Hey all, sorry for the delay. But here I am, back! Thanks for the reviews :-D They rock my socks... so keep 'em coming! And thanks to Maureen for proofreading this :-D

But it never came.
LET GO! Mimi opened her eyes to see Mark holding Roger's hand back. He looked at his former roommate with an intensity Mimi thought impossible for someone like him.
No, Roger. I won't let you hurt her.
SHE'S LYING!
She hasn't said anything yet. Calm down, Roger. Calm down. Come, Mimi. Mark extended his other arm to Mimi. Mimi didn't move. Mimi, come on. We'll go to my place so Roger can calm down, you can tell him later.
Tell me WHAT? Roger fumed, still thrashing against Mark.
No. It's now. I have to do it now. Or else, I don't know. I don't know what I might do. Mark looked at her, shocked. He didn't move, ignoring Roger's desperate movements.
Well, if you think that's best. He let go reluctantly and Roger turned to face Mimi, face red from the effort.
I'm WAITING!
Be patient, Roger. This isn't easy.
Shut up, Mark. Tell me, Mimi.
Mimi looked to Roger. She wanted him to hug her and everything to go back to the way it was before. But something reminded her it was far from perfect before. It was as if she was caught up in a tornado and she just had to let it get worse and worse.
I... I... Her voice cracked. No, she wouldn't cry twice in one day. Not even in these circumstances.
Roger crossed his arms and stood looking down at her, there was an almost military tone to his stance.
I'm... I'm pregnant, Roger. Roger's bright red face paled instantly and his face went slack. This was not what he had been expecting. Not at all. Roger didn't move. He felt much like Mimi when she had first found out. His knees went weak and he collapsed to the floor. Mimi and Mark watched as his too thin body shook with the power of his sobs.

So what're we going to do? Roger asked, sitting in an upright fetal position on the couch.
Mark looked to Mimi to make sure he was right to talk. We don't know.
Oh, God. I'm too young. Not now. How can we do this?
We'll do it Roger, we have to. Roger looked to Mimi who avoided eye contact. She looked small and scared, and he suddenly became aware that she was a good three years younger than he. He watched Mimi bite her thumb nervously and look off to the side. Mark stood beside her, never breaking eye contact with Roger.
Roger said, finally as he stood up. I'm sorry. He hugged her and felt her frail body in his arms. It'll be okay, Mimi. We can get through this.
So you're not mad?
No, no of course not. Roger smiled to reassure her, but to be honest, he wasn't sure what he felt. He would ignore it, maybe, since this was as close to bliss as he was likely to reach.

The days passed, and Mimi and Roger didn't talk of it. They avoided it as best they could, trying to carry on with their lives. But something was missing, Mimi observed one day. Roger never used those callous fingers on her anymore, unless it was to hand her something and they brushed accidentally. If Mimi was deprived of contact before, this starved her. The slightest contact, even if it was merely eye contact when Roger went to turn out the light at night and his eyes met briefly with hers, made her pulse quicken. She wondered when she had developed this dependency. It was like Roger was her drug, she had fallen into that trap again. The withdrawal was painful, worse than anything she had experienced.
I got these for us tonight. Roger said, placing a box of ramen noodles on the table. He was never mean, and still acted in almost the same way. Almost.
Oh, great.
Do you want me to make
No, I'll do it. Mimi stood up from her place at the table and shuffled over to the stove.

Any time. She poured the water into a pot. It seemed heavy, she feared that she may drop it and they would fight. But since when did she care?
Do you want me to do anything?
No I'm good. She watched the water, remembering that old saying her mother told her about a watched pot never boiling. She watched anyway and rubbed her still chapped hands.
How was your day?

Did you go to work?
Mimi didn't answer. She hadn't been to work since... since then. She couldn't bring herself to step back into that seedy club and dance for those men who didn't care. She couldn't bear to bring her child into a world like that.
Why didn't you?
Again, Mimi stayed silent. The water in front of her began to bubble slowly. She ripped open the orange packet.
You know we need that money, Mimi.
I know. She held the chunk of dried noodles in her hand, watching little pieces of it crack and fall off. The steam made her face damp with moisture. She wasn't hungry.
You know I don't mind, anymore...
I know.
You have to go, Mimi.
She dropped the rectangular piece of noodles into the water, and it splashed up onto her skin. It didn't hurt, but she gasped anyway. Perhaps she was hoping Roger would touch her.
You okay? He didn't move.
I'm fine.
Mimi, you need a job.
I'll get another one. She could. She was smart enough. A high school education didn't mean nothing, she could easily get a job as a cashier.
Like what?
I'll go to the grocery store tomorrow. They'll hire me.
I hope they do.
They will. She found a spoon in the sink and stirred the noodles. Slowly, the broke up and moved more fluidly in the bubbling water. Noodles are done. She said, when the required time had passed.
She carried the pot to the table. It felt ten times heavier this time. She wondered how noodles could way this much. They ate in silence. I'm going down to Mark's after dinner.

Because I want to.
Oh, okay.
You'll be okay?
Yeah, don't worry about me. She hadn't eaten the noodles yet, just stirred them around and around, watching them pick up other noodles and leave some behind. It was mesmerizing. Roger didn't notice.
I'll see you later. Don't wait up for me. Roger stood abruptly and left, leaving Mimi still sitting at the kitchen table, stirring the noodles round and round.
Roger stood momentarily outside the door before descending the steps. He could carry on, they hadn't talked about it since. It was like it wasn't even there. He would say maybe it was just a dream, but that was so cliche. He needed to get out of there. Get out of that apartment that seemed to oppress him perpetually.
he said after knocking. Mark, open up, it's me.