Disclaimer: Lyrics for the song in this chapter are from "Undiscovered" by Adam Pascal, on Model Prisoner. It's my favorite of all of Adam's songs, and has always seemed like an April song to me.

Chapter Ten: A Small, Lovely Kiss
With a kiss let us set out for an unknown world. – Alfred de Musset

April lay on her stomach on the couch, notebook open in front of her. It was the notebook Mark had given her for Christmas. Purple pen in hand, she still hadn't written a word in it, almost afraid to make a mark in it until she felt certain every word would be perfect. Write something to change the world. Right. She tapped her pen against the notebook, almost in a rhythm to mirror that of the guitar chords that filtered out of Roger's bedroom. She and Roger were the only two home that day, sitting in the freezing loft, both trying to create something of meaning. April couldn't help but think that Roger had to be more successful at it than she.

She glanced up as the music from Roger's room stopped suddenly, and she heard Roger muttering to himself under his breath. He sighed and called, "April? Could you come in here? I need some advice."

April hesitated, then stood up, closing her notebook and leaving both it and her pen on the couch. She stopped in Roger's doorway, leaning halfway in as she braced herself on the door frame with both hands. "Sure. What d'you need?"

He lifted one hand and beckoned her into the room, gesturing for her to sit on the bed beside him. He had his guitar in his hands, several pieces of paper scattered on the bed around him, with random lines written on them, along with what looked like sketchy drawings of something. She had to move some of the papers to sit down next to Roger, picking them up and frowning at them as she tucked her legs under her on the bed. On one of the papers, along with lyrics scrawled in Roger's untidy handwriting—what looked like the song Roger had given her on that tape—there were sketches of a woman, many times erased, redrawn. It could have been Maureen, but… No, the hair was too short. It could have been April.

Before she could study it for very long, Roger took it from her and set it aside, his movements awkward and uncertain. April looked at him curiously. "What was—"

"Nothing," he said almost too quickly. "It was… nothing. I, um… I wanted to ask you… what you thought of this. It's not done yet, and I only have a little so far, but…"

April smiled. "You know I'm not much good musically, so I'm not sure how much good I'll be…"

Roger only shrugged, less awkward now. "I'm not looking for anything professional. That's one of the few things my band's good for. I just want to know what you think."

"Alright, let's hear it."

He played something that didn't sound exactly like a complete tune, more of a fragment of one. "Twist her words and believe what you need you'll receive, never be the same…" As he went on, April found herself watching his hands, fascinated. He had artist's hands, slender, graceful as they flickered over the guitar strings easily, never faltering. She was still listening to him, but his hands had entranced her, and she had to shake her head a little to clear her mind.

"…says 'I am', then whispers the word undiscovered. Says 'I can open your eyes…'" He trailed off, and the melody cut off abruptly. "That's all, so far. D'you… do you like it?" He looked up from his guitar, and for a second she didn't say anything, her mind still caught up in his graceful artist's hands and a melody and a rough, quiet voice and now those blue eyes…

"It was… amazing, Roger," she said at last, and smiled. "Then again, I'd say that about any of your songs, so I'm not sure what you want my advice for… I'm hardly unbiased, after all."

He smiled a little at her and set his guitar to one side. "Mostly I just wanted to know what you thought. If you liked it. That was… really all."

She raised one eyebrow at him teasingly. "What, the rock star's not completely confident in his abilities?"

He caught the gently mocking tone and rose to the challenge, responding with the arrogant smile he'd perfected. "Of course I am. I just like to feed my ego every now and then." April laughed and shoved him playfully, Roger smiled and caught her wrists easily in both hands, and for a second they both sat there, silent, unmoving. In an instant, something had altered, as if something in the air between them had somehow snapped into alignment, and Roger's eyes searched her face silently. He still had that overconfident smile on his face, but there was something quiet there too. Had it been anyone else, April would have thought it hesitance, uncertainty, but no, not Roger. Never Roger.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she murmured under her breath just before leaning in to kiss him. It started out hesitant, shy and uncertain. It only stayed that way for about half a second. Still holding April's wrists, Roger pulled her closer, and as he returned the kiss it could no longer be called anything even close to innocent, all lips and tongues and melting into one another and their own heartbeats hammering in their ears loud enough to drown out the rest of the world.

When at last she had to pull away for air, April drew a slow breath, rested her forehead against Roger's shoulder, and asked hesitantly, "What… what did we just do?"

"I don't know," he answered softly. "But it wasn't a bad thing, was it?"

"No. Not at all."

Mark had to wait until April left for work before he cornered Roger. For the past four days, Roger had been acting… well, weird around her. Whenever April came around, Roger would get awkward, make excuses to leave… It made no sense. What was more, it wasn't anything like the Roger Mark knew. As soon as April left the loft, Mark went straight to his and Roger's room and found Roger laying on his bed, bracing a notebook against his legs as he wrote something. Mark didn't bother beating around the bush, just sat down on the bed at Roger's feet and asked bluntly, "What's the matter with you?"

Roger looked up and quirked one eyebrow questioningly. "Is this one of those questions I'm just supposed to understand without any explanation whatsoever, or…?"

Mark sighed. "You and April. What's going on?"

Roger stared at him for a moment, then looked quickly down at his notebook. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do too," Mark said accusingly. "You've been acting weird around her. Did you two get in a fight or something?" He paused. "No, that can't be it. We'd all have known it before now, if only because you wouldn't be able to keep from saying something… What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Roger said, but he didn't look up from his notebook as he said it.

"Roger."

Roger just sat there for a moment, staring at his notebook, but his pen wasn't moving. At last, he looked up and said, softly, "She kissed me."

Mark watched him, unable to come up with a response for a second. "She—wait, what? She kissed you?"

Roger hesitated. "Well, okay, I kissed her. We kissed each other. Whatever."

Mark was definitely not following this. "So what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem." Roger's attention was back on his notebook now, his pen tapping against it, and everything about his expression making it quite clear that he was intent on ignoring Mark.

"You're avoiding her," Mark pointed out.

"I'm not… exactly…" He sighed and looked up again, irritated. "Okay, I am. She's just… she's…" He trailed off, and Mark raised one eyebrow.

"She's…?" he prompted, and Roger glared at him.

"She's not like Maureen. I don't want to..." He trailed off again, and snapped, "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Roger?" Mark said slowly as he stood up. "I'm only going to say this once, so make sure you listen to me, okay? Stop being an idiot and talk to her." He left the room before Roger could say a single word in response.

April glanced at her watch as she grabbed her coat and threw it on, starting for the door of the diner. Midnight, or close enough to it. "I'm going home, Leia!" she called over her shoulder, pushing open the door and immediately met by a rush of cold air. Walking home in January weather would not be pleasant.

"Okay!" the other waitress called cheerily from across the diner. "I'll see you tomorrow, April!"

April smiled and stepped outside, pulling her coat a little tighter around her. Cold, cold… Well, just so long as I can make it home without freezing to death…

A man had been leaning against the outside wall of the diner, and as she approached he stepped out in front of her. "Hey."

April squeaked and jumped backwards before she recognized Roger's voice. She pressed a hand to her now racing heart and stepped forward to hit him on the shoulder with her other hand. "What the hell? Don't you ever scare me like that again!" She took a moment to calm down, and then blinked at him. "What the hell are you doing here?" After all, he had definitely been avoiding her since… that day… and now he just decided to wait outside the diner until she got off work?

"I just…" Roger hesitated a moment, and she walked past him, hurrying down the street towards the loft. It was cold, and she wanted to get home. Roger caught up with her in a few seconds. "I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Haven't I gotten home safe every night before this when I'm working late?"

"Well, yes, but…" He faltered for a minute, and then frowned at her. "You're shivering."

"Yes, Roger, that's what happens when it's cold outside." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice—maybe she was holding a bit of a grudge for his avoiding her, but she told herself she wasn't just being petty. After four days of nothing from him, she had to be suspicious of whatever had prompted him to walk her home.

She jumped a little in surprise as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, and looked up at him with a start. Roger smiled down at her. "April, I'm… sorry I've been an idiot these past few days. I just… I don't know what I was thinking. But… I like you, April. I really do. Forgive me?"

April considered for a minute, and then wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled up at him. "Kiss me and I'll think about it."

He chuckled softly and leaned down to her. "Demanding, aren't you?" he murmured against her lips, and a shiver went down her spine that had nothing whatever to do with the cold.