Roger POV:

            It's been two weeks since Mark and I decided to give our relationship a try. He's visited every day since then and ate with me at every meal. Last week, Fiona had a friend visit her during lunch and the friend ate her meal so Fiona wouldn't get in trouble for not eating. But one of the nurses found out about it so now there's a new policy that you're not allowed to have visitors at meal times.

            At first the staff tried to tell Mark that he wasn't allowed to eat with me, but they finally gave in when they realized that him being there was helping me, and that I couldn't eat by myself anyway. I don't think they're still suspicious that Mark's eating all my food because I've been gaining weight and have even started drinking by myself.

            Last week the doctors took me off one of my tubes since I started eating and they said I didn't need it anymore. I still can't eat a lot though because my stomach is still getting used to having food in it again and it really does hurt, and because I still have panic attacks a lot after I eat. But not as many as I used to have and not as bad. I can only manage about two meals a day and I only eat a portion of those. But that's still a huge accomplishment for me. Because before that I couldn't eat anything, ever.

            Mark and I are taking things very slowly, and I'm glad for that. I think we're both still getting used to this and I know it's still a little weird for both of us. But not a bad weird. It's just that we never expected to be with another man, and certainly not each other.

            Speaking of Mark, he should be here by now. He's not allowed to eat his lunch in the room with me so he usually goes down to the cafeteria and grabs a bite there and then comes back up to help me through my own lunch.

            I can hear the meal cart in the hall and soon after, a nurse comes in my room and places my lunch in front of me. I start to get worried, Mark's usually always here before my meals get here. What if he got freaked out and left me again? What if he just couldn't take this anymore and went back to the loft?
            I try to push those thoughts out of my mind, assuring myself that it's probably nothing. He probably just got stuck on a long line in the cafeteria or something.

            I stare at the pasta on my plate and begin to arrange and rearrange it, something I do whenever I'm anxious or worried about something. Though, in the past two weeks I haven't done it because Mark is constantly over my shoulder, watching every move I make to make sure that I'm not tricking him like I did at the loft or obsessively organizing my food. Like I'm doing now.

            I sigh and glance down at the art I've turned my lunch into. For months now, I haven't been able to eat by myself. I've had to rely on Mark to either help me or do it for me. But I know I can't do that forever, eventually I'm going to have to learn how to eat by myself. So, I pick up my fork hesitantly, deciding that since Mark isn't here, now would be a good a time as any to learn how again.

            I hold the plastic fork in my hands for a few seconds, listening to the voices battle in my head. Lately, I've developed a new set of voices – good ones – that fight the ones that tell me I'm bad and that I don't deserve food or water or anything except pain.

            Finally, I just drive the fork into the food without thinking, because I know if I think about it, I'll never be able to do it. Trying to ignore the battling voices in the back of my mind, I hesitantly bring the utensil to my mouth, part my lips, and put the food inside.

            There. That wasn't so bad. Now if only I could swallow…

            For some reason, I just can't bring myself to do it. I got the food inside my mouth but I just can't get it down my throat. Finally, I just give up and spit it into my napkin. I never have a problem swallowing when Mark is here. But then again, it's usually him who gets the food into my mouth in the first place.  Maybe it's just too much too soon. Maybe I should start out smaller.

            I pick up the fork again, but this time only put a tiny amount of food on it as I bring it to my lips and put it in my mouth. There, that's better. Not quite as terrifying and impossible as the last time.

            After a few seconds of listening to both sides of the conversation in my head, I decide to go with the positive one and I manage to swallow the tiny amount of food.

            Yes! I did it! I ate BY MYSELF for the first time in months!! I can't wait 'til Mark gets here so I can tell him!

            Elated, I try it again, this time putting a bit more food on my fork, and I somehow manage to swallow again. I'm a nervous wreck and I'm shaking all over but I'm grinning widely because I did the impossible: I ATE FOOD!!!

            Suddenly Mark comes rushing into my room, his face flushed and sweating.

            "I'm sorry I'm late, I was talking to Dr. Greene and…" He stops when he sees the huge smile on my face. "Why do you look so happy?"

            I open my mouth to scream in excitement what I'm so happy about but close it again because I know he'd never believe me. So instead, I pick up the fork and eat by myself again for the third time in one day. "I did it, I ate!!"

            He starts grinning widely too and he runs over to me.

            "Oh my God, Rog, that's great! See? I told you you could do it!"

            He hugs me and gives me a soft, little reward kiss. "Now you don't need me to help you anymore," he says as he strokes my hair.

            I pout and pull away from him. I liked how he held me at every meal, it made me feel safe, like nothing that terrible could happen as long as I was in his arms

            He frowns. "What's wrong?"

            "I still want your…help." I smile a little.

            He laughs and crawls into my bed beside me, wrapping his arms around me. But this time he doesn't take the fork and put the food in my mouth… I do it myself.

            After I finish all I can of the meal, I try to distract myself from the terror I'm starting to feel by starting up a conversation with Mark.

            "So what were you talking to Dr. Greene about?"

            "Oh yeah." He smiles again and I can tell that, for once, he has some good news. "He said you gained five pounds and since you're eating every day now, they're going to take out your other throat tube. And you're also allowed to get visitors and make phone calls again!"

            I nod and try to smile, but can't get any words out of my throat because of the panic and terror now rising in it.

            He looks at me and frowns. "Are you okay Roger?"

            I don't answer, too focused on how full my stomach feels. And knowing that I did that on my own just makes it that much worse.

            He seems to know what's coming and by this point, he knows exactly what to do to get me through this. He holds me close to him, trying to make me feel safe and secure, and when my hands start shaking he holds onto them tightly.

            This panic attack seems particularly bad and lasts longer than that any have in a long time. But finally, I can feel myself begin to calm down a little and Mark senses it too. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my sweaty forehead.

            "Are you okay Roger?"

            I nod and he kisses me again, but this time I don't let him pull away. His lips on mine are distracting me from everything else…from the pain, from the terror, from everything. All I can focus on is the feel of his soft lips pressed against my own and I relax, the fear slowly leaving my body as he deepens the kiss. I'm so wrapped up in the kiss that I don't even realize when someone walks in the room before it's too late.

            "Oh my God!"

            I pull away from Mark quickly and turn to face Mimi, who's standing in the doorway with a look of horrified shock on her face.

            "Mimi!" I exclaim and push Mark away from me. "W-what are you doing here?"

            She just stands there, gaping at me. "I came to visit you. I felt bad and I was going to apologize but I guess there's no need for that now! Looks like you've found yourself someone else."

            "Mimi, it's not-"

            She cuts me off. "No, save your breath Roger. I get it. The second I walk away you turn to another man. I'll be seeing ya."

            She turns around angrily and storms out the door. I jump up to run after her but Mark pushes me back down.

            "No Rog, give her a chance to calm down."

            "Mark, no, she…"

            "Roger," he says again. "What can we do about it now? You're not allowed off the unit and she's probably half way home already."

            I sigh, knowing he's probably right. There's nothing I can do about it right now. But as soon as I got out of this freakin' Goddamn hospital I'm going right to her apartment to explain about me and Mark. I was going to tell her about us eventually, I just wish she hadn't found out the way she had…

Mimi POV:

            As soon as I'm out of the hospital and walking on the streets, I feel my eyes well up with tears and I brush them away angrily. I can't believe it… Roger and Mark. Together. Making out.

            The image is still burning in my brain and hard as I try, I can't seem to make it to go away. I can't believe Roger would turn that quickly to another man the second I was out of the picture. And I can't believe Mark! He had spent the past two weeks consoling me, telling me that Roger wasn't mad and assuring me things would be fine… I can't believe that he was keeping the fact that he and Roger were a COUPLE to himself! No wonder Roger sounded so weird on the phone that night. All he could talk about was Mark.

"Is Mark there with you?"  "Did he want to talk to me?"  "Does he still live in the loft?"

            He didn't want to talk to me at all, and then when he decided that he didn't want to talk to Mark, he wouldn't accept my phone calls at all!

            But as mad as I am at them I can't help but also feel a little bit guilty. If I hadn't dumped Roger, he never would have turned to Mark… Oh my God. The realization that I turned Roger gay hits me with sudden force and I stop fighting my tears and let them fall freely down my cheeks.

            Suddenly I find myself standing in the middle of St. Mark's Place. I don't even know how I got here, I didn't mean to, my intention had been to go back home and sulk in my apartment.

I see a dark figure approach me, his face shrouded by the shadow of the hood that covers most of his face. Maybe my coming here wasn't so unintentional after all, I think to myself.

            For the past few weeks, ever since I had found out about Roger and dumped him, I had been using again. Only a little though, not like I used to when I was a junkie. Just once or twice a week, to take away the guilt I felt and the fear and uncertainty that Roger might not ever be able to fully recover from his disorder.

            "Well well well…what do we have here? How much you want?"

            I sigh and shove my hand in my pocket, pulling out a few crumpled bills. Just once more, I think to myself. This will be the last time…