A/N- I was feeling depressive. Drabble-ish-thing.
I never really tried to understand him. That is my greatest regret.
He was the staple in our lives. He was always there. I never imagined life without him, because I didn't think it was plausible. He was the one to survive. He would survive. Even when we were all gone, when even Maureen would be lighting up heaven- he'd still be here. In the loft.
We didn't take time to stop and really appreciate all he did for our impromptu family. The way he had always supported us through our bad times. How many times had he cared for Maureen when she was hung-over, even when they were no longer going out? He was there in every moment of our lives- but we didn't even notice.
He was there when I was going through the nightmarish withdrawal. Through my several suicide attempts after April. He was there for Mimi when I couldn't be, when I was too weak to see her in agony. He was there through Angel's death, giving Collins a shoulder to lean on when I was all the way in Sante Fe, escaping my problems and everyone else's. He just stayed. That was what he was expected to do.
I never noticed when things started to go downhill for him. I should've seen how much he loved Maureen. The truth was, he never really got over her. He wouldn't let anyone know that, of course. But now, I see just how obvious it was. He couldn't stand to see Joanne and Maureen together. Someone should've seen the signs, it was just like Collins after Angel's death, or even me after April's. He wouldn't see other people./ He wouldn't even go on a date. He just closed himself off, hoping pathetically that she would be back. And all I did was tease him almost unmercifully. I wonder if that's what drove him over the edge.
I think, though, that it really started with Collins' death. We were in the hospital, and he looks at me, and he goes " What if I were the next to go?".
And I shrugged it off. And laughed. You know, one of those insane nervous laughs when you don't know what else to do? What else was there to do? I took it as a joke. A very, very bad one, granted, but a joke.
As time went on, he exhibited more signs of not wanting to live. And I ignored them all. I turned a blind eye to everything he was going through. Was it because I didn't care? Surely, not. I just didn't see it. I was too preoccupied with my own grief, my own problems with Mimi to take the time to think about him, our rock. I guess I assumed he would be taking it fine, the way he seemed to take everything. I had no idea.
He shut it all away. We were both to blame. He could have let us see. We could have tried harder to find.
But we didn't.
And now Mark Cohen and his camera were gone, forever.
I never really tried to understand him. That is my greatest regret.