Author's Note: You should have read it in the last chapter. If you didn't that's your problem not mine. :oP

More bad language in here, sorry. But I'm sure most of you have said worse! O:o)

The chapter's a bit longer than the others are but I think it has enough stuff to keep you interested.

This story is for Stage! The Queen of all things Mark/Specs and Ivan/Dutchy!

Title: Let Me Be Your Friend

Author: Neffie

Chapter 2

The early morning sun peaked through the blinds of the apartment that the two young men shared. Mark, grumbling incoherently, yanked the covers over his head in attempt to block out the offending light. He had almost succeeded in drifting back to sleep when an unidentified flying object bounced down hard onto his mattress and scrambled up on top of him.

"Ivan," the name was more like a groan. "If you want to live, I suggest you get off me. Now."

The threat did not faze the bouncing blonde in the slightest. "Rise and shine Sleeping Ugly! We do have a job to do, in case you have forgotten." Much to Mark's relief, Ivan rolled off the bed.

"I'd like to see you dance after I break your legs," the brunette mumbled into his pillow.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Mark said as he turned to face away from Ivan, in hopes to tune out his chipperness completely.

"Yeah, that's what I thought! Now come on if you want to have time to get breakfast," retorted his roommate as he savagely yanked the sheets off the bed, bringing Mark with them to crash onto the floor in a tangle of fabric and long limbs.

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Whoops."

When Mark finally opened his brown eyes, they held a dangerous look. "I'm giving you a head start. Start. Running."

In a blur, the blonde boy was gone.

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A little over half an hour later, the two were heading down the road in Ivan's car. "So," Ivan beat his hands against the steering wheel in rhythm with the song playing on the stereo, "where do you want to stop to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Mark said in a flat tone, his head resting against the passenger side window staring out at the road rushing beneath the tires.

"Come on, it's the most important meal the day," Ivan imitated a public service announcement and shot a grin at his best friend. Mark just continued staring out the window. The uneasy feeling started to grow inside Ivan again. This isn't like him. This isn't like him at all. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Now, there's McDonald's… Burger King… That new bagel place. How about a bagel?" He resisted the urge to look over at his passenger again.

"I said I wasn't hungry." Mark snapped as he reached over and flicked off the air conditioning.

Ivan reached over and turned it right back on again. "Dude, we're in California and it's SUMMER. Air-conditioning is like a necessary tool for survival."

"I'm freezing," the brunette stated simply.

"You can't be." Ivan risked another glance at his friend. Unbelievably, he was indeed shivering. Not able to suppress his frown, Ivan reached over to place his hand against Mark's forehead. "Are you feeling okay, buddy?"

Mark yanked away from his touch. "Who the fuck are you? My mother?"

Withdrawing his hand quickly, Ivan's eyes widened in shock at the words and tone of what his friend had just said. Where did that come from? Swallowing hard, he finally found his voice. "No, I'm your best friend. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

Shifting uncomfortably and wrapping his arms even tighter around himself Mark's voice went back to the flat tone he had used before. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Concentrating on the road ahead of them, Ivan bit back the comments at the tip of his tongue. Yeah, right. Do I like that stupid? I know you better than that. Something is very very wrong with you, buddy. And I'm gonna find out what it is, even if I have to drag it out of you.

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After coming home that evening, Ivan collapsed onto the couch with a loud groan. "Even my toenails hurt," he whined before finally stretching his arm out for the phone sitting beside the couch.

"Pizza or Chinese?" he yelled in the direction of Mark's bedroom where his roommate had gone to change out of his sweaty clothes.

Mark froze at those simple words. His insides clenched at the mere thought of the calories and fat. Yet, he couldn't skip another meal, Ivan had been watching him like a hawk ever since the ride to work this morning. He knew that he shouldn't have snapped at him like he did. It was just that no one in his life had ever given a damn about him before and he didn't know what to do now that someone did.

Ivan had noticed that something was up, and that set off alarms in Mark's head. He couldn't draw anymore attention to himself by skipping dinner. But just the thought of all that greasy pizza made him feel nauseous. I suppose Chinese would be okay though. I can probably just eat some rice, rice is okay. He won't notice if I pass on everything else. He made his decision.

"Chinese sounds great!" he yelled back into the living room, pulling the black bandanna off his head. A moment late he could hear the soft tones of Ivan's voice on the phone with the restaurant. Satisfied that his roommate was occupied and wouldn't come into his room, he peeled off his T-shirt. It fell lifelessly from his fingers as he studied his reflection.

Long, slender fingers traced along the contour of his ribcage, reveling in the texture of the skin clinging so tightly to the bone. Turning to the side he ran his hand over his stomach he smiled to himself at the way it dipped in. His pants hung loosely off his jutting hips. He would have to buy a smaller belt soon. The thought made his smile broaden across his gaunt face. Ignoring the protesting ache in his shoulders, he lifted his hand to touch his hollowed cheeks, letting his hands trail down to his collarbone, which stood out. He took a critical look at his upper arms; those were still a bit flabby. He would just have to work harder.

"Hope you're not doing what I think you're doing in there!" Ivan called in a singsong voice into the bedroom. "It'll make you go blind you know!" The remark was followed by the sound of Ivan laughing at his own joke.

Mark couldn't suppress his laugh or his retort; "Well you are the expert on that sort of thing, aren't you?" With one last look to the mirror he pulled on his Chargers sweatshirt and placed his glasses back on his face.

He came into the living room to find his blonde friend sprawled across the couch. With a shove to move Ivan's feet off the couch, Mark sat down beside him. They soon became deeply involved in watching a soccer game on TV. When the knock on the door came there was a quick, disagreement as to who would go to answer it ("Go get the door." "You go get it." "You're closer." "I always get it!" "You do not! I always get it!").

Finally, Ivan hauled himself off the cushions to go to the door. Despite his grumbling, he smiled. The return of their normal, friendly banter was a relief to him. Mark seemed like his old self again. Maybe I was just being paranoid after all he considered.

Mark was fishing some forks out of the kitchen drawers and bringing them back to the living room just as Ivan sat down the bags on the coffee table. "What? No Chopsticks?"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "I told you that you weren't allowed to have them anymore after you gave yourself all those splinters trying to start a fire with them!"

Ivan snickered at the memory. "Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten about that!" Mark rolled his eyes but joined his friend in his laughter. Their meal was eaten in companionable silence, except for the occasional outburst of cheering when their team scored, or the nasty swears when a ref made a bad call.

Exhausted from the long day of filming, Ivan found himself dozing off. When Mark glanced over at him he was slumped to the side, a half-empty carton of noodles still cradled in his hand. His mouth hung open slightly in a light snore. Taking the carton from his friends slack grip, Mark cleaned up their mess and then, grabbing his keys, slipped out the door, careful not to wake Ivan.

***************************************

Waking with a snort, Ivan opened bleary eyes to find that the soccer game had ended, now replaced by an infomercial selling the infamous Hair-In-A-Can. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he noticed that Mark was no longer in the living room with him. Still only half awake, he stumbled into the brunette's bedroom.

Finding the room empty, he turned to head towards his own bed that seemed to be calling, but his eyes caught the sight of something on the bed. It was a worn looking notebook. He knew immediately what it was. He had seen Mark carrying it around with him for the past few years. It was his journal. A feeling of guilt swept over him at even holding the cherished object. If he opened it, he would be invading his best friend's privacy. Normally the thought wouldn't cross his mind, but Mark's recent behavior was something that he just couldn't ignore. If something really was wrong, bad wrong, then he owed it to Mark to help him. Chewing his bottom lip nervously he contemplated the situation carefully. He had to know. He had to know if Mark was in trouble of some sort. Had to know if there was something that maybe, just maybe, he could help fix. He would expect Mark to do the same for him, wouldn't he? With shaking hands, he opened the notebook to a random page. After reading a few pages, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "Oh Mark," he whispered softly to the empty room. "Oh Mark. No."

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AN: WOW! That was a long chapter! Sorry, but the guy's would just not let me go! Hope it was good! Review and let me know! Oh yeah! Before you all think I am just a moron, let me explain something. Notice that it says Chapter 2 at the top of this page. That's because the first posted part was a Prologue. This actually is the second chapter. Hope that clears some things up!