AN: Agh…I'm so sick and tired. But, I have nothing to do today, so I can write! Yay! Yes, I do not have much else to say so I'm going to write! Hope you guys like it! This chapter is a little short, I realize, but I promise I'll make the next one longer.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's. For some reason I think I've said that before.

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Roger's POV

My fingers dance over the wooden arm rests of the chair holding my exhausted body. I hear snores next to me, and glance over to see Mark sleeping, his head bobbing up and down with each breath. I don't blame him, yet I'm angry for some reason. I'm angry that he could fall asleep while waiting. Even though we've been here almost ten hours, he should be more worried. All of my anger and somber feelings are bottled up, ready to burst open the first second they can.

I look around the hospital, finding it hard to believe that Mimi is okay after ten hours in this hellhole. What could they be doing? How could they not come out to tell us how she's doing? She could be in the morgue right now, and I would have no idea. I could have missed her final minutes, her dying breath, her dying words. I would have no idea. I feel so vulnerable. So helpless. It's too familiar.

"Roger?" Mark's mousy voice interrupts my train of thought, and I look over to see him drowsily staring back at me. I fake a smile, and he kindly returns one.

"Hey. You feel asleep." I rub his shoulder lightly, and realize that I can never stay mad at him. Maybe it's easier to be mad when he's unconscious. That way I can't stare into his crystal blue eyes and feel anger.

"Yea, sorry. I really tried not to, but my eyes gave in." He sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him. Well now I can't possibly be angry with him. He apologized for something that was all in my head. I don't understand how one person can know you better than you know yourself.

"No, don't say you're sorry." I see him furrow his brow in confusion, and I don't blame him.

"Any news?" He asks, yawning slightly. I brush my fingers over the side of his face, thanking him mentally. If I were him I'd probably be at home, jealousy burning through my selfish body.

"No. No, nothing new. I don't get how no one tells us anything. I mean she could be dead and we…" Mark lies his hand on my shoulder, massaging it lightly with the tips of his fingers.

"She's not dead. They probably just want to know exactly what's wrong before they tell us. We're not 'family' so we don't have any rights." He explains, allowing me to calm down. I smile at him, trying to fill it with truth and love.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Just trying to help." His lips curve to a smile, and my eyes drown from the love shining through it. I can see how much he loves me. I don't know if he knows how much I love him. I feel like I don't show him. Sometimes I'm so distant, so afraid of everything. I don't give him all that he needs and deserves. He deserves someone better than me. Someone who will be better to him.

"Mr. Davis?" I hear a small voice say, and turn away from Mark to see a blonde nurse behind me. She smiles politely at me, but my frown remains. There's no way I'm smiling at anyone who works here after ten hours of waiting.

"Yes? That's me." I answer and stand up to hear what she has to say.

"Hello. Umm…are you with Ms. Marquez?" Her tone is so happy, so cheerful. How the fuck can she be happy when someone I love is sick? How the hell is she happy working in a place where hundreds of people die each day? I guess you have to be an asshole to work in a hospital.

"Yea. Is she okay? I've been waiting for a f…" Mark lies his hand on my arm, cautioning me against expressing my anger. I know he's right, but I jerk away from him, almost pushing him backwards.

"I know you've been waiting and I'm sorry, but we weren't sure if there was anyone here for her."

"Well…I'm here. So can you please tell me what the hell is up?" I say quietly. If I'm going to be angry, I might as well do it silently.

"Ms. Marquez is very sick." She says, and I close my eyes tightly. I try to repress my feelings, and I'm able to hold them back just for now. Duh she's sick. Why the fuck does she think I brought her here?

"I know that. But what is wrong?" My voice is harsh, but calm. My feet shift beneath me, and I hear Mark sit down behind me. He's probably sick of this by now. Sick of me losing my temper and being an ass.

"Well…do you know that she is HIV positive?" Her voice is so innocent, so unknowing, I wonder how the hell she became a nurse. I turn around to see Mark roll his eyes at me, and look over to the counter, for some kind of doctor. Someone who can get to the point. Someone who can tell me the truth.

"Of course I do. Just please tell me how much longer she has. That's all I want to know. Just please tell me." Now my voice is rising, my patience slowly disappearing. But I try to remember Mark behind me. I know he would be telling me to calm down if I would let him. But I'm too stubborn. Instead I clench my fists tightly together and await an answer.

"We think about…two weeks." She states, as if it's no big deal. It's no big deal that someone I love, my friend, is about to die. That I only have limited time with her. That she's dying. That's she could die sooner than two weeks. It's no big deal.

"Wh…what? She said a couple months…I thought...two weeks? That can't be true…it can't…" My breathing becomes labored, stinging my chest with every slight movement. The air hurts to take in, as if it's poison. I feel Mark come up behind me; I feel his hand on my back, trying to hold me up, trying to hold me together. His arms cling tightly around my waist, keeping me on my feet. I'm able to turn around to face him, and I bury my face in his neck. Tears fall quickly from my eyes, wetting Mark's shirt and my face simultaneously. He holds me close to him, trying to comfort me best he can.

"Shhh…Roger…" He whispers in my ear, and after several minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, I'm able to calm myself. I stare in shock, not moving anything but my legs as I sit down in the same chair. Mark sits himself next to me, his fingers gently sprawled across my thigh for reassurance. "I'm sorry." He sighs after several minutes, but I keep my eyes focused on the ground. My mind attempts to process the news I've just heard, but it can't. It's almost as if it's too much. But should I really be this shocked? I knew it was coming. I've known since the beginning that this would happen. And yet I still can't handle the truth. Now I know what Mark will feel like someday. And then he won't have anyone to comfort him like he's doing for me. I'm going to leave him alone.

"You can go see her if you want." I hear the nurse say, trying to offer some help, and somehow I'm able to get up and scowl at her before heading to Mimi's room. The walls close in on me when I see her lying there, tubes running in and out of her, her tiny body dwarfed by the machines and equipment around her. A small gasp catches in my throat, and I see her open her eyes. I turn around to see Mark has followed me, tears carefully displayed on his cheeks. I don't remember him crying. I guess in my daze I must have missed it.

"Roger?" Mimi's voice is so small, so fragile, like glass. I walk over to her bed and sit down next to her, immediately grasping her hand in mine. I can feel the bones more than I ever could, as if she lost weight over the last ten hours.

"I'm here." I whisper, and turn to Mark. He nods, understanding we need some time alone, and proceeds to exit the way we came in. I almost feel bad for ignoring him today. Making him stay with me and then completely forgetting he exists. "How are you feeling?" I ask through my tears, rubbing my thumb lightly over a jutting bone in her finger.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired." A cough reaches her lips, and she tries her best to hold it back, but eventually surrenders. She must be trying to prove that she doesn't need to be in the hospital. "Did they tell you?" Her eyes look so sad as they stare up at me, asking me to accept the truth. For once I feel at peace with the future. I feel like she's comfortable with where she's going.

"Yea. Yea…they did. It took a while though. That nurse is…"

"Roger." She stops me before I go off on a rampage, and I can't help but smile. She's so calm, so serene while she's lying on her deathbed, and I can't stand it. I don't get how she can just have accepted it so soon.

"Are you okay?" I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss it reluctantly, Mark running through my head at every passing second.

"You already asked me that. I'm fine, Roger. Don't worry." Don't worry? Is she crazy? Now she's too calm.

"How are you not scared?"

"I don't know." She answers quickly, as if she knew what I was about to say. Her big brown eyes seem hollow, no life left. "I just feel like I've spent too much time worrying about this moment. Too much time to think about it now. I'm just going to let myself be worry-free from now on." She smiles gently, and tears threaten the lids of my eyes. I bow my head and clutch her hand tightly, looking for some support. I'm the one who needs the support right now. How stupid is that? I've always been selfish like this I suppose. I took half a year away from Mark because of my withdrawal, and now I'm probably making Mimi feel worse.

"Excuse me, visiting hours are over." A voice interrupts my sobs, and I turn to see a doctor standing in the doorway of Mimi's room.

"What? But I only got like…" My breathing heightens again, until Mimi lies her hand on my knee.

"Roger. It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" Her eyebrows raise, waiting for me to accept it, and I do. I have to. It would be stupid of me to fight her. No, selfish of me. My body rises off the bed slowly, trying not to disrupt her too much, and I give her one last wave before departing. Mark sits outside, his eyes focused on the Mimi's room. He darts up as soon as I come out, and embraces me quickly and tightly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his lips meeting my ear lightly. I pull away, leaving him confused. I feel bad for being distant, but I'm not in the mood to talk. I'm not in the mood for anything right now but sleeping. Maybe curling up next to Mark, but not saying a word. He gives me comfort, but sometimes tries too hard.

"Yea. Let's go." I pull him along through the halls, trying to get away as fast as I can. Away from all the confusion, all of the hurt, all of the anger and pain. All of my past.

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Notes: Like it? I'm sorry it's so short and so depressing, and then to top it off Roger is kind of having a mind fuck. Maybe that's because I was. XD Well, gimme reviews! I need a self-esteem boost badly after stupid Behind the Wheel! Thanks you guys!