A/N: Sorry for another delay. I'll make it up to you. I think I may write another chapter tonight for you all. Anyways thanks for the ongoing support and please keep the reviews coming


Mark woke with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Mimi was pressed against him, her long legs coiled around his own, and her fingers resting lightly on his hand. He had promised himself that this would never happen again – for Roger's sake – but once he'd heard Mimi's voice saying the words that he's wanted to hear from her for so long, all of his sense walked out the door leaving only his love, longing and desire for her. Mark gently freed himself from underneath Mimi and pulled on some boxers. He looked back at Mimi's slender form; her curls were splayed out on the pillow and one of her breasts was slightly exposed. Mark closed his eyes, remembering how they had felt against his skin – to him, she was perfect, and it was almost as though she had been made for him. He let his eyes roam the rest of her body and felt himself grow excited as he thought back to the previous night's lovemaking.

He had been on top – a difference to the last time – and Mimi had gasped and moaned the very second he had entered her. Mark could still feel where she had run her nails down his back and the sounds of her pleasure were ringing in his eyes, driving him crazy. He gave a start when he felt her hand close around his.

"What's the time?" she asked, sleepily.

"About seven-thirty." Mimi groaned.

"Get your ass back in here. You shouldn't be out of bed at such an ungodly hour." Mark was pulled down beside her, despite his attempts to scramble away.

"Mimi, don't-" but it was too late, as her hands were already on him, stroking him and pulling at his shorts. "Mimi, please…" he tried to push her hands away, but she was persistent and Mark grew angry. "Will you lay off?" he snapped, pulling his shorts back up. Mimi apologized and shifted away from him slightly, sensing that he wanted some space, which Mark appreciated. "What are we gonna do about Roger?"

"I'll take care of it. I promise…" Mimi hesitated, "I love you." She was scared that she had imagined his response last night, especially seeing as he seemed angry with her at the moment. He didn't respond at all this time, instead sat up and pulled a t-shirt over his head. "Mark?" Maybe he didn't hear me…

"Yeah?" Or then again, maybe he'd ignored it.

"Nothing." He looked over at her; she was toying with the sheets.

"You sure?" she didn't meet his eyes, but nodded. "Okay."

Mark hadn't said anything because he felt too damn horrible for doing this to his best friend. He wasn't even sure if he'd want to be with Mimi anymore if she broke up with him – it felt like it would still be a kind of betrayal and Mark didn't want to make things worse – Roger was likely to take the breakup very hard, but he wasn't sure how to tell her.


A few hours later, the explosive breakup had come to an end, and Mimi was forcefully shoved out of Roger's room. Mark stayed in his own room hoping she didn't come, but he soon heard a soft rapping at his door. He opened it in case it was Roger, and saw Mimi, whose hands were full of things she had given Roger, that he obviously didn't want anymore. He reached out and took some of the stuff, lightening the load for her. Without speaking, he helped her carry everything to her apartment. When they were done, Mark turned to leave.

"Can't you stay?" Mimi's voice was small and timid. He didn't face her.

"I wanna see if Roger's okay."

"Will you come down here later?" it wasn't a proposition, but Mark was a little hesitant. He turned and noticed something strange in her expression: fear. She looked hurt and lost and terrified. Mark felt sick. He went over and pulled her close.

"Look… I'm thankful that you didn't mention me in there. You have no idea how much it means to me… but… I don't think I can do this, Mimi."

"What do you mean?" the fear had made its way to her voice, now.

"Us. I can't do it."

"Just for now, right?" Silence. "Or not ever?"

"I don't know." Mimi said nothing. Mark could feel her trembling, but desperately needed to make sure his best friend was okay. "I've gotta go… will you be okay?"

Mimi nodded and Mark left. As soon as the door shut, he heard her crying.


"Go away, Mark."

"Just let me in," Mark pleaded, "I have food… and Stoli." The door clicked; Roger had unlocked it. "My hands are kinda full, Roger." He opened the door. He looks like shit… This is all my fault.

"Thanks Mark." Roger had obviously been crying, but Mark didn't draw attention to it. He poured two generous cups of vodka, and threw Roger a bag of chips.

"How are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

"I'm fine. I don't need her." Roger's voice was unusually harsh; he was forcing it. Mark didn't say anything. "She was sleeping around anyway." Mark had never felt more uncomfortable in his life – he stared at the floor and downed his Stoli in one, causing him to choke. Roger sensed his discomfort and grew suspicious. "Do you know something?" Mark was still coughing, but shook his head. "Liar. You know something."

"I don't!"

"Mark…" Roger dipped his head, trying to achieve eye contact with Mark. Throughout the many years they had been friends, Roger could always count on one thing: Mark was a terrible liar. Mark sputtered, still avoiding Roger's eyes and turning a nice shade of scarlet. "Mark, tell me." Taking a deep breath, Mark confessed.

"Me."

"You, what?"

"It was me. She slept with me." Mark shut his eyes tight, as though waiting to be punched. Roger burst out laughing and patted his shoulder and Mark nearly died of relief.

"Christ that was good, Mark! You had me going for a minute."

"Yeah…" Guilt washed over Mark yet again, and he poured Roger another Stoli.


A couple of hours later, Mark stood in the doorway having a frantic internal battle over whether to go to Mimi. He looked over at Roger's door, thinking of how he had spoken about Mimi in his grief. 'Stupid bitch', 'Good-for-nothing', 'Lousy whore'. Mark had to hold back his anger for the sake of his friend, but once or twice reminded him that he was just upset, and that Mimi wasn't any of those things; that she had loved him. He stopped himself also reminding Roger that he was the one who had pushed her away. Meanwhile, Mark knew Mimi was sitting in her apartment waiting and hoping he would come. He remembered the sound of her crying, and felt a sudden compulsion to see her.

But he remained standing looking between Roger's door and the stairwell, and when he thought back to the previous night when Roger had called him his seeing-eye dog, he made his decision. He turned and went into his room; Mimi would have to wait.