Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry for the long long wait. Seriously, my job is horrible. I need to learn how to manage the small amount of time I have. I've also had writer's block and I've also started a new story that I will be posting soon, but that in no way means that this will stop updating. Please enjoy this installment. Thank you.

Chapter Eight:

"I thought I saw Mark coming home," Mimi said from the doorway, closely watching Roger.

"Yeah, he's been in his room since he got back though," Roger answered.

"Tell him I want to talk to him when he's ready to come out."

As the dancer turned to walk out, the musician stopped her, "Mimi, wait."

She turned and gave Roger a questioning look, not knowing if what he said next would signal her decision to forgive him or her decision to just walk away and wait another day.

"I-I'm sorry about the past few days."

Mimi smirked, "Roger Davis is apologizing?"

"I have to sometime, don't I?"

The dancer laughed and stepped closer to the musician. She reached out and gently pulled him to her. She let her hands linger on his, letting him know that she was forgiving him and letting go of their argument, their recent distance.

"You're really worried about him," Mimi said softly, "Maybe you should give him space."

"It's hard," Roger replied, "I don't know how. He does the same thing to me."

"And you do the same thing to him."

"But-"

"Baby, both of you have horrible communication skills. Admit it."

"Yeah…"

Mark had managed to get out of the loft without much argument from Roger. In fact, there wasn't even more than a quick exchange of words. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that Roger was actually trying to give him space and be a good roommate.

As he made his way down the streets, he double-checked to make sure he was going in the right direction. After all, he had only been over to Jason's house once and he had been lead along. This time he was on his own and not too sure about his location.

It took him at least a good twenty minutes of searching before he could find the right number. When he rang the bell and no one answered, he was about to assume that Jason had forgotten that he was going to be over, but heavy footsteps told him otherwise.

The door opened to reveal a slightly sick looking Jason who glared at the filmmaker.

"I'm assuming you hate me for getting you sick."

"You would be right."

"I'm sorry?"

"Not good enough."

"I'll make it up to you somehow?"

"I'll see if I can decide on something."

"So…does that mean I can come in now? Like out of the cold?"

"Yeah, yeah, get your ass in here."

Mark followed Jason upstairs to the teen's room. The house wasn't new to him, but it still impressed him. He wondered how a kid with a good upbringing could turn out to be so unique.

"Okay, here's the deal, I really didn't tell you to come over today cause I had more stuff to tell you," Jason said, sheepishly as he sat down on his bed.

Mark gave Jason a questioning look before following and sitting on the bed, "What do you mean?"

"Are you always this dense?" Jason asked, rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing. And take off your jacket, you must be burning up in that thing."

It was Mark's turn to roll his eyes as he took off his scarf and then his jacket, "There, happy?"

"Not really."

"So, why did you ask me to come over?" Mark sighed.

"I wanted company. I'm sick and no one's around."

"Isn't that why you have friends?"

"Well…"

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Well, sort of."

"You can always just talk about it."

Jason deliberated before asking, "Did you know I was bi?"

"From the moment I saw you and the second someone in the group called you a fag."

"Why weren't you scared of it? I mean, yeah, you have gay friends, but why doesn't any of that push you away?"

"Why should I be afraid of it?"

"Aren't you scared of catching it?"

"Jason, I'm not that stupid. Plus…"

"Plus what?"

"Whoever said I was completely straight?"

"I knew it!"

Mark cringed, "Calm yourself."

"I knew I picked up something!"

"Okay, I get it. You have really good gaydar, now can you not freak out?"

"But I can't help it!"

"Why not?"

"Cause…"

"Cause?"

And suddenly Mark found himself being pushed back on the bed with Jason crawling on top of him. He was completely frozen, not knowing what to do as the teen's lips met his. He didn't know how to react. It was as if his mind was shutting down.

When he felt Jason's tongue trying to push past his lips, he forced himself to place his hands on the teenager's shoulder and push him away.

"What was that?" Mark asked.

"You are so dense," Jason said as he tried to kiss the filmmaker again.

"We can't be doing this," Mark said, keeping Jason just inches away from him.

"Why not?"

"You're jailbait."

"So?"

"It's wrong."

"How can it be wrong if it feels right to me?"

"You're delusional."

"I'm not."

"God you're just like Roger, stubborn till the end."

Jason looked intently at Mark's face, as if searching. Then a look of realization washed over his features.

"I get it," Jason said, "You're in love with him… That's why you like talking about him. That's why you always bring him up."

"What?"

The teen gave a soft laugh, "Well, if you like him so much, why don't you just pretend I'm him? For one day."

"Jason…"

"Think about it, Mark. We both get what we want, right?"

Mark shook his head and pushed Jason off of him, quickly grabbing for his things, "I should get going."

"Think about it."

And Mark walked out, not knowing what else to do.

He was pissed at himself for being so stupid. He was stupid enough to let his emotions go in front of a few kids cause he didn't think any of them would piece it together. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jason was a lot smarter than he came off.

Roger didn't miss the way that Mark looked when he walked through the door. But he knew he shouldn't question it.

"I'm going to get some sleep," Mark had whispered before going into his room and the musician simply nodded.

He tried not to think about Mark and the way that he had been acting. He tried not to think about all the things that he could have done to Mark. He tried not to dwell on the past, but it was all he could think about. All he could do was go back to that dream and wonder if any of it had actually happened because it seemed so real and true enough to happen.

His mind kept trying to piece together the puzzle and sometimes a new image would be conjured up, but he didn't know how it fit. He only knew that it had to do with his guitar. It was connected. He didn't know how much time had passed, but his thoughts kept drifting. Maybe an hour or two had gone by. He wasn't sure he was so caught up.

Could I have really done that to him?

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Mark screaming.

Pain shot through his left arm. It was sharp and made him gasp. First, he could feel his circulation being cut off and he tried to use his free hand to get away. A hand closed around his neck, pushing his head back onto the floor with such force he saw stars.

"Don't do this…" he tried, his free hand trying to fend off his assailant.

"You can't do this to me!"

"Please, I'm sor--" the words were cut off as the hand around his neck tightened and the string wrapped around his left wrist was pulled so tight it dug into his arm, breaking the skin and making him scream.

He felt blood flowing, dripping onto the floor and he could see it spreading. The sight of it made his body feel weak, knowing that he was physically bleeding onto the floor. He looked up and found eyes glaring down at him, filled with so much fury that he had to look away.

The hand around his neck was no longer there, but it was moving, getting something he couldn't see or make out.

"Roger, stop!" he tried, wanting this violence and pain to end, "Roger, you're hurting me!"

He knew that sometimes those words had affect and he hoped it was one of those times.

Unfortunately it wasn't one of those days as an angered voice shot back. "You had no right! You had no fucking right."

The string tightened again, "Roger!"

"Mark!"

Mark jolted awake, drawing back the second he realized that Roger was in the room, on his bed, "W-what are you doing in here?"

"You were screaming," the musician answered, looking concerned.

The filmmaker buried his head in his hands, taking in deep shaky breaths. He needed Roger out of the room and away from him, but he didn't know how to tell his friend that his mere presence made him feel anxious.

The dreams were coming back, something he had been able to avoid for over two years. The fact that they were becoming more frequent again was unsettling. He hated them, the way they presented themselves, so vividly. It was a memory he couldn't push out of his mind.

"Mark?"

"Get out," the filmmaker quietly said, "Please, get out."

"What?" Roger sounded confused and uncertain, "But-"

"Roger, please…"

"Why are you pushing me away?"

Mark took a deep breath before raising his head and speaking calmly, "Because you're making this worse. Now, get out."

The musician's brows furrowed in confusion, "What is wrong with you?"

"Roger, don't."

"You can't keep hiding this! You can't just pretend nothing is wrong because something obviously is! You wouldn't be screaming at four in the morning if everything was alright!"

"Shut up, Roger!" Mark couldn't keep his own temper in check as he tried to shove Roger away. He needed to be alone. He couldn't understand why Roger didn't understand that. The other man didn't back down, pushing back with just as much force.

Their tempers were getting out of control, something that hadn't happened in a long time.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Mark?" Roger's voice was rising and Mark didn't back down, still trying to get the musician to get out. "Stop it!"

"Get out!"

Roger let out a growl of frustration before pushing Mark back onto the mattress. He moved quickly, not wanting the filmmaker to get another chance to try and attack him. He grabbed the blonde's arms and pinned them down, straddling the other man's waist.

"You can't do this!" Roger yelled, "You can't keep pushing me away!"

"Get off me!"

Mark pulled his arms free and lashed out, but Roger was faster, grabbing the other man before he could be struck. As the filmmaker struggled, something caught Roger's eye. A scar. No, a series of scars on Mark's arm were visible as the sleeve of his sweatshirt had slid to his forearm.

"How'd you get these?" Roger asked, his voice rising as he looked at his friend, "How'd you get these?"

Mark looked away as he stopped struggling, his heart racing in his chest, knowing that the truth would have to come out.

"Did you do this to yourself?" the musician asked.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "Yes."

"Why?"

That was the exact question the filmmaker needed before answering, "Because of you."

Author's Note: Am I just always leaving cliffhangers or what? Anyone, someone totally called Jason having a crush on Mark. I had planned it all along, but there will be a bigger reason later on for why this happens. Everything happens for a reason. I hope this wasn't disappointing, I wasn't too happy with this chapter. Thank you for reading and please leave a review. Thank you!