A/N Thanks for the patience, I had writers block. So here's the next chapter and all that good stuff. This chapter is gonna be life half and half with both Mark and Roger's POV. The reviews are really like crack, now that I have them, I need more ;)
Ellokin Nivan: Sorry about that. I wrote it in a matter of 15 min on my phone, but I will try to be more detailed in this chapter and I will 90% likely go back and add more detail to chapter 3
Karleigh-Q: Thank you! As you can see, this is an update so there you go!
RedRubyStorm: Agreed about Roger. It seems especially so in M/R slash because Mark is such a sweetie and he cares so much and Roger is just an ass to him in half of them. At least in some stories he realized it :)
Roger's POV
So this was it. Mark left the loft because of me. Because I was using. And the weird part is, I hurt. After April I was sad and mainly pissed that I had HIV now. After Mimi I cried for a week because she was essentially my sister. My sister with whom I had sex, but a sister none the less. After Mark left, I felt broken. It was like when he left, he took a piece of me with him. My logical side. The side that could make me feel better. My conscience. My heart. Mark was my family…no he was more than family. It's like over the time that we've known each other our minds and bodies have been fused together. Without him here, it's like half of me is missing.
Thinking always helped me…when Mark was here at least. Walking into the dingy, dank loft without him killed me. I literally felt a pang of pain in my aorta as I trudged across the floor. The entire loft was ridden with screenplays, sheet music, film, guitar picks, and needles. Well, my room was filled with needles. Mark was an angel. An angel who played by the rules. I mixed my newly bought smack with some water in a spoon, heated it up, poured it into the syringe, and was ready to shoot up when something stopped me. Placing the needle carefully on the wooden box I used as a table, I got up and went outside. Thinking Mark was just out filming, I ran around alphabet city franticly looking for the filmmaker who was my other half. I didn't see him. I couldn't hear him, so I made some calls. Remembering that Mark had tried to strike up a friendship with Joanne while she and Maureen were still dating, I tried calling her. One ring, two rings, three…damnit this was taking too long. After four she finally picked up.
"Joanne Jefferson attorney how may I help you?" She asked quite professionally as she gingerly put the phone to her ear.
"Joanne it's Roger."
"Roger hi. I didn't expect to hear from you ever again how are you?" Joanne asked since she was oblivious to the fact that if I was calling, it wasn't to chat.
"Joanne, Mark's missing. He stormed out of the loft this morning right after coming back from the hospital." I told her the whole story.
"Well Roger, I'll help look tomorrow after work. He hasn't stopped by here so he has to be further uptown."
"Ok well…thanks." I said while abruptly hanging up. It's not that I was trying to be rude; I just really thought he would have crashed at Joanne's since no one else wanted to associate with him.
Mark's POV
Just keep walking, they don't mean a thing. I had to tell myself this every time I would get a homophobic remark. Or even when people laughed at me for carrying my camera and a bag of clothes. I looked ridiculous and being in one of the most popular cities in the country didn't help the cause. At around 8 pm I finally plopped myself on a nearby bench. It was disgusting and filled with gum, but I really didn't care. I needed to get away, hopefully for good this time. Maureen had gone back to Yonkers to tell her parents about her sexuality, so I decided when I left the loft to go there too.
In order to make enough money for the bus, I had been performing at different corners. Yeah, I was singing. I had always been a pretty good singer, but I didn't love it. Not as much as filming at least. Singing is a way to express your emotions, I don't have many emotions. Well I do, but it's really hard to tell. Only when I feel them real strongly do I have the power to differentiate them. But filming lets me see everyone else's emotions, and that's easier to tell than mine. I'm tired, I mean I've been tired since I got into the hospital, but it's really bad right now. And right as I'm drowsing to sleep on the corner of 42nd and Broadway, I see someone running towards me. Someone dressed in a suit with a briefcase. Do I know any business men here? Oh wait it's Joanne. What's she doing here? I haven't seen her since she and Maureen split.
"Mark oh thank god you're ok!" She said fussing around with my tousled, unbrushed hair for a bit. "Roger's been worried sick about you,"
"Well let him be. Did you know he's been using again?" I questioned her like I was Socrates.
"No, I-" I cut her off
"Well he has. And it hurts me too much to see him do it all again." I mumbled holding back the waterworks that were building up in my eyes.
"Mark, he gave it up. Go back to him, he's changing and he realized he can't live without you." Joanne explained.
"No. It's too hard to live with someone you love who not only doesn't have a mutual feeling, but uses you on top of it! It's just too hard to deal with," I spat at her. How dare she talk about his withdrawal, he won't be able to make it on his own, he barely made it through the first time with me there to support him. No I wouldn't go back, I shouldn't go back, and I flat out couldn't go back. "No Joanne, I won't do it. He's pushed me over the edge this time. I miss him, but if going back means withdrawal again and him finding more girls to fool around with while I sit there and wonder, then it's just not worth it." I wouldn't do it. I just had to tell myself, as I turned around, don't look back, don't look back and the minute I looked back, I knew I regretted my decision.
