Roger sat in the windowsill of his and Mark's loft, strumming idly on his guitar. It wasn't a happy tune, it matched the tears flowing freely from Roger's eyes. He couldn't even see out the window through the blur of his tears.
April is gone... forever.
He'd loved her, and finding her laying on the floor of her bathroom... was horrifying. The blood, her pale body. Roger still had the image in his nightmares. His lovely little redhead had been diagnosed as HIV+, and Roger was living with that disease for the rest of his life. Even with taking his AZT, he was bound to die from it someday.
I should tell you, I should tell you.
There it was. Roger heard the door open and knew who it was before he even spared a glance at Mark. He fiddled with the AZT in his pocket. How the hell was he supposed to tell his best friend that he was going to die.
"Hey Rog-... Where's April?" Mark asked, putting his camera to his side. He had no idea what was up with Roger, he hadn't been home the last two nights, and now he was sitting in the window with his shoulders hunched, sadly.
Roger winced that the question, "I-..." Roger still didn't turn in Mark's direction, he was trying to hide the tears. "I don't think... I don't think April will be coming over again..."
"Oh, you guys broke up," Mark smiled, a bit too happy about that fact that they weren't together anymore. The filmmaker never did like the musician's choice in a girl.
"I wouldn't go that f-far, Mark..." Roger took a deep breath, trying not to get mad. He couldn't be mad at Mark, he didn't know yet, "April is... dead."
Mark nearly dropped the Chinese food in his hands to the floor, instead he set it on the table, "... What?" he asked, his eyes wide.
Roger nodded, looking over to Mark, revealing his puffy, red eyes and pale face. "April... killed herself."
"Roger... I'm so sorry... Did she leave a note?" Mark asked, moving to sit across from the blonde.
Roger set his guitar on the ledge, and pulled out a paper from his pocket, handing it to Mark, "Careful, there's a little b-blood on it."
Mark unfolded the paper, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He was actually afraid of what he was about to read.
We've got AIDS.
"That's all she said?" Mark asked, not able to decide if he was mad about this. It was like April hadn't even tried to say goodbye. There was no meaning in her words, only telling Roger terrible ne- Wait, his best friend had AIDS? "You've got...?"
"HIV+," Roger nodded, looking away. That really wasn't the way he intended to bring it up, but it would have to do. He looked up at Mark, to see the reaction.
Mark's expression sunk as the reality of Roger's situation set in. He felt like he was about to cry, and he wasn't even the one who'd lost April. Roger may have lost everything in the past few hours. "I'm so sorry..."
"Why are you fucking sorry!? You aren't losing shit!" Roger raised his voice, in anger.
Mark flinched, but he understood Roger's anger, "Well," he paused hesitantly, "I am losing you." Mark had to point that fact out, because it was all he was thinking about.
Roger's tone softened, Mark had a point there, "Oh..." He sighed as he heard a faint beeping. He popped a pill in his mouth and took a sip of the water that was sitting beside him, "S-sorry," he whispered.
Mark nodded, instantly hating every pill in that container. At least they were keeping Roger alive. Mark hugged Roger tightly.
"Don't worry... You're not alone."