New York always had the harshest of winters. The sun was beginning to set and the swirling snow glittered as it fell.

Roger stood, alone, hands at his sides, his hair blowing into his face. A heavy jacket hung off his thin frame, boots getting covered by the drifting snow. Freezing winds whipped around him and he didn't even flinch. He stood silently and without emotion, looking at the ground that had been recently disturbed to bury a loved one.

He drowns in his dreams
An exquisite extreme I know
He's as damned as he seems
And more heaven than a heart could hold…

Mark frowned as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He watched from a short distance as his roommate knelt down at the head stone, pulling off his gloves and carefully tracing his fingers over the engraved letters. Mark looked at his feet before glancing around the empty cemetery.

"Rog… It's going to get dark soon…"

"I know… I was – I was just saying goodbye..." The once untouchable rock star, the one who could control any given situation, crumbled before Mark's eyes. With one hand over his face he sobbed, the other leaning on the stone in front of him for support.

And if I try to save him
My whole world could cave in
It just ain't right
No it just ain't right…

"Oh Rog," Mark whispered, his throat closing up as tears filled his eyes. He quickly walked over and leaned down next to his best friend, wrapping his arms around the man's ever shrinking frame. Roger sniffled, bringing his fingers to his lips and gently touching her name. Mark glanced up and ran his fingers through the messy brown hair soothingly. Roger wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Why her?" He asked, looking at the filmmaker, normally vibrant green eyes now clouded over and dark. Mark froze, looking away from the questioning look.

"It's not fair," Roger said softly shaking his head, not allowing time for Mark to give a response. The blonde nodded in agreement, closing his eyes to stop the approaching tears. No, it wasn't fair. She was taken from them too soon by this disease. Someone glowing with life that died so young. And Roger would be next.

Oh and I don't know
I don't know what he's after
But he's so beautiful
Such a beautiful disaster

And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster

Back at the loft, Mark sat on the arm of the couch, looking at Roger's closed bedroom door. He chewed on a fingernail, craning his neck to look at the clock.

"Hey Rog?" Mark asked aloud, keeping his gaze fixed on the closed door. After a few moments of no response he jumped off the couch and slowly made his way across the room.

"Rog?"

"Go away Mark." The blonde knocked softly, leaning his forehead against the door. He could barely make out muffled sobs coming from inside.

"I'm coming in." He turned the doorknob and gently pushed the door open, blinking against the darkness of the room, finding his roommate huddled on his bed. Mark flicked the light switch on and Roger made a small noise of protest, his back to the door, legs pulled up to his chest. Mark walked around the bed and crouched down to be eye to eye with the rocker. Roger's eyes drifted up to Mark's, puffy and filled with tears, red streaks down his face.

His magical myth
As strong as with I believe
A tragedy with
More damage than a soul should see

"It's gonna be okay." Roger shook his head, pulling his arms over his face, turning into the pillow on his bed. Mark got up and sat down on the edge of the bed, close to Roger but allowing his friend to have enough space. He rubbed the older man's back.

"I'm going to die. Just like her."

"Not for a long time. You're clean now, she-" Roger sat up suddenly, placing his hands on Mark's shoulders, shaking him enough weakly but enough to stun the filmmaker.

"She died! She was only twenty years old! She died in a hospital bed hooked up to machines! She and Angel! How can someone know they're going to die in pain and go on with their life?"

And do I try to change him
So hard not to blame him
Hold on tight
Hold on tight

Mark watched as Roger's body shook with unwanted cries and he wrapped his arms around his best friend as Roger fell into waiting arms, crying into Mark's chest. Mark whispered soothing words, petting his hair and rubbing his back. Roger clenched his fingers in Mark's shirt, tears soaking into the fabric, shaking his head.

Oh 'cause I don't know
I don't know what is after
But he's so beautiful
Such a beautiful disaster

"She wouldn't want you like this you know," Mark whispered softly and Roger looked up, blinking to focus on the blonde's face.

"I miss her."

"I know… I know. Mimi would have wanted you to go out and live your life. Be the bad ass you are," Mark smiled and Roger laughed once, nodding in agreement.

"No day but today, right?"

"Yeah. Hey Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you right." Mark smiled sadly as Roger wrapped his arms around his chest tightly.

"Yeah, I love you too Rog."

And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster