Author's notes (because I'm self-indulgent like that): Um...yeah. This section has been written for quite a while but I've been so unsure of everything that follows it that I just haven't updated. ::whew:: That was one heck of a run-on sentence. :)

Reviews make this whole process worthwhile. I mean, despite the killer pay. LOL. Anyway, leave reviews. Not just for me, but for everyone. Its good for the soul. :)
Thanks so much to everyone who has left reviews so far. You don't know how much it's meant!

Thanks, as usual, to the always lovely Robby. And to Lola, Dulcey, and Becca. You guys rock. Hugs for all of you.

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[6]
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Spring came a month later, sending all of New York into an impromptu heat wave. I hadn't heard from Mark or Roger in over two weeks. While at first the silence had been a welcome break from dealing with the tension between the two men and myself, it was beginning to drive me insane. Though living with Roger had been less than ideal at times, it was comforting to know that there was always someone there. I found myself missing the insignificant moments, like when he'd walk up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist for no reason whatsoever, or having someone to eat dinner with.

Three days ago, I gave up hope of seeing either of them again for longer than five minutes. So, yesterday I got a cat. Well, kind of. She turned up on my doorstep and looked so pathetic that I couldn't bear to turn her away. It's better than being alone, I suppose.

Today I've spent most of my day doing laundry. After hauling about four loads of laundry down 10 blocks, I'm ready to drop. Its not just hot outside, its that unbearable mix of humidity and heat where your lungs feel like they're about to collapse and even the slightest movement saps all of your energy.

I couldn't help but wonder what Mark was doing, and how he was doing. From what Roger had told me, he spent most of his days holed up in his room, supposedly working on films, or out wandering around the city filming whatever caught his eye. Roger went with him a couple of times, but stated that things were 'too weird' between the two of them. Of course, he still doesn't know about Mark and I. Not that there is a 'Mark and I'. But Roger just assumes its because they still aren't used to living together again. If he only knew.

Roger and I...well, we're not together but we're not quite over either. He's spent the night over here a few times. We stayed up until the early hours of the morning talking about everything and nothing, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms. It was comforting. It's as if we realize that we can't be together, but we aren't quite ready to give each other up yet. I know its driving Mark crazy, though. Hell, it's driving me crazy.

I suppose I could do something about this entire situation. But right now I was rather content, sitting in front of the fan in a tank top and shorts with my poor scraggly tabby kitten. I scratched her ears and she purred happily, arching her back and switching her tail. All she needed was a good meal and a bit of love. She'd perk up in no time. This heat was ridiculous, though. And it was only March. It was going to be such a long summer. There was something seriously wrong with sitting in front of a fan and sweating. I think it was actually cooler outside than in this godforsaken, airless apartment.

I decided to venture outside, picking up the cat and taking her with me.

"You're a good kitty, you know that?" I asked her, walking barefoot out into the stairwell. God. I was talking to a cat and half-expecting her to talk back to me. I really needed to get out of the apartment more often.

All of a sudden, I ran into something. Correction: someone. The cat leapt free of my arms, darting quickly out the door into the street. I watched its little tail swish happily with rediscovered freedom. Well, shit. I really didn't want to have to go hunt down a cat today. I mumbled a quick "Sorry," without looking up, then went to chase after my cat. Two steps from the door, I spun around, looking at who I had run into.

"Mark?"

"Sorry bout that, Mims," he offered. I walked back over to him, noticing that his camera was mysteriously absent. I took a step closer to him, our eyes locking. My God, I had missed him. Before I even realized what was happening, I was kissing him. My mouth crushed against his in a strange mixture of passion, fear, and longing as my hands worked their way under his shirt. His skin was hot and sticky from sweat. The heat of his body with the stale, thick air of the stairwell was too much. I could barely breathe.

He stumbled back a couple of steps, eventually running into the brick wall of the entryway to the building. I pressed into him, not letting up on my assault. It wasn't like he was putting up much of a fight, anyhow. Roughly, he pulled his mouth away from mine. "Missed you," he gasped, his eyes rolling back as I nipped his lower lip. I nodded slightly then began to walk us backwards to my apartment. We fell inside, giggling, as he pinned me against the door and began to have his way with me. Mark had an aggressive streak. Who would have known? I moaned happily, all thoughts of the cat long forgotten. The damned thing could fend for itself for all I cared. I dragged Mark back to my bedroom, scattering clothes all around us along the way.

Forty-five minutes later, we collapsed--sweaty, naked, and panting--on opposite sides of the bed. There was a reason that mid-afternoon sex in the summer was not the brightest idea. My fingers walked over to his hand, curling around the tips of his fingers. That little bit of contact was about all of the extra heat I could handle at the moment. I hate summer. I heard Mark sigh, and he looked over at me. His hair was adorably squashed down in places and spiky in others and his blue eyes seemed brighter than normal. He grinned at me.

"So, Mimi. How have you been?"

I rolled over onto my stomach, laughing at this. He dropped a kiss onto my shoulder. "Don't you have a fan in here?"

I groaned. "Its on,"

Mark shook his head. I propped myself up on an elbow, looking at him. "Hi," I said softly.

"Hi yourself," he replied, chuckling. "I went out for the paper. How in the hell did I end up here?"

"Not a clue," I said. "You must have met someone very persuasive along the way."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I guess you could call her that. Meanwhile, my roommate expected me back an hour ago."

My face fell at the mention of Roger. I dropped Mark's hand and suddenly became disgustingly aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing any clothes. I sat up, scanning the room for something to throw on. I was such a fucking whore.

Mark looked over at me and tossed me his white t-shirt from where it had been abandoned on the floor. I'm surprised it had made it that far into my apartment. I really needed to reexamine my order of undressing. I watched Mark stumble out into the living room, presumably to find some of his clothes.

"I'm sorry, Mimi," he called. "I shouldn't have said anything."

I sighed, running a hand through my thoroughly tangled hair. My nails got stuck for a moment and I tugged them free, taking a chunk of hair with them. Lovely. I heard the faucet in the kitchen running. "Mark, get back in here,"

His head poked around the doorframe. "What?"

"We have to talk about this sometime. Get over here."

Mark ran a hand through his messy bed-hair and walked over to me carrying a glass of water. At least he was wearing boxers. This really was the kind of conversation that required clothing. "There's nothing to talk about, Mimi."

I sighed again. Mark was the sort of person who went more willingly into conversations when he didn't see them coming.

"I went to see you two weeks ago," I began, trying to distract him. He looked down at me curiously, taking a long drink of water then passing the glass to me. Yeah, that shut him up. I took a sip of the water, then handed it back to him. "It was one of the nights Roger spent down here. I couldn't sleep, so I went to see you,"

It had started out innocently enough. I usually went to the second floor's fire escape when I couldn't sleep-it had always been my place to sit and think. Then, I decided to go up to the third floor. Then I got the bright idea to go visit Mark-in the sixth floor loft. Not long after, I realized that the ladders for the next three floors were rusted to the point where they wouldn't pull down any more. So much for Benny's promised maintenance of the building. No problem, I said. I'll climb.

Two floors and multiple bruises later, hands coated in rust, I realized my plan was slightly flawed. Oh well, at least no one could say I wouldn't go through hell for someone I love.

I hoisted myself up onto the sixth floor landing and sat there panting for a few minutes. I was in good shape and it was rather cool out, but that was one of the most hellish things I've ever done. I looked out across the city streets. The view from up there was even better. I let my legs dangle between the bars and a breeze ruffled the wisps of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail, causing them to stick to my sweaty skin. My clothes were filthy-covered in 20 years worth of dirt and rust and black paint chips. My red tank top and cutoffs would never be the same.

I finally stood up, brushed my shorts off, and walked over to the window. Looking in, I saw Mark asleep on the couch, still dressed in his khakis and white t-shirt. How he could sleep like that, I would never know. His glasses had fallen off his face slightly, the moonlight reflecting off of the lenses. I smiled.

The window pushed open easily and I slipped inside. My bare feet landed softly on the dusty floor and I crept over to his side, sitting on the edge of the couch. His sand colored eyelashes rested softly on his cheeks and his lips were turned upward in a small smile. It sounds stupid and juvenile, but I hoped he was dreaming of me. I leaned forward, letting my lips brush against his. He stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. I sat there watching him sleep for a few more minutes before letting myself out the front door and going back down to Roger.

I looked up at Mark, slightly embarrassed by my girlishness. I have a funny feeling that I would be one of those obnoxious girls that drove by the houses of the guys they had crushes on if I had a car and a different life.

"You climbed the fire escape?"

I nodded.

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean the ladder? Six floors?"

"No, like climbed-climbed."

"Seriously."

I nodded, laughing. It was probably one of the most ridiculous things I had ever done.

Mark grinned, grabbing me and hugging me to his chest. "I cannot believe you climbed the fire escape for me," he laughed, his chest shaking.

"Me either," I murmured, a slow, happy smile spreading over me.

"God, I love you," he said, kissing my temple gently. "For a while I almost had myself convinced otherwise,"

"Me too," I replied, rubbing my cheek on his chest. It was really far too hot for cuddling, but at the moment I didn't really care. It felt so good to be with him. I snuggled into his shoulder and his hand began to trace lazy patterns on my back. We lay like that for a while, trying to ignore the great unspoken.

"Mark?" I asked finally. "Will it always be like this? I mean...after?"

He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "I don't know, Meems," he said honestly, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. I reached for his hand, pulling our entwined fingers close to my chest. "What do you want, Mimi?" he asked, his voice gentle. "You know that this is up to you."

I sighed. "Mark, its not that simple,"

"I know it isn't. But if it were...what would you do?"

"I'd be with you," I replied. "We could leave the city and see something-anything."

His fingers played in my hair and he idly wrapped a curl around one of his fingers. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. It doesn't really matter,"

He moved so that he could see my face. "Sure it does. Come on, Mimi. We've got the entire world to see. Where are we going?"

"I've never left New York, Mark," I admitted, ashamed.

He seemed shocked. "Never?"

I shook my head. "My mom was on her own and there were five of us." I paused. "She always told me that all of the types of people out there in the world were in the city if you just looked hard enough." I smiled sadly. I hadn't seen my mother in over two years. I missed her advice; missed talking to her. But there was no way I could go home.

Mark obviously didn't know what to say, so I spared him the awkwardness. "What do we do about Roger?" I wished we didn't have to spend every moment we were together worrying about Roger and what our next move should be. It didn't seem fair.

"I don't know," Mark answered. "But we have to tell him. This isn't fair to any of us."

"I know," I whispered, turning to face him. "I love you. No matter what happens. Remember that."

He kissed the tip of my nose. "You too." He was quiet for a moment, then pulled himself away from me. "I'm going to run out for a few minutes, but I'll be back, okay?"
"Okay," I murmured. Now was the perfect time for a nap, anyway. Maybe by the time I woke up Mark would be back. He kissed my cheek, then went to find his clothes. I barely heard the apartment door close before I was asleep.

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