Author's Note: Oh my god, you guys are all so amazing to me. You leave such nice words and don't kill me for the direction that I took with the fic. Thank you guys so much. I really squealed when I saw how many reviews I got for the last chapter. It made me so happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I'm trying to develop a lottle more so you can see why this situation is so much more complicated than it seems.

Chapter Ten:

I'm such an idiot, Mark thought as he grabbed his scarf and jacket. After hours of waiting, he had had enough of waiting alone. He managed to get himself dressed and was ready to head out the door. I'm such a fucking idiot!

He didn't know what to do with himself. He still hadn't managed to get his emotions in control and practically everything he was doing was pushing him closer and closer to a breakdown. He took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself as he reached for the door.

A knock made him jump. Shit!

With shaky hands, Mark pulled open the door to reveal Mimi, "Mimi?"

"Hi, Mark," the dancer said, "Going out?"

"Uh… yeah."

"It's not even nine yet."

"I can't sleep," Mark said with a sigh, "And if you're looking for Roger, he's not home."

"Oh. Where is he?"

"I don't know. He left a few hours ago and…"

"A few hours ago?" Mimi's voice was etched with worry, "And you haven't gone looking for him yet?"

"I don't think he would want me to," Mark whispered as he wrapped his scarf around his neck, "I'm going to go…"

The filmmaker tried to brush pass the dancer, but Mimi reached out and grabbed his arm. For how small she was, she had a surprisingly strong grip. Mark sighed and gently pulled away from her.

"What happened, Mark?" Mimi asked.

Mark could see the beginnings or anger flaring up in her eyes, "I don't need to explain myself. Ask Roger when he gets back."

And Mark walked out the door and down the stairs, disappearing so fast Mimi didn't have time to react or call out to him.

"You better have a real good reason for coming over so damn early," Collins said as he yawned, leading Roger into his livingroom. His apartment was nothing like the loft, but it was by no means better than the loft. The heat would go out and sometimes there was no hot water. But it provided him a place to live and a place to stay away from the memories of Angel that still haunted him.

Roger sat down on the couch, seemingly dazed and out of his element, "Mark told me what happened."

Collins tensed and situated himself on the seat opposite of the musician, "So you guys talked?"

"He told me that he tried to commit suicide after what happened because he loves me," Roger said, "I didn't know how to react and I walked out."

"You just walked out!" Collins exclaimed, "Roger, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't know what to do!"

"The guy just poured his heart out and told you what's been giving him nightmares for the past few years and you walk out on him? That's fucked up."

"I know. I'm such an idiot…"

Collins shook his head, "When did you leave?"

"A few hours ago…"

"Roger, what if he did something stupid?"

"Would he really?"

"I don't know. It depends on how distressed he was."

"Shit, Collins. I don't know what to do!"

"Roger…"

"I could have given him HIV!"

"Roger!"

The musician fell silent. The professor leaned forward in his seat and gave a tired sigh, "Despite the fact that you assaulted him, you used a condom that night."

"What?" Roger was confused. He had been coherent enough to use protection?

"Yeah. Don't ask how you managed to do it cause I don't know."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Roger exclaimed, "I would have had to…"

And something very disturbing hit him as those words made it's way out of his mouth.

He would have had to plan it if he had had a condom on him. And something told him that Mark might have already thought about the possibilities. And he's still not blaming me, Roger thought as he buried his head in his hands. What the fuck happened that night?

"Are you okay?" Collins asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah… no. No, I'm not," the musician answered.

Mark didn't know what to do. He wandered through New York City, not paying attention or noticing the things that were going on around him. Though he had the camera in his hand, it wasn't doing anything. He wasn't filming anything and couldn't get himself to do it.

As he walked, he was glad that he hadn't told Roger the whole story. Maybe the musician would think through the whole thing and just forget anything had happened so they can go on with their lives. Maybe, just maybe, Roger could forget the fact that Mark admitted to loving him.

But why couldn't he have just stayed and talked instead of running away? He wondered. He hated it when Roger ran away, simply because every time it happened it left him with a deep feeling of numbness and loneliness, both of which he didn't want to face alone.

He'll never love me back, Mark told himself. He knew that it was true. It had to be true because Roger was in love with Mimi. Mimi, the fiery dancer with the hypnotic moves and honey smooth voice. He was jealous of her, of her ability to have Roger love her.

Mark wished that Roger could just for once, touch him the way he touched April or the way he touched Mimi, but all he ever got was violence. And he held onto it. No, he never tormented himself with it, but some nights the feelings, the urges would get so bad that he would do anything just to know that Roger knew that he existed. God, I'm fucked up.

By the time he fell out of his state of trance, he realized that it was dark. He was shaking from having been in the cold so long. Shit… he knew he should have paid attention. His friends would be worried sick about him. He turned at the next corner, but hesitated, not knowing if he should go back to the loft or not. Maybe Roger doesn't want to see me. He told himself. And with a sigh, he headed in a different direction.

He flexed his cold hands in his pocket as he walked toward his destination, nearly breaking into a run. He crossed streets, dodged people, and then slowly walked onto a street lined with houses. He approached a familiar one and knocked. He kept knocking until someone opened the door.

"Mark?" a very surprised looking Jason asked.

Mimi wasn't prepared when she opened the door to a worried looking Roger, "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Have you seen Mark?" Roger asked.

The dancer sighed. She should have known this was going to be about Mark. Everything has been about Mark lately.

"I saw him earlier today, but that was it," Mimi answered.

"Shit," the musician cursed, "He hasn't come back yet and he's never out this late without a call."

"So, you're worried?"

"Yes, I'm worried."

But Mimi knew it had to be more than that. There was always more when Roger got worked up.

"Mark's a grown man," Mimi said, "You should stop worrying so much. He'll explain himself when he gets back."

"It's not…" Roger struggled to find words, "…something happened."

"What happened?" the dancer asked.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"I can't… I can't talk about this."

Mimi gave a frustrated sigh, "Fine. You go do whatever you have to do, Roger. Just don't come back until you can actually talk cause I'm getting sick of this bullshit!"

"Mimi…"

"No! I'm done with this! All you do is shut me out! And for what? For Mark?"

"That's not…"

"When you're ready to talk, we'll settle this."

And with that Mimi slammed the door in the musician's face.

Mark's hands were shaking as he tried to hold the cup of tea that Jason had given him, steady. He sat in the teen's room, staring at his drink. His heart raced in his chest because there were only two reasons why he was there and neither made him feel too good about his visit. One hurt and the other was, simply, morally wrong.

"So, want to tell me why you showed up at my doorstep looking like a lost puppy?" Jason asked, looking concerned as he sat on the bed next to Mark.

"I had a talk with Roger," the filmmaker answered.

"I'm assuming it didn't go well."

"It's complicated."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I should just give you the short version."

"Then do it."

Mark took a shaky breath and set his tea on the nightstand, "I told him that I had feelings for him and he walked out."

"You're really shortening it for me, aren't you?"

"He… he hurt me once and I tried to kill myself over some things that he said. I obviously failed because I'm still here and I still love him," the filmmaker said with a sad smile, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh, Mark…" Jason whispered, giving the older man a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry…"

"What do I do?" Mark asked, closing his eyes and willing the tears to go away. He didn't want to lose control over his emotions. Not now.

"Let me see," Jason said, softly.

"What?"

"Your scar."

"But I never…"

"I just assumed and I guess I was right."

The filmmaker hesitantly pulled up his left sleeve and showed the scar to Jason. The sight of it was a burning reminder to him of what had happened. But Jason didn't know the full story and the teen took his arm and raised it to his face, kissing the scar.

"You're a tragic figure, you know that?" Jason asked, "Loving someone you can't have, but unable to escape them at the same time."

Jason traced the scar with his fingertip as they lapsed into silence. Mark felt his heart racing in his chest, the words not wanting to escape, but fluttering in his throat, trying to escape.

"So, why did you really come back?" Jason asked.

Mark breathed and allowed the words to escape, "Does your offer still stand?"

Author's Note: Okay, so I really hope none of the turn of events made anyone hate me or go "oh man, you are so killing the story!". I told you Jason had a reason to be there. Now you just have to figure out if I'm really going to go through with it or not. Not that that's a threat...

But seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed that and won't maim me for any of the things I wrote. I hope I stayed in character too. It's so hard to not make Mark a little weepy...

Please, leave a review and let me know what you think. Thank you so so much.