A Secret Hit
Roger sat cross-legged on the cold, hard metal table, strumming away at his guitar. Eventually, the sound of Muzetta's Waltz floated through the loft. A tear slid down Roger's cheek as she remembered April. She was his inspiration, and she was gone. Infuriated, Roger slammed down his guitar, but was careful not the break it. His hands shook ever so slightly as he got up to get a drink. The blood pulsing through his veins longed for a hit. That very same blood was tainted. In the end, it would lead to his premature death.
Roger sat down on the couch, drew his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. When he heard the loft door slide open, his eyes fluttered open. Mark smiled weakly as he put his bike away.
"How are you doing?" he asked his best friend. Roger looked at his shaking hands. Mark sat down next to him. "You okay?"
"I still need it, Mark. I can feel it," Roger replied in a strained voice. Mark pulled the rocker close. These particular longings were rare, but harder than before on Roger, because he was now aware of what was happening to him.
After Roger calmed down, he pulled away from Mark. He didn't want his best friend to see how weak he was, but he knew that it was too late for that.
"Mark, can I ask you a question?" asked Roger. Mark nodded. "Why did you stay with me? Everyone else basically split during my withdrawal, but you didn't. Why?" Mark sighed; he should have anticipated this.
"One time, a few years ago, I was out at this club. These people were shooting up, and offered me a hit. So, I shot up. It was only that one time, but I understand a little of what you're going through." Mark felt horrible that he hadn't told Roger earlier.
It took a few seconds for Mark's words to sink in. furious, Roger stood up, and rounded on the filmmaker.
"So you gave me all that shit about getting clean when you used too!?" yelled the rocker.
"I used once; I wasn't a junkie, and I'm not proud of my choice. I understand the high you felt, and the longing for it. The only difference between you and me is I was strong enough to get past the longing, and get on with my life!" Mark shot back. Roger spun on his heels, and retreated to his room; slamming the door behind him.
Several hours later, Roger came out of his room. He had taken a nap, and calmed down a good deal. Mark was busy cutting together some film.
"Hey," Roger said as he flopped down on the couch. Mark looked up from what he was doing.
"Hey." Roger shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Listen, uh, Mark, I'm sorry for flipping out on you. You were trying to open up to me, and I flipped out." Mark stopped what he was doing, and sat next to Roger.
"No, I should have told you sooner." Mark was about to continue when the phone began to ring. Right then and there both Bohemians silently agreed never to speak of Mark's confession again.