Little Boy Lost

Chapter 1

Darkness: sullen or threatening; difficult to understand or concealed by secret and mystery

The wind howled outside and Mimi gave a slight shudder as she tightened her oversized sweatshirt around herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes, trying to block out every sound; every tiny movement at all. Weather had been anything but cooperative lately. The weather man proclaimed it was a cold front that was moving in, the reason for the wind. Mimi proclaimed it was because she was upset. The weather was mirroring how she felt inside. A gentle hand was rested on her shoulder and she jumped slightly.

"Your going to have to talk to him some time Mimi." She shook her head and let another tear slip down her cheek.

"No Mark," she croaked, barely able to find a voice to answer him.

"What are you afraid of?" he whispered, slipping into the spot across from her on the windowsill. They were in Mimi's apartment. Mark would stop by, usually before he was planning to go to bed, to see how Mimi was doing. Roger had just gotten over a long period of being sick. Mimi and Mark had been at his side day and night for almost two months while he got better. Many times they feared for the worst and tried to come to terms with what they thought was inevitable. Roger was going to die.

"I don't know," Mimi couldn't bring herself to look into Mark's eyes. Why was she so afraid to be with Roger again? He was okay now. He was going to be okay. He wasn't going to die, at least not today.

"Mimi," Mark let out a small sigh before tilting her chin up. "He loves you. He wants to see you okay? Will you come with me?" Mimi stared at Mark for a minute before starting to cry.

"I love him too," she moaned quietly upset at the tears gracing her cheeks. She wiped them away with the base of her hand and met Mark's eyes again. "Something's happening to me Mark."

"You grew too unattached," Mark said gently. "You were preparing yourself for Roger's death. So you detached yourself from him as much as you could."

"Oh why? Why?" Mimi cried rocking back and forth. "Why did I do that?"

"You were scared," Mark said. "It's okay Mimi. I did the same thing. I detached myself from Roger and it took me a while to come out of shock. You're still in shock."

"He must be mad," Mimi said gently looking sullenly at the discolored patch on her arm. She started shooting up again, trying to numb away the pain and the fear. Roger caught her but hadn't said anything. The pain in his eyes said it all. And that was the last time they had seen each other in the past month.

"He was for a while," Mark reached out to rub Mimi's arms. "But he's gotten over it. He just wants to see you Mimi. He wants to hold you again. He wants to touch your hair and look into your eyes." Mimi was quiet.

"Will you come with me?" Mark repeated.

Slowly Mimi nodded her head.

Roger was slumped up against the arm of the sofa, strumming a random riff into his guitar. His eyes were set on the door wondering if tonight would be the night that Mark brought Mimi home with him. He would go himself. But he was scared. Scared of what he would see when he looked into Mimi's eyes. Would they be the same soft brown eyes of mischief he fell in love with? Or would they be the sullen empty ones of that of someone who had been shooting up? Was she angry that he had gotten better?

"Mimi," he whispered to the riff. "Mimi…,"

"Hey Roger." He jumped as Mark came through the door. He sat up a little straighter. Propping his guitar up against the arm of the sofa Mark couldn't keep in his smile. He'd be happy with the present he brought him.

"Mimi?" he said softly.

Mimi was just outside the door and Mark could hear the quickening pace of her breath hearing Roger's voice say her name. Mark nodded, the smile growing bigger as he gently tugged his friend into the loft. She had planned on staying there and waiting for Roger to approach her. But just seeing him, tears immediately sprang to her eyes and she leapt into his arms.

"Roger," she cried into his shoulder. "Roger, Roger, Roger."

"Baby girl," he whispered into her hair. "I missed you. I missed you so much." Mimi pulled away kissing him, her tears wetting his cheeks, her hands full of need as they fisted up the fabric of his shirt. He smelled the same, he felt the same. It was Roger. Her Roger. The one she almost let slip away. They stood and held each other for what felt like an eternity before Mark cleared his throat a little.

"I hate to break this up," he said. "But…I just remembered I left my camera at the Life and I have to run and get it…and…,"

"You want us to come with Mark?" Mimi smirked, her arms still locked around Roger's neck. The blonde reddened a bit.

"It's late. And dark," he squeaked.

"You're a little sissy la la Mark," Roger sang, poking him in the side. Mark couldn't help but smile. The playful Roger was back. He was glad to see him. The depressed one wasn't nearly as much fun. It was amazing. In a mere few minutes all the life came back into him. With that one kiss his eyes went from sad and shut off to soft and alive. Mimi too. Her tears of grief were soon replaced with tears of joy.

"I may be a…what did you call it? Sissy la la? But I'd rather you guys come with me anyway. Strength in numbers! You always say that Roger." Roger smiled, picking up his jacket and setting it around Mimi's shoulders. It was like no time had passed at all. Walking out the door Roger leant down to Mark's ear and whispered,

"I wouldn't have let you go alone anyway."

"And even if you are a Sissy la la," Mimi whispered. "You're our Sissy la la." Mark smirked not sure if he was supposed to take any of this as a compliment. He was just glad his friends were back.

Mimi and Roger walked down the sidewalk hand in hand as Mark jetted into the small café to look for his camera. Snow fell around them and the wind whipped Mimi's hair into her eyes. Roger lovingly swept it away.

"I'm sorry about…about everything," Mimi stated gently, leaning into Roger's arm slightly. She could feel the rough fabric of his coat against her cheek. It was familiar and made her feel warm despite the freezing temperature.

"You were always there Mimi," he pressed a kiss to her hair. "It'll just take time you know?"

"I know," she whispered. They were quiet for a minute. Both of them were still sick. Getting sicker every day. AIDS had already almost taken Mimi and had decided to try and take Roger too. Both times they had both proven that they were stronger. For right now they were okay. Happy and in love. In the middle of New York. Content with each others company. Just as Roger was going to say he loved her, a pained scream ripped through the silence. Mimi jumped.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," Roger whispered. The noise came again. This time Roger was able to pinpoint it coming from a dark alley at their left. Without thinking he took a step into the alley.

"Roger!" Mimi gripped his arm. "It's probably just a dog or something."

"It's okay Mimi," he said gently as the noise came again, sounding like it was loosing steam now. "Let me go." She didn't let go of his arm but instead followed him. The noise wouldn't stop. It sounded now like a muffled whine.

"There's only a trash can here," Roger stated, confused.

"Oh my god," Mimi put her hand over her mouth before kneeling down at the side of the trashcan.

"What is it?" Roger was quick to kneel next to her. Mimi had picked up a tiny bundle of dirty rags. The crying grew louder. Roger gasped as she pulled back the rags and uncovered a tiny, bruised little face. Huge blue eyes blinked up at them and another wail rang through the darkness.

It was a little boy.