Notes: sorry this chapter took so long in getting uploaded! I've been having issues with my english teacher and two thousand word essays ::glares at said english teacher:: aaaaanyway, here it is, the third chapter. The real third chapter. I had some difficulty uploading last time and uploaded ch. 2 twice. Ok, enjoy the fic!

Roger was the first thing I saw when I walked in. He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, holding his head in his hands. He looked up when I walked in, but didn't acknowledge me. I forced a smile, willing his silence not to hurt. There was a time when we could talk about anything, be completely open with each other. Now I feel as if I'm living with a stranger.

I glanced at him when I walked by, and was shocked at what I saw. He looked terrible. His face was deathly pale, and his hair was damp with sweat. I could see him shaking slightly, as if he was terrified of something. I didn't know for sure, but I guessed his fingers must be blistered from his brutal attack on the guitar. And his eyes–oh god, a thousand words couldn't describe them. Something deeper than pain, deeper than grief was staring back at me, trapped in his gaze. If eyes really are the windows to the soul, then Roger was facing the beginning of the end.

In that moment, I wished with all my heart for April. I knew Roger was slipping, welcoming the dark lover with open arms. If she could save him, pull him back from that cold embrace, than I would do anything to get her back. For though Roger needs April, I desperately need him. I need him more than anything.

I walked into the kitchen, trying to get away from him. I grabbed a glass cup and poured myself some tap water. I sipped slowly at my drink. The cold, metallic liquid helped steady my nerves, helped keep me from throwing myself into mire of depression. I stared at the blank wall, willing my mind to wander. For a little while, at least, I could numb the sorrow. I could give myself some relief by not thinking, not feeling. A small corner of my mind knew this wasn't going to help, only make it worse, but my pain drowned that voice out.

I must have been standing there for at least thirty minutes. I snapped out of it when I put my glass to me lips to find I had drank all the water. My legs were cramping from standing in one position too long. I stretched and put my glass in the sink. Moonlight was coming through a window, lining the kitchen with silver. It shone on the glass, making the simple cup look like priceless crystal. A fake, I thought, just like me.

I walked back into the living room. Roger was still sitting there, exactly as I had left him. He wasn't just sitting in the same chair, he hadn't moved at all. His hair was still hanging in exactly the same way, his fingers still touching the same part of his face. Feeling slightly alarmed, I began to walk toward him.

"Roger?"

No response.

I began to walk faster, my fear growing with every step.

"Roger?"

Still nothing. I ran the rest of the way there, my footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. I kneeled down in front of him and yelled his name, hoping, praying for a response. Silence. I put my hands on his shoulders, intending to shake him awake.

Cold.

He was freezing, as cold as an ice sculpture. He couldn't talk, he was shivering so hard. What had he done to himself? I was so worried I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind.

"My God, Roger, you're like ice!"

I grabbed a blanket from the table and wrapped it around his shaking shoulders. I knew right from the start it wasn't working. The blanket was too thin, and Roger was so very cold. I desperation, I did the only thing I could.

I held him.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight, making false promises to myself that I'd never let him go. I held him like he was all that mattered, like he was the last person on earth. In a way, I suppose, he was.

He struggled at first, rejecting me. He didn't want me, didn't need me. He had the ghost of his lost love, something I could never win against. But still I held him. Maybe he didn't need me, but I wasn't going to give up on him without a fight.

"Roger, I'm just trying to get you warm," I said softly. Liar, liar.

When he heard that, he calmed down. He didn't know the guilty pleasure I was taking from this. He didn't know that I held him, not as a friend, but as a lover. He simply surrendered to the embrace, trusting me to keep him safe and warm. But then, Roger did something I never thought, never dreamed he would do.

He wrapped his arms around me.

I nearly died right then. It was everything I'd ever wanted, ever longed for. It was my fantasy, the thing that kept me going when all else failed. Nowit was happening, it was real. I closed me eyes, drowning in bliss. I never wanted this to end. I wanted to keep this moment forever, locked in my heart. I knew, deep inside of myself, that this was what I'd been living for. This embrace was everything life had to offer me.

Roger had stopped shivering. He was getting warmer, his cold skin was thawing. I expected him to pull away at any moment, to untangle himself and walk away without a word. I know him too well. Perhaps if I didn't, I could delude myself into thinking that we'd be closer after this, that we would be more than strangers. Sometimes I hate being so perceptive. It leaves no room for dreaming.

"Mark?"

I heard him speak. His voice was soft and tremulous, a tone I hadn't heard him use in a long, long time. At first I was so surprised that I didn't answer. This was not what I expected at all.

"What is it, Roger," I asked quietly, pulling apart from him so I could look into his face.

"Kiss me."