Mimi rolled over to look at her clock. It was 3:46 am. Fuck she thought as she hurried out of bed and into the bathroom. For the past few weeks, her life had consisted of one thing: morning sickness. She hated throwing up, more than anything else. She groaned as she knelt miserably over the toilet. She knew Roger hadn't been enjoying getting up multiple times in the middle of the night either and she started to feel a little bad for making him. Her thoughts were cut off as another wave of nausea hit her and she continued to throw up. Just then, she felt a cool hand gently touch her pale, sweaty cheek. She heard a whisper in her ear,

"Shhh…" Roger cooed, "it's okay Mimi, I'm right here." He pulled her hair back from her face.

"Roger, I hate this" Mimi managed to get out before becoming sick again. After about ten more miserable minutes, she gasped for air, finally having finished throwing up. Roger gently helped her lean back against him as she curled herself up into his arms. He smoothed her hair and tenderly kissed her forehead. He sighed; he hated seeing her like this. He began to softly sing to her, in no more than a whisper.

"Your eyes, as we said our goodbyes. Can't get them out of my mind and I find I can't hide from your eyes-" He stopped as her heard a light snore. He looked down to find Mimi exhausted and asleep in his arms. He smiled slightly as he stood up, lifting her into his arms and carried her back into their bed, where he safely tucked her under the covers.

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Max immediately regretted calling as the phone line began to ring. The phone rang once, twice, three times, four, five, six…Collins never did have an answering machine. Max hung up the phone and sighed.

"Where could he possibly be?"

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Mark jumped as he heard someone come up behind him, but he calmed down seeing who it was. Collins was silent as he took a place beside Mark without any detectable emotion. Mark simply nodded. The two stood next to each other in silence for a while. They both shuddered as a bitter wind blew through the cemetery. In January, Angel's grave looked more depressing than ever. The trees had no leaves, no colorful flowers and the sky was a bleak shade of gray, leaving no sun to illuminate the cold stone that marked the grave of someone who had once been so bright and enthusiastic and high-spirited.

Mark felt his eyes tear up, and tried to turn the other way before they fell, but as he did he heard a sniffle and turned to see Collins crying freely, shamelessly. So he joined.

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Maureen couldn't look at the bathroom counter. She couldn't…well, she could, but she most certainly didn't want to. She so much wished she had been drunk that afternoon when she had gone over to Mark's-intoxication was a semi-valid excuse. At the time she thought it was a good idea, it would make Joanne happy, and she and Mark were both bored and slightly depressed. As she waited for the timer to ding, she ran back to the front hall to check her calendar for the 32nd time that afternoon. She groaned as she realized that her counting skills had not failed her.

"Yup, that's two and a half weeks late…what the fuck am I gonna do?" She took a deep breath. "At least I have a few hours to freak out by myself, before Joanne comes home-just then she heard the doorknob turn, accompanied by a voice.

"Honeybear! Surprise! I brought us lunch!" Maureen's heart stopped.

"Pookie! What are you doing here? You-you're s-supposed to be a-at work!" She said, in barely comprehensible English, upon seeing her girlfriend in the doorway holding her briefcase and a bag of food.

"Well, don't look so happy to see me!" Joanne said sarcastically, but lightheartedly.

"I'm not! I would be if you came back later!" Joanne no longer found this game amusing.

"Maureen, I took the whole afternoon off to spend it with you, and this is how you greet me? Jesus Christ, could you be any more ungrateful than that," There was a ding. Joanne's sentence stopped along with Maureen's heart once again. "What's that?"

"NOTHING!" Maureen screamed as she darted for the bathroom, planning to run in and lock the door, but Joanne beat her to it.

"What is going on? Just tell me what the fuck is going on Maureen, or I swear to god I will," Joanne didn't get to finished a single sentence that day.

"I slept with Mark." Maureen spit out, and then became a little more cautious. "But, before you flip a shit, you should look at what 'dinged'."

"MAUREEN JOHNSON, HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A THING, AGAIN, AFTER EVERYTHING WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH?" Maureen ignored her and simply replied quietly.

"Please go look, I can't do it." Joanne opened her mouth to yell again. "PLEASE!" Maureen said, exasperated. Joanne gave in and carelessly walked into the bathroom. Maureen held her breath through the silence, until she heard Joanne's briefcase hit the floor, accompanied by the bag of their lunch.

Joanne then slowly emerged from the bathroom, to where Maureen was standing in the doorway, tears stuck in her eyes, anticipating what was to come next. Joanne looked into her lover's eyes and her eyes, too, started to water, as she grabbed Maureen and swept her up into one of the most passionate kisses either of them had ever had, followed by a warm embrace, causing them to both break down in tears…tears of pure joy.