Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.

"You know, there are times that we're dirt broke and hungry and freezing and I ask myself why the hell am I still living here?" Mark mused one Christmas as his mother's voice echoed on the answering machine.

"I know why, Marky," Roger looked up, a jackass grin plastered on his face.

"Care to share?" Mark said.

"Because you love me," he replied with a laugh.

Mark smiled too. Leaning on the counter, he said, "Yeah, Rog, I guess that's why."

The years came and went since that Christmas. Friends came and went too. Angel popped into their lives for less than a year before heading home. Collins didn't last much longer. It seemed that his broken heart killed him, not the virus. They lost Mimi a few weeks after her twenty-first birthday. She got caught in the snow and came home with pneumonia. Maureen and Joanne moved to California so Maureen could start an acting career. It was just the two of them, Mark and Roger, left in the loft. Just like when they first started all those years ago. Roger realized that almost everyone he had ever cared about left him. It was then that he made Mark promise him something.

"Mark, don't leave me, okay?"

"I won't Roger, don't worry," he said with a smile.

"No, I'm not kidding," his tone was serious. "Promise me you'll never die on me, okay?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Okay, Rog, I promise I won't die."

But deep down, Mark wanted Roger to make that promise to him. Especially now when Roger was barely holding on. He stayed in his bed all day, unable to play his guitar, which seemed to kill him more than the disease. Sometimes at night, he would shake so bad that he rolled onto the floor and was too weak to get back into bed. After the fifth or sixth time, Mark just moved in his room. At night, he'd hold him when he shook and tell him everything was going to be okay when the fever dreams took over.

As Roger got closer and closer to the end, Mark rarely left his side. Even if Roger would have let him leave (other than using the bathroom and bringing food), Mark wouldn't have for anything in the world.

"Marky?" his voice was cracking and weak.

"I'm here," Mark ran his fingers through Roger's thinning hair.

"Do you remember that Christmas?" his tired green eyes peered into the ice blue. "You know the one."

Mark smiled. "Yeah, I remember."

"You know how your mom called and you wondered why you were still here," Roger said, jogging Mark's memory. "And I said it was because of me and you said yes. Do you remember that?"

"Faintly," Mark replied. "Because I loved you or something?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "When you said that, were you just humoring me or did you-did you mean it?" He looked away, almost afraid of the answer.

The question took Mark by surprise, but it got him thinking. Although he'd never forget that particular Christmas, that conversation had almost evaded his memory completely. Did he love Roger? They were best friends, weren't they? Like brothers, right? Or was it… no, it couldn't.

"Because I understand if you only stayed because you felt obligated too," Roger's voice was almost a whisper as he tried not to cry. "In a day or two when I'm gone, you can get on with your life. I won't be holding you down anymore."

It was then that Mark saw Roger's fear of dying, of leaving this world. "Roger, don't say that," it came out as a whisper as tears flooded his own eyes. "You were never holding me down. I stayed because… because you're my best friend and you needed me."

Roger's weak hand took a grip on Mark's. Even on his deathbed he had an iron grip. "Even though I've had my girls and I did love them," Roger croaked, "I always loved you too. They left me too soon, but you never did. You're the only one that's ever loved me for who I am despite my fuck-ups."

"I'll always love you… always have," Mark slid down and wrapped his arms tighter around Roger's shaking body. "Just never really… vocalized it, I guess."

"You'll be okay without me, right?" Roger stopped holding back the tears.

"I-I'll manage," Mark leaned his head on Roger's shoulder. "Don't worry about me."

Roger nodded. "Don't forget me."

"I couldn't."

"Mark," he gave him one last longing look through his stony emerald eyes. "Don't let me go alone. Hold me until…" his voice flickered out and his breathing was heavy.

It took everything in Mark to not all out bawl. Allowing a few tears to race down his cheeks, he gave a gentle nod. "I'll be here." He pulled the musician close, Roger's head resting on Mark's chest.

Roger was struggling to breathe now. Through ragged breaths, he managed a "love… you… too" before his eyes closed for a final slumber.

Only when Roger's laborious breathing subsided to short pants did Mark allow himself the luxury of a restless sleep. He was almost afraid to wake up, unsure if Roger would be there with him.

Fin

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