Their anger hurts my ears, been running strong for seven years
Rather than fix the problems, they never solve them, it makes no sense at all
I see them everyday, we get along, so why can't they?
"Stay Together for the Kids" Blink 182

Smash! A porcelain vase toppled to the floor as Maureen sashayed past the table it sat on, a smug grin on her face as the sound effect met her ears. Behind her, Joanne's face only grew redder. "Oh, okay, so now you're going to throw my shit around?" she asked, voice dripping with venom. "You can destroy me all you want, but you can't destroy my house!"

Grinning to herself again, Maureen picked a pillow and threw it at the wall opposite to her, watching as a picture frame hit the floor. "Oh yeah? Watch me." She knocked various expensive items to the floor by "accident" and Joanne's anger only rose higher. Who did Maureen think she was?

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Maureen!" Joanne screeched, and stalked over to her. "Not every little thing is about you! Did you know that? Or was that newly acquired knowledge?" Joanne rapped her knuckles on the side of Maureen's head. The head on the body of the person who was once hers, but not anymore.

"Well, I did know that—but, gee, everyone else doesn't seem to," Maureen stuck out her tongue like a six-year-old, just the age that fitted her attitude.

Joanne looked at Maureen, and just the look on her face warned the drama queen that something bad was about to happen. Something that would prove Mo wrong. "Yeah, Mo? Honeybear? Well, darling, I think I'm just about sick of being treated like the ground you walk on!" As she advanced on Maureen, her voice climbed.

"Which is kissed and worshiped," Maureen yawned.

And that was it.

All traces of anger, all traces of frustration, all traces of animosity left Joanne with that one statement. Her eyes went soft and she shook her head. "I'm done," she admitted, and then let out a laugh. "Phew, does that feel good. I am done." She flashed a pearly white smile to Maureen; the smile looking even whiter in contrast with her beautiful skin. "Get your shit and go—I'm out of this relationship."

At the sound of these words, Maureen's world came crashing down on her. Had she just been dumped? Nobody dumped Maureen. Maureen could sure as hell dump whoever she wanted, but nobody, and she meant nobody dumped Maureen Lynette Johnson.

"You can't dump me!" Maureen stuck a badly French manicured hand out at Joanne, who was still looking indifferent. "You—you can't do this to me!" her face now twisted. "We have to stay together for Mimi—and—and for Roger, when Mimi's gone—and for Leah!" her heart twisted at the name. A name that he and Mark had picked out for their goddaughter. A nice Jewish name.

"We don't have to stay together for anyone," Joanne seethed, finally showing emotion again. "I talked to Mimi about it, and she said herself that she'd rather see us happy and apart than frustrated and together." Now tears were brimming the lawyer's eyes. "I'm sorry, Maureen, I can't play this game anymore."

"It's not a game, Pookie, I promise!" Maureen shouted, and walked forward to hug Joanne. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Go," Joanne shook her head. "JUST GO!"

This time it sunk in. Blinded by fury, Maureen hustled to the bedroom, stuffed all of her things in a duffel bag and then practically ran through the kitchen, ignoring Joanne's tear-stained face as it followed her. "Maureen—" Joanne began, using a tone of importance.

But Maureen didn't care. She blew right past Joanne and out the door.

When the door closed, Joanne sat on the couch and cried. Not only because of Maureen, but because of the phone call she had just received—Mimi was dead. She had died right in front of Roger. Baby Leah now had no mother.

Heart pace quickening, Joanne jumped up and sprang for the phone, preparing to call Maureen on her cell phone; but then Joanne remembered that Maureen had sold her phone ages ago, and even if it was still in Honey Bear's possession, she wouldn't pick it up.

Honey Bear. That was a habit Joanne was going to need to cut.

Without thinking about much else, Joanne instead dialed Collins' number, where she was sure Maureen was heading at this point. Three rings and the philosopher picked up. "Hello?"

"Collins," Joanne breathed, her voice flooding with sobs, "Collins, we have to head over to the loft, Mimi, she—she—" and then she was weeping again. "Just, we need to head over to the loft," she finished, wiping her eyes. "Soon."

"O-Okay," Collins exhaled, probably not understanding a word that Joanne had said but still being alarmed by her crying. "Um, I'll meet you over there?" His voice was gentle and comforting. Like that could help Joanne at this moment.

"Sure," Joanne breathed, and then ran out of the apartment, hailing a taxi.

Maureen's green eyes brimmed with tears as she people watched; one of her favorite things to do. One couple she watched particularly closely—an old man and woman, holding hands. The woman was in a wheel chair, and her husband helped her onto the bench and they sat, feeding pigeons. Her eyes were playing tricks on her—every time she took a quick glance, the man was Roger and the woman was Mimi.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to look away. That was the kind of relationship Mimi and Roger had. Of course, when things were this perfect, there was a glitch in the plan. And Mimi saw this as she watched the older man cough and take a pill... a pill that resembled an AZT.

How much longer did Mimi have? she asked herself, and she shivered at the thought of a reasonable answer.

Around the time that dusk fell, Maureen realized just how long she'd been sitting on the same bench at Tompkins Square Park. The pinkish sky almost made her cry.

Suddenly, someone was loping toward her, and then it was moving faster, faster, faster, until the form collided with Maureen and forced her into a hug, which was when Maureen started to sob. She didn't know who this person was, but if they were hugging her, she officially loved them, because this was what she needed. Someone to hug.

When she stopped crying, the way the person held her and just the smell of this person revealed them as Mark.

"Maureen," he exhaled, pushing his face into her shoulder. His scarf blinded her but she could care less. "We were so worried. We thought you were going to Collins', and then—and we thought you were going to go to the loft, but you never showed up, we thought you were gone, Collins was a mess—"

"Joanne," Maureen croaked out.

"I know," Mark said in a hushed voice, "it's okay, Maureen, you two just weren't meant for each other, that's all," he rubbed circles in her back.

In his mind, Mark didn't understand why Maureen and Joanne were the only two who didn't get along whatsoever. Sure, they were opposites—but Mark and Roger were opposites, and they'd been best friends all their life. They lived with each other and they were fine. Why were Maureen and Joanne the only two who didn't mesh?

With tears in her eyes, Maureen looked up at Mark, and a feeling she hadn't felt before leapt into her stomach. Something about the way his eyes sparkled and the way he held her. Something about the way their hands were entwined. Something about the way that he leant in and kissed Maureen.

Something about the way that Maureen Johnson had just fallen in love all over again.

A/N: Ooh... plot thickens! (:

This was written abnormally fast... XD (:

–Steph.