Erm. I bet you thought I was dead, didn't you? Admit it, you entertained the notion that I was mouldering in the ground...but NO! Just California. Happily, I've been rescued by start-of-term, so I'm alive again! Huh. Two nights in my dorm, and I've been bitten by the writing bug. I love this building.

I DID promise that I wouldn't let this story die...however, I never said anything about letting it slip into a coma for a while. So now, I bring you: CHAPTER TWELVE! Hopefully, all the better for the eons of reflecting I've done on it. Plus, I've decided that I'm not going to rule out boyporn...whatever happens, happens. Enjoy, children.

Dedicated to my beautiful Chris, the love of my life. Is it ironic that I met her through ANSWER YOUR REVIEWERS! You might just fall in love with them!

POP

Mark shut his eyes more tightly.

POP

Mark pulled the pillow over his head.

POP

Mark rolled over on his side, bringing him startlingly close to Maureen. Exasperated, he snapped, "Would you mind?"

Her eyes flew open, as if she'd never entertained the idea that using her nails to puncture every bubble in a sheet of bubblewrap might not be the most soothing noise for her new roommate to fall asleep to. "Oh...sorry." She gave him a coy smile, tucking the material behind her.

He nodded his acceptance of her apology, then turned back over. Before he'd counted more than one sheep, he felt a long fingernail run across his shoulder and down his arm. It didn't startle him; it had the first time she'd done it, more than a week ago, but now he resigned himself to a sigh. "Maureen," he began patiently, "I am trying to sleep."

He could feel her pout, invisible though it was to the back of his head. "But Mark, I was just..."

Mark swallowed. Every time she came onto him, it was a little harder to resist. To be honest, it wasn't like he had a good reason to turn her down; she was gorgeous, available, and for some reason, interested in him. He could count on one hand, using no fingers, the amount of times that had happened to him. But still, something held him back. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to her. Far from it, in fact. The way she said his name, for example, was guaranteed to embarrass him if he wasn't wearing loose enough pants. And when she ran her fingernails down the side of his arm like that...he shivered and pulled his blanket more tightly around himself. I want her...and she wants me. Why am I stopping myself?

Why, indeed. That question had been running through his head since the day she moved in. It wasn't as if he were being unfaithful to anyone, after all. The most interest the one he wanted had ever shown in him, after all, was a one-sided gropefest when he was trashed off his ass. Certainly nothing to be unfaithful to there. And maybe it would get April off his case. She'd been completely unbearable since Maureen had evidentally come pouting to her that she wasn't getting any from her shy roommate. Mark curled farther into himself. Despite everything he'd seen and done since coming to the city, he still balked at the notion of sleeping with Maureen to get April off his back, or for any other reason other than pleasure...or love. Deep down, he still believed that sex should at least have some caring attatched to it.

Unlike some people, he thought bitterly. He could hear, and he was sure Maureen could too, the sounds of Roger and April, extra-noisy from being extra-high. Roger's band had had a gig the previous night. Apparently there was some sort of talent scout record label person there (Mark didn't know much how the music industry worked), and he'd liked what he heard. What this meant for his roommate, Mark had no idea. He only knew it was good enough news to be worthy of an all-day smack/fuck fest with April, after an all-night party with his bandmates.

He was jolted from his mind's ramblings by those fingernails making their way to his hair, lightly tracing his scalp. Mark shuddered, catching himself just before leaning back into that hand. He could see Maureen's smile through his closed eyelids, heard the sound of fabric brushing against fabric as she scooted closer to him. He pulled himself farther away, huddled almost against the wall.

Her hand dropped, and he heard her sigh. It was the most honest, theatric-free sigh he'd ever heard from her. When she spoke, she sounded almost wistful. "Mark...why don't you want me?"

Something about the tone in her voice compelled an answer from her unwilling roommate. He turned over, swallowing when her large eyes caught his. "It's...it's not you, believe me. I just..." he struggled for words, not wanting to offend her. "This whole, I don't know, this...isn't really my thing."

She frowned slightly. "That's not what April said. She said you were more than willing to do the whole" she accompanied her words with air quotes, "thing. So it's not you."

I hate gossipping women. I'm beginning to think my life would be easier if I never had sex at all. He could feel a small headache coming on; Maureen seemed to do that to him. He sighed, looking at her pleadingly. "Maureen...please, not now. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I really want to sleep."

Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him deeply, pulling his body easily up to hers, tongue ravishing his mouth. Mark struggled like a fish trying to evade a highly invasive hook, amazed at how adept she was at using her tongue. Which led him to very, very dirty thoughts, which he mentally slapped himself for thinking. In a corner of his brain that wasn't paralyzed by a horrifying combination of shock and lust, he quietly reflected that Maureen would probably welcome the dirtiest of such thoughts. Gradually, Mark started to relax, remembering how to kiss without being forced into it. His hand went softly to her hair, almost feeling lost in its voluminous curls. His tongue slowly emerged, dancing with hers, and she perked up immediately in his arms. She backed off the tiniest bit, allowing him to kiss her however he wanted. Just as he leaned forward, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders, there was a sharp crack of male laughter from the other room.

Mark's eyes went wide, suddenly panicking at the thought of Roger walking in and seeing him with Maureen. It was a totally irrational fear, half his mind admitted, but it terrified him nonetheless into pushing the girl away. She blinked up at him, confused. "What's wrong? I thought you were enjoying that."

"I...I don't know, I was, but I just...look, can you, um...oh, fuck it." Mark jumped to his feet, blushing like a scared virgin, and ran out of the room, hands in his pockets.

Alone, Maureen frowned and told the recently shut door, "Well, that didn't go as planned."

Mark nearly ran down the stairs, setting a brisk pace down the filthy street. Past the cafe, past the awful-smelling subway station. Head down, he barely noticed when someone called his name.

"Mark! Where the hell are you going?" The voice was amused. He looked up, and April was standing in front of him. The frown he'd been wearing deepened. "April? I thought you were in the loft."

She shrugged. "Nah, I had to run out for condoms." She shook the box in her hand, and he rolled his eyes. "Roger's amusing himself by getting Benny high until I get back. At least, he said he was. What are you doing out here, anyway? Maureen said---" She bit her lip, evidentally feeling she had said too much.

"Oh, she did, did she?" Mark asked bitterly. "What, did she say that today was the day? Fuck, why doesn't she just pick up some guy in a bar, if she's so fucking horny?"

April's eyes widened. She'd never heard an outburst from the usually reserved filmmaker like that. "I don't know...maybe she wants you."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Because I'm the kind of guy all the girls go crazy for?"

April frowned. If Mark kept turning Maureen down, her friend would get bored, and April's plan would be ruined. "Hey, I did. Why aren't you all over her? She's hot!"

Mark glared at her. "What do you care, anyway?"

April sighed. "Fuck, Mark. Only you could sense some sort of conspiracy theory in a hot girl wanting to sleep with you." She pushed past him on her way, muttering, "I guess you really are a fag."

She was abruptly spun around by the most forceful grip she'd ever seen Mark take on anything. His face was white, his eyes frighteningly wide. He looked truly terrified. "Wh-what did you say?"

"Come off it, Mark," she snapped. "You want to know why Maureen's hitting on you? Because I asked her to, okay?" She wrenched her shoulder free, and he gave no resistance. She continued, voice thick with emotion, "It's not like I can't see you drooling all over him, you know! It's pathetic! You're pathetic!" She shoved his shoulder, all the anger and fear she'd been holding in since realizing what his adoration of her boyfriend was all about. "Like he'd ever want you, anyway!"

Mark didn't shrink from her words, didn't run away like she'd expected, half-hoped he would. There was a hurt turning to rage in his eyes, and a steely tone when he finally spoke. "Like you know the first thing about him. Like you've ever been there for him when he needed anything." He was stepping closer to her with each sentence, his voice rising. "Like you're not using him just for drugs and sex! Like you mean ANYTHING to him!"

April aimed a hard slap at his face, but he caught her wrist. His eyes were blazing now, his face inches from hers. "I have done nothing to him, haven't made a single move, have never taken advantage of him when he's drunk or high. I've never called the cops on you two, never tried to take your shit away, never said ANYTHING any of the times you two have called me to come pick you up at two in the morning, stoned off your asses in Jersey or wherever the fuck. No!" he continued, squeezing her wrist and ignoring her as she tried to speak. "I took it, I cleaned up after you, I covered when your mother called. So, April, what the hell gives you the right to talk to me like that? Call me a fag, call me pathetic?" There were angry tears in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse with emotion. "I know you two laugh at me, when you're alone. I can hear you." He released her wrist, swallowing hard against the tears. His eyes, full of pain and longing, bore into hers as he practically whispered, "You have no fucking right."

He lowered his eyes, and all of a sudden he was Mark again to her eyes, little shy Mark again. He had seemed to grow at least a foot when he was angry, but now it looked as though he had shrunk an extra foot to make up for it. He looked fragile and vulnerable, and it seemed impossible that he'd been yelling just a moment ago. It seemed doubly impossible that she'd said awful things to this boy who looked like he'd just had his beloved cat run over in front of the middle school. She made a tentative gesture of apology toward him, but he flinched away. "Mark," she said softly, "I'm sorry. I just..."

He shrank back from her, arms wrapped around his chest. "Did...did I hurt you?" he whispered.

She shook her head, the lump in her throat getting worse. "No..you didn't hurt me. Mark, I'm sorry I called you those things. I just...I see you looking at him, and I go crazy."

Mark looked up at her with eyes that seemed somewhat haunted. "Why? I'd never have the balls to try anything," he said bitterly.

"Because he's all I've got." There were tears in her own eyes now, and she furiously scrubbed at them with the back of her hand. Fuck, I'm not a hysterical girl. I can control myself! "I was so lonely before I met him, Mark. He makes me feel safe, and special. He's so good to me." Her eyes were pleading. "Please...just go on one date with Maureen. Please. I promise, I'll never ask you for anything again. Just one date."

Mark's voice was defeated as he said softly, "I thought you said I was a fag."

"Hey, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean for it to come out that way." Actually, she had, but regret is much like wishing it hadn't happened, she supposed.

His shoulders slumped. "I don't know...I guess. Whatever." He turned to walk back to the loft, barely hearing her call, "Thank you!"

Reviews are the ONLY reason I've kept this going, you know! Well, not really. I really like writing it. I promise if I get more than ten reviews asking for it, there'll be some sort of slashy goodness in the next chapter! How's that for incentive, eh?