Disclaimer: Guess what I'm gonna say? No, they aren't mine. How EVER did you guess? Lyrics to the first song are from Matt Caplan's song "Wither" but the second one is all MINE! (that's why it sucks)

A/N: I'm not sure where this is going yet. I don't know how it's going to end, but I can't remember a story I've written with a thoroughly happy ending. So don't expect a party. Had a bit of writer's block, but I got it done… YAY for me! So… pleeeease review!!!!!

Chapter 3

Mark's POV

            I fiddled with the end of my scarf, waiting for the others. I loved this scarf, and no matter how much I wanted to forget the past, I couldn't throw out my scarf. April had made it for me one Christmas, one Christmas before Roger got her started, before Roger got started.  I smiled a little. I remembered then… My smiled faded as I thought about the events that had ensued. Roger and April start doing smack. Yeah, it took me a while to notice, it was the track marks that gave it away, the fact that everything of value (which wasn't much) from the loft, mood swings, everything. April's suicide, AIDS, Roger's withdrawal, meeting Mimi, Roger moving out…

            "Mark! Hey!" said Roger's voice from down the street. I turned on my camera and focused on the two figures walking towards me.

            "November 10, 7:53 PM Eastern standard time. Here come my "friends" for a long night of laughter and fake merriment." I turned off the camera. I don't know why I always said date when I started filming. It had just always seemed right.

            "Hey Mark!" said Mimi, stopping in front of me, her hand in Roger's pocket.  She looked very happy, content, almost carefree. I was like that once, when Roger and I first met when he moved into the loft. That was a long time ago…

            "Hey Mimi, hey Roger." I said, faking a smile.

            "I see you brought your little friend with you," Roger joked, indicating the camera. I nodded.

            "Have you ever known me not to bring it?" Mimi smiled and leaned her head on Roger's shoulder.

            "Marky!" I heard from down the street. I zoomed in, though I knew who it was already. Maureen, Joanne, Collins and Angel were approaching. I didn't want Maureen to call me Marky.  She only called me that either when she was totally drunk, or looking forward to be. And tonight was not a night I wanted to spend with a drunk Maureen.  I greeted everyone normally, capturing it all on film, making sure I acted like the Mark they thought I was. Or the Mark I wanted to be, take your pick.

            We entered the Life Café, as usual, sat at our usual table, ordered our usual food, and talked, as usual, about nothing in particular. We'd had some good times in this café… Like that one time, 2 years ago, at Christmas. We had a party here after Maureen's protest. Back when Mimi and Roger had just met, we all laughed and joked, and wore our hearts on our sleeves. We had nothing to hide.

            "…And I hear Roger's gotta gig?" Collins was saying. Roger flashed his ever-popular grin and replied,

            "Yeah… Saturday night at some bar on Avenue B. Don't know what I'm gonna play yet…" I stopped listening there, thinking about all of our times at those bars. Damn, I was doing a lot of reminiscing tonight.

            "Mark…Hello?" Oh shit… they were talking to me.

            "Sorry, spaced out a little there. The loft's a little cold, haven't been sleeping well." Actually, I kind of liked the cold, and that sure as hell wasn't what was keeping me from sleeping. Roger nodded and continued.

            "As I was saying, Mark, I was wondering if you'd listen to my tape and tell me which songs I should play Saturday." He handed me a tape, which I took and pocketed. Roger Davis was asking ME for input? I sputtered.

            "Uh...yeah…s-s-sure. I-I…"

            "What's wrong? Why are you stuttering so much?" Roger looked a little worried. To my surprise, the anger that had been building for the past few months and hiding so well exploded.

            "Because I've known you for 7 years, helped you through all your fucking hard times and never got as much as a thank you! I was there when your father died, and what did I do? I paid for your fucking train ticket and went with you to his funeral! I was there when April died, and what did I do? I went with you to the hospital whenever you asked, no matter what plans I had that day, I let you cry all over me, I paid for your fucking REHAB! And I lived for a month on Captain Crunch because of it! Every single thing that's happened to you in the past 7 years, I was there, whether you wanted me to be or not! Never a thank you, a hug, even acknowledgement. And now you want my input, after you've moved out of the lot and you all left me alone with my fucking camera, assuming that I didn't mind. Maybe you were wrong!" Tears were pouring down my cheeks as I ran out of the restaurant down the street to the loft, not aware that I still had Roger's tape.  I stomped into the loft, howling in pain and frustration. I curled up on my so-called couch and cried myself to a restless sleep.

            I woke a few hours later and looked at my watch. 3 AM. No way I was going to get back to sleep now. So I stood up and started pacing. That was when I realized I still had the tape. Maybe I should just give it a listen. I ventured into Roger's old room in search of his tape player, which I found in the closet. I scanned trough a couple tracks I'd heard before, like "Your Eyes." After a few minutes of scanning, I heard something that caught my attention slightly.

Hit me harder now, make believe my face is numb
I can't feel, but I can sense you in the air
Now lean in farther now, make believe you're not afraid
I can't speak, but I can whisper in your ear
Oh, wishing I was there
Wishing I could bite the hand that feeds me the shiver and the stare
Oh, wishing I was there
Wishing I could hold the ground that spins around and leaves me unaware

            But the song following caught my attention even more. Roger's gruff voice introduced the song as "Shiver."

Pretended I was famous

Pretended I couldn't lose

You saw right through me

You were the friend I couldn't lose

The things we learn

We learn to late

Our foolish actions

Make way for our hate

And it makes me shiver

The fact that I could've died

And it makes me wonder

Why you put up with my lies

By the end, I was bawling again, and even though it was still about three in the morning, I decided to call Roger. He was just downstairs. Nah, he wouldn't answer, he'd just screen, and after my outburst, he wouldn't answer. But I had to tell him now, while I still felt that way, before the anger took control again.

            I found my way down to the second floor of the building somehow and pounded on Roger and Mimi's door. A very groggy and irritated looking Roger answered the door.

            "Mark? What're you doing here?" he noticed that I was still crying, "What's wrong?" I wanted to confess to him right there. He'd been through the same thing, hadn't he? No, now's not the time. I handed him the tape and managed to choke out,

            "I-I listened to it. The last song, play the last song." Mimi appeared at the door and looked curiously at me, and then at Roger, who pulled me inside and sat me on the couch. Mimi ran to the kitchen and made me some tea.

            "You wanna talk, Mark?" Roger asked cautiously. I nodded hesitantly, and Roger relaxed a little.

            "I'm sorry." I whispered.

            "No, man, I'm sorry." He replied.