Chapter Thirteen: To Loving Tension
We are born to love those who most wound us. – Lawrence Durrell

"I just… Jessi, I can't… I don't know what…" April had to take several deep breaths to steady herself, just so she wouldn't start sobbing over the phone. She'd brought the phone into her room to call Jessica, closed the door behind her, and Roger was out of the loft—he had been before she woke up. Probably a good thing, because she still doubted she could have spoken to him.

"April, honey, calm down, sweetheart," Jessica murmured soothingly. "Breathe, okay?"

"I know," April said, managing to slow her breathing a little and give at least a semblance of calm. She knew she should be talking to Collins or Mark, someone who could talk to Roger, do something, but… she couldn't. So here she was, crying on the phone to a girl across the country.

"What's going on, April-star?" Jessica asked when April had managed to relax somewhat. "Talk to me, baby."

Still cradling the phone to her ear with one hand, April curled up around a pillow as she lay on the bed, staring quietly out the window. She remained silent for almost too long, but before Jessi could ask her again, she said softly, "It's him. Roger."

The dead silence on the other end of the line made April worry a little, and when Jessica spoke again she sounded almost murderous. "What did he do to you? Do I have to get a plane out there and injure him? Because I will if he—"

"No! He didn't… he didn't do anything to me, Jess. We had a fight. Last night. I…"

"Everyone fights, April," Jessica said gently. "That's normal, you know."

"That's not what's the matter, Jessica." She almost never used Jessica's full name—it was always Jessi, Jess, or some random nickname. That seemed to quiet Jessica for a while, because there was a long silence before she answered.

"Ah. I see. What was the argument about, darling?"

April closed her eyes and pulled her pillow closer to her chest with one arm. Even talking to the girl who had been her best friend since she was twelve, she really hated saying this out loud. It made it too damn real. "I…caught Roger with… a needle last night. When he was with his band. He said he'd been using… whatever the hell it is for a month, and I just… I don't know."

After a pause, Jessica asked, "What's he using, April-love?"

April shrugged helplessly. "How am I supposed to know? Heroin, I guess. I mean, I didn't bother to ask, and…" She chuckled wryly, with no trace of humor. "I'm not exactly used to identifying drugs just by looking at them." Yeah, she and Jessi had grown up upper-middle-class kids in a quiet northern California suburb, naïve little children that they were. Drugs of any kind had not been part of their world. "Does it matter?"

"No, I guess not. Sorry baby. I… God, I don't know what to tell you sweetheart. You know I'd give anything to be able to hold you now."

"I know." April cuddled the pillow, wishing she could cling to Jessi like that just now. Jessica had always made things better, when she could hold her until the bad things just… went away… "Can you just talk to me for a while? I don't care what, I just… want to hear your voice."

Jessica complied, of course, hesitating a moment and then just talking about anything and everything that came into her head—her family, Jessica's family, the weather, her cat… It didn't matter what she said, just that she was still there, talking, and April could close her eyes and hear her voice and for a moment calm down and forget about Roger.

When Jessica finally had to go, April lay there for a few seconds, still holding the phone to her ear after Jessi had hung up and listening to the drone of the dead line. With a sigh, she rolled over to get up and hang up the phone, but stopped and frowned when she faced the door. Maureen was standing there in the doorway, looking both curious and worried. April had been lying on the bed with her back to the door, so she hadn't noticed when Maureen got there, or even when the door opened, too busy paying attention to Jessica talking to her… She hung up the phone carefully, still frowning at Maureen. Neither of them said a word for a moment or two.

"Maureen?" April ventured at last. "How long have you been standing there?"

Maureen hesitated before she answered, and at last shrugged noncommittally, stepping into the room and sitting down on the bed beside April. "A while. I didn't want to interrupt your phone call."

"So you just… stood there? What did your mother tell you about eavesdropping?"

Maureen smiled a little. "Nothing, actually."

April sighed. "Well, that could be part of the problem…"

Seeming to ignore both the sigh and the comment, Maureen pursed her lips, and then asked suddenly, "What's going on, April?"

"What d'you mean, 'what's going on?'"

Maureen didn't look the least bit guilty as she confessed, "I heard… well, not all of that, but a lot of that. About Roger… and… stuff."

"You what?" April stared at her, dumbfounded. "You were there for that long? And you didn't even let me know you were there? That… that's just… I can't believe you!"

The other woman only shrugged, completely shameless. "Well, ordinarily I would have told you, but it sounded important and you sounded upset so I wanted to hear what was going on and… What's Roger doing?"

"You probably heard enough to figure that out, didn't you?" April asked a little resentfully.

"Yeah. I just wanted to make sure that I… that I heard right."

April didn't answer, just looking at the floor, her mind elsewhere. It took her by surprise when Maureen abruptly leaned over and put her arms around her. "Are you gonna be okay?" Maureen asked gently, and April blinked at her. She had expected an "I told you so," not sympathy. But… it was a nice change.

April nodded slowly, weary and unable to stay annoyed at her friend for long, and dropped her head onto Maureen's shoulder while Maureen pulled her into a closer hug. "Yes," she said softly. "I think so. Maybe?"

Maureen nodded in complete understanding. "Yeah. You need anything? You want me to go yell at Roger or hit him a couple times to knock some sense into him… or get one of the boys to do it, since they can probably hit harder?" April actually laughed weakly, and closed her eyes.

"No, but thanks for the offer. I'm fine, I just… need someone to hold me for a while." Again, Maureen nodded, and didn't say anything more. Neither of them needed to.

The two of them sat there together for a half an hour, maybe more—neither of them saw a reason to glance at the clock—until Mark passed by the open bedroom door, saw Maureen holding April, stopped and asked automatically, "What's wrong?"

April jumped and pulled away from Maureen automatically, and Maureen released her. April fumbled for an explanation, unable to come up with anything coherent, and at last Maureen just rolled her eyes at April's incompetence and said, "It's nothing, Marky. April's just had a bad day, that's all. She'll be fine."

Mark stood there for a few seconds, and glanced to April for confirmation. She smiled a little to reassure him, and though he still seemed unsettled, he accepted it at least, nodding and continuing on his way to whatever he had been doing. April sighed and collapsed backwards onto the bed.

"My head hurts," she muttered under her breath.

By the time Roger got home, April had managed to compose herself enough that she didn't immediately glare at him as he walked in the door. Lounging on the couch with a book, she simply looked up at him, smiled, and returned to her reading. "Hi Roger."

He stopped in the doorway, almost warier than he would have been had she snapped at him. Hostility he understood. Civility, under the circumstances, was unexpected.

"Hi…?"

It was almost more of a question than a statement. He didn't step any further into the loft until she looked up at him again with a bit of a sigh.

"Roger. Stop acting like I'm going to try to hurt you and come inside."

He smiled a little and walked to the couch, sitting down at her feet. "You mean you're not?"

"No. I still think you're an idiot, and I still have the overpowering urge to scream at you, but I'm not going to, not least because Maureen is a horrible eavesdropper and will just be amused by the argument. We will talk about this eventually, but for the time being, no, I am not going to hurt you." Noticing a faint, amused smile on his face, she frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," he said as innocently as he could manage—which was, truthfully, not very.

"Don't give me that," she said, smiling a little herself. "What's funny?"

He grinned. "It's just… you're kind of cute when you're mad."

April set her book down. "Okay, just because I'm not going to injure you doesn't mean I've forgiven you. Do you want to dig yourself even deeper into the hole you've put yourself in?"

"No, not really, but…"

"Good. Then stop smiling at me." Roger just stifled a laugh and had to look away from April. "Roger…" she said warningly. Another laugh, and this time he didn't even attempt to muffle it. "Alright, that's it. You are officially in a hole."

It took a moment for him to answer, as he fought back laughter. "I'm in a hole?"

"You are in a hole," she said, nodding to emphasize her point.

"Oh. Okay. How do I get out of the hole?"

She shrugged. "You put yourself there, you can get yourself out."

"But how do I know when I'm out?"

"I'll tell you."

"…Then why can't you just tell me how to get out?"

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book again. "Because, Roger. That would defeat the purpose."

He sighed. "I wasn't aware there was a purpose."

"Of course there is." When he was silent for a while, she raised an eyebrow at him. "So? Do you have anything to say?"

"…About?" he said, clearly baffled.

April could only sigh. "To get yourself out of the hole you put yourself in, you idiot."

"Oh… um… I…" He ran a hand through his hair. "You have to make this difficult don't you?"

"Yes," she said calmly, grinning at him.

"I don't know what to… okay, please tell me what to say."

April laughed and smirked at him. "Tell me why you love me."

"What?"

"Tell me why you love me. Tell me why you're my boyfriend."

He stared at her. "Do I have to? I mean… I can't…"

"Do you want to get yourself out of the hole?"

Roger winced. "I kind of wish I could hate you right now."

"No you don't. Now come on. You're still in the hole."

"Because…" He trailed off, clearly searching for the right answer. "Because you're beautiful and amazing and talented, and a hell of a good kisser?"

April couldn't keep a broad smile from spreading across her face. "Okay, you're out of the hole."

"Thank you," Roger said, rolling his eyes a little but still amused.

After a few seconds, April asked, "You want to know something?"

"What?"

"You were actually out of the hole about two minutes ago. It was just kind of cute watching you flail."

Roger just stared at her in utter frustration for a moment or two. "Okay, you know what?"

April considered for a moment, tilting her head to one side and looking up at the ceiling in thought before answering. "I'm in a hole, aren't I?"

"You're in a hole."

Roger stayed with April for the rest of the day, talking to her, laughing and teasing her until it seemed that she had to have forgiven him. He waited until she was asleep before he slipped out of the loft, as quietly as he could, but he couldn't avoid waking up Collins—he'd been standing just outside his "room" when Roger came out, and had just looked at him for a moment. "Where're you going, Roger?"

Roger shrugged, annoyed by the way that everyone seemed determined to keep an eye on him lately. "Out. I'll be back before long." He didn't wait for Collins to answer him, just walked out the front door, closed it behind him. He headed down the stairs, out onto the street…

It didn't take him long to find Dave—he was always around, somewhere, or so it seemed. Roger had met him before, one of Josh's friends, but only in the last month or so had he found out who Dave was, actually. Not just one of Josh's random jackass friends, but… the Man. Emphasis on that, not just a description, but a name or title or… something. Whatever. It didn't really matter to Roger what he was called, just that he could give him what he wanted.

Dave noticed Roger coming from almost a block away, and smirked a little at him as he drew near. That smirk annoyed Roger, but he didn't say anything. He'd never really liked Dave anyway, but… He sighed and dug some money out of his coat pocket, handed it to Dave—the Man, two different people, different personas—and accepted the plastic bag the Man handed him with a nod of thanks, or at least what could be considered thanks. Roger didn't feel particularly thankful at the moment, just… achy, and irritable. He sighed and kept on walking—not back to the loft, but somewhere else, somewhere he could stop a while and banish that aching feeling for a while. He'd lied to Collins: he wouldn't be home any time soon.