Sorry it took me a while to get this up, craziness with my last week of classes. Review if you like it, hate it or just feel like it.

I still don't own any rights to anything RENT related. I have however seen the movie 35 times. Fear me.

We woke the next morning to a full stocked refrigerator courtesy of Collins.

"Mark! What do you want for breakfast?" I said shuffling around the kitchen while he got dressed.

"We have food?" he said, walking slowly into the kitchen to see what the fridge looked like full.

Collins had really outdone himself. Cans of soup, vitamins, rice, pasta, canned fruit, tuna, cereal, chocolate chip cookies, instant mashed potatoes, pancake mix, coffee, Kool aid mix, apple juice, orange juice and grape juice filled the once empty shelves of the fridge and cupboards. We were set for a good, long time. Hopefully. Mark stood staring in awe as I listed our cache.

"Well, what would you like first?" I asked with a flourish.

"Um, just some apple juice I guess." He mumbled.

I wanted to slap him.

"THE FOOD IS FOR YOU, MORON! THE DOCTOR SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO EAT. IF YOU DON'T PICK SOMETHING I'LL MAKE ONE OF EVERYTHING AND YOU CAN EAT IT ALL."

I didn't mean to yell, but I was so frustrated with him always putting everyone else first even when he deserved the world.

"Scrambled eggs and apple juice then." He muttered looking at his feet.

"Sure." I said smiling, I wasn't mad and I didn't need him thinking I was.

I moved to the fridge to find the eggs and milk, while Mark dug in an old box to find a frying pan. As I scrambled the eggs, Mark sipped his juice; swallowing his double dose of medication.

"You have to eat something too. I'm not going to be able to eat all this before it goes bad" he said, putting the now empty glass on the table.

"Only after you're so full you couldn't dream of taking another bite." I quipped.

I slid the steaming eggs onto a plate, toping them with shredded cheese before slicing a banana and piling on the side.

"Bon appetite." I said presenting Mark with the plate and a fork.

He gave a halfhearted smile before scowling at the dish.

"Mark, you have to put the food in your mouth for it to qualify as eating."

"I know how to eat, Roger." He said more spitefully than I'd heard his voice in a long time.

"Prove it." I teased.

He picked up the fork, cut a slice of the eggs and popped it into his mouth. I swear he chewed this half-bite of scrambled eggs for three minutes before gagging and swallowing.

"That bad?" I half laughed, half questioned.

"No, they're great. It's just been a while since I've actually eaten anything."

I grimaced, his words unintentionally stinging every fiber of my being.

"Don't remind me how much of an inconsiderate jerk I've been."

He picked up the fork again; to reassure me how much he appreciated my new found attentiveness. It took at least half an hour for him to eat a quarter of the eggs. I stopped him at that point; they were beyond cold and disgusting. It was going to be a long day.

"Are you sure you want to make me eat?" Mark said, finishing the banana an hour later.

"Babe, you're going to eat three meals a day if it takes you all twenty four hours to choke it down."

Mark began to gag before I finished my sentence. Getting to the bathroom was out of the question, but he did make it to the kitchen sink. I might never eat scrambled eggs again. I rubbed his back as he heaved, and wiped his face with a towel when he was done. It dawned on me how many time he had probably done the same thing when I was drunk.

"We'll start with something simpler for lunch later." I said trying to lighten the mood.

Mark tried to glare, but ended up moaning pathetically instead.

"Go lay down on the couch, I'll play something for you."

He wobbled over to the couch and I slipped into my bedroom to get my guitar. Mark was half asleep already when I returned. I tucked a blanket around him, and started to put my guitar away when he started to mumble.

"Please play for me, I'll stay awake. I need to hear your voice."

I smiled. "You're bossy when you don't feel good, remind me to take advantage of that at some point." I said jokingly.

"I'd like that." Mark responded sleepily, closing his eyes.

I started strumming Musetta's Waltz to warm up, it had been a while since I played.

"Your eyes
As we said our goodbyes
Can't get them out of my mind
And I find I can't hide
From your eyes
The ones that took me by surprise
The night you came into my life
Where there's moonlight I see your eyes
How'd I let you slip away
When I'm longing so to hold you
Now I'd die for one more day
'Cause there's something
I should have told you
Yes there's something
I should have told you
When I looked into your eyes
Why does distance make us wise?
You were the song all along
And before this song dies
I should tell you I should tell you
I have always loved you
You can see it in my eyes"

I know it was Mimi's song, but it just felt so right to sing it now. After all, I had missed Mark too, and his eyes were nothing short of magical.

By the time I finished singing the last line, Mark was already asleep chest softly rising and falling.

"Night Mark." I whispered, brushing his un-gelled hair off his forehead and removing his glasses. I wanted to make him better so bad it literally, physically hurt. But what more could I do? Getting myself sick certainly wasn't going to help and I was exhausted. I pushed my guitar under the coffee table and curled up on the floor beside the couch, just in case. I was asleep not five minutes later.

"Roger. What are you doing on the floor?" Mark whispered, kicking me gently.

"Sleeping. Why? Are you okay?" I asked suddenly awake.

"Yeah I'm fine, but that can't be comfortable. Come up here, there's room."

I was too tired and sore to argue. Mental note, never sleep on the bare wooden floor again. Ever. No matter what. The old threadbare couch felt like heaven, completed by my blue eyed angel already closing his glorious eyes again. He sighed contentedly as I conformed my body to his, signaling he wasn't quite asleep yet.