A/N: Wow, this has been a long time in coming. The next chapter won't
take as long, I promise! If anyone's still reading this, I hope it was
worth the wait! --Larissa
Roger POV
I'd been staying in the loft more and more frequently. Technically I was still living with Mimi, but nights found me climbing up the fire escape after Mimi was asleep and crawling back into the loft, where I would wander around in the darkness, or play my guitar, or simply sit in a corner of Mark's room and try to pretend that he would be back any moment.
But he was gone for good. I knew this by now. Maureen had talked to him on the phone not a week ago, and said he wasn't coming back to New York, even after he got better. He was going off somewhere else, to medical school, where he would find his true calling and forget about the years he'd wasted in a shabby heatless loft, with a group of starving artists. Off to bigger and better things. To what he deserved, which was far more than anything I or this life could ever give him.
From my corner, I could have sworn I heard a key turning in the door, but it was an old building, it made all sorts of noises at night, and I was far too comfortable in my corner to get up if I didn't have to. I would have to leave eventually--Mimi would wonder where I was if she woke up and found herself alone. But she had worked a double shift tonight, and she always slept like a log afterwards. I'd be back by dawn, and she wouldn't wake up until long after that.
I had just worked myself into a drowsy doze, humming chords to myself, when the bedroom door creaked open. My first thought was that it was Mimi, and I sprang to my feet, my mind frantically searching for an excuse for my presence here. But then the figure stepped into a patch of moonlight, and I recognized the slender profile and faded plaid coat of my best friend.
"Mark." My voice was little more than a whisper, but he jumped at the sound.
"Roger." He had put on a little weight while he'd been gone, and he looked good. Much better than how I'd seen him last, a frail figure in a wheelchair. He held a cane in his right hand, but other than that, I couldn't see any signs of the accident. "What are you doing here?"
Oh, God, how was I supposed to explain this? "Um, I just."
He shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's just great to see you."
He limped over and put his arms around me. I hugged him back, gently, almost afraid of hurting him again. "God, Mark, you look great."
He smiled, that same, shy smile that I knew and loved. "I've missed you, Roger."
"I missed you too," I replied, feeling suddenly shy. "I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you."
"Never mind." He put a finger to my lips. "We're both here now."
I hugged him again. I couldn't help it. "It really is great to see you. To be honest, I thought you weren't coming back."
He looked at me in wide eyed amazement. "I had to come back. How could I not, after the song you sent me?"
I blinked. "What song?"
"You know." Even in the semi-darkness, I could tell he was blushing. God, I knew him well. "The song you wrote for me." He leaned in and kissed me.
I pulled back almost immediately. "What the hell are you talking about, Mark?"
He pulled a cassette tape out of his back pocket. "I got this in the mail last week. You sent it." His voice trailed off. "Didn't you?"
I snatched it out of his hand. "Dammit, Mark, where the fuck did you get that? That's personal!"
He had to be hopelessly confused by now. "You sent it to me!" he yelled. "I didn't think it was such a big deal to listen to it!"
"I don't know where the hell you got this, but you had no business listening to it!" I shouted at him. "You know how I feel about people going through my things!"
"I told you, someone sent it to me!" he almost screamed. "You would have done the same thing!"
"Well, that someone made a mistake," I snapped.
"You said you loved me," he insisted.
"Well, I was wrong." I was furious by now. I didn't care if my words hurt him. My adrenaline was flowing, and I knew just what to say to make him as hurt as I was humiliated. "I don't love you, I love Mimi."
He stood his ground. I'll give him that much. "I don't believe you, Roger."
His defiance riled me up even more. "Well, here's some proof. Remember that night in December, when you kissed me? Because I sure as hell do. I was only pretending to forget."
One look at his pale, stricken face told me I'd hit home. "You.you knew all along?"
"That's right, I knew," I spat. "I knew we kissed that night, and I knew you were in love with me for God knows how long before that."
Mark was crying now, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"What the fuck was I supposed to say?" I shouted in exasperation. "I didn't say anything because I'm not gay! I'm not a queer, Mark! I love Mimi, and if you can't see that than that's not my fucking problem."
"Why are you doing this?" he pleaded. "What are you trying to do to me?"
I shrugged. "That, my friend, comes with the territory. This is what it's like to be in love with Roger Davis. Welcome to hell."
He started to say something else, but I brushed past him and flung open the front door. "Roger, where the hell are you going?"
"Frankly, I fail to see how that's any of your business," I informed him. "You've had your chance to run away from it all. It's my turn now."
And with that, I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.
Mimi was waiting for me when I burst into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. She didn't say a word but merely stared across the room at me from her position on the couch. She was wrapped up in a blanket from the bedroom, which struck me as odd, seeing as it was a warm night in May. I hoped she wasn't getting sick again.
"Something's wrong, isn't it." It wasn't a question, merely a statement.
I brushed her comment aside. "It's nothing important."
"This is about Mark, isn't it?" Dammit, how did she do that?
"Some shithead sent him my private tape!" I exploded, tightening my fist around the object in my hand. "They listened to my tape, my fucking personal tape, without my permission!"
"Roger."
I cut her off. "And not only do they do that, without even having the balls to tell me, but then they send it to Mark! Who would have the fucking nerve to do something like that?"
She tightened her arms around herself. "Someone like me, perhaps?"
My jaw dropped. "What did you say?"
She slipped the blanket off her shoulders and stood up to face me. "I said, I was the one who sent Mark the tape."
"What?" I repeated. "Why?"
"Because you're in love with him!" she shouted, her chin quivering. "I'm not stupid, Roger. Do you think I haven't seen it before now?"
I collapsed into a nearby chair. Well, now, wasn't this nice? It isn't every day that you're confronted by your girlfriend about your romantic feelings for your roommate/best friend. Male roommate/best friend.
Except Mark wasn't my roommate anymore. Nor, after that little blowup, was it likely he was still my best friend either.
"I don't know what to tell you, Mimi," I mumbled to the floor. "I honestly don't know what to say."
"Trust me, Roger," she sighed. "There's nothing you can say right now that can possibly change the way I'm feeling."
"Mimi, I'm sorry," I pleaded. "And I do love you."
"I know," she said simply. "And I know that isn't enough."
I hung my head. There didn't seem to be any appropriate response to that.
"I'm not going to say it doesn't hurt," she continued softly. "Because it does. It hurts like hell." She looked at me with watery eyes and gave me a small smile. "But I'll get over it."
"So where does this leave us?" I asked, aware the moment I finished that it was a stupid question. You don't exactly pick up a relationship after something like this happens.
She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of going home when my lease runs out next week."
"Mimi, you don't have to leave on account of me," I protested.
"Roger, I don't know how much time I have left." She paused to wipe away a tear that was trickling down her cheek. "However long that is, I want to spend it with someone who's in love with me."
I took a few steps over to her and drew her close. "I'm so sorry, honey," I whispered to her. "You'll find that person someday. I know you will."
She pressed her face to my shoulder, then drew back slowly. "Thank you, Roger," she whispered. "But I'm not the one who needs you right now."
Oh good God. Mark. I'd said all those things to him, and then I'd stormed out and left him and who knew what he would do? "I have to go," I whispered. "Goodbye, Mimi."
She nodded slowly. "Goodbye, love."
I stared at her one last time, then ran out the door and bounded back up the stairs to the loft.
Roger POV
I'd been staying in the loft more and more frequently. Technically I was still living with Mimi, but nights found me climbing up the fire escape after Mimi was asleep and crawling back into the loft, where I would wander around in the darkness, or play my guitar, or simply sit in a corner of Mark's room and try to pretend that he would be back any moment.
But he was gone for good. I knew this by now. Maureen had talked to him on the phone not a week ago, and said he wasn't coming back to New York, even after he got better. He was going off somewhere else, to medical school, where he would find his true calling and forget about the years he'd wasted in a shabby heatless loft, with a group of starving artists. Off to bigger and better things. To what he deserved, which was far more than anything I or this life could ever give him.
From my corner, I could have sworn I heard a key turning in the door, but it was an old building, it made all sorts of noises at night, and I was far too comfortable in my corner to get up if I didn't have to. I would have to leave eventually--Mimi would wonder where I was if she woke up and found herself alone. But she had worked a double shift tonight, and she always slept like a log afterwards. I'd be back by dawn, and she wouldn't wake up until long after that.
I had just worked myself into a drowsy doze, humming chords to myself, when the bedroom door creaked open. My first thought was that it was Mimi, and I sprang to my feet, my mind frantically searching for an excuse for my presence here. But then the figure stepped into a patch of moonlight, and I recognized the slender profile and faded plaid coat of my best friend.
"Mark." My voice was little more than a whisper, but he jumped at the sound.
"Roger." He had put on a little weight while he'd been gone, and he looked good. Much better than how I'd seen him last, a frail figure in a wheelchair. He held a cane in his right hand, but other than that, I couldn't see any signs of the accident. "What are you doing here?"
Oh, God, how was I supposed to explain this? "Um, I just."
He shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's just great to see you."
He limped over and put his arms around me. I hugged him back, gently, almost afraid of hurting him again. "God, Mark, you look great."
He smiled, that same, shy smile that I knew and loved. "I've missed you, Roger."
"I missed you too," I replied, feeling suddenly shy. "I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you."
"Never mind." He put a finger to my lips. "We're both here now."
I hugged him again. I couldn't help it. "It really is great to see you. To be honest, I thought you weren't coming back."
He looked at me in wide eyed amazement. "I had to come back. How could I not, after the song you sent me?"
I blinked. "What song?"
"You know." Even in the semi-darkness, I could tell he was blushing. God, I knew him well. "The song you wrote for me." He leaned in and kissed me.
I pulled back almost immediately. "What the hell are you talking about, Mark?"
He pulled a cassette tape out of his back pocket. "I got this in the mail last week. You sent it." His voice trailed off. "Didn't you?"
I snatched it out of his hand. "Dammit, Mark, where the fuck did you get that? That's personal!"
He had to be hopelessly confused by now. "You sent it to me!" he yelled. "I didn't think it was such a big deal to listen to it!"
"I don't know where the hell you got this, but you had no business listening to it!" I shouted at him. "You know how I feel about people going through my things!"
"I told you, someone sent it to me!" he almost screamed. "You would have done the same thing!"
"Well, that someone made a mistake," I snapped.
"You said you loved me," he insisted.
"Well, I was wrong." I was furious by now. I didn't care if my words hurt him. My adrenaline was flowing, and I knew just what to say to make him as hurt as I was humiliated. "I don't love you, I love Mimi."
He stood his ground. I'll give him that much. "I don't believe you, Roger."
His defiance riled me up even more. "Well, here's some proof. Remember that night in December, when you kissed me? Because I sure as hell do. I was only pretending to forget."
One look at his pale, stricken face told me I'd hit home. "You.you knew all along?"
"That's right, I knew," I spat. "I knew we kissed that night, and I knew you were in love with me for God knows how long before that."
Mark was crying now, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"What the fuck was I supposed to say?" I shouted in exasperation. "I didn't say anything because I'm not gay! I'm not a queer, Mark! I love Mimi, and if you can't see that than that's not my fucking problem."
"Why are you doing this?" he pleaded. "What are you trying to do to me?"
I shrugged. "That, my friend, comes with the territory. This is what it's like to be in love with Roger Davis. Welcome to hell."
He started to say something else, but I brushed past him and flung open the front door. "Roger, where the hell are you going?"
"Frankly, I fail to see how that's any of your business," I informed him. "You've had your chance to run away from it all. It's my turn now."
And with that, I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.
Mimi was waiting for me when I burst into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. She didn't say a word but merely stared across the room at me from her position on the couch. She was wrapped up in a blanket from the bedroom, which struck me as odd, seeing as it was a warm night in May. I hoped she wasn't getting sick again.
"Something's wrong, isn't it." It wasn't a question, merely a statement.
I brushed her comment aside. "It's nothing important."
"This is about Mark, isn't it?" Dammit, how did she do that?
"Some shithead sent him my private tape!" I exploded, tightening my fist around the object in my hand. "They listened to my tape, my fucking personal tape, without my permission!"
"Roger."
I cut her off. "And not only do they do that, without even having the balls to tell me, but then they send it to Mark! Who would have the fucking nerve to do something like that?"
She tightened her arms around herself. "Someone like me, perhaps?"
My jaw dropped. "What did you say?"
She slipped the blanket off her shoulders and stood up to face me. "I said, I was the one who sent Mark the tape."
"What?" I repeated. "Why?"
"Because you're in love with him!" she shouted, her chin quivering. "I'm not stupid, Roger. Do you think I haven't seen it before now?"
I collapsed into a nearby chair. Well, now, wasn't this nice? It isn't every day that you're confronted by your girlfriend about your romantic feelings for your roommate/best friend. Male roommate/best friend.
Except Mark wasn't my roommate anymore. Nor, after that little blowup, was it likely he was still my best friend either.
"I don't know what to tell you, Mimi," I mumbled to the floor. "I honestly don't know what to say."
"Trust me, Roger," she sighed. "There's nothing you can say right now that can possibly change the way I'm feeling."
"Mimi, I'm sorry," I pleaded. "And I do love you."
"I know," she said simply. "And I know that isn't enough."
I hung my head. There didn't seem to be any appropriate response to that.
"I'm not going to say it doesn't hurt," she continued softly. "Because it does. It hurts like hell." She looked at me with watery eyes and gave me a small smile. "But I'll get over it."
"So where does this leave us?" I asked, aware the moment I finished that it was a stupid question. You don't exactly pick up a relationship after something like this happens.
She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of going home when my lease runs out next week."
"Mimi, you don't have to leave on account of me," I protested.
"Roger, I don't know how much time I have left." She paused to wipe away a tear that was trickling down her cheek. "However long that is, I want to spend it with someone who's in love with me."
I took a few steps over to her and drew her close. "I'm so sorry, honey," I whispered to her. "You'll find that person someday. I know you will."
She pressed her face to my shoulder, then drew back slowly. "Thank you, Roger," she whispered. "But I'm not the one who needs you right now."
Oh good God. Mark. I'd said all those things to him, and then I'd stormed out and left him and who knew what he would do? "I have to go," I whispered. "Goodbye, Mimi."
She nodded slowly. "Goodbye, love."
I stared at her one last time, then ran out the door and bounded back up the stairs to the loft.