Author Notes: I really don't know where I'm going with this. I was sad and bummed when I wrote it so I made Mark all sad and bummed. XD

If you think I should continue this...let me know and I just might.

Disclaimer: Not mine. This belongs to the wonderful Johnathan Larson!

The Breaking of the Dam

It wasn't my fault was it?

No….of course it was.

Everything is my fault.

Mark felt numb, his head felt tight , as if someone had grabbed his brain and was squeezing it. His nose was stuffed up, his eyes burned with tears, but he refused to let them fall, biting his lip until it bled. He tossed and turned in bed, tightening his muscles until he could feel them no more. His head began to split in pain as he rolled around his bed, trying to will the pain away. But it didn't go away, it ate away at his heart until it forced his body to break the walls it surrounded itself with, leaving him on the edge. He swallowed his sobs, willing them down, refusing to make a sound, the occasional sniffle slipping out every now and then. He curled himself into a tight ball, ignoring his surrounding, wishing he would just disappear. Finally his body gave out and he just lay, exhausted and eyes still brimming with tears, not a single one has fallen.

Stop…stop being so pathetic.

Stop it please!

I don't want to feel like this anymore.

I'm sorry….

Roger come back .

But Roger isn't coming back is he? He's gone…off to Santa Fe. Living his life, while Mark lays in bed, trying not to let the disappointment in himself spill over and drown him. Fed up with himself, he flips over to his stomach, burying his face into his pillow, shaking, his head pounding, his nose still running, his body burning.

No tears

How did I get here?

His body was tense, the world around him seemed to disappear as he became engulfed in his mind. The man who was once the observer, the one who shied away from his feelings was now forced to face them. He curled himself into the tightest ball his strength could muster.

Gone gone, everyone is gone. My worst fear. Coming to New York with a family and now I'm here alone.


I don't want this….

As if some kind of prayer was answered, up the stairs of the loft came Collins. A week since his beloved Angels death, but he still had the heart to come check on his favorite filmmaker, whom he knew was having a hard time since their resident rocker took off.

"Mark you here?" he called out as he slid the loft door open.

"Mark?" Silence had filled the Ave B loft, only the sound of the anarchists footsteps could be heard.

"Mark man get your ass out here!"

…..

Sighing, he figured the blond was asleep, so he ventured over to the mans room. Not feeling as lively as normal, he gently pushed open his friends door, and stepped in. It was dark, but Collins could immediately feel that something was wrong. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the small, shivering form of Mark.

"Shit Mark…"

He stumbled on some boxes and clothes, but he managed to step over to the smaller mans bed. He kneeled down and place his large hand on Mark's shoulder. He was cold, but sweating. Possibly from a fever , he wasn't sure yet. But he did know that something was terribly wrong.

"Mark…buddy you ok?" He shook him a bit.

"Mark?"

A moan escaped the mans lips, the feeling slowly coming back to his body, his eyes slowly sliding open.

So dark….where am I?

"Mark?"

Oh….wait Collins?

"Collins?" he mumbled.

"Hey there you are." he heard the older man say.

Mark moaned, rolling over onto his back, squinting his eyes at the light coming from his open doorway. He glanced up at Collins who was staring worriedly down at him.

"Mark are you ok? You're not looking so good…"

"Fine." Mark choked out. His throat was tight, causing his voice to come out as barley a whisper.

Collins didn't respond, instead he placed his hand on Mark's forehead, letting the burning sensation warm his cold hand.

"Damn it boy you're burning up."

"No I'm not…" Mark mumbled, trying to escape Collins grasp., but couldn't seeing as the anarchist was much stronger than he was.

"C'mere." he said, easily picking up the smaller boy up in his arms. Mark seemed to shrink in his arms. Looking down at him he looked so thin and young, his pale skin a definite contrast against his dark skin. His body was tense, as if Mark was trying to fake not being as weak as he was.

"Don't bullshit yourself Mark. You're not well. Now kindly cooperate so I can take care of you." Mark sighed, giving up slightly, letting his boy relax in Collin's arms. The taller man carried him to the couch and laid him down. Mark's head lolled to the side, exhausted. He curled up into the familiar dents of their old couch, breathing in it's familiar scent. Remembering…him.

Roger….

Cold. Mark was cold. Freezing in fact. And it began to show as he was curled up on the couch shivering. Moments later, Collins came with some blankets he'd gathered from around the loft.

"Now just sit still for a while and relax. I'm gonna make you some tea to warm you up, and then I'm gonna call Maureen over here to keep an eye on you while I go get some groceries…"

"Collins." Marks weak voice cut him off.

"What?"

"It's ok. I'm fine. Just…I'm alright. You don't have to do this for me."

"Mark stop. I know Roger leaving hasn't been easy for you …"

"Things haven't been easy for you Col'. "

"This isn't about me."

"But."

"Shh." he said., covering the blonds mouth. "Man, can't you just chill out and let people worry about you for once? I know….it's hard loosing someone you love Mark. But you have to deal with it sometime. I'm dealing with it. I'll be ok. And I know Angel would want me to take care of you right now."

Mark sighed, knowing there was no arguing with him now. He nodded.

"Don't leave though…please just stay here for a while."

Collins grinned. "I won't argue with that." he said and sat down next to the younger boy, who was now sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest.

After a few moments of silence, Mark spoke.

"He'll…come back right?"

Collins glanced over to him, seeing the filmmakers blue eyes on the verge of tears. He was shaking, this wasn't the Mark he was used to. Instead he was staring at the side of Mark he knew was always buried deep inside, kept hidden away for no one but himself to see, and even then it was rare that he came out. But now, here he was, out, open and exposed, and shaking like a small child. This was why Mark hid behind his camera. Because he didn't want anyone to see this small frightened side of him. The side that clung to his best friend and who couldn't believe he'd run off like he did.

"Oh Mark…of course he will. You know Roger just needs to clear his head. Once he realizes what an idiot he's being he'll come back."

"I drove him away didn't I? I'm such a bad friend I couldn't keep him here…"

"Mark…"

Over-flowing emotion. Now he was unable to keep it together. Years of built up walls were crumbling in front of the first person who offered comfort during the absence of his best friend. He felt himself slip, as the tears he'd had built up in his eyes, began to slide down his pale face.

"I'm sorry Roger." he choked out, before the tears took over, and his body began to shake as he sobbed. Collins knew no words could comfort him, instead he pulled the smaller boy into his lap and held him. He let him sob, his shoulders shaking as he let go of everything he'd built up. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke. Mark cried, his hands clutching Collins' shirt. The older man sighed, inwardly cursing Roger for doing this to his best friend.

"It's ok shhh." He kissed the top of the blonds head and rubbing his back. After a few minutes his sobs died down to a few sniffles. Even then, Mark seemed content in Collins' arms, and Collins made no move to remove Mark. The rest of the night was spent there on the lofts old couch. Collins with an incomplete Mark in his arms. He knew that the only way Mark would ever be complete again is if his other half came back.

Roger you better get your ass back here soon….

A.N: So...continue? I don't know. Let me know! Review!!