Author's Note: Lookie! And update! I am so proud of me. By the way, this chapter was a complete surprise to me, so, yeah. Thanks to my reviewers, by the way! You make me happy! Enough from me. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO: Just Here to the Left of You

Confusion, indecision

I don't believe I'm too far to be saved.

-- Just Here to the Left of You

Roger does not get home until the early hours of morning. He looks blissfully frazzled, and smells of shoddy nightclubs with an undertone of scented candles. In a completely ungraceful manner, the musician manages to plop himself down on to the couch. Staring at the ceiling, he vaguely recalls the events of the day, and a loose smile lights his face.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he sees himself and Mimi, cleaned up more than they probably have ever been, sitting in a quaint little café. Murmured conversation flows through Roger's memory, tainted with laughter and sweet kisses. The scene changes completely, unexpectedly, and the guitarist is thrust into wild memories of dirt clubs with bright lights and loud music. He sees Mimi dancing with other men, himself at the bar, and knows, somehow, he must have been thinking about Mark. He remembers Mimi coming over to him, and all is lost from there. Suddenly, Roger's head hurts, and he groans in protest.

Roger doesn't even notice Mark is awake until he is standing over the couch.

"I take it you and Mimi had a good night?" Mark's voice is tired, as is his smile. He didn't mean to come out and check on Roger. He supposes it's just habit by now.

Looking up at Mark, Roger grins a bit. His head is still pounding, and he notices, but he doesn't care. A smile has never done that to the musician until Mark came along. It makes him feel drunk all over again.

"Roger? Are you alright?" A wand is waved in front of Roger's face.

"What? Oh … I suppose." There is a distant, drunken sound to the guitarist's voice.

Mark's concern turns back into a tired smile, filled with amusement.

"You suppose what? You're alright? Or you had a good night?"

"Both. The night. Both."

"You're completely wasted." A laugh escapes Mark, and Roger pushes himself into a sitting position, simply to be closer to the sound

"How else would I know that I had a good night?" Roger grins. It's a funny, lopsided, drunk grin, and it makes Mark laugh more. Roger doesn't mind Mark laughing at him.

"Care to tell me, then?" Looking expectantly at Roger, Mark sits down next to him.

"I don't quite remember …" Roger frowns. He looks at Mark, who's raised an eyebrow, and finds himself digging through the depths of his memory. Since when he did become such a people pleaser? "We went … To this café. And ate. Lunch. Brunch. It was good. And we … Did … Stuff. I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, smiling.

Mark smiles in reply. Roger grins. Mark coughs a bit. Roger frowns.

"I forgot you were sick." Who would've thought Roger could move across a couch so fast? "Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

"'Motherly' is not an adjective that suits you, Roger." Mark lightly pushes away the bigger man. "I'm fine. Everyone gets little coughs." He turns to look at Roger reassuringly, and then notices something that makes his face fall.

Mark and Roger have been friends for years. So, it's no surprise they know practically everything about each other (sometimes even against protests from the other one), nor is it surprising that they've been through everything with each other. In fact, Mark has been through Roger's bouts of hell so many times, it's become a constant sharing experience between the two. This is also how Mark can notice things almost instantly when it comes to his best friend. After all, you don't help a friend through withdrawal and all that jazz for nothing.

"You were doing drugs, weren't you?" It is a flat, emotional question that's more of an accusation than anything else.

"… What?" It is completely clear that Roger cannot fathom what Mark is talking about. "I didn't take any drugs."

"Roger, don't pull this shit with me. I've been your friend throughout an entire drug addiction." Mark is anything but happy. He grabs Roger's arm and pulls up the sleeve, and repeats the process with the other arm. His search shows nothing.

"There. See?" A smug look finds it's way on to the guitarists face. This seems to make Mark even more angry.

"Don't fucking start with me." The filmmaker stands up, towering over Roger. "I'm not naïve, Roger. I know there are other drugs besides heroin."

"Then why did you check my arms?"

Mark ignores him.

"We made a deal, Roger, a fucking promise. No drugs of any kind." Mark's anger wanes. "You were doing so well, Rog … What happened?" He gives the other man a look, and Roger can't help but turn away his head in shame.

"I told you, Mark. I didn't do anything tonight, alright?" Yet, as Roger turns to look at his friend, a new memory hits him like a ton of bricks.

The last club of the night. It was one Roger had never been to before. Maybe he had, but not recently. For good reason. The place was filled with junkies and addicts of every kind. It was like the ultimate rave party. Being the conscientious man he is now, Roger confined himself to the bar, and only the bar. It wasn't until twenty minutes later that Roger actually saw Mimi. She was high, and he knew it. He hardly questioned her when she took his hand, bringing him over to some people he'd never seen. She kissed him, told him to close his eyes, and he humored her. She said to open his mouth, and he did. He knew almost instantly what was going on when the ecstasy hit his tongue, and then forget it all in a hypnotic spiral of colors and sounds.

Mark doesn't miss the guilty look.

"I knew it."

Roger doesn't miss the disappointed sigh. In an effort to defend himself, he jumps off the couch, stumbling slightly.

"No … Mark … Listen. It wasn't like that. I didn't want to. It just happened."

"Like hell it did!" Mark glares at Roger. "You had a fucking choice. You know you did. Don't start feeding me this shit. I'm not going through this again."

"I'm not a fucking addict, Mark!" Roger's tone surprises both of them.

"You had better not be." Saying nothing more, Mark goes back to his room.

Having nothing to do, Roger sits down again. He blinks at the wall. A new fear starts creeping into his mind. Has Mimi done this to him before? Another groan leaves him. Roger has a feeling it's going to a be a long and difficult week.

Author's Note: Yes. I've got no idea about this chapter either. Maybe the next chapter will be better planned? Haha. Please review. It makes me smile.