Damn, no reviews :( Well, all I have to say is that PLEASE, if you're still reading this, please review…because I like to know someone's enjoying this story other than me :)
The next few days were terrible in Roger's opinion.
After Roger's initial anger at Mark for taking off before working it out faded (it was gone within the first day), all that was left behind was sadness.
But Roger didn't let the anger stay away for long.
Instead he used that anger against Erika.
Since she was the only living thing to yell at and get angry at, he immediately did so after the shock of Mark's abrupt departure. He yelled at her for making Mark leave, she screamed at him for letting her ruin things.
She left for 2 days after that. A whole weekend passed with Roger moping and wallowing in the loft, having no one to comfort him or talk to him. It was usually Mark's job to do that.
But unfortunately Mark was not there.
Instead an empty side of the bed and a hole in Roger's heart were the only things left.
On Monday evening, Erika found her way back to the loft. It was a strange reunion to say the least…
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"What're you doing back here?" Roger asked bitterly after she whispered a greeting, all the while he played Musetta's Waltz over and over again.
He never played that song anymore with Mark around (Mark insisted it was annoying to listen to over and over again and that if he ever went to hell, Musetta's Waltz would be playing). But now that Mark wasn't here...?
It was playing around the loft 24/7, to both comfort him and to keep himself busy (after all, he didn't want to think too hard on a certain situation).
"I…I have nowhere else to go." Erika suddenly said shyly, coming into Roger's view.
Roger took her in and his first thought was she looked like crap. She was shaking softly, she was dirty (she had probably slept on alley floors for those two nights away) and she had bags under her eyes. She obviously hadn't had heroin since that high two nights ago.
That was comforting.
"And why do you think that you're welcome here?" Roger asked irritably.
"Because…Mark was really kind to me when I came here, and I know I let him down…so I kind of want to try again."
"I think that ship already passed."
"Please…please give me another chance…I-I really like you guys. You're the nicest pair of people I've met in a long time and I…now I know that it's totally not cool to shoot up under your roof—"
"No Erika, it's not cool. Which is why I have to draw a line; if you want to live here, you have to get clean." Roger said, putting his guitar to the side and standing up. From his vantage point Erika looked much more vulnerable and childish…but no matter what she did, from giving him puppy eyes to crying pitifully, he would not give in. He couldn't live with a junkie in the house. Not again, not now…not ever again. He couldn't have his relationship screwed up for one little girl who was way too into her drugs and would get killed for it someday.
Erika's dark eyes widened in fright.
"Get-get…clean? But I-I c-c-can't—"
"You have to—or just leave right now and don't bother to come back." Roger hissed, sitting down again.
"I-I can try—"
"And you can go through with it. You can survive without them, no matter what your head and your itch is telling you…take it from someone who knows."
Erika's eyes widened a little more, an accomplishment Roger did not think could be possible.
"You-You've-You're a-were a—"
"Yes, I was a fucking junkie," Roger growled, looking everywhere but at the girl's face, "but…I decided to give it up after my girlfriend fucking killed herself because of a dirty needle…and most importantly I quit so I wouldn't have to see the horrible disappointment and the worry on Mark's face whenever I shot up."
"I-I—"
"Don't know what to say. Well, I have a couple of more things to say; this will kill you Erika. Through O.D-ing or AIDS or dirty needles or angry dealers…you'll die if you let this thing get to you. But, if you stay strong and get out of the habit—"
"It's not that easy!" Erika hissed angrily, going from a little scared girl to a fiery teenager in seconds, "And besides…I don't know how. I won't and can't do it on my own and I can't burden you with my fucking habit."
"When will you get that we don't care?" Roger asked, standing up again, "No, more importantly; when will you realize that Mark doesn't care? He's just one of those guys; he's kind and generous and if he sees anyone in pain he does whatever he can to help. He-he puts money we don't have to spare in homeless' peoples cups; he sacrifices meals that should've been for him to me when we're dirt broke because we spent all our money on AZT; he always has a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to you when anyone needs it; he's stayed with me through thick and thin even though he has enough talent to be making millions at this point. He's amazing…and you hurt him when you gave up. And I hurt him for not telling him about your junkie ways...I guess we're both screw-ups huh?"
"Yeah." She chuckled darkly as she sat on the couch (quite aways from Roger of course), "We are…"
"Might as well be screw-ups together then?" Roger said, looking at the floor. Normally he wouldn't think twice of kicking her out and away (well, he'd might consider letting her stay) but he knew Mark would yell at him later for doing so.
Erika smiled softly at him with her gratefulness in her eyes.
"But I have to let you know—pull this shit again and I just can't let you come back okay?"
Erika nodded sombrely in understanding.
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For the next few days, both Roger and Erika entertained each other (AN: not in a naughty way! :P Just sayin').
Erika would occasionally sing with Roger playing guitar in the background. They would also play cards and doodle in Roger's song book. They basically did everything they could to keep their minds off of things; Erika did it to keep her mind off of withdrawal and Roger did it to keep his mind off of his missing lover.
By the time Wednesday rolled around though, distractions ceased and leaved them both to their own heads.
Something neither wanted.
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Meanwhile, at Lisa's, Mark was going crazy.
He kept himself as busy as possible by working his ass off either at work or at Lisa's place (her apartment has never been cleaner). But, there were the moments when he had to relax or had to sleep. It was those moments that his mind chose to wander off and think about things.
He thought about the poor girl who lived under his roof that was addicted to drugs. He thought about how stupid he felt for not seeing the withdrawal symptoms from the teenager. He thought about his lover…who, if he knew him well enough, he was sulking and playing Musetta's Waltz.
He couldn't help but miss Roger, but…but Roger messed up yet again (did he ever stop messing up?) and…Roger had to think about what he did and apologize.
And Mark prayed that Roger would hurry up.
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Roger sat playing Musetta's Waltz absentmindedly as he stared into space. Erika was trying to keep her mind off of the shaking of her limbs by drawing invisible drawings on the surface of the metal table she was sitting at.
Once Erika had heard the Waltz for what felt like the 1000th time, she brought her fists down to the table in utter annoyance. The playing stopped instantly and Roger's head came up in worry.
"You okay there?"
"No!" Erika hissed, "Would you stop playing those same damn notes over and over again? God, now I know why Mark hated it so much."
"Sorry!" Roger said mocked, "It's instinctive when I'm thinking deeply."
"What are you thinking about?" Erika asked, trying to keep Roger from playing again. The distraction worked, because Roger began to talk.
"What I'm usually always thinking about nowadays."
"Getting laid?" Erika smirked, drawing an invisible smiley face.
"No." Roger rolled his eyes, but Erika could tell she had hit at least some of the nail on the head.
"Writing a new song?"
"Damn you're bad at this game."
"Mark?" she asked, finally answering seriously.
"Damn straight." Roger said in a great Collins impression. But there was no one else there to fully appreciate it; Mark wasn't there and Erika had ever known Collins, so there was no way in hell she'd recognize the impression. Which made Roger all the sadder.
"Look I know you love the man, but you do know you're acting like a love-struck, foolish teenage girl. For Christ's sake you're in your late 20's! Be a man and call him!"
"I can't." Roger simply answered, beginning to play again.
"No more of that!" she screeched before turning and continuing, "Why fucking can't you?"
"Because—" Roger put his guitar to the side (Finally, Erika thought) and turned to her as well, "You don't understand. The woman he escaped to, the woman he's staying with at this moment, is not someone you want to be enemies with! She's his best friend and we have a love-hate relationship. At this moment it's not difficult to guess that she hates me. So if I call and she answers…I'll die."
"Don't be such a drama queen! CALL!" she said, getting up and grabbing the phone. Since it was cordless, she was able to throw it at him easily. He caught it without fail and then gave her a scowl. The scowl that said, If you throw this phone again you'll be in big trouble.
Erika just rolled her eyes and sat back down at the table.
Meanwhile Roger stared at the phone in his hand. His mind was reeling with pros and cons of calling Mark.
If he did call, it'd be 50% likely he'd hear Mark's voice and maybe even convince him to come home…
There was also 50% chance of getting an earful of Lisa's fresh can of anger.
He sighed as his thumb ghosted over the speed dial that was Lisa's number. Should he? Should he not? Would Mark be ready to come back? Would Lisa even let him talk to Mark—?
"If withdrawal hadn't taken most of my strength I'd be kicking your ass." Erika commented drying, now flipping through an old newspaper.
"Why?" Roger asked vaguely.
"Because you're not calling. If you don't call soon, strength or not I will kick your ass buttmunch."
"Buttmunch? Isn't that you?"
Erika just gave him the bird in response.
Roger smirked and looked back at the phone. No day but today…So with a grimace he hit to speed dial and put the phone up to his ear.
Riiinngg…Riiinngg…
"Finally!" Erika exclaimed dramatically.
"Shut up!" Roger whisper-yelled, mostly concentrating on the rings from the background.
Riiinngg…Riiinng—
"Yellow?"
Roger gulped.
Crap.
"Hey Lisa."
"Oh. You." Lisa growled, knowing instantly it was him.
"Look, there are two sides to every story—"
"And there are two people—including me—who frankly don't give a damn."
"Quite frankly," Roger said in the exact same tone as she, "I think there's only one person over there who doesn't give a damn. Because my Mark is too fucking understanding to not give a fuck."
"Manipulator."
"Shut up Lisa! Just put Mark on the phone!" Roger cried.
"No. If you want to apologize or explain, do it in person. Not over the phone!" BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE—
Roger hung up the phone in a huff.
"How'd it go?" Erika sing-songed.
Roger just growled and picked up his guitar yet again.
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