Mark had been aware of this when he'd first left for the Life. He hadn't been planning on drinking enough that he wouldn't be able to control himself, but that was what had ended up happening. Somehow, he'd found his way back to the loft. Mimi had left and Mark did not care to know where she was, he was focusing on Roger. Roger, who was sitting at home, the Fender guitar that had been the subject of so many memories plopped in his lap. Mark just about landed on top of it when he was coming home, falling next to Roger at the last minute.

It was obvious he was intoxicated by the way he was unable to stand or keep his balance, and by the way his speech slurred when he spoke. "Roger," He said, taking a deep breath and looking back at his roommate. He couldn't keep his eyes focused on one thing, no, they were dancing all over Roger's body, looking at the man he knew he couldn't have. "Roger, I..." Mark decided that actions spoke louder than words, putting his hands on either side of Roger's face and bringing their lips together. Both of their eyes flickered shut automatically, Roger even kissed back for a few moments, apparently forgetting about Mimi, before pushing Mark off of him.

"Mark, what the fuck are you doing?! Are you fucking drunk or something?! Get the fuck off of me!" Roger used his guitar as a barrier between he and his friend, pushing Mark away and standing. The other man's yearning glance didn't sway him, the way Mark reached for him was useless. Roger didn't know what the hell was going on, he was confused by the way Mark suddenly wanted him.

"Roger," Mark's hand reached for the man, trying to tug him back down, because his strong feelings were overriding the part of him that was using common sense, "Roger, Iwantyou." It was probably not such a good idea to have gotten as drunk as he had, because now he was telling Roger things that he'd never imagined telling anyone except maybe Angel. Roger wasn't supposed to know, he had Mimi and Mark was just being stupid by thinking he even had a chance. "Iloveyou."

"Mark, what are you fucking talking about?! I'm not gay and neither are you! What about Mimi, Maureen?! You're fucking drunk, Mark, go to bed and stop trying to do this, this isn't what you fucking want!" Roger shook his head, hugging his guitar close to him and finding himself wanting Mimi to come home right there. She wouldn't be afraid to backhand Mark and tell him to go to bed. But the worst part about this, the worst thought in Roger's mind was that he wasn't sure he wanted to do that to Mark.

Sure, he might have been pushing Mark away, telling him he was drunk and to go to bed, but had he not done that before? He had pushed Mimi away when she'd asked him to take her out tonight, told her to come back another day, and then he'd ended up falling in love with her. She was his true love, and... Well, really, Roger was confused at this point. What did he want? Part of him was telling himself that he was doing the right thing, he couldn't give Mark hope like that when he didn't have a chance. And yet, the other part was reminding him of feelings he'd had a long time ago, when Mark had been helping him through withdrawal and through April's death. Mark did have a chance, but Roger refused to believe it.

"Fine." Mark had trouble getting up, and it was doubtful that he'd remember this in the morning, but he did listen to Roger, finding his way to his bedroom and plopping down on his bed. Of course, he didn't immediately get to sleep, instead leaning against the wall his bed was pushed against and sulking. Mark could act very childish when he found the need, and obviously he had. He was murmuring things to himself, simple one-word phrases like stupid, fuck, and random other things. Unfortunately for Mark, Roger could hear this. And guilt was starting to take over him.

Normally, Roger didn't apologize. Everyone knew he was a stubborn ass and he didn't do apologies. He stuck by what he did, but this time seemed to be an exception. He poked that curly head of his in the doorway, looking at Mark and sighing before stepping inside. "Listen, Mark, I'm sorry. I was being an ass." He seemed to have done a bit of thinking. Thinking had had ended in Mark's favor rather than Mimi's.

After all, Mark had been there for him for a long time. Who had been there when April had killed herself? Who had been there when Roger had found out he had AIDS? Who had been there when Roger had been getting off heroin? Who had been there when he had been trying to decide whether or not to keep pushing Mimi away? It had always been Mark, there had always been Mark. Roger felt a need to help him out with this. He could give him a little bit... After all, Mimi was probably working... She wouldn't be home until later, if even tonight. Tomorrow was more likely.

Mark didn't seem to believe Roger's apology until the guitarist sat down on his bed with him and gently, shyly took his hands, looking up into his eyes. To be honest, it seemed a little bit weird. Roger had been pushing him away a little while before and now he was taking Mark's hands in his own, being lovey like he was with Mimi, and quite frankly, it seemed weird to Mark. "Really, I am sorry."

"Okaaaay."

"Mimi's not going to be home 'til tomorrow, she's working, so..." Roger looked down to his and Mark's hands, rubbing the top of the other man's with his thumbs, "Is it okay with you if... If I lay down with you in here?"

"Yesss," Mark grinned, that question had perked him up quite a bit from his sulking stage. He didn't even take off those angular black glasses resting on his nose before he pulled Roger closer and laid down with him. It was really unfortunate that this wouldn't be in his memory when morning came, because simply looking at him revealed how happy he was to have Roger there.

The musician grinned at Mark, glad to see him happy the way he was. Everyone knew that Mark was Roger's best friend--they were like salt and pepper, inseparable and perfect as a pair. Besides, Roger felt bad for making him sulk the way he had. He had never meant to hurt him, it was just that he loved Mimi. And the fact that he was straight(at least, he thought he was)was part of it too. He was thinking, at this point, about his and Mark's friendship--It was the only thing in his life that was for sure. He had thought April was--not so. Everyone knew Mimi wasn't exactly so far from death. But losing Mark was laughable.

There was no room for words as they laid there, the air was thick with emotion. So, neither of them said anything as Roger wrapped his arms around Mark and tugged him close, his nose resting gently against the back of his neck as Mark blew out the only source of light in the room. The night seemed to have come to a perfect end.