(A/N: Ah, the last chapter. I'm sad to see this story go, actually. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it...)

Four: You'll Make It On Your Own

The day of the New Jersey show was here. My month with the Well Hungarians had been well worth my while, despite the arguments, the hours of partying, and the strain that it put on the already thin friendship that Roger and I held onto. I wanted to stay with them, feeling like I could film them forever, and talk to them forever, and almost...almost be one of them, but I was hopping the train tomorrow morning back to New York while they headed west.

But I missed my apartment. I missed my couch and my cable TV, and my prospective girlfriend and I even missed my mother's voice on my answering machine. In some corner of my mind I would relish the moment I got on that train, no matter how much I wanted to stay with these fun-loving guys.

I stood in the crowd, my camera placed strategically onstage, capturing every moment on film. Looking down at my attire, I realized that the guys had even influenced that. My t-shirt read "Vinyl Will Never Die", and I was actually wearing a pair of loose fitting khakis. I knew that as soon as I got home, these clothes would be shoved into a closet and never seen again, but I didn't care. I fit in. I looked like I belonged.

"And I'd like you all to do me a favor!" Roger shouted from his spot onstage. He grinned at me and winked devilishly. "I want you to yell as loud as you can for the kid that's doing a documentary on our tour. His name's Mark and I want you all to look for it when it comes out on...whatever the hell he said it was coming out on. He told me, but I wasn't paying attention. He's in the front row here, the blonde one that looks mortified at what I'm doing." He laughed and pointed to me. "Right there!"

I grimaced as a thousand cheers went up, but I found my confused look turning into a wide smile. This was the same guy that I had lived with for five years. The same Roger that I helped through some tough times, and helped me through the same. The same Roger that I videotaped in his racy girlfriends purple vinyl dress as a dare. The same Roger that would tune his guitar at the crack of dawn and wake me up. The same Roger that I could always call whenever I needed him.

I sat back and enjoyed our new-kindled friendship...and the show of course.

* * *

I stood idly in the station, Roger beside me, both of us saying nothing. I had exchanged goodbyes with the rest of the band when I got off the bus, but Roger insisted on seeing me off.

"So, you got everything you wanted, right?" He asked out of the blue, looking up at me with searching dark eyes. I blinked.

"Oh yeah, I got some great shots of you guys, I finished all the interviews..."

"No...no..." he interrupted, smiling a little at me. "I mean...other than your film. What you were looking for, did you get that?"

I was silent for a moment. He knew. He knew I had been looking for assurance. Assurance that our friendship was still the same. Assurance that fame hadn't changed him. Assurance that he was still the same Roger Davis and that I was the same Mark Cohen. And I am. And he is. And we were.

"Yeah...yeah I did." I smile back at him. "So...you guys better go sell some more shows out. And cause riots and make people break things, and be your usual rowdy selves."

"We will, we will..." He paused a minute. "Did you ever get laid?" Laughter erupted from the both of us.

"No, actually. Plenty of offers but...who knows where those groupies of yours have been..." I smiled, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder. "Besides, I've got someone waiting for me...sort of."

"Gotta love the 'sort of' kinda relationships." Roger slapped me playfully on the back.

"They work just fine for me."

"Me too..."

An odd silence fell for a moment as they announced that my train had come in, and I was supposed to be getting the hell on, or I was out of luck.

"It's going to be weird without you there, filming, butting into our private lives..." Roger commented, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"You'll do fine without me...you'll make it on your own." The words that Roger had used when he left for LA fell out of my mouth and I smiled. He nodded, knowingly.

"Right. Go make us look good on screen now..." He said, pointing to where I was supposed to board.

"Go make me look like a good filmmaker. Uphold that rock star image for me." I added.

"I'll call."

"You better!" I shouted, backing towards the platform. Roger waved. I waved. He was the same. I was the same. We were still us.