"Come with me."
The words are out of his mouth before he has much time to process them. The bag in his hand feels heavy as he stands by the door. He watches Mark's eyes widen, those almost-invisible blond eyebrows shooting upward, his mouth opening in surprise. If it wasn't so serious, Roger would almost find it comical.
"…What?"
"Come with me," Roger repeats, knowing that Mark heard him the first time. "Think about it. You and me. We could leave all this shit behind. Start over."
"I… Roger, I have a job, and…"
"You don't really want to work for Buzzline." They both know this is true. Mark does not want to be working for Alexi Darling, he's only doing it because of how desperately they needed the money. "You don't need to work there. You can find something in Santa Fe, and I can buy a new guitar, start a band…"
"This would never work." Mark shakes his head, arms wrapping around himself. Roger can see it in his face - he wants to do it, but Mark is too logical, too smart. He's too deeply rooted in this place, this town. He's not a wanderer like Roger. But Roger finds that he doesn't want to be alone and maybe if he could get Mark to come with him, it would be okay. He's also found that some ridiculous part of him doesn't want to leave the filmmaker behind.
"Mark… We could make it work." He steps closer, dropping his bag. "Come on. Just think about it. What is there to hold us here?"
"What about Collins? What about Mimi? Or Maureen and Joanne?" Mark is quiet but firm. Roger hesitates - he hadn't thought about Collins.
"…Mimi has Benny. She doesn't need us." He tries hard to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Maureen and Joanne have each other, and Collins… Collins is Collins, he'll manage." He can't believe he's talking this way, and Mark can't seem to believe it either.
"Roger, are you crazy? We can't just… Run away from everything. It doesn't work that way." Mark almost looks frightened.
"Mark, please, just…" Roger takes another step closer, trying to explain.
"No, Roger. This is -"
Roger isn't sure what it is that makes him presses his lips to his best friend's. Once his brain has cleared enough to think, he decides that it was desperation. Desperation to make Mark stop fighting it, to just let this happen, to get him to shut up, to get out something he couldn't articulate that he'd been holding in for years. Mark tastes like Chapstick and cigarettes and Roger's hands grasp his face, realizing how much he needs Mark with him, never wanting to let him go. Mark kisses back, but only for a few seconds before he's pushing him away, gently.
"I can't." Mark's voice is small and broken and he withdraws, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I can't."
Roger stands there for a moment, stunned, hurt, more than a little heartbroken. He looks at Mark, whose eyes are full of apology and all sorts of other things Roger can't identify, and he swallows hard, nodding slowly.
"Okay." His voice sounds off, even to his own ears, as he picks up the bag off the floor again, wrenching the door open, knowing there's nothing more to say.
"I hope you're happy there." Mark says, barely audible. Roger looks back at him, only to see Mark no longer looking at him, blue eyes firmly shut as if not having to see this will make it hurt less.
"…I'll call." Roger finally replies. He walks out of the apartment, down the stairs, gets into his car, and leaves behind the one thing he can't stand to be away from.