There's not much Mark dealing with his AIDS in this chapter, there'll be more of that later. Please review! Let me know how this is coming so far!

Mark POV:

            I can't believe this, I honestly can't believe Roger's doing this. All this time he was in the bathroom "taking showers," he was really throwing up. I had know idea, I should have known…I just thought he had a bit of OCD or something, what with his showering all the time and his room being so clean…Tears well up in my eyes and I wipe them away angrily…angry at myself for being so stupid and not realizing sooner…angry for causing this. But again, I stupidly take that anger out on Roger.

            "Roger! What the hell are you doing?!" Stupid question. He looks shocked to find me standing here. But shock soon turns to panic as he stands there, helpless, without an excuse. He looks at his watch.

            "You're not supposed to be home yet…"

            I grab him by the shoulders, shoving him into the living room, afraid that he might try to push me away and finish what he was doing.

            "Roger…God, I can't believe…" I sigh and run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Why? Why the hell are you doing this?!"

            He doesn't answer.

            "I can't take this, Roger! I can't, not now! I don't have the energy to babysit you every second to make sure you're not throwing up every fucking thing you eat! I have my own problems! I-"

            "You think I don't fucking know that?! Why the hell do you think I'm even doing this, Mark? I'm doing this for you!" He starts sobbing.

            I'm shocked. What the hell does he mean? Why would he be throwing up for me? I'm about to ask but he gains control of his voice again and explains.

            "If I don't eat, everyone pays attention to me and my problems. And that's not fucking fair to you, you're right! They should be helping you, not me. So I started fucking eating again so they would back the fuck off and focus on you 'cause you're the one who needs help right now! Not me!"

            "But, Rog, why-"

            "Because if I don't throw up I go crazy, and then I won't be able to help you." He starts sobbing again, his body shaking as he collapses on the couch.

            I go over to him and touch his shoulder.

            "Roger, I'm sorry, I-"

            "Stop fucking apologizing!" This throws me into shocked silence. He's screaming, so loud that I'm sure Mimi is about to run in here any second to see what's wrong. "It's not your fault, it's mine! I ruined your life, I'm preventing you from getting help, and I'm the reason you're upset right now! Mark, I mean this in the best possible way…Mind your own fucking business and let yourself get the help you need! I'm only dragging you down, making you worse, so leave me alone!!" He runs into his room, slamming the door before I even have the chance to react.

            Damn it, why do I always do that? Roger's obviously sick and in need of help, and there I go getting mad at him, yelling when really I should be helping him. Christ, it's not even him I'm mad at, it's me! And just like before I take it all out on him.

            My words ring harshly in my ears. I can't take this Roger…I don't have the energy to babysit you every second…I have my own problems…

            I start sobbing heavily. I just want things to be normal again. I want to be healthy and not have this damned disease and I want Roger to be healthy and not have this eating problem. God, this is all my fault! Why the hell did I have to act so fucking mean to him? It's wasn't even his fault! It just makes it that much worse knowing that Roger thinks it is. It's not like he came over to me and purposely dripped his blood on my hand. No, in fact, he tried to pull his arm away! It was me, all me. I should have been more careful, I knew he had HIV, I knew I had that scratch on my hand, I knew and yet I still touched my hand to his bloody arm…God, what the hell is wrong with me?

            I bury my head under a couch cushion and close my eyes, the image of Roger throwing up in the bathroom still burning in my mind.

Roger POV:

            I lie on my bed, staring at a crack in the ceiling, listening to Mark sobbing in the living room. For some reason, I can't seem to summon up any emotion. He seems to be having trouble catching his breath and I wonder vaguely if he's choking. I should get up, I know I should, but my legs won't obey as I lay here, paralyzed on my hard mattress.

            After a few minutes though, he seems to have calmed down, his breathing finally regulating.

            Another five or ten minutes pass and I hear a knock on my door. I don't move. He knocks again, this time calling out to me anxiously. "Roger!"

            He probably thinks I tried to kill myself or something. After another second or so, I finally will my legs to move and I get up to open the door.

            He walks in with his head down, playing with his watch. I lie down on my bed again, deciding that if he wants to talk, he'll have to take the initiative. There's a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and I almost fall asleep again, exhausted from the events of the day.

            But he finally does speak and what he says gets me wide awake.

            "Um…I know you don't want me apologizing to you, but I'm sorry for saying all that out there, Roger. I didn't mean any of it, I was just mad."

            "You have every right to be mad…"

            "No, not at you. At myself. I was just…I mean, God, Rog, how did you expect me to react?"

            I shift uncomfortably. "Well…I was kind of hoping you wouldn't have to."

"Yeah…well I'm glad I did. You're my best friend and I can't stand to see you hurting yourself like this, Roger! You have to stop, before it gets really out of control." A guilty look spreads across his face. "I didn't mean what I said about babysitting you, I'm sorry. I'll help you however I can."

            I get slightly annoyed for a second. Mark is always putting other people before himself. Help me? How could I ask him to do that for me? I couldn't, not now. Not with everything he's going through himself, it wouldn't be right. A tiny part of me is scared, and knows that I do have a problem. But I sigh and take a deep breath, not listening to that small part of me that's saying I'm wrong and that I have to fix this problem now before it gets even more out of control than it is already. "Don't worry, Mark. I'm okay, it was just weird at first, you know? The whole HIV thing. But I'm fine now, I won't do it anymore." I have to get him to believe me. He's right, he can't afford to be constantly worrying about me and babysitting me.

            He looks at me skeptically. "You promise? I mean, are you sure you can stop, just like that?"

            I nod vigorously. "Yes, I promise."

            He looks at me for a long time before finally nodding in return. "Okay…but Roger, please, if you need help…just don't be afraid to ask for it, okay? You know I'm always here for you." I don't answer. "Right?"

            I nod hesitantly. Yes Mark, I know you'd give up your life to help me…actually you already did…but that doesn't mean I'm about to kill you over my petty problems. You've given up so much for me already. Now it's my turn to help you.

Mark POV:

            It's been two days since I caught Roger throwing up. I know he swore he'd stop and start eating again but I keep thinking of those few times I actually saw him eat, how terrified he looked. I asked him about it but he told me he's fine and that it wasn't a problem, but I know he's lying. It's already out of control, whether he'll admit it or not. I wish I could help, I wish I knew how. But even if I did he wouldn't let me. He's made that perfectly clear, so for now, all I can do is sit back and make sure this doesn't get even more out of control than it already is…