Author's Note: I really, really hate work. It cuts so much into my time that I really have no room to write as much as I want. It kinda sucks, seriously. But thank you guys so much for your reviews, they really let me know that it was worth it to keep going with this story. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Eleven:

Jason smiled as he gave a small sigh. He placed his hand on the back of Mark's neck and pulled the filmmaker closer so their foreheads were touching, "I know I want this and I know at the moment, you want this too. But you're not thinking straight."

"So, you're pushing me away?" Mark asked, sounding hurt.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Jason continued, "I've thought about this Mark and you were right. I'm just a kid. And it might end up hurting you more than helping, especially in this state."

The filmmaker gave a wary laugh, "You're just like him."

"I'm not like him. I wouldn't--"

"I give you what you want and all you do is push me away," Mark pulled away from the teen and stood, "You're both the same."

"Mark--"

"Don't!" Mark exclaimed as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag, "Just don't. I should have known better. I should have--"

Jason also stood, watching as Mark cut off his own words. He didn't know what to do. The filmmaker stood, hand reaching for the bedroom door, but not quite getting there. He could see Mark's shoulders rising and falling as he took in deep breath after breath.

"Mark?" Jason asked as he stepped closer, "Are you okay?"

And Mark reached for the door, pulling it open so fast it slammed against the wall. The teen jumped in surprise, unable to react as the filmmaker walked out of the room. Jason followed in a hesitant state, watching as Mark ran down the stairs and then out the front door.

He sighed. You're the one who's pushing everyone away, Mark.

Mark stepped into an alleyway and pressed his back against the brick wall, trying to catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. Why do I keep setting myself up like this? He asked himself as he slid to the floor.

He pulled his knees to his chest and lowered his head, trying to keep himself from crying in public. He hadn't cried since he was released from the hospital after his suicide attempt. He felt so pathetic, sitting there, not knowing what to do. He was completely lost, not knowing who to go to anymore.

Roger knew the story and he was scared to confront him. He didn't want to be pushed away or be cast out simply because he was stupid enough to fall for his best friend. And what would Roger see in him anyway? He was an unsuccessful filmmaker who got dumped by his girlfriend for a lesbian lawyer, for god's sake. And Roger wouldn't go for guys like him even if he did like boys. God, stop it! Stop doing this to yourself!

I have to get out, I can't do this, he thought as he pushed himself to his feet, I can't keep doing this.

Roger sat on the windowsill, strumming his guitar, trying to keep his mind occupied as he played minor and major chords alternately. He had to keep busy or he would start pacing the loft, which was something he hated doing because it only allows him to focus on the problems he had in front of him, all of which he couldn't understand and really didn't want to think about.

First there was Mark, who he didn't feel he could talk to. He was disturbed by the fact that he had hurt his best friend in, perhaps, one of the most degrading way possible. But, he was also a little taken aback by the fact that Mark loved him. It was the last thing that he had expected, the one thing he thought he would never hear about.

It wasn't that he was disgusted or felt awkward. It was the fact that a long time ago, he had really liked Mark too. It just never went as far as love simply because he moved on and fell for April. Then the suicide happened, followed by his diagnosis of HIV and soon came withdrawal. Then there was the uncertainty and the unwillingness to do anything, knowing that his mortality was staring him in the face. And then, Mimi walked into his life and all he could do was focus on her. How could he break that to his best friend?

And if that whole deal wasn't enough, now Mimi was completely shutting him out. He couldn't reach her. She wouldn't open the door when he knocked. He had called her so many times she lost count. This was the woman he loved and she wasn't helping his situation any. The fact that she had slammed the door in his face when he asked about Mark made him hate her just a little.

Mark was his best friend, she should know that he would worry and need some words of assurance, not a door to the face.

God, what the hell do I do? He asked himself as he ran a hand through his hair. This is getting ridiculous.

As Mimi walked down the street towards the Cat Scratch, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. She kept walking, trying to get to the club as fast as she could. She was running late for a meeting with one of her friends and she hated being late.

As she neared the club, she saw Mark heading in the direction of the loft on the other side of the street. She felt a pang of anger spread through her. In an instant, she had made up her mind and crossed the street to stop the filmmaker.

Mark never saw her coming, jumping when she grabbed his arm. She heard a familiar sound come from the filmmaker's bag, a rattling sound.

"What are you doing?" Mimi asked, knowing that her actions must have made Mark feel uncomfortable. Good, he should feel that way for all the shit he's putting Roger and me through.

"I-I'm heading home," Mark answered, pulling out of the dancer's grip.

"What's in your bag, Mark?"

"What?"

"I heard something rattling, what is it?"

The filmmaker shook his head, "It's just AZT for Roger, Mimi. I know he'll run out in a few days so I picked it up early."

"With what money?"

"I just won't get film for a while," Mark answered.

And there came the guilt that Mimi knew she would feel for being angry with Mark. He was always so good to them that there was just no way she could stay mad.

Mimi sighed, "You should talk to him. He's worried about you."

"Okay," the filmmaker said with a quick smile, "But I really have to head back, I haven't been home in a while and I know he's probably ready to tear his hair out with worry."

Mimi nodded and watched as the filmmaker walked down the street. She wished she knew how to solve this complicated problem, but she had no idea what was going on. If only someone would just let her in.

Roger looked up when the loft door opened. He felt a sense of relief wash over him when he saw Mark walk in.

"Where have you been?" he asked, hoping that there would be no awkwardness.

"Just walking around," the filmmaker answered with a wary smile, "I'm going to get some sleep. I've been out all night."

"Do you want anything?" Roger asked, hopefully, wanting to sit down and actually do something about the situation, but not knowing how to get into it, "Tea, maybe?"

"No, I'm fine," Mark answered as he reached into his bag. He pulled out a familiar orange bottle and placed it on the coffee table, "I got you a refill. I know you're going to run out in a few days."

"You have the money for it already?"

"Yeah."

"Mark, listen…"

"Can we talk later? I'm really tired."

"Oh, okay."

And Roger watches as Mark walked into his room. He gave a sigh as he tried to occupy himself again, this time hoping to finish playing through Musetta's Waltz flawlessly.

Mark closed his door quietly before walking to his bed and setting his bag down. He pulled off his jacket and sighed as he sat down on his bed, opening his bag to take out his camera and the items that he had purchased earlier.

He really hadn't lied to Mimi when he said that he had gotten AZT for Roger. He just didn't tell her that he had picked up a bottle of sleeping pills for himself.

Maybe this time no one will walk in on me, he thought as he turned the bottle in his hand. When he had slit his wrist, Collins had walked in on him. He remembered his friend being worried and almost hysterical. He remembered the feel of a towel being pressed to the cut to stop the bleeding. He remembered Collins asking him why he wanted to give up his life.

Maybe this time I won't fail, he thought, his heart racing in his chest. The only problem was: he didn't want to go through with it.

Author's Note: Another cliffhanger, sorta. Yes, I know. I am totally awful! I'm sorry! Please forgive me?

Please leave a review and let me know what you think, I really appreciate it. Thank you so much for readingand please stay tuned for the next part.