a/n: hahaha, i don't know where this came from. i found it in my documents and i decided to post it. oh, and i suck at endings. hahaha, i say that every story, but i do. so, just ignore it. but not really, because then you won't know what happens. okay, i'm done rambling. reviews?!
don't own anything.
Roger's high again, of course. He stumbled in the loft, waving like a fool as Maureen and Mark cuddled on the couch. Mark's gotten used to this new Roger, but as for Maureen, she didn't approve of it. Yeah, she smokes pot and drinks beer like it's water, but she doesn't go and injects deadly 'goodies' into her veins. She rolled her eyes as Roger went to get a bottle of water and walked out onto the fire escape, to smoke a cigarette.
She looked at Mark and kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back, Pookie," she told him as she stood and made her way out to the fire escape. "Third time this week you came home extremely high, Rog."
"Wow, Maureen! I didn't know you could count!" Roger said sarcastically with the cigarette in between his lips.
Maureen scoffed, shaking her head. "This girl, April or whatever, is nothing but bad news, Roger. Before you met her, you were the goofiest, most friendly asshole I knew, now you're just an asshole." In return, she saw Roger roll his eyes and flip her off. She shook her head. "You know, when she breaks your heart and when this all turns sour, I'm not going to be there for you, like all the times I've helped you before. This time it will be different. I promise you that, Roger. I PROMISE you that."
"Good. Now, can I smoke my cigarette in peace?"
Maureen sighed. "Of course," she whispered before walking into the loft, ignoring Mark's questions and comments and walked right into her bedroom, shutting and locking the door.
"Roger, get your god damn girlfriend out of the damn bathroom, now. She's been in there for the past hour. She doesn't pay the bill, nor does she live here!" Maureen snapped as she stood there in her robe that she had to hold together since there was no tie to hold it shut.
Roger rolled his eyes and used his knuckle to knock on the door. "April, c'mon. Get out. We're going to be late for one of my gigs."
No response.
"April, c'mon! How long does it take to wash yourself?" He sighed, shaking the door knob. Locked. "What the fuck?" he murmured and looked over at Maureen, who was now accompanied by Mark and Collins. "Should I break it down to tell her to hurry up?"
Maureen stuck her head out and nodded, like that was the dumbest question. "Yeah. I feel like I fucking reek, Roger. Get your girlfriend out of there."
Roger rolled his eyes. Your girlfriend. Couldn't she just say April, like she actually cared? He took a few steps back and rammed his side of his body against the door, breaking it open. He had a smile of accomplishment on his face, but that immediately fell into a look of horror.
There she was, sitting in the tub, lifeless and pale. Her arm was hanging out of the tub, that was close to over flowing with light red water. Her eyes were closed, and Roger could've swore she never looked so peaceful. "April," he whispered, his voice shakey. "April, sweetie, what are you doing? C'mon, get up." He kneeled down next to the tub. He wasn't going to believe it. He didn't want to believe it. "C'mon, get out, please. Wake up." He hit her face a couple times, tears falling from his eyes.
Collins heard Roger's pleads and looked into the bathroom. "Oh, holy shit," he whispered. "Roger..." he trailed off, when he saw the note sitting on the sink counter.
Roger,
We have aids.
Forever, April.
"Roger, you need to leave the room, right now…" Collins said as calm as he could.
Roger turned his head, his face completely wet. "No, she's okay… she just needs some band-aids and some rest…"
"Maureen, call 911..." Collins told her.
Maureen's face twisted into confusion. "Why?"
"JUST DO IT," Collins screamed.
That only made Maureen more curious. She looked into the bathroom, her jaw dropping. "Oh, my God."
"WHAT DID I SAY, MAUREEN?!" Collins screamed yet again. "Don't come near this room. GO!"
Maureen ran to the phone, her hands shaking. She dialed 911. "Hi, uhm, we have a problem… a suicide."
"Collins, get off of me! I'm helping my girlfriend. Get out!" echoed through out the loft as Collins picked up Roger and brought him into the living room, putting him on the couch. Roger sat down, completely breaking down. "She said she loved me…" he whispered, rocking back and forth.
The EMTs had come and gone and Roger has sat in the same spot, repeating 'she said she loved me' over and over again. Mark and Collins tried to talk to him, but he would just push them away. "She promised me… everything would be okay… I hate her. I fucking hate her," he whispered.
Collins shut the bathroom door the best he could, since it was hanging off the hinges, and he removed the caution tape. He looked over at Roger, seeing Maureen in the near corner. He motioned over to Roger, telling her to go talk to him. Maureen shook her head in return, but Collins sternly pointed to Roger, which kind of meant, 'go over there and talk to him or I'll cut you.'
Maureen picked herself up and walked over to the couch. What do you say at a moment like this? 'Sorry she did such a thing'? No, that sounds weird. "Rog." That was the only thing she could think of. She sat down next to him, and he made eye contact with her. "I'm sorry. I don't-"
"Maureen, I'm sorry…" Roger said and collapsed down, his head in her lap, the tears continuing to flow.
Maureen looked at Collins, who nodded and walked into his room. She took her hand and ran it through Roger's hair. "Don't be sorry, please don't be sorry. You'll make me feel shitty," she whispered. She leaned down, her body hovering his. "Just, try and calm down. Everything will be okay, I promise." And, she was intending on keeping this promise.