A/n: edit afterwards, so apparently if a fic is rated M then it doesn't show up in the new chapters or new stories section of fanfic…and I thought how the heck will anyone know if this gets updated? So instead of upping the rating, I lowered the f word usage. "

D is for Drunk…

Mark picked up the bottle and drank more. Sitting on the roof by himself was somehow less lonely than sitting in the loft below. The loft that was empty other than the shell of a man he once knew. He shook his head and drank some more.

What a year, huh. What a year.

Benny abandoning them, April killing herself, Collins moving away, taking care of his dying best friend… helping him get through withdrawal in hopes that he might live long enough to make something of whatever was left of his life, Maureen cheating on him…and cheating on him…and cheating on him and breaking up with him for a woman.

He took another drink of the alcohol, head swimming as he let the effects of the drink numb his feelings away. It almost made him laugh. Substance abuse… that was Roger's thing, not his.

"Mark?"

Speak of the devil.

Wait…the devil has left his bedroom?

Mark stood rather sloppily, bottle still in hand, and watched the devil… er, well Roger… watched Roger come near.

Devil? Where had that come from?

"Hey…" Mark waved his bottle at the rocker, "you're out…of the room. Of the loft. For once, it's good to uh see you… uh, out?"

The rocker gave him a hard look, "You're drunk."

"Noooo shit."

"Is that what you've been doing every night this week? Coming up here, getting drunk?"

Mark nodded, taking a few steps towards the side of the roof, "Yea, yep! Right again."

Roger followed him, "Why?"

"Shit, Rodge… you stay in your room…you don't give a shit for months and now you come up here to ask me why I'm getting drunk."

"Look…this isn't easy for me..."

"Well fuck you. Who cares if it's not easy for you? Huh? Just go back to your room…all right? Let me get drunk in peace. I'll keep getting your food and your azt and making sure you survive."

He sighed, looking away, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah…" Mark draped arms over the side of the roof, looking down at the street below.

Roger reached a hand out for his shoulder, and Mark tensed at the touch, tensed and pulled away. He took quick sloppy steps backwards, misjudging the angle at which he was going, misjudging the size of his steps and his length from the edge. Tripping backwards over the side of the roof, headed straight for the ground below… it was funny how that moment seemed to slow down to nothing for him. His hand lost its grip on the bottle and it tumbled before him.

Gee isn't this exactly how this year should end and somewhere in his drunken haze his heart raced, his mind screamed at him to fight, and he realized this was the end.

But then an arm grabbed him, pulled him back onto the roof before he could fall out of reach to splatter on the street below. Mark landed on the floor of the roof, hands shaking, unable to formulate thoughts.

Roger too seemed shocked beyond words. His face fighting against a furious anger and an unexplainable desperation, more emotion than Mark had seen him express in months. The filmmaker didn't move, didn't breathe…. Roger approached him quickly, hands shaking.

"You fuck! You stupid… you almost… do you know what…" The rocker shook his head, "You're so stupid!"

"I…I know…"

His near death experience brought him harshly back to reality, and all he felt of the alcohol's effects now was a woozy head and an inability to see straight.

"Mark…"

The filmmaker said nothing. Still focusing on just breathing.

"Mark you know that… that if you had fallen I would've jumped after you."

He looked up, "What? Roger… no…"

"I couldn't… not without you. I couldn't make it."

"You could…"

"Mark, just stop. You know I wouldn't… make it. I'm barely making it now. You can't do this! You can't get all drunk and fall off the side of a fucking building!" Roger's hands became fists by his sides and his voice shook as the words tumbled out of his mouth, "If I hadn't been here… if I hadn't been here…I could've… lost…"

"Teaches you to come out of your bedroom more."

"Mark. I'm serious."

The filmmaker shrugged a little, "So am I."

A tense silence fell between them. Mark put his head in his hands and let the last few minutes just wash over him.

Roger sighed, sitting next to him, "What the hell happened?"

"…Maureen broke up with me…"

"What?"

"For a girl…"

The rocker's mouth fell open, "Really?"

Mark nodded.

"Shit…" Roger shook his head, took in a sharp breath, "Well you know she was-"

"I knew. I know. Just don't say it please. I…it just makes it worse."

"Yeah. I guess." The rocker sighed. "Well I never thought she deserved you."

Mark laughed bitterly, feeling a familiar sting in his chest, "Yeah a gorgeous, talented girl… it was me who never deserved her."

"No… Mark. She treated you like shit by the end of it. And if you can't see why you deserve better than her…hell…"

Mark shook his head, "Just…don't. I don't want to think about it."

"So your answer to not thinking about it…is to get drunk every night?"

"Roger…"

"Yeah I know… don't have a whole hell of a lot of room to talk." The rocker said, folding his arms.

A cold breeze passed over them and Mark leaned back onto the ground, staring at the sky above them.

Roger leaned back with him, "You think we can sleep out here tonight?"

"I don't know… it's cold you might get-"

"Mark…for tonight… Can we just pretend? Pretend like you still have a faithful Maureen. Pretend like I'm not sick and April's sleeping in my bed downstairs. Pretend like we just snuck up here to get away from our women and enjoy the night and think of all the shit we're going to do in the future. Can't we just do that…just for tonight?"

The filmmaker closed his eyes and bit his lip against the wave of emotion, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"Yeah, Rodge…yeah, we can do that."