Disclaimer: I wish to god I owned this character, cuz I love him to death, but sadly, I don't.

Notes: Well, this isn't really a new story per se. Well, it is, but it's all journal entries. I started this in LJ (angstyfender, in case you'd like to read the back logs), and hadn't written in it in a while. It follows today's actual dates, but written as if during that time period. This is the first entry for this year, and so I decided to share them with the fanfic community, since you guys are so great. Check out the back entries if you wish, and your welcome to leave a review in there if you'd like. Feel free to add him to your friends list too, if you'd like. Whenever I actually update his journal, I'll post it as well.

Roger's Journal (Don't touch Mark)
April 13

It's been a long time since I've written in this thing. Lots of things have changed since then too. Mimi died a little over two months ago, and I've been sitting in my room, pretty much not doing a damn thing. I can't even pick up my guitar. Too many memories. Every single day Mark dares to knock on my door. I don't lock it anymore, so he tends to just waltz right in. I know he cares, and all he wants to do is help, but I just can't handle anything right now. He'll bring me food, water, smokes, do the little laundry I leave on the floor, clean up my room, which always bothers me, cuz he'll move something, and I can't find it again. The only time I leave my room is when I need to get some fresh air, or take a shower, which I don't do to often, since I don't go anywhere.

Well, since it has been a while, I suppose I should let you know what happened after we found Mimi. She got better, but never fully. She was really weak for the first few days after she got sick, but seemed to blossom pretty quickly to her usual self. You could see though she wasn't doing all that well, but as she always did, she lived everyday like it was her last. I remember when she burst into the loft asking me to take her out. That one Christmas Eve. Strange how time flies. I yelled at her, but she kept trying to convince me anyway. I got so fed up, that I kicked her out, then not to long after that, stormed out myself. I ran into Mark on the street, and he was so surprised to see me. I told him what had happened, and he told me he was glad she got me out.

We parted ways when I spotted Mimi, apologized for being such an asshole, and invited her to join us for dinner after the show. That was when I first realized I definitely liked her. For a whole year we had this interesting on again, off again relationship. Whenever we were off, she'd run to the arms of the supercilious Benny. You know, at one time, Benny and I actually got along. Now he's just an asshole. He lied to us, kicked us out of the loft, and even padlocked the doors. That was one fucking awesome New Years Eve though. Mark called it the "Breaking-back-into-the-building-party." That was fun. We broke back in all right. Then Benny showed up, and said he regretted kicking us out. Yeah, sure he did. And I'm the fucking pope.

Anyway, back on topic. Mimi died just before Valentine's Day. That was always her favourite holiday, though I never could understand why. It was just another superficial holiday the greeting card companies came up with to sell more cards. She asked me before she died to bring her flowers to her grave every Valentine's Day, since she knew she would miss it. I promised her, cuz I knew it would make her feel special, but I've always been know for breaking my promises. I couldn't do it. Her funeral was on that day, and I didn't even go. It was just too much. Mark told me who was there. Collins, Maureen, Joanne, her mother, a few of her friends from the club, and of course Benny. He paid for it. Heh, surprise, surprise.

Mark filmed it, of course, cuz he films everything. He hides behind that camera. He always has. I remember when we were in high school, it was right after he got it... I think it was his freshman... no, sophomore year. I was a junior that year. He brought it everywhere we went. Always had it in my face too. A few times I took it away from him, and held it up so he couldn't reach it. He still hadn't had his growth spurt, so he was quite short. I haven't laughed in a while, but thinking about Mark being that short... Mark was such a small boy for a long time. He finally hit his growth spurt the summer before his senior year in high school. I thought he'd never get taller.

Mark's always been my best friend, for as long as I can remember. Let's see, I believe we met when we were twelve and thirteen. Somewhere around there. Anyway, we met in the principal's office, actually. I was in there for... for something. I can't quite... oh yeah. I had egged the principal's car with a few buds, and I was the only one who got caught. I just had to get that last egg in. At least my buds never got caught, and I never squealed. Anyway, Mark was in there as an office aide, filing some mail into the teacher's boxes, and he turned to look at me, and blushed when I smiled at him. I finally found out why he always blushed when I smiled at him, in high school. He still does it every now and then. So, I got out of the chair I was told not to move from, and went over to talk to him. He was so shy then.

I approached him, and I could tell he was nervous. So, cool, calm, and collected, I casually said hi. He squeaked out a hello. I laughed, cuz it was... expected. I don't know. He reminded me of a little mouse. Anyway, long story short, we talked a little bit, I asked if he wanted to hang out after school, mostly to help out both our images. I would help him be 'cooler', and he could help 'keep me in line'. It worked perfectly. He even helped me with my homework, when I did it that is. And the rest is history.

I should go talk to him. I've been more or less ignoring him, except for a few words here and there. Usually mumbles. I haven't spoken a complete sentence to him in a long while. Why do I do this to him? He's been there for me whenever I needed him, whether it was just to talk, or I just happened to get myself into another jam. He even stuck with me when I went through withdrawals after April died. Heh, I haven't thought about April in quite a long time. Funny, cuz it is April. Her birthday would've been last Thursday.

April was the one girl who knew how to make me do anything. Literally. She wanted to go somewhere, all she had to do was bat those beautiful eyes of hers, and I'd be out the door waiting for her. She wanted to go dancing, which I don't do, and I'd be asking what type of dancing she wanted to do, with my dancing shoes on. Figuratively speaking, of course. I didn't actually own dancing shoes. Well, as I said, I would do anything for her, and that included trying heroin. She got it from her sister, who had told her it was the best experience she'd ever had. So, I tried it. I loved it. Sometimes I still crave it, but whenever I do, I just pop a cig in my mouth. It takes the edge off enough, so I'm not thinking about it.

I just realized, I missed writing in this. Mark gave this to me as a gift, which I had mentioned in a previous entry. If he knew I was actually writing in this, he'd probably throw a fucking party. He's been trying so hard to get me to do something, anything. When he walks in to 'check' on me, he'd always say something like, "I miss hearing Musetta's Waltz." Then sigh as he walked out. No Mark, I can't take hints. I have no idea what you mean. Musetta's Waltz, what's that? I know he's only doing it, cuz he knows my guitar, and music in general means so much to me, and knows I was always... I guess happiest would be the word, when I was playing, or writing.

Speaking of writing, I remember when I was struggling to find that one perfect song. My 'one song, glory.' The one song that would make everything right again. Well, it did bring Mimi back. The first time, anyway. The day she died was probably the hardest one of my life. No... one of them, but not the hardest. I think the hardest day of my life, was walking into our bathroom, seeing April's lifeless body in the bathtub, blood everywhere; the floor, the tub, the shower curtain, even in the sink. And of course, what laid on the sink, beside a few drops of blood, was the note. The note that told me I was going to die. "We've got AIDS." How is someone supposed to react to that?

I remember feeling numb when I first read it. I was just coming off a high, and it didn't quite seem real. Feel real. I thought, maybe I was having a nightmare. It didn't quite hit me until I heard the door to the loft slam shut. Mark had just come home after a day of filming. My stomach twisted in knots, and I puked right there on the floor. Mark had heard this, and ran to see if I was okay. I remember his reaction. He gasped, covered his mouth, and ran out, almost puking too. He came back in a few minutes later, after his stomach settled, and helped me out of the bathroom. I was still clutching tightly to the note, balled up in my fist. After my stomach had a chance to settle, I screamed at the top of my lungs, jumped up, and started throwing things. Anything I could find, I threw it. I almost broke Mark's camera too, but he calmed me down enough, and I set the camera on the table.

Why am I such an asshole to the one person who's been... the best thing that could happen to me? He really is. He's been... he is everything. My best friend, my conscience... even my partner. I know he loves me, he always has, but I always tend to push him away. I love him too, but I'm just afraid to get close to him, especially now. Even just as friends, I'm afraid to get to close. I know I'm dying, and that scares the shit out of me. I don't want it to be harder for him than it's gonna be. But he keeps pushing. He won't give up. He's never given up on me, even when I was high, or just being the biggest jerk possible. I should just talk to him. He deserves it, and I really need it. I need him, more than I would ever admit. So I suppose I'll close for the night. I'm gonna go talk to Mark.