Oooook, so I got a few requests for a sequel to You'll Get Over It, so here it is. Im not quite sure how good this is, or if it'll make for a good sequel so I'll leave it up to the people who have read You'll Get Over It. If you read and like this, and want to see more either post a comment or contact me some other way and let me know. Thanks mucho to you all for reading, and enjoy.

"Fuck, that was amazing..." Mark groans softly. He is sprawled out on the couch, his pants and boxers around his ankles with Roger lying between his legs.

"No shit." Roger says with a smirk, sitting back up on his knees. He wipes his arm against his mouth, snickering slightly at the sight of the boy laying down in front of him. They had just had of their random tumbles onto the couch, ending with Mark on his back and thoroughly satisfiied. The next few seconds pass in silence as they put their clothes back on, Mark unable to move as fast as Roger. Actually, he barely has the energy to move at all.

"You know how I hate to hit and run and all that." Roger says, breaking the silence. He pulls his shirt over his head. "But I gotta be heading off now."

Mark frowns at this. He had just pulled his jeans back up and buttoned them. He had been hoping Roger would stick around a while; he is his best friend and all. Seems lately all Mark and Roger have been doing was messing around and not much more. At least not as much as they used to do. "Why?"

"Me and Mimi are gonna meet up at the Life."

Mark groans when he hears that. During their brief stints together he completely forgets that the person getting him off is actually going out with someone else. "Yeah...have fun with that." Mark says, trying to sound casual as he smoothes his hair.

Oh I will. See ya round Marky boy." Roger winks at him, grabbing his jacket and walking out, leaving Mark to stare at the door where Roger had just been. After a few seconds of this blank stare he lays back down on the couch.

He gazes up at the ceiling as he lays there, not really seeing it, entertaining himself with interesting thoughts. Thoughts such as "This fucking sucks," and "Would it be so bad if something heavy fell from the sky and landed on Mimi's head?"

...What?

Mark's eyes regain some of their focus, just enough to go wide as he reflects upon what he has just thought. Why the hell is he wishing death on Mimi? They're friends, they've been through so so much together, why is he resenting her now?

The fact is there is nothing to resent, he tells himself, she's my best friend's girlfriend and...at that thought anger rises within him. His thoughts at once turn to all of the things he would like to do to her for taking his Roger.

...Wait, what?

Mark sits bolt upright. "What the hell is happening to me?" He mutters out loud, running his fingers through his hair. Messing around with Roger every once in a while was supposed to be a fling, just something to get him off when he needed it. Now he's calling him "his Roger" and plotting Mimi's demise.

Unable stay still any longer he jumps off of the couch and starts pacing around. "No..." He mutters under his breath. "No no no no no...this can't be happening." How the hell is he falling for his best friend...who has a girlfriend?

No. He tells himself. I'm just...emotional? Fuckin great, now I sound like a girl... He continues to pace around the loft with this thoughts flowing through his mind, occasionally bumping into something and not caring in the least.

The pacing continues for a while, until he gets too worked up. "God damn it!" He says, frustration getting the better of him. How do things always seem to get this complicated?

He remembers how things were before Roger took it upon himself to help Mark out and break his sexual frustration, he was nervous and jumpy at everything. Now he's got himself to actually like the guy and he's freaking out and wishing untimely death upon his girlfriend. Can't there be a period of time where things aren't fucked up for him?

He makes his way back to the couch and collapses onto it. "Something's gotta give..." He moans, looking up at the ceiling once more, wondering just how he has gotten to this point in his life.