Ok, I'm so sorry about the wait for this chapter, and it's not even very long. I've been doing a lot of thinking with where I'm going with this, but now that I know it should be easier for me to write.

Note: Due to the great feedback I got on my fortune cookie chapter I decided to add in my fortune at the beginning of each chapter (since I eat Chinese food a lot.) So if you want to interpret my fortune, go ahead. And if you think it's really stupid, let me know and I'll stop.

Fortune: Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you (yes, that is what is said)

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Chapter 17: Reflections

April snuggled closer to her lover, preferring the warmth of his body to that of the blanket that lay wrapped around their bodies. She rested her head on his bare chest, running her fingers along his skin, memorizing every pattern, every bump, every mark from his needles. Those marks were familiar to her; they were the same ones that appeared on her own skin. What had started as a simple experiment to see what was so special about heroin that made Roger crave it had turned into her own addiction. She needed it, she was willing to go to any lengths to get it, and she hated it.

Beside her Roger stirred. She thought about waking him, but couldn't, he looked so adorable sleeping. She'd read somewhere that people look younger when they're asleep, and that was true of Roger. Well, not so much younger, she thought, innocent is the better word. He didn't have the look on his face that suggested he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His face was relaxed, not taut with anger during one his screaming fits when he was high. He simply looked innocent, content with everything.

She kissed his temple before getting out of bed, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. She looked back at her boyfriend, seeing the sun shine through the window and onto his body, making him look almost angelic. It was times like these that April wished she had some sort of artistic ability, drawing or photography, what she wouldn't give to keep that sight. She settled for securing it in her mind, which was never the safest place but it would have to do. She couldn't pull herself from that spot, she didn't want to tear her eyes away from Roger. Every time she thought of him her heart swelled with emotion. Love, Pride, Anger, Fear, Pain, Devotion. She felt it all when she looked at him, felt his touch, smelled his scent; she loved him and hated him. She hated him for what he was doing to her, for being devoted to his drug and to her at the same time, for still showing her the love she craved. But most of all, she hated herself for forgiving him all the time. Just once she wanted to be able to say, "Roger, this can't go on. You need help and I need help, we need to take a rest. I can't be happy with you until I'm happy with me". But she couldn't say that, she was too afraid.

"April?" came Roger's groggy voice, he turned over, feeling for her.

"April!" he called again, more frantic this time.

"I'm here," she said, moving to him and touching his hand, "I'm right here."

He smiled, "I was afraid you'd left."

"This is my house silly, where would I go?"

"I don't know," he replied, stretching.

"I'll let you wake up and we can go get something to eat ok?"

"Sure. April?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

April hesitated, almost as if she didn't want to return it. She was afraid of the effect he had on her, the blind devotion she had to him.

"I love you too."

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"Mark?" Maureen asked, finding her boyfriend asleep on the couch the next morning. He was still in his clothes, his coat draped over him like a blanket. He must have come in late last night, after she had gone to sleep. She had lay in bed, feeling the empty spot next to her, knowing Mark wasn't there, and she felt empty. She wanted to feel his arms draped around her as she fell asleep, wanted to hear his soft breathing. It gave her a sense of security. He was never missing, every time she came in late he was always there waiting for her. And after explaining herself he'd give in and swallow his anger and they'd go to bed; he'd always fall asleep with his body as close to her as possible. Sometimes it bothered her, but last night she realized how much she missed it.

Maureen stood behind the couch, watching him. Tentatively she reached out and pulled the coat securely on his body, her fingers lingering. They slid up his face, touched his lips, his cheek, his temple. He looked so different without his glasses on. She touched his hair, her fingers getting caught in the curls. He never let her do this when he was awake, he hated people touching his hair, something she was sure he learned from Roger. Now he didn't mind, he lay there, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to her presence.

She continued to watch him sleep until he stirred, moaning softly as he stretched and turned. She stepped back, not wanting him to know she had been watching him. He didn't even notice her until she cleared her throat purposefully. He turned and she saw his face fall, obviously he had been hoping to see anyone but her.

"Morning," she offered.

He just nodded.

"What time did you get in?"

He shrugged.

"Have you heard from Roger?"

He shook his head.

Finally she lost her patience, "Are you gonna talk to me at all?"

He shrugged again.

To her surprise, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She fought them back and raised her chin defiantly.

"Mark this is stupid. I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry! What more do you want me to do? Scream? Cry? Beg? I'm not going to beg, I refuse to beg. I'm trying to hold on to a scrap of pride Mark! Pride's all I have left," she finished helplessly.

Mark turned to face her, his eyes full of pain.

"Your pride? I'm glad you still have some of yours because I've lost mine completely."

"What do you mean?"

"Maureen how do you think I feel when I go crawling back to you? What do you think I go through when my mind wants to get rid of you and my heart can't be without you? I'm torn in two! I hate it, and my pride can't take it anymore." His voice broke as the tears came. Maureen never saw Mark cry, he looked so incredibly helpless. She went to hug him but he pulled away.

"I can't do this anymore, I can't," he said, sniffling, "Maureen I love you. I do, but I know you don't love me. That's what's killing me. That I want to be with you so bad and you just don't feel the same way."

Maureen wrung her hands together, resisting the urge to break down completely.

"Mark," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "Mark please don't think that I don't care about you. I do. More than you understand. And I don't want to hurt you, that's the last thing I want to do. I can't stand that I hurt you."

"Then why do you do it?"

That started the tears. At first only one fell, but after a moment they just began to stream.

"Mark…" Maureen started, but she couldn't find anything to say.

He sat back down on the couch, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve. She moved over to him but he couldn't look at her. She knelt down next to him.

"Mark?" he didn't respond.

"Mark, listen. I'm no good at speaking like this, you know me, I'm an actress, it has to be rehearsed," she noticed his lip quirk upward, "but let me try. There's a lot of things I don't tell you, things I hide from you. But one thing that I want you to know is this: I love you. Please don't think I don't. That would kill me."

She touched his chin gently, pulling his head to face her. Their eyes locked.

"You do?" he asked.

She nodded, "I do."

He pulled her into him, hugging her as tightly as he could. He couldn't believe he was taking her back again, his mind screamed to break it off but he couldn't. He needed her, he wasn't complete without her. Still, that didn't explain the confusion he felt.

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ring ring

"Come on, pick up"

ring ring ring

"Collins pick up the phone!" Mark muttered, shivering in the cold. He stood outside at that same payphone, since they hadn't paid their phone bill, making a long distance call just to tell a friend that he and Maureen were back together again. Ever since Collins had left, Mark realized how much he needed his guidance, his cool head, his calm thinking. He had just never realized how much guidance Collins needed himself. He was worried about his friend, he knew all about the constant flings and the parties, and he knew that it was the exact opposite of the Tom Collins he knew. But every time he tried to bring it up, Collins would insist that he had to leave.

ring ring ring

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end at last.

"Collins!"

"Hey Mark," he replied.

"You sound out of breath, are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm ok," Collins said, Mark could hear the shift in his voice tone.

Suddenly it dawned on him, "Is this a bad time?" he asked quickly.

Collins gave a small chuckle, "Um yes. Yes it is."

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! Listen, just give me a call when you get the chance ok?"

"Yeah alright."

"Ok you just go back to… what you were doing."

"Thanks but the moment's kinda ruined now."

"Sorry man," Mark said before hanging up.

Collins put the phone back on the hook, shaking his head.

"Who was that?" came the voice of his newest friend. Aaron, the tall, dark, and handsome guy that everyone wanted.

"A friend with bad timing," Collins replied.

He moved closer to the boy, fixing his long dark brown hair, which was flying in every direction.

"Why the hell did you answer the phone?" Aaron asked, looking put out. He leaned back and his pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

Collins shrugged, "I'm one of those people that can't let a phone just ring."

"Um hello? This is not exactly something where you can just go 'oh hang on a sec, I have to answer the phone'" Aaron said indignantly.

"I'm sorry," Collins said, pulling him closer.

"Make it up to me." Aaron said, his dark eyes glowing.

"Fair enough."

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Once again, Collins lay in his bed that was now caked in DNA feeling empty. It didn't make sense, he'd just had an incredible orgasm, why was he feeling empty?

"This blows," he muttered, then looked over at Aaron's sleeping form, "literally," he added with a chuckle. Sighing, he turned to his side so as not to look at him. What was the matter with him? He was living it up practically every night, he'd never been this active in his life. He almost always had someone hanging on his arm or laying next to him. So why did he feel so alone?

I never used to feel this way, he thought to himself, even when I was alone, I never felt this lonely.

He shook himself mentally, that made no sense. You're lonely when you're alone, and when you're with people you're not lonely. End of story. So what was the big deal? Collins couldn't quiet his mind. As hard as he tried, his thoughts kept straying back to the conversations he'd had with Mark about love.

"I don't know Collins, I mean, Maureen's great but I don't know if I love her," Mark had said.

"Don't think too much about it," Collins told him, "When it's love, you'll know it."

"Have you ever been in love?"

Had he? Surely not with anyone he'd met at MIT that's for sure. Maybe he had. What was love anyway? Before he had been so sure, but now it all seemed so foreign.

"Not yet," he had replied, "but I will someday."

"How do you know?"

"Because no one is meant to be alone."

And he wasn't alone. Not physically. But inside he ached with loneliness, he yearned for the love he had once wanted. Not sex with no strings, but true utter devotion to a single person. Did he really want that or was he just being desperate?

"You'll find someone Collins, if anyone deserves to fall in love it's you," Mark had said, giving him a soft smile.

I don't deserve love, he thought, wrapping his arm around Aaron, whatever love is. I'm not even sure anymore.

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