Disclaimer is still in the first chapter. No, I will not repost it. I think you are very much aware that I still do not own this stuff.

AN: Blah blah... More love to the-fraulein (yes, I'm still pimpin' her godly stories -pimp, pimp, pimp- READ THEM, BIATCHES.)

I love you all so very much for even considering reading this piece of crap. Thanks bunches. I'm away for school right now and pretty much will only get to update this on the weekends I come home because the computer where I am is CRAP. If you need to email me directly, the only mail I am able to get while I'm there is on yahoo so you can email me at if you need/want to. Pleasepleasepleeeease read and review this. If I don't think there's interest, I really won't bother. And I really do care about your opinions on this (no matter how much I protest otherwise).

Thanks again!

To tell you the truth, I honestly didn't believe them at first. I thought it had to be some kind of cruel joke. It just had to be. He had been waiting to die ever since he was diagnosed. We'd just got him to start living again and now he was dead? It was cruel and unjust.

I don't even remember pushing Mimi out of the way or even running toward Roger. I guess she had come at me and tried to hug me. Tried to cling to me and let me be her strength and all that bullshit. She had moved on with her life already. She had a new boyfriend and they were happy together and she didn't need Roger anymore. My world was just shattered by this and she wants me to be strong for her?! I do remember holding him though. I remember rocking back and forth, running my fingers through his hair and kissing him face. Crying on him and pleading with him to just wake up, please! But he didn't listen to me. He never listened to me. It didn't matter that I knew what was best for him. He never listened.

Mimi ended up leaving and Collins told me that I needed to get some sleep. So I curled up right there and wrapped his arms around me and started to close my eyes. Collins gave me another sad look, shook his head and led me to my own room. I followed quietly about halfway across the apartment before I tore back into his room and curled up with him again.

"Marky..."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT."

I don't remember ever yelling so loud. But Collins should know better. Nobody's allowed to call me that. Only him.

I think I hurt his feelings though. I didn't mean to. And I'm usually not ever disagreeable and even if someone does something I don't like, I won't snap like that.

"Sorry..."

"Only he can call me that and he can't right now because he's sleeping."

I curl up with Roger again, snuggled as close as I can. He's so cold that I wonder why he's not shivering. He gets cold easily especially since he's been sick, but he usually gets the shakes pretty bad.

"Mark, look at me. Roger's dead, hon. He isn't coming back and he's not just sleeping. You need to get out of bed with him."

"Oh, but you don't understand, Collins. Roger doesn't mind." I'm whispering. I don't want him to wake up, after all. "I mean... he would if he knew you were here, but he doesn't. So it's fine."

"Mark. I'm being serious. Get out of bed or I'm going to make you."

"But Collins, he—"

He didn't even give me the chance to finish before he dragged me out of the bed and into my room. I think that's when it hit me.

"ROGER!"

Collins wrapped his arms around me and had to practically pin me to the bed to keep me from running back into Roger's room. I curled up into the tiniest ball I could manage and hoped to disappear. Then I cried until I felt like throwing up. Then I kept crying until I actually did. Then I screamed myself hoarse. Then I thought.

I thought about everything.

How much I loved him, the good times we had, the bad times, the worse times. The times we made love and the times we yelled at each other. Everything.

At first it was mostly a blur. Little snatches of memories here and there. Bits and pieces of conversations. I wanted so badly to remember the actual circumstances.

-Some months before-

Then things started to separate a bit more and I saw vivid scenes of passion, entire conversations, and whole situations; all in great detail. I almost wished for the blurred and nonspecific version.

The sound of Roger's laughter is the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Nothing can compare. It's so sincere. Always sincere. Roger would never fake a laugh. He would never fake anything. So to hear him laugh again after so many months of depression is glorious.

"No! You throw it like this!"

He throws it and it lands somewhere on the black field outside the actual playing area.

He was attempting to teach me how to play darts with our magnetic dart board. I think he's had it since high school.

I try again and it hits the wall.

"You're not throwing it hard enough. Like this!"

He throws it again and nearly makes a bull's-eye.

I try again and fail miserable. It doesn't even make it to the wall.

"You throw like a girl, Marky. God."

He laughs again and grabs my arm. He puts the magnetic dart in my hand and stands behind me. I figure there could probably be a little more distance between us and he could still prove his point, but I don't mind in the least. With one quick jerk he heaves my arm forward (much harder than I would have) and ends up hurling the dart toward the board. It still misses the board, but it hits the wall near it.

"There, now just aim your next one. Throw it that hard, but aim it at the board better."

I try yet again and much to my surprise I don't hear the unpleasant crack of plastic hitting the wall loudly. I look up and my yellow dart has stuck to the black felt.