Roger's POV (one hour later)

We have been sitting here talking for what seems like an eternity. Everything I didn't know about Mark I now do. He's told me everything I didn't really care about knowing. But, anything about Mark is interesting to me.

Every once and a while he unconsciously rubs his foot against the upper part of my thigh. We are sitting on the couch, his feet by my thigh and my feet by his. We're both so skinny we fit easily.

The feeling of him against me is amazing. I want to crawl up into his lap. I sit, arms crossed, imagining all the things I could do right now. All the things I would never do. We keep talking, but my mind isn't on what I'm saying. I stare into Mark's eyes, fighting the urge to jump across the couch, colliding lips, noses, faces, hands, bodies…no.

"So I moved to New York. Then, you know the rest." He finishes, and I snap back to reality.

"Yep." I utter, wiping the sweat off of my palm and slouching down a little lower. "Why would you want to leave home to come to New York? Besides not having food, being broke and unemployed of course." I smile and he chuckles, but his lips don't move. I yearn for his smile, his eyes beaming, anything that shows a sign of life from him.

"I don't know, adventure?"

"Ahh, did you ever find it?" I laugh, and finally manage to see his smile beaming through the sad complexion of his face.

"Guess not. But I got to take care of a junkie for three months." He lays his hand on my shin and I suppress a shiver. "We've never talked like this before."

"That's because you were too busy making sure I wasn't dead every morning. Now we actually have some free time." My eyes feel like shutting, I'm so damn tired. My head aches and my stomach feels empty. No, it doesn't feel empty, it is empty. My only motivation to live is Mark. I have no food, money, or inspiration for music. My guitar has been in the corner forever. I touched it yesterday, hoping maybe something would come, but that idea self-destructed.

"Well, we should have talked a while ago." He starts to get up, but I put my foot over his lap. I probably shouldn't have, but I don't want him to leave. "What?" He says, laughing.

"Don't go, I'm too comfy." I lean my head against the back of the couch and smile.

"Fine, but I have to get up soon. When Maureen gets home we are going to go out. She's paying." I scoff at his pride in the words.

"She can afford to pay for dinner but not to buy us food? Not even milk."

"Well, she will. Dinner comes first." I look away, angry. I don't care about Maureen spending money on dinner. I don't want Mark going out with her. They will kiss and touch and be together, while I'm alone with my guitar. "Okay, I really got to get up man. My feet are both asleep." Without thinking, I grab Mark's foot and rub it between the toes. He looks shocked, but sinks into my touch. He moans quietly and his head drops back, but then he kicks out of my grip. "Stop it, just don't."

"Sorry, I thought…"

"No, I just….it felt too, I have to get up." He hesitantly picks himself up, and I soak in the last second his body touches mine.

He walks to his bedroom and slams the door behind him. I shouldn't have touched him. Now he's confused. Now I'm confused as well.

Roger's POV (a week later)

Mark sits alone, on the couch, fondling his camera. I long to talk to him, but my stupid foot rub forbids me from ever getting close to him again. I walk out of the room and shiver, clutching tightly to the blanket around my shoulders. October's a bitch. Even more so than September. My guitar still sits lonesome in the corner, hoping to be played. Once I have the words in me I'll grab it.

Mark looks up as I walk across the room, and frowns. I can't help but think that a little part of him liked when I touched him. Maybe even wanted me to do more? But I can't allow myself to think like that. If I do no good will come out of it.

"You want some food? Maureen bought cereal." He says, his eyes shifting from me to the kitchen.

"Sure. Will you eat with me?" I ask, knowing the answer will be in the form of a no, but I try to sound as if I don't really care.

"Umm, yea in a sec. I need to get the fuckin' film out of my camera." I grab a plastic bowl and spoon and pour fruit loops into it. I don't even bother to look for milk, I don't really need it.

After a couple minutes and six slow bites of fruit loops, Mark comes to sit next to me.

"You need something to drink?" I shake my head.

"Why'd you storm off?" My eyes try to stay focused on the cereal but it's impossible. I need to see his shocked reaction.

"Sorry, I…my feet were just asleep." He hesitates to speak again, then gives up and lays his hands on top of each other.

"I could have helped you."

"I know but...I just don't think Maureen would have liked it too much." He lies.

"What? You deserve something after she goes out fucking every guy in the city!" I yell, and then wish hopelessly I could take it back. I don't want to hurt him, but I think I just have.

"She does not!" The table moves violently as he gets up, heading to his room.

"Wait! Mark?" I run to him, grabbing hold of his arm and twisting him to face me. "Just…wait." I look into his eyes and see tears building up. "Marky, don't cry." My hand hesitantly goes to his face, wiping a tear away and cupping his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I just….I know she cheats on me. Just to hear someone say it." He doesn't push my hand away like I thought he would. His eyes close and he lets it stay. My body moves closer with every second, I can feel his warmth. I touch my nose to his, and reach forward gently before feeling a hand on my chest. He pushes me back and I hit the counter. "Don't! Don't fuck me up, Roger!" Mark screams and runs to his room again, as tears now form in my eyes. I sigh in anger. My hands shake with depression, and my mind races with thoughts. I had gotten so close, but I was pushed away.