Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.
Chapter 3 -Why Does It Matter Now?-
+Roger's POV+
I wake up in a bed, Mark's face staring over me the first thing I see.
"Where am I?"
He smiles. "God Rog, you scared the hell out of me. I had one of my roommates help carry you back here."
"Oh." I look around the room, which obviously is Mark's. There're a few cardboard boxes full of old film and I see his camera on the table next to the bed.
"Are you still carrying that thing around?" I gesture to it.
"Yeah." He nods, still smiling. He's about to say something more but I interrupt him when I feel a pain in my stomach.
"Uh, hey Mark? Do you think you could loan me some. . ."
His face darkens. "I know what you're going to ask Roger, and no I'm not going to buy you drugs."
"But Marky. . ."
"No."
I groan and turn on my side in the bed. Bastard. What kind of friend is he if he won't help me when I really need it?
"Rog," His voice is kinder now, much softer. "If I asked you to, would you stop? I mean, you can stay here, I'll help you, but would you?"
"Fuck off, Mark. I need it, I need it to live."
"No you don't! You never needed it before, why does it matter now?"
"Because I know what life feels like with it." I turn back and face him. "With it, April never died, the band never broke up, I never left you. . ." I close my eyes and look away again.
"But Roger,"
"Just no Mark, ok? I can't do it!"
"Then leave. You can stay tonight but I want you gone tomorrow morning."
I open my eyes and glare at him. "Fine. I didn't ask you to bring me here anyway."
"It was so wrong of me to try to give my starving, dirty, homeless junkie friend a place to sleep!"
"Friend? Is that all you consider yourself?"
He flushes and looks away but doesn't answer.
"Marky? Are you in denial or just mad at me?"
He shakes his head fiercely and gets up to leave, but still won't look at me.
"By tomorrow morning, Roger." He says as he's closing the door.
Chapter 3 -Why Does It Matter Now?-
+Roger's POV+
I wake up in a bed, Mark's face staring over me the first thing I see.
"Where am I?"
He smiles. "God Rog, you scared the hell out of me. I had one of my roommates help carry you back here."
"Oh." I look around the room, which obviously is Mark's. There're a few cardboard boxes full of old film and I see his camera on the table next to the bed.
"Are you still carrying that thing around?" I gesture to it.
"Yeah." He nods, still smiling. He's about to say something more but I interrupt him when I feel a pain in my stomach.
"Uh, hey Mark? Do you think you could loan me some. . ."
His face darkens. "I know what you're going to ask Roger, and no I'm not going to buy you drugs."
"But Marky. . ."
"No."
I groan and turn on my side in the bed. Bastard. What kind of friend is he if he won't help me when I really need it?
"Rog," His voice is kinder now, much softer. "If I asked you to, would you stop? I mean, you can stay here, I'll help you, but would you?"
"Fuck off, Mark. I need it, I need it to live."
"No you don't! You never needed it before, why does it matter now?"
"Because I know what life feels like with it." I turn back and face him. "With it, April never died, the band never broke up, I never left you. . ." I close my eyes and look away again.
"But Roger,"
"Just no Mark, ok? I can't do it!"
"Then leave. You can stay tonight but I want you gone tomorrow morning."
I open my eyes and glare at him. "Fine. I didn't ask you to bring me here anyway."
"It was so wrong of me to try to give my starving, dirty, homeless junkie friend a place to sleep!"
"Friend? Is that all you consider yourself?"
He flushes and looks away but doesn't answer.
"Marky? Are you in denial or just mad at me?"
He shakes his head fiercely and gets up to leave, but still won't look at me.
"By tomorrow morning, Roger." He says as he's closing the door.