A/N: Once again, mucho thanks for the reviews! I opened my email and saw that I had like...7, all for chapter 3. I was ecstatic. So thank you so much!

A/N2: This chapter is making up for all the drama and sadness. So expect much needed immaturity.

A/N3: Go on and you can read the first few pages of Anthony's book. Warning though; they cut you off in the middle of the first chapter and I was basically screaming profanities at the computer because I wanted to read more.

Disclaimer:sighs: Don't own, don't sue...

Roger woke up the next morning, full of regret and embarrassment. He barely knew the young woman that had come to live with him, yet he treated her as poorly and as offensively as he could. He wasn't even sure why. After April...

Say it, Roger. Died. April's dead.

After April...well, ever since the incident, Roger felt as if the whole world had a grudge against him. Mostly God. It's not everyday that a young man comes home from band practice and sees his young, beautiful girlfriend dead on the floor with a note next to her crimson slit wrists that read, "We have AIDS."

Had, April. You had it. I still do.

He needed someone to blame. So he blamed everyone. It was easier for him to put up a wall and block everyone out as opposed to feeling their pity and their sympathy.

Roger Davis was a strong man, despite his disease. He didn't need, nor did he want pity.

Walking into the main room of their cold, virtually empty loft, he saw Kate sleeping soundly on the couch. She had a blanket and Roger was certain where it came from. Mark had given it to her. His one blanket that covered his lumpy mattress, and he gave it to his cousin.

The thought made Roger sick. This is what poor is. Sleeping at night with no warmth and waking up with no food in the refrigerator.

Walking to the kitchen area, he glanced out the window and saw a homeless woman half-sleeping on the curb, half-guarding all her possessions.

No. That's what poor is.

He opened the cabinet door slowly, as it squeaked the entire way open. He didn't want to wake the girl. He didn't particularly like her, but he still knew better than to wake someone when they're sleeping. Once again-sleep-something Roger never took for granted.

Grabbing two slightly chipped, yet completely usable bowls, he placed them down on the counter/table and grabbed some milk (which shocked him, considering he wasn't even aware they had milk) along with cereal.

He fixed breakfast and walked up slowly to the sleeping woman. She had washed her face since the previous night. Roger could tell because there was no trace of makeup left. Yet she still looked...

Pitiful.

He placed the bowl down on the floor and started to walk away when he heard a voice.

"You made me breakfast?"

Roger turned around and saw Kate eying him suspiciously.

"Yeah, well...I felt bad about yesterday. My attitude was...less than dignified."

"You're telling me." Kate answered. Looking up at her, Roger saw she had a smile on her face.

"It's weird...you and Mark are so different. How are you two related?"

"Cousins. Thought that was obvious."

"It was a rhetorical question."

Kate took a bite of cereal, her eyes lighting up.

Probably hasn't eaten in a while.

"Well, I could say the same about you two. How did you end up rooming together?"

"We met in high school. We weren't always the best of friends...just kind of acquaintances. But when school ended and we had no desire to go to college, we left for the East Village and found this shitty place. We lived out the dream. Just doing what we love. But those dreams are always a little fucked up. We never realized that we needed a steady source of income. So, we found two other roommates to help with the rent, one being a professor who could help out in that situation. I took up gigs with a band and got money that way.

"Anyway, the longer we lived here, the more we got to know each other. We may seem different, but we both have one similar quality about us. We both want to create and touch people with our talent."

Roger realized as he stopped talking that for some reason, this girl was really easy to talk to. Almost like he'd known her forever and they were just catching up. He pulled over a wooden chair and sat across from her.

"Hmm...so you're in a band?"

Roger shook his head. "Not anymore. I haven't played since..."

Silence.

Kate spoke up. "Since what?"

"Nothing. Just since the band split up."

Lying...again.

"What did you play?"

"Guitar...and I sang lead vocals too."

Kate quickly put down her bowl and sat up. "Ooh! Sing me something!"

Roger froze.

What?

"No...no, I couldn't."

"No, please! I love music. Please, you can't suck that much!"

"No, really, I can't..."

"Sing or I'll pour it on you." Roger first looked at her devious face, then to her finger pointing at the cereal bowl sitting on the floor.

"You wouldn't dare..."

She picked it up and smiled. "Wouldn't I? We've only known each other for one day, you have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Do it and I'll scream."

"Okay, works for me."

Both did as they said. Kate poured the lukewarm milk on Roger's pants; Roger screamed. And loudly.

"That's it..." He said, laughing.

When was the last time I actually laughed?

He grabbed his bowl, slightly sad that he was giving up his meal, and poured it on her, also drenching the couch.

"ROGER! KATE! What the fuck is going on here!" Roger and Kate looked to the door leading to Mark's room, seeing a very angry and confused Mark standing in the doorway.

"Roger started it." Kate answered.

"What! Don't pin this on me, you started it first!"

"You wouldn't sing!"

"I didn't have to! Just like you didn't have to pour cereal on me!"

"ENOUGH!" Mark shouted. "Just...clean up the mess...please..." He put a hand on his forehead, grabbed his camera and made his way out of the loft. "Fantastic..." He whispered to himself. "Now I have to live with two children. As if Roger wasn't bad enough..."