It's been a long ass day.
She sinks into the hot water, submerging herself up to her chin. She's heard this is supposed to help; the hot water is supposed to soothe her and ease her tense muscles. All she can think about, however, is her hair getting wet just as the bottom and how it'll inevitably knot up, and how the bathtub isn't long enough fit her short frame. She bends her legs so that her feet can touch the bottom of the tub, but the the cold air against her knees is enough of an annoyance that she quickly sinks them back underwater.
She's spent her entire day at the hospital. Not for her, not yet. Honestly, if it had been her in that harsh, white room, it would have been an all around more pleasant experience. She had known Angel wasn't feeling her best lately, seen Collins worried, tired face and the sweat dripping off of Angel's skin the last time she ate dinner with them, despite the fact that it was cold for September and overcast. But she had tried to ignore it. Seeing her friend barely awake, barely alive, hooked up to machines… It was too much. Not to mention the selfish voice in the back of her mind that kept whispering "this will be you, soon, Mimi. This will be you."
She feels tears spring up in her eyes and ducks her head under the water so that she can't feel them anymore. Her blood drums in her ears, and she wonders how hard it would be to never come to the surface for air. She's not suicidal, but she doesn't particularly want to live, either. And that's almost worse, feeling nothing but total ambivalence towards her life. She holds her head under until her lungs begin to burn, but it's too much, too scary, and she jerks her head out and gasps for breath. Feeling weak, she leans back against the bathtub and listens to her heaving breaths.
She should wash… something. A leg, her hair, her hand. Something. Something productive. But her body seizes up at the thought of movement. For the first time that day, her mind drifts to Roger. He would know how to make her feel better right now. She can just imagine it; she feels his lips against his her collar bone, his rough, calloused fingers against her shoulder and down her back. Thinking of him hurts in the best way—missing him is a painful fantasy. Mimi, you fucked up. Mimi, you lost him. But a girl can dream.
She's roused out of her fantasy sharply by the sound of the door to her apartment opening. She bolts up into a sitting position and instinctively crosses her arms across her chest. The door is usually locked, but of course today she was stupid enough to forget today. Hopefully, she thinks, he'll realize there's nothing to steal and just go.
There's a hard knock on the bathroom door and she feels her hopes dashed. She's about to scream when she hears, "Meems?"
She swallows. "R-Roger?"
There's a long pause and Mimi wonders if her mind is playing tricks on her and falling further into insanity. She wraps her arms more tightly around herself and waits. "Hi," Roger finally says. She knows that voice. It's the voice when he's lost for words, and she wants nothing more than to see him and help him find them.
"Open the door."
"Are you sure?" he asks, although he is already opening the door. He lingers awkwardly in the threshold, trying to keep his eyes raised toward the ceiling and away from her naked body.
She takes the opportunity to stare at him. He's clearly a wreck, unshaven, his hair longer than usual and unwashed, and his clothes hanging off his frame in an unnatural way. Still, Roger Davis is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
"Look at me." It comes out more like a plea than she intends. "Please. You've seen me naked before."
Roger takes a deep breath before obliging, but when he does, it's only a few seconds before he crosses the room, falls to his knees and kisses her. It's gentle, but passionate and longing. She wraps her arms tight around his neck, refusing to let him even think of moving away. She's needed this. Needed him.
They kiss for as long as possible before parting for air. The sound of heavy breaths fill the air and they can do is stare at each other and hope the other will speak first. "My hair is getting you… soaked," Mimi comments.
Roger's lip quirk in the tiniest of smiles. "Don't care."
"I'm sor—"
He puts a finger over her pursed lips. "Not tonight." At her confused response, he kisses her forehead and whispers, "I need the world to stop, Mimi. This isn't… reconciliation or me saying everything is okay now, because it's not. But for tonight, I want to pretend it is."
She understands completely. His words are like a dagger through her heart, but she knows exactly what he means.
Roger seems broken, in a way. "Is that… all right? It's not fair, but—"
She kisses his finger and responds, "Of course it is. I need you, too. Don't care how."
This brings a bright smile to Roger's face, which is worth all the pain for Mimi. "Are you… um… done with your bath? Because I can wait if I need to."
"I can be done," tumbles out of her mouth. Fuck hygeine, she decides.
Roger wets his lips. "You need a towel." She points to the towel draped across the toilet behind him, and he stands to grab it. The cold where his arms were a moment ago alarms her, but she gets on her feet as well, figuring it is the fastest way to get back the warmth.
When Roger turns around, he pauses. His eyes pan over her, and delicious chills go up Mimi's spine. She's lost a bit of weight since she saw Roger last, and hopefully he likes that. He takes a step toward her and wraps the towel around her back, pulling her close into a sweet kiss. It's only when she stops that Mimi realizes she's been trembling.
He places a few kisses on her neck and nuzzles her shoulder. Her eyes drift closed, and she thinks that if she dropped dead right now and somehow went to heaven, it wouldn't be this wonderful. "You sure?" he softly asks into her ear, his hot breath making her insides flip with pleasure.
Just for tonight. This isn't real. He'll leave again. You don't deserve him, anyway.
"Yes."
He lifts her out of the water with a hard splash and carries her to the bedroom, and Mimi finally relaxes.
Morning comes. She knows before she opens her eyes that she's alone, she desperately looks at the space next to her as if he'll magically appear. It's time to move on, she tells herself. It's time to get over him, be a strong woman and do something with her life.
Mimi ignores herself, and snatches the pillow from where Roger slept. It smells faintly like him, and is still warm.
She buries her nose in the pillow and drifts back to sleep, happy to make the world stop for just a little longer.