Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter, biatches.

Notes: Readandrevieeeww because you love meee.

I looked up at Collins a little while later. I think I fell asleep on him for a while because my glasses were on the other side of him, but I had awoken with a start. I opened my mouth to say something, probably to ask him if Mimi had left yet, but he just shook his head and put a finger to my lips. I'm not sure why, but my heart stopped beating for a moment. I was filled with such a sense of dread all of a sudden. Anxiety set in fast and I reached over him, grabbed my glasses and was already halfway to Roger's room by the time I was shoving my glasses onto my face. I opened the door slowly just in case he was sleeping and Collins was behind me with his hand on my shoulder.

"Mark, don't."

His tone was soft. Pitying almost.

I looked inside anyway.

I wished I hadn't because what I saw made my insides freeze and my head spin in the most unpleasant way.

Mimi was sitting on the floor beside Roger's bed holding his hand and crying into her knees. She looked up when she heard me. The black streaks down her face made her look like a tiger or some other wild cat, but I wasn't thinking about that. She looked at me in a way that she never had before. It was apologetic and practically pitying. Why was everyone looking at me like that?

I looked back at her. "How's he holding up?" My voice cracked and I cleared it of the lump I felt forming.

Her expression changed and Collins's hand tightened on my shoulder.

I was expecting her to at least have the decency to tell me herself but, of course, she didn't. It was Collins who spoke at her silence.

"He's not, Mark."

"He's dead, baby."

But of course they were kidding. Roger couldn't be dead. That's just stupid. He hadn't asked for me. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. He promised me after the last time he did that he would never leave me again without telling me where he was going or at least saying goodbye first. I shook my head. They just didn't know.

Two months prior...

"Roger, I l—"

"I know."

He didn't understand. I wanted to tell him so bad. That was all I'd ever wanted. I loved him so much. But he never let me say it. Maybe he just would have felt bad that he couldn't say it back. I would have understood, though. I think he thought it would make things too complicated or something. I thought that was just stupid. I mean, it would probably make things less complicated. For me anyway. I also think he thought that saying it jinxed things. But that was just Roger. He only knew how to express hurtful things. Annoyance, anger, rage, but even worse, he was mostly just apathetic toward things. I can't tell you how many tears I've shed over his indifference toward everything. That's one thing I will always thank Mimi for. She got him to live. She used to drag him out all the time. Well, in the beginning she did. In the beginning she had this strange power over him. She said, "Roger, you're taking me out tonight." And he did. Towards the end, she'd tell her to fuck off when she said stuff like that. She thought he just wanted to sulk, but I knew he was sick. He just didn't want everyone to know.

I leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek before snuggling back down with my head on his chest. He stroked my hair and played with the collar of my shirt. God, I loved it when he did stuff like that. He even kissed the top of my head. He could have told me he hated me right then and I still would have been the happiest man alive. Besides, I could always tell him that I loved him after he fell asleep.

I told him a lot of things when he was sleeping. It was almost like talking to him when he was awake. Mostly because he was almost always sleeping since he got really sick and when he never really talked back too much when he was awake.

It wasn't too much longer until his deep, even breathing told me his was sleeping again. Oh good. Time for another one of our talks.

"I know you'd never let me tell our friends about us, Rog, but I want you to know that I love you anyway."

He stirred a little so I lowered my voice.

"I told Angel a long time ago. Last Valentine's Day, actually. It was right when he first started getting sick. I told him how in love with you I had always been. She gave me that sort of knowing smile; you know how Angel's smiles were. I'm pretty sure she— he knew everything. Like he was the one who had planned it in the first place or something. I remember telling him how I knew you'd never let it happen, even if there was no Mimi and he told me to tell you anyway and not wait until it was too late. And I try to. I don't want it to be too late before I tell you. But every time I try, you won't let me. Why won't you let me tell you that I love you, Rog? Everyone knows. I know you do too, because that's what you tell me every time I try."

I sighed and curled up again. "I'm sorry I'm not Mimi. I love you."

That was when Roger stirred again and mumbled something in his adorably groggy still-sleeping-voice that sounded suspiciously like "Love you too."