Roger sat on the edge of the bed in Mark's room tuning his old Fender Stratocaster. Mark was Roger's best friend since forever. He could not even pin down the time they became friends. It just sort of, happened. It was one of those weird instances in the sandbox on the playground in kindergarten. Mark was building a sandcastle. Roger walked over and stomped on the castle. Roger muttered a 'sorry' when he saw the sadness in the young boy's eyes and helped him rebuild it. Since then they were attached at the hip.

They were the two last people on the planet that you would think of being friends. Sure, they had some things in common, but you would not know that unless you were good friends with both of them.

Roger was a wanna-be rock star. He was a rebel with bleach blonde hair and eyeliner. Roger was a parent's worst nightmare. He was on the hit list of about 50 angry fathers' because he corrupted their poor darling daughters. He snuck out all the time and partied. He was the person guys wanted to friend and girls wanted to fuck. Well, some guys wanted to fuck him too, but that was a different story.

Mark on the other hand was, well, a nerd. He had thick black rimmed glasses. He wore sweaters and corduroys all year round. He was a film geek, never letting his camera out of his sight, hoping to film something that would be his 'big break'. Mark usually sat alone, if Roger was not around. He never had a real girlfriend, but fathers loved him and only wished that he would be their daughters' boyfriend. Mark always followed the rules and was often called a 'good influence' for Roger. Mark was supposed to change Roger for the better. So far, it was not working.

People would not know that Roger was a closet film geek. He could name hundreds of movies, directors, and give the summary of the plot. It was an effect of having Mark as his best friend. People also would not know that Mark listened to most of the music Roger listened to. Again, one of the effects of the friendship. Those things were special. They were the private things that made the friendship become so much more than it was. They trusted each other with their lives. Roger was the only person who was allowed to touch Mark's camera. Roger only took criticism about his music well if it came from Mark. They had an unspoken agreement about those sorts of things. The bond between the two was pretty much unbreakable.

The two 18-year-old boys were just hanging out like they always did after school. Mark was doing his homework like the good student he was and Roger was playing his guitar. Roger started to play Blitzkrieg Bop. He looked every bit of the rocker he was trying to be. He shook his head violently and his tongue was slightly hanging out of his mouth. It was kind of cute, in a Roger sort of way. Mark looked up from his work annoyed. He did not care how adorable Roger looked at that moment wit his spastic head banging. He placed his pencil down on top of his AP Calculus homework and took a deep breath.

"MUST you be doing that at this moment, Rog?" Mark whined. Roger smirked. Mark sounded cute when he whined. Roger turned his amp a little bit louder and began playing some more, just because he knew Mark could never really get mad at him. Mark rolled his eyes and slammed his book shut.

"La la la," Roger sang. "I am playing my guitar and Marky is doing his homework la la la. I am a stud. Marky is not. La la la. I am the best and Marky is a nerd. But he is my best frieeeeeend!" Roger held out the last note. He loved to joke around with Mark like that.

"Dude, finals are soon. If I do well enough, I might convince my parents to let me go to film school instead of Brown. You of all people know how badly I want that." Mark straddled his desk chair so he was now facing Roger, and looked him directly in his wild eyes. Those eyes drove Mark insane.

Mark could not fight his feeling. Lately, thoughts of the future rock star consumed Mark's mind. He dreamed about him constantly. Most of the dreams involved Mark being tied up with his scarf to the bed and Roger performing one sexual act or another. And sure enough, Mark would wake up with the worst erections that he ever got. Mark simply brushed off his feeling towards Roger. He thought that it was because he was a horny teenager. It was not like he was gay or anything. He did have that crush on Maureen Johnson, the bubbly drama queen whom he had known since he was younger. And there was that time that he was interested in Nanette Himelfarb, his tango partner at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center. Mark was only interested in one boy, and that boy happened to be his best friend. He daydreamed of what would happen if one day, they spontaneously kissed, or something to that affect. The thoughts alone made Mark color in his already milky white face. Mark was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard Roger begin to speak.

"Wow, Mark, you are fucking pale. Ever heard of tanning? You look albino." The boys both laughed.

"Well, not everyone can be as hot as you," Mark said. He played it off as a joke, but Mark really was not joking. There was not even a hint of jest in his voice.

The two of them just stared at each other in silence. It was so quiet that if you listened carefully you could hear either of their hearts racing with anticipation and sheer nervousness. There was never usually a moment of silence between the two of them. Roger broke the silence by letting out a sigh and strumming random chords on his guitar.

"Hey, Rog?" Mark asked.

"Mhm," Roger grunted. The intensity of the past moment left them using one word syllables.

"What would you do if someone kissed you out of nowhere?" Mark asked him this question just like he would ask Roger anything else.

Roger took a minute before answering. "I guess I will kiss them back." Roger kept his head down. He was used to questions like that. They asked each other random questions all the time. Mark spoke again, this time he was so quiet, it was if he barely had a voice/

"Oh. Well, what if I kissed you out of nowhere?"