The next day there as a razor in the bath room. That night a clean-shaven Roger said, or rather yelled, his first coherent words.
"COLLINS! FUCK YOU!"
Collins had bought him an electric razor, and even tested it. Try as he might, there was no way possible for Roger to hurt himself. Roger was pissed. Collins just grinned. And life went on.
After a week there was a change in the loft, Roger now ventured forth into the apartment to lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling, while Collins was there. Collins sat on the dinning room table. And life went on.
Eventually Collins was able to get grunts, and an occasional "Fuck Off" out of Roger. They proceeded to be able to sit on the table next to each other eating Captain Crunch twice a day. And Roger brought out his guitar, though never played.
After three weeks of this, Collins broke down and finally asked Roger a direct question. "What do you want for breakfast?" Roger grunted, Collins sighed, and poured 2 bowls of Captain Crunch.
The next day Collins asked the same thing, and
when he received a grunt, he only poured one bowl. And proceeded to eat
it. Roger glared and got his own bowl. The third day, when Roger
grunted Collins poured two bowls, complete with milk, a rarity, and
proceeded to dump Rogers bowl on his head.
Roger sputtered and
glared, and seem to forget that he was supposed to be silent and full
of angst and grief, and jumped up and dove to tackle Collins.
Collins expected this, so he neatly stepped to the left and slapped Rogers ass as he flew by.
Roger laid on the floor shaking, and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, and started laughing. True, it was a bit forced, and didn't seem quite natural from him, it sounded as if Roger had forgotten how to laugh, but it was a laugh. His face looked like it was going to split in two from his grin, his eyes wide, holding his side. He ran his hands through his now unruly mess of hair, knocking out cereal. Then Roger shook his head, not totally unlike a dog, spraying milk everywhere, Collins jumped back and exclaimed before slipping on the spilt milk and falling to the ground himself.
They both laughed, and the Roger looked up towards the couch and seemed to be about to yell something to someone, someone who wasn't there. It was that point where he started to cry. Roger sobbed, his shoulders shaking, his head falling to his chest. and his hands holding his face; the heels of his hands dug into his eyes as if to stop the flow of emotions. Collins slowly scooted over to him and simply put his arm around his shoulder while he sobbed. Nothing more.
Roger sobbed until his head hurt, he was red and his eyes were dry, and disgustingly enough there was mucus hanging out of his nose. Collins, being the sensitive soul he is, looked at him, turned his head slowly so they locked eyes, and said "You aren't one of those people that look good when they cry. You look like shit. Go shower, and then we'll talk." Roger was so taken aback by this that he got up, and crossed to the bathroom.
It was underneath the lintel that he stopped and looked at Collins. "Why? Why?"
Collins simply said "Go shower, I'll clean up in here."
Roger's face was a mixture of emotions, and very quietly he said "Bastard." Collins grinned and responded with "I know." before getting the mop and starting to clean.
Roger showered and sat on the couch.
A/N: I don't own.
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