and Maureen dated for so long. He begins to pedal, taking the usual side ways and alleys, cutting off a few cars in the process as they begin to move to the better neighborhood. The difference between him and Maureen is that Mark's opinion changes.

CHAOS is a perfect example.

He stays quiet for the most part--it's rush hour, now, there's a lot of obstacles to avoid--and it's only when they're back at the park and Mark slows down that he speaks.

"Before you go, here. A friend of mine and Roger's is putting on a spoken word night at the Life Cafe--you know, where we met? You should come." He's digging around his bag, now. Camera, pen and paper, a huge mess and what looks to be a scarf (why a scarf in summer, no one knows) before he pulls out a flier for Maureen's event.

"It's actually an open mic night, but she's normally there. You should come. I mean--you should be off work if you're not busy, and I'll definitely be there."
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To going against the grain)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-16 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
"Even if you can't, at least stop off for lunch or something. Here--" And, once again, he's digging through his pockets. A pencil and not a notepad, but another recipt. This time for a book about Akira Kurosawa's life and career.

His address.

"--At the very least, Roger's always home. Just shout and one of us will drop the keys off to you. Does that work? If you want to, I mean. I know you're very busy selling your soul to Valkyrie," he teases, "But it would mean a lot."

Shit.

"To, um. Roger. It would mean a lot to Roger."
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To more than one dimension)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-16 12:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Mark realized around the second week that he'd gotten his hopes up. That he'd thought maybe he had a friend, one for him, as selfish as that was. Maureen had Joanne. Tom had Angel. Roger had....

Yeah. He was being selfish. He had Roger. Roger had his guitar and he has his camera. Pity he'd sold almost all of his equipment by now, courtesy of absolutely no health insurance and the need to do stuff like eat while paying for it.

Still, when someone like Maureen calls you over dramatic, that's when you pause and look at your life and your choices. Like how all he wants to do is film in black and white for some reason. Even though he grins and laughs with Roger, Roger sees right through it. He says nothing, though, and Mark is grateful for it--he knows Roger's a little sad, too.

Shit, if Roger's not being a drama queen then Mark can't afford to be one, too. He gave a powerful moment to his brother-in-arms, now he has to move on. No time like the present.

It's hot--way too hot--and even with all of the windows open and all of their fans pointed in the huge but threadbare apartment, it's smouldering. Roger's away to the Doctors, Joanne taking him, and Tom and Angel have gone on a date. Maureen's god knows where and Mark, as usual, is left alone. He's in the middle of trying to write a script when he swears he hears someone shouting his name. It's only when Lito in the apartment a few floors below yells right back at the shouter that he realizes he hasn't imagined it. Gone are the button downs and jeans, because Mark has actually borrowed Roger's too-big tank top and a pair of cargo shorts to just try to escape.

He opens the window, because he's fairly certain whoever yelled that wasn't a usual goer--not a girl, too high to be Collins, too low to be Angel--and he freezes when he looks down and spots him.

Billy.

Billy McGee.

Is this a mirage?

"Woaaaaah!" No it isn't, and Mark's face feels like it's going to split in two. "You didn't forget about us! Give me a second and I'll throw down the keys."
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (Default)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-16 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Sure enough, the keys come crashing down after mark disappears, and Mark honestly wonders why he suddenly feels so giddy. Why he's checking himself in the mirror and wishing he wasn't stupidly pale. His lips are too thin. His jaw is too round. Billy's jaw is square, and his eyes are like nothing he's ever seen.

Oh god.

Oh god this is what happened when he first met Maureen.

Shit shit shit shit--

He barely has enough time to splash water on his face when he hears billy come up. Too fixated on how he looks in comparison to billy to realize he's been playing Blue Phoenix while writing. Most of the movie equipment is gone and the apartment is strangely empty, but Mark has just enough time to splash water on his face before greeting billy warmly.

"I was beginning to think the fat cats are you for lunch!"
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To more than one dimension)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-17 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
"It's just us," Mark states, as if he can read the other's mind.

Wait. Was he looking around because he wanted to see Roger, and not Mark? Of course. Of course, Mark had just made fun of someone Billy worked with. He's there to see the one that actually matters, to--

--oh, shit. CHAOS was still playing. Ah, well. It distracts Mark enough, anyway. He feels like he can just tell the truth as he moves to the kitchen section.

"Maybe," He states. "But somewhere under all the corporate layers, he's still got a core of something. Who knows, maybe it's all just been washed away since he signed with labels or something. I'm not a musician. But I am Roger's friend and I'm an artist and that letter was one of the most genuine things I've ever read. I think that warrants me listening to his music, don't you think? Do you want water to drink? I'd over you something else, but uh..." Broke.
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To going against the grain)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-17 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"What?"

Real eloquent, Mark. He's not quite sure what happened--there was a shift. Mark had been about to pull out a box, try to find a tape of Roger he could send with Billy to show CHAOS when the other suddenly decided to yell excitedly and brandish a piece of plastic. A credit card. A Valkyrie credit card. A Valkyrie credit card that Billy is insisting they use.

No way in hell Mark is going to say no. He can't remember the last time he ate in a restaurant. Shit, he barely remembers a day when he's budgeting one packet of ramen a day. Artist living was never glamourous, anyone who said anything else was lying. Especially if he's selling his equipment and all of his money is going to help Roger.

But Billy wants him to go. That's what strikes him as the oddest. That's why he looks genuinely confused, brows knitting. "It's about time we teach them a lesson," He states. That's a 'yes' in Mark's book. "But wouldn't you rather Roger than me?"

Why the hell would anyone want the silent observer?
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (to the village voice to any passing fad)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-19 10:06 am (UTC)(link)
Wow.

So Billy really did want to hang out with him. Mark tries to hide the fact that he's floored but fails miserably. And he knows they should wait for Roger--it would be the nice thing to do--but...

...But couldn't he be selfish? Just this once? Because Billy is looking straight at him. Straight at Mark and not Mark's camera, and it gives him a weird sort of fluttering feeling, like the first time he laid eyes on Maureen.


Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck no. That was not happening.

"We'll get a doggy bag or something," he states. There, see? He could be nice as well as selfish. He clears his throat. "You've got the money, so you get to decide the type of food. We'll go from there." Because he felt like he hadn't had a decent meal in days. Probably hasn't. In the distance, he can hear Angel's drum.

Idly, Mark wonders if Angel is cupid in disguise.
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (the need to express to communicate)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-27 09:00 am (UTC)(link)
He knows Billy is trying to be good to him--he knows. It's a weird feeling, actually. Makes him slightly uncomfortable, but not in the way it normally does.

Today for you, Tomorrow for me. Wasn't that Angel's theme? Shouldn't he just go for it? He opens the door and locks it up, figuring they can get whatever they want in alphabet city. Even if part of him is tempted to order something ridiculously expensive just because it's from a record company he doesn't like. Just because it's sleaze.

He doesn't want to get Billy in trouble, though.

"You know," He says carefully, "Roger and I aren't charity cases, right?"

He's grateful, but there's a strange sense of pride. Especially for him--he hasn't known Billy for that long, after all. Who's to say he's just not feeding his guilt? Then again, isn't that what Mark is doing? Feeding his guilt by filming the homeless?

Shit.

Well, no one said Mark wasn't a hypocrite.
documentings: wehavetogoback @ insanejournal (To being an us for once instead of)

[personal profile] documentings 2015-08-28 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
"It's such a weird dichotomy," Mark follows Billy, skipping stairs but not racing down them--he'll probably break his ankle. "When do you just help someone out, and when is it a pity thing? That's the hard part. Like... When does it stop becoming art, and starts becoming work?"

They open the door and the drumming gets louder. Mark grins and starts heading towards it, touching the other's wrist for him to follow.

"Like, when did someone like CHAOS become schlok? He didn't start out that way. You evolve over time as an artist, but at one point did that guy decide to be chained up by corporate america and Valkyrie records? He didn't raise a hand and say 'hey, I'm going to sell my soul' obviously, but when was the big push? You know? Do you mind if we stop by and say hi to someone for a second?"
Edited 2015-08-28 04:32 (UTC)

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