I'm sorry.

-Morgan

Do You Think I Can Tell People About Your Eyes?

(Amy's Perspective- One Month After the Previous Chapter)

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen? Welcome." A pleasant voice said suddenly, causing both Mark and me to jump slightly. We stood, hand in hand, and allowed her to introduce herself. "My name is Anna. Right this way." She led us into an intimate office and gestured for us to sit down.

'Mr. and Mrs. Cohen'. That's the first time anyone has said that since the wedding. It doesn't feel as good as I thought it would.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I swallowed a potential sob. Mark felt me tense up, and brought our joined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of my hand gently. Affectionately. Lovingly. God, I love him.

"Have you made any special arrangements that I need to know about?" Anna asked us, and we shook our heads. No. Roger was adamant. Was. I took a deep breath. Was. "Ok. I'm going to walk you through the service so that you'll know, roughly, the order. All right?" She asked, and Mark shook his head once more, saying,

"We don't, um, really need a service. Roger wasn't religious- or anything, but- We'd rather just have maybe a small prayer at the beginning and end, and- I mean, one of us can do that. He just, um, wanted us to gather, really. Just wanted us to gather here."

"Oh. I see." There was a pause and she didn't exactly judge us or anything, but she did size us up in a new way. "Have you considered having a wake instead? At a funeral home? I think it might be more cost-effective." She offered helpfully. I shook my head.

"No. He wanted it to be here." I said quietly.

We finished the meeting and quickly left the church.

"I love you." Mark whispered in my ear as he kissed my cheek.

"I love you, too." I told him as my eyes welled up, once again, in tears.

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Roger never came home from the hospital after the night he collapsed in the Kennedy Bar. After Mark and I left that night, his T-cells dropped. Plummeted, really. Dangerously low. Three days later, his 'common cold' turned into a viral infection. A week after that, he had double pneumonia. That's when the lesions started. And the delusions. And about a thousand other equally heartbreaking things went wrong. And then yesterday we lost him.

Mark was a rock. Throughout the entire process, I didn't ever really see him falter. Our wedding was the only time he seemed to let himself go. To let himself be somewhere other than with Roger.

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Flashback- Two weeks after Roger's collapse

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"Amy?" Mark asked me, shaking me gently awake. Oh, God. Oh no.

"Mark? What is it- it's not-" I paused, uncertain.

"Amy, will you marry me?" Mark asked me.

"What? Mark, we're already engaged." I told him, confused.

"At the hospital. In the chapel there. So Roger- So Roger can be my best man?" He asked. Oh, God. "Can we? We can get married again, have the ceremony again, later, if you want. But- I really need him to be there. The first time, at least." Mark said quietly, twisting the engagement ring in circles on my finger.

"Yes." Was all I could say, my heart aching for him so suddenly I thought I would start to cry.

"Thank you." He said, and kissed my cheek.

He finally admitted it. Accepted it. Roger's not coming home. He's the only one who hadn't. Even Roger knows. I can see it in his eyes. Mark was the last one to acknowledge it. And I suddenly wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Either way, I pulled him close.

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Forward- Present day

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We got married two days later. A small service. Maureen didn't get to do the place up with all the craziness she'd planned out, and for that I was almost sad. It would have been something to laugh about, anyway.

We still had fun. Maureen and Joanne were there, of course. And Collins and Benny. Roger, in a wheelchair; a nurse, an IV and an iron lung trailing behind him. Collins snuck in some Stoli in a flask.

Mark made me really happy. The situation made me sad.

"When you came into my life, I don't think I valued you like I should have." Mark told me, staring into my eyes as we spoke our own vows. "And it's quite possible that I still don't. But- I realized quickly that you were someone in my life, like only a few others around me, that I was very blessed to have. You were a connection that I couldn't ignore. A lifeline that I couldn't survive without. I love you because of who you are, and the care and support and love that you give to the people that matter to you. You make me so happy and so grateful and so full of hope that sometimes just seeing you takes my breath away. If it's possible, I'd like to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you; how much you mean to me."

And so we were married.

(Mark's Perspective)

When Amy and I got back to the loft, it hit me like it hasn't ever before that Roger won't be here ever again. Ever again. I stood near the door for a moment, surveying my world without him in it. I felt like my entire chest had just caved in.

Walking farther into the loft, I picked up some of Roger's possessions that we brought home from the hospital and took them into his room to put into the closet, noting that Collins still isn't home. Why does he always have to run?

I wound my way through the living room, gathering more of Roger's things as I went, planning to put them away as well, when I realized that Amy was standing in the doorway to our bedroom, watching me. My beautiful, beautiful wife.

"I think you should leave them. For a little while." She said quietly, biting her bottom lip. I paused, mid-step and looked at her quizzically. She continued, "He doesn't have to go away all at once." Pause as her eyes misted over. "Or completely." Pause. "Or at all." She whispered.

I looked down at the belongings in my hands. A scarf. A magazine. A t-shirt. A notebook. "You're right." And I put them back where I found them, then went to her and wrapped my arms around her tiny frame.

This is so hard.

The phone rang and I pulled away to answer it. "Hello?" I asked.

"Hi there, my name is Jake Mitchell and I'm calling for Roger Davis. Is he in?" A man's voice asked. Holy hell, how do I answer that?

"Um, no. He's-" I froze. "-not." I finished lamely. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"He's one hard man to get a hold of." Jake said. "Listen, can I leave a message for him? I'm with Static Records and I'd really like to take a meeting. Listened to his demo, you know, and really think he could go far-"

"Um, actually," I said, cutting him off, feeling my heart drop right out of my body, "you can't leave a message." I told him, trying to get the words out for the first time.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, confused.

"Roger died yesterday." I blurted out. "He's gone." I said. God, that's hard to say. God, it hurts that this guy is calling.

"Oh. Oh my God. I'm- sorry. I'll let you go." He said awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"Goodbye." I said, and hung up. What irony. What bullshit timing. "Uh-" was all I got out before I started crying. For the first time since Roger died. "A record label. For Roger." I sobbed. "Too late." I shook my head in disbelief. "It's too late."

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Flashback- The Day Before

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"Hey, buddy." Roger said through chapped lips when he woke up.

"Hey. Hi. How are you doing?" I asked him, pouring some water into a cup. Hopefully he'll drink a little.

"I'm good. Can't you see that?" He smiled, his bottom lip cracking a bit and a thin line of blood forming. I moved his oxygen mask slightly and put the straw up to his lips, holding it carefully so I didn't get any blood on my hands. He took the smallest of sips and settled back once more. I situated the mask against his nose and mouth.

"Well, you're looking good." I lied.

"I'm sick, Mark. I'm not stupid." He shot at me, smiling again. "But not for long." He said, looking away from me, across the room. "How're my angels?" He seemed to ask the wall.

"If you mean me and Collins, you're sorely mistaken if you call us angels." I tried to joke.

"I don't." Roger said simply.

"Touche." I said.

"Amy's beautiful, Mark." He told me.

"I know." I replied, confused by his sudden statement. There was a long silence between us.

"I love you, Mark." Roger whispered.

"Don't. You promised you wouldn't say that until-" I said. We promised not to do that. Not until we had to. Not until it was time.

"I love you, Mark." He repeated, still staring at the wall.

"Stop it, Roger." I said, scared.

"Look, Mark. Beautiful." He said, smiling widely at the wall. "Tell them I love them, okay?"

"Roger? Don't. Please don't." I said, grabbing his hand, which he'd lifted for the first time in days.

"It's ok, Mark. You don't have to tell me. I know." He said, squeezing my hand. "Love Amy like I never got to love Mimi, Mark. Do the things we couldn't."

"Roger. I love you." I told him, and he finally looked at me.

"My friend." His eyes filled with tears. "Brother." Pause. "I wish you love."

"Don't. Please, don't." I sobbed, clutching his hand tighter. It was already too late. But he was smiling.

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Forward- Present

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"I'm not ready for tomorrow." I whispered to Amy as we lay in bed that night. "I wasn't ready for today."

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Short chapter, and not what you expected, but I wrote myself into a corner and this is what came out. More to follow soon. I promise.

-Morgan