A/N: Okay....this is a short one. Angsty, though. Roger will be back soon enough-I promise. :) Thanks for the reviews, everyone. They seriously made my week.
And, um...I'm rather stalled at the moment (I hate the word blocked. Its evil.) Reviews might help things along (hint hint). ;)
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[4]
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[Mimi]
I awoke the next morning to a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, warm breath tickling my ear, and a pounding headache. I sighed, deciding to let Roger hold me for a bit longer, when suddenly it hit me.
I was in the loft. I wasn't with Roger. I was with Mark.
Oh, God.
I felt my chest constrict as tears threatened to overtake me. Desperately, I tried to hold them back and not wake Mark. I failed miserably and erupted into sobs, my entire body convulsing as wet hot tears poured from my eyes.
I felt Mark stir behind me, and in a second he had rolled me onto my back and was looking at me, his blue eyes sleepy and unfocused, but wide with terror. I clutched the sheet to my chest, feeling cheaper than ever before. God, I had used Mark.
"Mims, what's wrong?" he asked frantically, pushing my hair back behind my ears.
I shook my head, my eyes clenched shut. "My God, Mark," I gasped. "What have I done?"
He gathered me to his chest, stroking my hair and my back. I heard him whisper how everything would be alright. After a few minutes, I calmed down and I lifted my head off of his chest. I kept expecting him to speak, but we simply looked into one another's eyes for what felt like eternity. Mark's hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently brushing away my tears.
For the first time that morning, I smiled.
"Better?" he asked softly.
I nodded, still sniffling a bit. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice raspy from sleep and tears.
"Don't be," he replied. "I'm not."
I crossed my arms on his chest, resting my chin on them so that our faces were only inches apart. I leaned forward slightly and kissed his dry lips. Pulling back, my eyes rested on his again. His brows knit together and his lips turned slightly downward.
"Mimi, I've got to know," he began. "When you told me that you...loved me. Were you just saying that or did you actually mean it?"
Poor Mark. His eyes were so earnest and fragile, reminding me more of a little boy than a grown man approaching 25.
"Mark?" I whispered. "I don't say anything I don't mean."
He smiled at me, his hand moving to caress my back. "Me either," he replied, his voice still gravelly from sleep. He raised an eyebrow. "And what about Roger?"
I shook my head. I still remember the night it happened.
It was a hot summer night, crickets were chirping and a faint breeze was blowing away the humidity of the day. I had been outside on the fire escape for an hour or two, letting my legs dangle through the bars and throwing bits of gravel from the roof onto the street below. I hadn't been able to sleep and my squirming had woken Roger up repeatedly, so I had headed outside. We had argued earlier in the afternoon-I had wanted to go dancing, and as usual, he was against it.
"Please, Roger?" I had pleaded, my eyes searching his for any sort of compassion. While staying in was all well and good, it had been a month of being stuck in the apartment and I was fucking sick of it.
"No way, Mimi," he snapped. "Its too soon. You'll go right back to using."
"You can't just keep me locked in this apartment like a princess!" I yelled, feeling my face flush in anger. "You've got to trust me!"
Roger shook his head, turning away from me. He walked into the bedroom, closed the door. After a moment, I heard a few strained chords of his guitar and knew I wouldn't be seeing him for a couple of hours.
I felt myself sinking, my mind reeling as one thought kept running through my head: Roger doesn't trust me.
It was at that moment I knew our relationship was on borrowed time.
Out on the fire escape, I shook my head sadly. Figuring I had better give the sleep thing one more try, I made my way back inside to my bedroom and froze. Roger was in my bed, where I'd left him hours before. But, unlike usual, I felt no pull to him. I sat down on the floor and watched him sleep for at least an hour, shocking myself as realization washed over me. I wasn't in love with Roger and I hadn't been for some time. Undoubtedly, I loved him. He was my closest friend, and he clearly loved me very much. But somehow we'd quietly transitioned from lovers to friends who shared a bed without either of us noticing.
But, I realized slowly, I couldn't leave Roger either. He was finally happy and stable. He was writing songs. He didn't treat me badly, and I knew that he loved me. He took care of me when I was sick and held me while I slept. In the end, I had nothing to complain about.
However, as I crawled into bed beside him, I couldn't help but think that maybe there was something more than this.
Well, it seemed that I had finally found what was waiting on the other side. Unfortunately, it came in the form of my boyfriend's best friend.
It would kill Roger.
Of all the people in the world for me to fall in love with, it had to be Mark. Anyone else, and Roger might be able to cope.
But not Mark. Never Mark.
I pulled myself out of Mark's arms and began to find my clothes where they'd been scattered around from the night before. I found my shirt on top of a pile of film reels in the corner. I pulled it on, then proceeded to the living room, ignoring the empty bottle of vodka on the table and finding my skirt hanging accusatorially off of a lamp by the couch. I glared at it, then turned around to see Mark standing in the doorway to his room, dressed in only boxers.
"Mimi," he asked, his voice quavering. "What's going on?"
**
"What's going on?" I asked, my mind racing.
Mimi shook her head, dark springy curls swinging from side to side. Her eyes slid from my face to the floor.
"It would kill him, Mark," she breathed, taking a step back-away from me. "He's finally gotten some stability in his life. I can't do that to him."
I stared at her, my mouth agape. "But, Mimi," I protested anemically, all coherent speech fading just beyond my grasp.
She placed her and on my arm, attempting to reassure me, I suppose. Instead, the action was even more distressing. I met her brown eyes solemnly. "Someday, Mark. That's all I can promise you."
I jerked away from her touch. "Tomorrow isn't a guarantee!" I exclaimed. "All we have is here, now..." I gestured wildly around me. "This." I finished, my voice resuming a normal level. I took her hand in my own.
"Its all we have, Mark," she murmured, pulling me close to her, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"Then...what?" I asked. "We say goodbye? Just like that?"
Mimi nodded again. I felt her nose nuzzle my chest and I smiled through the tears that were threatening behind my eyelids. "I'd better get back downstairs."
Numbly, I nodded. "Roger's waiting." I said sensibly, pulling her closer to me.
Mimi let me hold her a moment longer, then gently pried herself out of my embrace.
"Goodbye," I offered, staring at my bare feet on the worn wood floor. It was too early in the morning for this sort of devastation.
Mimi crossed to the door of the loft, her hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment. She spun to meet my gaze. "I do love you, Mark." She said, her voice almost pleading.
"I know," I replied. "You too."
She pulled the door open. "No regrets."
"No regrets," I echoed, listening as the door clanged shut behind her. I silently sunk to the floor, the thud of my body hitting the wood floor echoing through the empty loft.
What had just happened?
**
Reviews make me write faster. :)
And, um...I'm rather stalled at the moment (I hate the word blocked. Its evil.) Reviews might help things along (hint hint). ;)
**
[4]
**
[Mimi]
I awoke the next morning to a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, warm breath tickling my ear, and a pounding headache. I sighed, deciding to let Roger hold me for a bit longer, when suddenly it hit me.
I was in the loft. I wasn't with Roger. I was with Mark.
Oh, God.
I felt my chest constrict as tears threatened to overtake me. Desperately, I tried to hold them back and not wake Mark. I failed miserably and erupted into sobs, my entire body convulsing as wet hot tears poured from my eyes.
I felt Mark stir behind me, and in a second he had rolled me onto my back and was looking at me, his blue eyes sleepy and unfocused, but wide with terror. I clutched the sheet to my chest, feeling cheaper than ever before. God, I had used Mark.
"Mims, what's wrong?" he asked frantically, pushing my hair back behind my ears.
I shook my head, my eyes clenched shut. "My God, Mark," I gasped. "What have I done?"
He gathered me to his chest, stroking my hair and my back. I heard him whisper how everything would be alright. After a few minutes, I calmed down and I lifted my head off of his chest. I kept expecting him to speak, but we simply looked into one another's eyes for what felt like eternity. Mark's hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently brushing away my tears.
For the first time that morning, I smiled.
"Better?" he asked softly.
I nodded, still sniffling a bit. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice raspy from sleep and tears.
"Don't be," he replied. "I'm not."
I crossed my arms on his chest, resting my chin on them so that our faces were only inches apart. I leaned forward slightly and kissed his dry lips. Pulling back, my eyes rested on his again. His brows knit together and his lips turned slightly downward.
"Mimi, I've got to know," he began. "When you told me that you...loved me. Were you just saying that or did you actually mean it?"
Poor Mark. His eyes were so earnest and fragile, reminding me more of a little boy than a grown man approaching 25.
"Mark?" I whispered. "I don't say anything I don't mean."
He smiled at me, his hand moving to caress my back. "Me either," he replied, his voice still gravelly from sleep. He raised an eyebrow. "And what about Roger?"
I shook my head. I still remember the night it happened.
It was a hot summer night, crickets were chirping and a faint breeze was blowing away the humidity of the day. I had been outside on the fire escape for an hour or two, letting my legs dangle through the bars and throwing bits of gravel from the roof onto the street below. I hadn't been able to sleep and my squirming had woken Roger up repeatedly, so I had headed outside. We had argued earlier in the afternoon-I had wanted to go dancing, and as usual, he was against it.
"Please, Roger?" I had pleaded, my eyes searching his for any sort of compassion. While staying in was all well and good, it had been a month of being stuck in the apartment and I was fucking sick of it.
"No way, Mimi," he snapped. "Its too soon. You'll go right back to using."
"You can't just keep me locked in this apartment like a princess!" I yelled, feeling my face flush in anger. "You've got to trust me!"
Roger shook his head, turning away from me. He walked into the bedroom, closed the door. After a moment, I heard a few strained chords of his guitar and knew I wouldn't be seeing him for a couple of hours.
I felt myself sinking, my mind reeling as one thought kept running through my head: Roger doesn't trust me.
It was at that moment I knew our relationship was on borrowed time.
Out on the fire escape, I shook my head sadly. Figuring I had better give the sleep thing one more try, I made my way back inside to my bedroom and froze. Roger was in my bed, where I'd left him hours before. But, unlike usual, I felt no pull to him. I sat down on the floor and watched him sleep for at least an hour, shocking myself as realization washed over me. I wasn't in love with Roger and I hadn't been for some time. Undoubtedly, I loved him. He was my closest friend, and he clearly loved me very much. But somehow we'd quietly transitioned from lovers to friends who shared a bed without either of us noticing.
But, I realized slowly, I couldn't leave Roger either. He was finally happy and stable. He was writing songs. He didn't treat me badly, and I knew that he loved me. He took care of me when I was sick and held me while I slept. In the end, I had nothing to complain about.
However, as I crawled into bed beside him, I couldn't help but think that maybe there was something more than this.
Well, it seemed that I had finally found what was waiting on the other side. Unfortunately, it came in the form of my boyfriend's best friend.
It would kill Roger.
Of all the people in the world for me to fall in love with, it had to be Mark. Anyone else, and Roger might be able to cope.
But not Mark. Never Mark.
I pulled myself out of Mark's arms and began to find my clothes where they'd been scattered around from the night before. I found my shirt on top of a pile of film reels in the corner. I pulled it on, then proceeded to the living room, ignoring the empty bottle of vodka on the table and finding my skirt hanging accusatorially off of a lamp by the couch. I glared at it, then turned around to see Mark standing in the doorway to his room, dressed in only boxers.
"Mimi," he asked, his voice quavering. "What's going on?"
**
"What's going on?" I asked, my mind racing.
Mimi shook her head, dark springy curls swinging from side to side. Her eyes slid from my face to the floor.
"It would kill him, Mark," she breathed, taking a step back-away from me. "He's finally gotten some stability in his life. I can't do that to him."
I stared at her, my mouth agape. "But, Mimi," I protested anemically, all coherent speech fading just beyond my grasp.
She placed her and on my arm, attempting to reassure me, I suppose. Instead, the action was even more distressing. I met her brown eyes solemnly. "Someday, Mark. That's all I can promise you."
I jerked away from her touch. "Tomorrow isn't a guarantee!" I exclaimed. "All we have is here, now..." I gestured wildly around me. "This." I finished, my voice resuming a normal level. I took her hand in my own.
"Its all we have, Mark," she murmured, pulling me close to her, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"Then...what?" I asked. "We say goodbye? Just like that?"
Mimi nodded again. I felt her nose nuzzle my chest and I smiled through the tears that were threatening behind my eyelids. "I'd better get back downstairs."
Numbly, I nodded. "Roger's waiting." I said sensibly, pulling her closer to me.
Mimi let me hold her a moment longer, then gently pried herself out of my embrace.
"Goodbye," I offered, staring at my bare feet on the worn wood floor. It was too early in the morning for this sort of devastation.
Mimi crossed to the door of the loft, her hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment. She spun to meet my gaze. "I do love you, Mark." She said, her voice almost pleading.
"I know," I replied. "You too."
She pulled the door open. "No regrets."
"No regrets," I echoed, listening as the door clanged shut behind her. I silently sunk to the floor, the thud of my body hitting the wood floor echoing through the empty loft.
What had just happened?
**
Reviews make me write faster. :)
