Written listening to my new "Torch Songs" playlist. Lots of "Without You," "On My Own," "I Know Him So Well," even "Far From the Home I Love". Good stuff, man. Also, everyone on my floor (except Renee, whom I adore) forgot my birthday. Hmm. Well, fuck them. I have my reviewers, right? -sobs-

Many, many thanks for the people who continue to love and review this story, even as Chemistry and French eat my life! Would it be altogether too much trouble for one of you to kill those classes for me, please? Damn foreign language and lab science requirements...Oh, and if anyone knows which major I should pick, feel free to let me know!

In all honesty, it really is the overwhelming support I've gotten from you all that's kept this being posted. Doesn't it make you wanna review? Yep, thought so. XD

Dedicated to my girl. God willing and the creek don't rise (shut up, that's what my mom used to say), we'll be together soon, baby. Also dedicated to the hours I spent screaming at this chapter, "FINISH YOURSELF ALREADY!"

Mark was puzzled as Collins led him into his old room, suddenly feeling as if he was imposing. "You can have your room back...I just, while you were gone, and Roger and April--"

"I don't care about the room, Mark." Collins; voice was somehow different than Mark had ever remembered it. For the first time, it was easy to believe that Collins actually was ten years older than he was, and he wasn't sure he liked the change. His eyes, too, were much older than Mark remembered them. It had been two months since his mysterious disappearance on Mark's birthday, with exactly one phone call in that entire time. The older man sat down on the bed, head bowed. "Mark...sit down, man, I need to talk to you."

Worried now, the smaller man took a seat. "Collins...what is it? Why did you go?" Unspoken was the somewhat more selfish thought, why did you go when I needed you? Of course his roommate couldn't have known about Mark's crises, and something had obviously been important enough for him to skip the country all of a sudden. Then again, Roger said he used to do things like this all the time.

Collins sighed, rubbing his hand over his head. He had a definite look of a man about to deliver very bad news, and Mark started to feel very apprehensive about being on the receiving end of it. He was so worried that he almost missed Collins saying almost inaudibly, "I'm sick."

Mark blinked. "What do you mean, you're sick? Like a flu? I have tea..."

"Not that kind of sick. I...you remember on your birthday, when I got that phone call?"

Mark nodded, confused as all hell. "Yeah, you cancelled on us, then skipped off to Greece."

"It was the clinic, Mark. I'm HIV positive." Collins looked up to meet his eyes, and Mark swallowed hard. Not at the news, because he had never heard of HIV, but of the fear he saw in the other man's eyes.

As long as he'd known Collins, the man had been afraid of nothing, not cops or laws or disapproval. Whatever this thing was, it had to be bad to scare the strong, confident man. "What...what's HIV? Is it like cancer?"

Collins grimaced. "In a way. You've heard of AIDS, right?"

Mark could only nod dumbly, unable to link what he'd heard on the news at his mother's described as a 'gay cancer' to the man in front of him. While he knew Collins was gay, he wasn't one of 'those' gay men his mother had always...why the hell was he thinking about his mother when Collins, oh, god... "I heard it was bad."

"Yeah, well, you heard right. HIV is what comes before AIDS. And I've got it." Collins took a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm dying, Mark."

Mark shook his head violently, a knee-jerk reaction. "No, no. I've never even heard of HIV, you can't be dying." His stomach, it felt, had tied itself into a knot, tighter by the minute. "You can't, you're the strong one."

Collins grabbed Mark's shoulders. "Mark, calm down. You're getting hysterical. It's not an overnight think, okay? I'll be here for years."

Mark looked into his eyes, frightened to his core to ask how many. Although he thought he probably knew the answer, it still wasn't one he wanted to hear. Also, Collins; hands on his shoulders were somewhat scaring him, not knowing exactly how AIDS could be contracted. Through touch? Breath? Spit? "So," he whispered, "so you left? You went to Greece? Why?"

Collins shrugged, taking his seat back on the bed. "I guess I wanted to see some stuff while I still had time," he said softly, fingers toying with the frayed edge of the blanket. "Maybe...maybe figure some things out. God, life, death."

"Did you?"

Collins laughed then, and it didn't sound as hollow as Mark had honestly expected it to. "Nah. I don't think people should even try. You know everyone's wrong in the end." He gave Mark a sardonic look. "Any god that a human being could figure out can't be very powerful."

"Not even someone like you?"

The other man looked up sharply. "Why, because I'm dying?"

Mark's eyes went wide, and he spluttered, "No! No, no, because...I mean, because you're brilliant. That's all I mean!" Just to hear Collins say 'I'm dying' so casually made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, sending a shiver down his spine.

Collins sighed. "Sorry. I just...it's been a crazy couple of months, you know?"

"Yeah, I figured," Mark replied softly. He was starting to get a bit antsy about being in such close proximity with the man he considered one of his closest friends, and swallowed hard, trying not to let it show. Collins, ever-observant, said quietly, "You can't get it like this, Mark."

Mark jumped, surprised. "No, I wasn't...I was just--"

Collins cut him off, for which he was grateful. "You don't have to apologize. I should have told you. You can only get it through bodily fluids, Mark. And not saliva, either. So unless we have sex or share needles, you'll be safe from me." His face had darkened at the mention of needles, and Mark knew he was thinking of the scene he'd witnessed earlier in Roger's room. "How long?" he asked softly.

Mark shrugged. "He said about...a couple months before I moved in."

Collins' eyebrows raised. "Wow. I had no idea it was that long. 'Course, I'd already moved out by then, and I haven't been back all that long. Still..." he shook his head. "He should be smarter than that. He should know." His voice was almost a whisper as he said, "He should know not to risk it."

Mark was hesitant to ask, but at the same time, felt a burning desire to know. And Collins had never yet been angry at him for asking a question... "Collins?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you, uh...get it?"

Collins smiled wryly. "You mean who did I get it from?" At Mark's blush-accompanied nod, he shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I just went in for a routine check-up—every six months, if you're sexually active," he paused to warn Mark. "It's just safer that way. Anyway...I had it." He snorted. "I'm careful, but those things are only ninety-seven percent effective, and they've broken a time or two. It could be a hundred different guys," he said helplessly. "I just...I just hope they get checked, too. There's no way I could find all of them and tell them. I didn't even know half their names." He took a deep breath, composing himself. He forced a little half-smile for Mark's sake, which the younger man did not return.

"Collins..." What was there to say, really? He could say he was sorry. He wished it hadn't happened. He was scared, lonely, and devastated. He knew, though, that Collins was the kind of person who both hated hearing those things and knew them intrinsically. He could see in the man's very posture that pity was the last thing he wanted or needed. "It's been...different here without you."

"I'll just bet it has," the other man replied dryly. "Roger hasn't done anything too stupid while he was high, has he?"

Mark snorted. Besides pin me to the bed and kiss me senseless? "Nah, not really." He sighed. Collins would find out sooner or later, living with them again. "I, uh, did something stupid, though."

Collins frowned at him. "You? What?"

Mark swallowed, uncomfortable. "I, uh, told him something. Right before you came in. That was why he was, uh..." He pantomimed shooting up, unwilling to say the words.

"What? What did you tell him?" Collins' face was curious, unaccusatory, and Mark blushed.

"I, uh, told him...well, I didn't really tell him anything. I kind of...kissed him," he muttered so low that he was nearly inaudible. Unfortunately, nearly wasn't quite enough, and Collins heard exactly what he said.

"You kissed him? What, on purpose?"

Mark nodded dumbly, eyes fixed intently on the fraying edges of his scarf. He heard Collins sigh deeply, and raised his head just a fraction of an inch higher to see the man bow his head. "Mark," he began kindly, "Roger's not--"

"I know, okay?" Mark snapped, surprising even himself with the vehemence of his tone. "I know, he's not gay, he likes girls, he likes April. I know." His voice was soft as he finished, soft and defeated.

"That's not what I was going to say," Collins said unexpectedly.

Mark looked up, surprised. "It isn't?"

"No. I was going to say that Roger's not the kind of guy who'd be good for you. He's the live fast, die young type." There was a hollow acceptance in his eyes, as if he recognized the failing in himself. "Trust me, you don't want to get mixed up in his crowd."

Mark snorted bitterly. "As if he'd want me anyway."

He expected consolation, maybe a pat on the back. Instead, Collins' expression changed to one just slightly more humorous. "Well...you never quite know with Roger."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well...let's just say I have it on good authority—and by that I mean my own—that Roger isn't the one to discount any sort of...experience."

Mark blinked. "Collins, what do you mean?"

The older man grinned just slightly. "We had sex, a while before you moved in."

Mark's jaw fell to the floor, and he spluttered, "You...you what with...and Roger, he...what?"

"I told you, he likes experiences, and he likes to feel good. Fucking hedonist, if you ask me. And this is coming from a partially reformed hedonist, mind you."

"But...but when? How?" Mark was slowly rearranging the pieces of his life that had been dislocated, as if someone had shaken apart a puzzle and the bits no longer fit where they had originally.

Collins chuckled, and leaned back on his elbows. "It was about a year ago, I guess. We were just chilling, watching a movie, drinking some beer, smoking some weed. Have you tried weed?" Mark shook his head in the negative, and Collins shrugged. "Yeah, well, it can make you really fucking horny. So, Roger starts talking about how he really wants to get laid. I mention casually that it was too bad he wasn't gay, and he said--"

"Let me guess. He said he's a fucking rock star."

Collins blinked. "How did you know?"

Mark shrugged. "Call it a lucky guess."

Collins gave him a look, but continued. "Anyway, he said he's a fucking rock star, and he kissed me." He shrugged. "He's not exactly my type, but far be it from me to turn down a hot guy trying to get into my pants." A shadow crossed his face for a moment, and he added quietly, "Well, back then, anyway."

Still trying to wrap his mind around what he had just heard, Mark blinked several times. "So...you fucked him?"

Collins stretched languidly. "Yeah, I did." He gave Mark a pointed look. "It wasn't his first time, either. I don't know if he's ever had a relationship with a guy, but he's definitely fucked them before. Trust me." He raised his eyebrows on the last sentence lasciviously, and Mark blushed bright crimson.

"Uh...oh," he choked out, not sure what other response could be mustered in response to that.

"But I still don't think you should get involved with him, Mark. He's just...not that kind of a guy. He wouldn't make you happy."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Mark responded bitterly. "He doesn't want me. I told him how I felt, and he told me to ask Maureen out. He kissed me back, Collins!" The confusion and pain he felt were evident in the blond boy's eyes as he looked desperately up at his wiser friend.

The older man frowned. "Wait. So you kissed him, he kissed you back, you told him how you felt, and he told you to ask Maureen out?"

"Yes!"

Collins sighed. "Mark...I don't think there's any way for this to be good for you. Besides, is he still with that April chick?"

Mark's face darkened at the mention of the redhead. "Yeah," he muttered, "he's still with her." Collins didn't respond, merely gave him a look that seemed to say, 'well, then?' "It's true," he said quietly. "He's the worst thing in the world for me. He drinks, he smokes, he does drugs, he fucks around, he's not even fucking interested in me—why the hell am I even interested in him? I've never been into guys before! I've fucked girls!" Helplessly, he sagged back against Collins, who put a comforting arm around him.

"Mark...sometimes it works like that. And the word, by the way, is bi. You can like both."

Mark shook his head. "I don't think I do, though. Not anymore."

"So you only like guys?" Collins was skeptical, having seen the way Mark had looked at some girls in the past, and having never seen him glance twice at another man.

The young man sighed. "No. I only like Roger. Collins...I think I love him."

Neither man noticed a small gasp from behind the partition separating Roger and Collins' rooms. Understandably, neither of them peered through the small hole in the wall to see Maureen's wide eyes, either.

God, I never thought I'd write a cliffhanger. I know, there's a disturbing lack of slash in this chapter, but COME ON! It's HARD to get them in bed together! -sigh- Maybe if I had some more reviews, I could find a way. Hmm.