Here's the next chapter guys. Hope you enjoy.

Title: Undecided at the moment.
Pairing: The same as before.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This chapter is told in Mark's point of view. It begins when Mark exits the loft after his fight with Roger. He is on his way to move in with Benny, for the time being, and on the way has a few flashbacks of a certain incident with Roger.
I suck at summaries. Sorry.
Disclaimer: I forgot about this with my first post. I own nothing. There, I feel better now.

Chapter 2: He atleast tried

"So, things hadn't gone as well as I had hoped." I say aloud to no one in particular, as my body rests uncomfortably against the outside of the loft door. My feeble attempt at trying to listen to Roger's voice. His rushed tone followed by a sarcastic remark. A loud sigh. I can tell he wants to stop talking. Who ever it is keeping him on the phone longer than he would prefer to be.

I stare around at my surroundings, trying to retain this all. I wish I had my camera right now to capture the moment. The dark copper colored walls that are only made darker, due to the lack of light in the building. The hard, cracked cement floor. The lonely figure resting outside his once best friend's door. I'm surprised I'm actually going to miss this place, but what surprises me more is that I'm going to miss him.

It's his own fault, though. Atleast that's what I've been telling myself for the past week. It's nice to have something to soothe my conscience. Although, having just seen him and how he's behaving, it doesn't seem to be working at the moment.

The box starts to fall; I quickly grab it pushing it up to my waist. It's remarkably heavy and I wonder how I had come to have so many belongings. I honestly don't recall half of the things that I had put in here. Old books on film, a few scraps of clothing, my old camera.

My old camera. I stare down at it, inspecting the dust covered broken lens. The edge briefly reflects the light from the hallway.

"Roger, you don't know what you're talking about."

I watch as he paces the floor, walking briskly, fists clenched. I lean back against the kitchen table and push myself on to it with my palms. Staring down towards my camera, I contemplate filming this moment. I slowly pick it up and graze the lens with my fingertips. The soft, smooth glass fills me with an odd sense of serenity. I sigh as I turn the camera on and face it towards Roger. He's unaware of my filming and continues to speak into the air.

Following his movements, I make sure to capture every second on film. I follow his feet as they pivot on the heels and turn to walk around into another direction. I capture his fist as he pounds it heavily up against the wall. A full body shot of him leaning against the same wall a moment later.

"Mark..." His eyes are closed as he says my name. I pull the camera away from my face and look at him. To really look at him.

He motions for me to come towards him. I'm unsure as to if I should go to him or not. I'm unsure of how he will react, under the pressure.

"Mark, please. Please. Just come here." His voice is barely audible.

I turn off my camera and place it carefully down on the table. Nervously, I walk over to him. My feet shuffling against the floorboard.

"Rog?"

I watch as his shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably, tears freely running down his face. He collapses to the ground. I've never known Roger to cry. I'm lost on what to do at this moment. I kneel down to his level to face him.

"Rog, are you ok?"

He looks over at me; his washed out eyes finally meeting mine.

"Am I ok, Mark?" He closes them quickly and buries his head into his chest.

"That's wh"

"How can I possibly be ok, Mark? You tell me. The bands breaking up, I lost my job, and if all that wasn't bad enough April's fucking cheating on me." His voice increases with every word until he's screaming. I turn and close my eyes, attempting to shut out everything that's happening.

"She's not cheating on you." I try to be rational.

"I know she's out with Rich every night. Where else would she be? I know she wants him. You can see it when she looks at him. She's a slut. That's exactly what she is."

"She wouldn't do that to you." I try to reason with him.

"How the hell would you know Mark? Honestly, how would you know?" At those words an unbelievable pain seeps through my veins. I close my eyes tightly and pretend not to listen. I know he doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

He's gotten up and I can feel him hovering above me now.

"How. Tell me."

I shake my head.

"I...I don't." The words getting caught in my throat.

"Of course, you don't. How could you understand anythi"

He stops mid-sentence once I push myself up off the ground and start to walk away. I need to leave. I can't be around him when he's like this. I look at my camera and decide it's a good idea. I head towards it with my head lowered. It's not long until he realizes what I'm doing.

"Mark, don't." It almost seems as if he's pleading.

I don't listen. I pick up the camera, holding it close to my chest, and start for the door.

"I'll see you later, Roger." I neglect to look at him when I say this.

"Wait..." Going against my better judgment, I reluctantly turn around. He slowly treads towards me his green eyes never breaking contact with my own.

"What?" It comes out harsher than I expected. He starts to reach for my hands and I prepare to pull away, however it's not that he's aiming for. He quickly grabs the camera out of my grip and holds it above his head in a taunting manner.

"Mark, you need to learn what it's like to lose something important to you."

I try to look into his eyes to understand what he's thinking, but they seem void of any emotion.

"Roger, just give me my camera. I'll leave you alone, just give it back."

"No."

I watch in horror as he takes my camera, runs his fingers along it gently, then hurls it to the ground. My breath catches in my throat as it bounces off the floor, broken glass scattering on the ground.

"What the hell, Roger!" I shout, shoving him away from me.

He smirks at my sudden outburst and it only seems to perpetuate my anger.

"You're such a fucking..." I stop myself. I don't want to say something I'll regret. I close my eyes.

"What? What, Mark? What am I?" His hands come to my shoulders. He grips them firmly, the pressure increasing with every word.

"Nothing." I whisper.

"No, Mark tell me! I want to know!" His face is inches from mine and I can feel his hot breath beating down on my face.

"Roger, I..."

"What? I'm such a fucking idiot, Mark? Is that what you were going to say? I'm such a fucking dumbass, because I don't believe you? What is it, Mark! I want you to tell me."
I try to shrink down and loosen his grip on me, but he notices my actions and only tightens.

"Roger, please. You're hurting me."

He laughs and it catches me off guard. He lets go and I sigh a breath of relief as he smirks at me.

"Sor-" The word is unfinished as I feel his fist connect with my jaw and a sharp stinging in my lower lip. I reach up, in shock, and graze my finger against the skin. I'm greeted by the feeling of something wet. I pull it away and stare at it. Crimson water against pink flesh.

I look up, my eyes wide with shock. They follow him as he turns around and starts to walk towards the kitchen.

"Fuck you, Roger. Fuck you." I say as I slam the door behind me, wiping my lip on my sleeve.

He's finally stopped talking and I decide it's best to leave now before he decides to leave to buy more...I can't even bring myself to think about it. I think it's better if I don't.

"I don't understand, Roger. I don't." I shake my head.

I push the box up once more and tighten my grip as I ready myself to head down the stairs. Each step is taken with the uttermost caution as if one false move could lead to my demise. I've always been a bit of a klutz, so it's particularly believable.

I successfully make it down all three flights of stairs without a single accident and I am feeling particularly pleased with myself. I forcefully kick open the entryway door with my right foot and am greeted by an overwhelming burst of cold air. The temperature along with the amount of light outside has dropped significantly since I had arrived. I push my face into the box, attempting to shield it from the frigid atmosphere. My view is a bit skewed, but I think I can manage.

After being outside in the cold for nearly five minutes, the idea of going back up to the loft sounds extremely tempting. If I apologized would he even let me back in?

No, I can't do that.

I'm starting to realize that I'm often the one apologizing for everything, excusing his actions, but after all he's only Roger. He doesn't know what he's doing.

After returning to the loft a few hours later, I haven't so much as looked at Roger since the incident.

In the kitchen now. I reach up into the cabinet to grab a mug. After a long debate with myself, I've decided to make a cup of tea. It seems to be the only thing that soothes my emotions, rather than filming. However, thanks to him I can't do that anymore or atleast until I can get a job to pay for another camera.

"Are you going to say anything?" His voice is soft, weak. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize he was next to me.

I glance over at him and observe him staring at his feet. I watch as he nervously presses the toe of his boot against the floor. As he starts to look up I turn back around, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Listen, Mark. I'm sorry." I feel my body tense as he places a hand on my shoulder. I can feel him shaking. For a moment I almost want to forgive him. Almost.

"You know what, Roger?" The sound of my own voice frightens me. It's filled with a foreign intensity. Something I've never experienced. I forcefully grip the coffee mug and walk over towards the sink, the side of my body colliding with his. He pulls back and pushes himself closer toward the counter, gripping the edge.

"I honestly don't care. You're always sorry!" My body starts to quiver in anger. I turn to face him.

"Oh, Mark, I'm sorry I couldn't do this, or Mark, I'm sorry I couldn't come. The band needed me, Mark. I'm sorry I hurt you, Mark." I'm yelling at him now. I can feel my face getting hotter, redder, with every word. Years of stored anger, finally being released. My glasses falling off the bridge of my nose, but I refuse to push them back.

"Mark, I don't..." His eyes refuse to blink. I stare into his, with such intensity, only wishing I could burn through his with my own.

"Everything I've done for you Roger!" I slam my fist against the counter and he jumps back.

"I..."

"Everything..." I whisper.

He lets out a deafening sigh.

I can't bring myself to look at him anymore. I walk out of the kitchen, slamming the mug on the t.v. as I pass. The glass shatters in my hand. I don't bother to pick up the pieces as I walk. I just want to get away.

I contemplate the idea of getting a taxi to take me to Benny's, but I realize I happen to be lacking the funds to do so. So, I'm left with no other choice than to walk. I loosen my grip on the box and start a steady pace towards Benny's apartment. I'm thankful it's not that far.

"The fact that stop lights take forever, is honestly not making this trip any better." I mumble to myself and shake my head. The absence of my camera, I believe, is making me a little more irritated than usual.

Once the light has finally signaled for me to walk I let out an overly dramatic sigh of relief. I push the box up once more and start to head across the unoccupied road.

My hands are starting to feel numb, but I fight back the urge to stop and place them in my pockets. I burst of freezing wind assults my face and I shiver slightly.

"I should be there be now." I groan loudly, while using the edge of the box to push up my falling glasses. I'm starting to regret even waking up this morning. I sigh and continue walking.

"Hey, man. Gotta a dollar?" A voice stops me in my tracks. I look over and notice a man resting calmly against a concrete wall. The hood of his jacket is pulled over his head. His face is difficult to make out. Darkened by the shadow.

I shake my head and continue to walk.

"Come on. I know you got something." He's resistant to give up.

"I don't have any money."

"You sure? 'Cause you know I'll give"

"Yes, I'm sure." It comes out rather coldly, but I'm not in the mood to be dealing with anyone.

"Man, you don't..."

I'm more than annoyed at my inability to get to my destination and being stopped by some junkie isn't making me feel any better. Refusing to listen to him continue to speak I start to walk off in the opposite direction.

"I can't understand why I'm not there yet." I could of sworn Benny's was closer. My grip decreasing on the box, I push it up once more.

The soft sound of footsteps from behind, startles me. I look back, while continuing to walk forward. Seeing no one, I shrug. I start to continue when a sharp pain in my side causes me to loosen my grip on the box. I choke on my own breath, when I feel something quickly crash against my skull. I moan in pain as the box drops from my hands and I collapse on the ground. I cold pavement assaults my skin. I attempt to push myself up when a strong force pushes me back down.

"Don't move."

I feel something pulling at my coat and I kick my leg back attempting to get rid of my attacker.

My actions are quickly stopped when a fast kick is delivered to my ribcage.

I quick breath escapes my lips and the voices around me start to fade into the distance. I close my eyes.

"Hey Mark!"

"What?" I groan, upset that I have just been awoken from my slumber.

I roll over and press my face into the pillow beneath me. I refuse to look up assuming that as soon as Roger leaves I'll be able to go back to bed.

I feel the mattress sink as he places himself on top of it. He starts to bounce, which is rather irritating.

"Heeey Mark..." He's very enthusiastic for it being this early.

I attempt to tell him to leave, but it only comes out as muffled mumbling against the pillow. He grabs and starts to shake my shoulders, while telling me to get up at the same time.

I regretfully lift myself off my resting place and turn around to face him.

"Roger, go away." I say as I close my eyes again.

"It's nice to know you're talking to me again."

"Go."

"But, Marky..." I hate it when he calls me that. I open an eye to see what he wants. The sooner he leaves the better.

I feel someone gripping my shoulders. A faint voice lurking in the background. Warm hands pulling me off the ground. I moan and try to resist, not wanting to move.

"Mark, I got you a present." The fact that he has his hands behind his back, for an instance makes me believe he's not lying.

"The only thing I want from you right now is to leave me alone." I roll my eyes.

"You're starting to sound like me." He laughs and I roll back over.

"Get up..." The voice is familiar I can almost make it out.

"Please, Mark. Listen to me. Wake up." I can feel the body above me trembling slightly.

I quickly inhale and make an attempt at opening my eyes. My vision blurred. I realize I have lost my glasses. Squinting, I look up and see a figure standing above me.

"Oh my god, Mark." The voice is rushed and out of breath.

"Mark, are you ok? It's me, Roger." Genuine concern.

"I..." I groan.

"I left to get..." He stops.

"I found you out here. You scared the shit out of me." He quickly finishes.

"Mark? Are you ok?"

"I think so." I try to push myself up, but my arms are shaking too bad to do so. Roger offers his hand, I accept it, and he pulls me up carefully.

"Thanks, Rog." I say, while brushing myself off. He watch as he bends down and picks something up off the ground.

"Here. Your glasses." He slowly hands them to me. I quickly rub the both lenses with my shirtsleeve and place them onto my face.

I look around to trying to recall what had happened.

"Roger, wha-"

"Mark..." He cuts me off.

"Yeah?" I turn back to face him.

"I don't think you should go."

"Roger, I honestly don't"

"Just for tonight. You can leave tomorrow morning. Besides, you look like shit. Not to mention it's late. What hap"

"Hey, you don't look so hot yourself, Rog." I interrupt.

He laughs at that remark. I haven't heard him laugh in a long time. It's nice to hear it again.

I look behind me trying to find my things. I don't understand where they could be.

"Rog, have you seen..." I stop mid-sentence, when I spot the camera 3 feet away. I walk over and kneel to the ground, picking it up. I dart my head around to find the rest of my belongings. Unable to locate them I start to feel panicked. I can't believe it. Everything is gone.

"Come on, Marky. It's not safe." I spot a piece of cardboard, under my shoe.

"Since, you called me that I think I shall have to decline your offer." I say picking up the cardboard remant. I look at it and then turn around to face him. I throw the cardboard down to the ground.

"Come on." He shakes he head and tries to stifle a laugh, motioning for me to follow.

"Fine, Mark. I guess you don't want your new camera." He emphasizes the words 'new camera'.

I quickly turn back over at this. I look up and see him holding just as he promised a new camera.

"Roger...what the?"

"I felt bad about the other day. You know. I sort of blew up at you. And well"

He's stopped mid-sentence as I reach up and hug him tightly, pulling him down towards me. He attempts to hug back, but Roger has never been one for showing affection. Plus, I believe he is rather worried about breaking the camera.

"Thank you." I say, grinning ear to ear.

He laughs loudly and sincerely at my unusual act.

"You're welcome. Now, get off me."

I let go and he hands the new camera to me. I grin eagerly at my new present. Examining every part of it, I start to feel him watching me. I look up and see him smiling at me, but then attempts to look away when he notices I've spotted him staring.

His actions make me laugh and he blushes at the sound.

"I got you some film, too. I figured you could use some more." He smiles and walks out of the room to grab it.

I sit on the bed, legs crossed, hugging the camera tightly to my chest. I beam at him as he walks into the room. He shakes his head.

He sits back down on my rugged mattress and hands the film to me. I place it in the camera carefully. I turn it on, smiling at the familiar hum, and film as he lifts himself off the mattress and walks to the door. He stops before he opens it and looks back at me.

"Thanks, Mark."

"For wh"

He closing the door behind him quickly cuts me off.

I hold the camera up towards my face and smile into it.

"I really don't understand why he did it, or why he does anything for that matter, but I think what matters is that he atleast tried to make it better."

I turn the camera off and place it on the ground beside me.

He turns around to see if I'm following him. He continues to stare when he sees I've made no attempt.

"Well? Are you coming?" He tilts his head and pulls his jacket closer to his body.

"Yeah. It is really cold out here."

I think I could give him one more chance.

A/N: I'm working on Chapter 3 at the moment, just having a bit of difficulty sorting my thoughts around and trying to put what I see into words, expect it up in the next few days. Reviews, of course, are highly appreciated. They also motivate me to post new chapters faster. :)