Title: She Dumped Me
Author: Stephanie
Feedback: is very kind.
Pairing: Mark/Roger friendship, implied Maureen/Joanne
Word Count: 1,163
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Summary: Roger finds a way to make Mark smile after Maureen dumps him.
Notes: Hehe! I really like this one.
Special Thanks: Jonathan Larson and everyone who has reviewed my stories, they keep me going!
Spoilers: None unless you were unaware that Maureen dumped Mark.
Warnings: Potty mouths.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Just borrowing.

Roger stared aimlessly out the window of the loft. His eyes gazed upon nothing in particular, only washed over the grey sea that was the city below. Several birds took flight in response to the noisy back-fire of a car nearby. His eyes followed them as they flew upwards into the dull light of the sky; free. Somewhere in the distance, a police siren went up into the air and gradually disappeared.

He looked down at the coffee cup cradled in his hands and swirled around the black liquid inside. The small-scale waves sloshed up against the sides of the cup and fell back down with a miniature splash.

The sound of the loft's door being slid open made Roger look up. Mark was home. It struck Roger as strange. Mark was supposed to be with Maureen, down at the Life Café, all afternoon; after which he had planned to do some filming. It was only 1:30 and Mark was already home.

Mark's entrance into the loft was accompanied by a soft, strange sound. It was a sniffling, wheezy sound that was followed by some choked sobs.

Roger furrowed his brow. Mark was…crying.

Mark did not turn into the loft and apparently did not know that Roger was sitting by the window silently. He closed and locked the door, then turned to the side and set down his bag and faithful camera on the floor, and began unraveling his blue and white scarf from around his neck. Roger leaned against the wall and watched him curiously.

Mark then turned into the loft and started moving toward the window; toward his bedroom. His eyes were downcast and he looked pale. And he was definitely crying. Wet streaks slid down his cheeks. Roger had only seen Mark cry once or twice before—and usually they involved something that he himself had done to him, during the painful months of withdrawal. The other time was when they had found April dead in the bathroom.

He wasn't sure if he should stay quiet and let Mark walk past him—he was obviously too preoccupied to notice his presence—or try to find out what was wrong.

Mark was holding his scarf, crumpled into a ball, in front of him as he moved past Roger and towards his bedroom.

Finally, Roger spoke up. "M-Mark?"

Mark backpedaled into the table, clearly surprised. He dropped his scarf with an exclamation of, "Shit!" Then, realizing it was Roger, he pulled in a deep, ragged breath and bent to pick up his scarf.

"Sorry." Roger said quietly.

"I didn't even see you." Mark replied sheepishly.

"What's the matter?"

Mark bit his lip and wiped at his cheek with his precious scarf. "Maureen, uh…uh, Maureen dumped me." He stammered. New tears spilled over his eyes and flowed down his cheeks.

"Oh, shit." Roger said. "The week of Thanksgiving?"

Dejectedly, Mark sat down at the window next to Roger. His shoulder slumped and he stared down at the floor.

"I think I knew it was coming, but…but I never thought she'd do it." He murmured.

Roger didn't know what to say. He started chewing on his lip and swished around his coffee cup some more. "Why….why'd she do it?" he asked finally.

Mark sighed and leaned against the glass of the window. He sniffed and wiped at his face. "She met someone new."

Roger fiddled with the zipper on his jacket uncomfortably. What does one say to one's best friend when he has just been dumped? In high school, it was always the best friend's job to be as supportive as possible—namely by insulting said dumper. Roger said the first thing that came to mind. "What a bitch."

It didn't seem to help. Mark only slumped farther down the wall. Roger cleared his throat. "Well…maybe it was coming anyway. She's probably already banging this dude."

"No." Mark said suddenly. "It's not like that."

Roger leaned back against the wall, furrowing his brow. "I don't get it."

"A chick. She met a chick. She dumped me for a lesbian." Mark said very quickly, as if he just wanted to get it out of his system."

Roger unconsciously felt a giggle well up in his chest and had to bite his lip to keep it from erupting. That would not be kind at all. "That's fucked up." He said finally.

"No shit." Mark said quietly, sadly. It was pretty pathetic.

A lull of silence fell between the two friends. Roger resorted to looking out the window. He still had the urge to laugh his ass off. It was just too bizarre to not laugh.

After a minute or two, Mark glanced at Roger. The guitarist had a funny look on his face. Roger looked at Mark and could resist no longer. He cracked a grin.

"Oh, shut up. It's not funny!" Mark retorted.

By now it was too late. Roger burst into laughter. As he tried to stem his humor, he said, "I'm sorry. You're right. But it's just so damn funny!"

"I'm going to my room." Mark said, defeated. He stood up and started to retreat into his room.

"Aw, Mark, come back! I was only joking." Roger called after him. He was still laughing.

Mark turned and looked back. Roger was laughing. It was something that he didn't get the chance to see very often. Of course, Roger's laughing at his expense wasn't something he really enjoyed, but maybe somehow it was worth it.

Roger got up from the windowsill and walked into the kitchen. "Come on Mark, have a beer."

Mark groaned. "I just wanna go to bed."

"Nuh-uh." Roger said. He went to Mark and steered him into the kitchen. "It's only 1:30 and there's plenty of beer in the fridge. Besides, what goes around comes around. Here's for all the times you made me come out of my room. If you don't sit out here with me, I'll sit in there with you and annoy the shit out of you."

Mark grudgingly slumped himself into one of the mismatched chairs. "Fine." He mumbled.

Roger turned to the fridge and went fishing for two beers. "Oh, by the way…" he said with his head still in the coldness. "Your mom called."

"Figures." Mark said. He didn't bother to look at the machine light. If he had, he would have seen that it wasn't blinking with a new message.

"I guess your dog got run over or something." Roger said serenely as he returned to the table with two beers.

"What?" Mark exclaimed, horrified.

But Roger grinned. "Just kidding." He held out the beer for Mark.

Mark stared open-mouthed at Roger and finally grabbed his beer in mock anger. "That wasn't nice."

"Got you to stop thinking about Maureen, didn't it?" Roger said with a grin. He took a swig of his beer.

Mark groaned again, but this time it was accompanied by a slight grin. "I hate it when you're right."