A/N: After too long there's finally another chapter. Titled stolen from the song "Komm Susser Todd" (Come Sweat Death). I'm not inspired the way I used to be. The only thing that's keeping me going is the fact that I really want to finish this fic just so that I can prove to myself that I can finish it. So please review, lend me some inspiration. I think Mimi's going to be a bit out of character… especially in later chapters… Enjoy!
Ch 8: I Just Keep Letting Me Down
The floor creaked, waking Roger from his fitful sleep. Clenching his eyes shut he silently cursed the loft to go up in flames for not being quieter. He rolled over and tried to get more comfortable, only to plant his face into the back couch cushion. He then realized he wasn't in his bed. Slowly he sat up and winced in pain, his head pounded. Lie back down…down… His mind protested, but his body pulled him into sitting position anyway. Hell, his hangovers were always worse than this.
"Morning sunshine!" he heard a feminine laugh. Mimi was making breakfast. What the hell was she doing here?
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she countered.
They glowered at each other in silence.
"Look, I'm trying to make the best of this situation. You could use breakfast. I could use breakfast. Our son or daughter could use breakfast. We need to talk."
Roger grunted that he understood and awkwardly walked over to the table and sat down.
Silence. Roger imagined that if the clock on the wall worked he'd be able to hear the seconds… minutes… tick-tocking away.
"I think you should break up with Mark," Mimi said quietly, not meeting his eyes. More silence. "Well?"
"I heard you. And I carefully filed it for future reference," Roger said sarcastically.
Mimi closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Composing herself she said, "Roger, this is serious. Stop being an asshole."
"But it's what I do best."
Sighing, Mimi stood up from the table. "Grow up, Roger Davis."
"Mimi…" Roger couldn't think of what to say. "I… I don't," he chose his words carefully, "… want to hurt you in any way. I do love you, just not the way I used to. We're going to raise a child. But I don't want to break up with Mark."
"But I want you to. There's no way we can be a real family like that. Don't you want a real family?" She moved close to him, encircling her arms around him. "Don't you want this?"
Roger stiffened as she caressed him. "NO!" he cried forcefully and pushed her away. She stumbled and glared at him.
"You're going to have to get your priorities straight!" she seethed. "Hopefully you're just having some temporary mental issues and you'll come to your senses soon. I'm not going to take any shit from you."
Roger sat there long after Mimi had left. "shit."
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The fluorescent lighting of the lobby was anything but welcoming. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his chair and fiddled with his camera a bit. He wondered why he was even going through with this interview. But anything was better than being at the loft right now. As soon as Mimi had arrived he had hightailed it out of there. Even so, a sense of impending doom washed over him. Is this selling out? Mark wondered and then laughed. He doubted he was far enough along in his career for this to even be considered selling out.
What's the worst thing that could happen? Work for a while and have a bit of money. Be able to buy some decent food. He shifted uneasily as he waited.
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"Where were you?" Roger asked quietly as the door opened.
"Job interview."
"Really?"
"Really. Mimi was here."
"…yeah." Roger paused. "Mark?" he sounded desperate.
"What?" Mark faced him. He took note of the strain on his friend's features.
"I don't want to lose you."
Mark wanted to tell him that he was sorry, but there was no way this could work out. That he didn't need this pain in his life. That it would be easier to end it now. But Mark didn't want to lose Roger either. He didn't want to be alone again. He walked slowly towards the musician who reached out for him.
"You won't," he whispered as he gave in to his heart.