Roger had told Mark that his band would be doing an overnight gig in New Jersey, and while the idea of Roger staying overnight hadn't bothered him before, now that they had solidified their relationship together, Mark couldn't bear to be apart from Roger. He'd just gotten back from hanging out and having Chinese with Maureen and Joanne, spending as much time with two of his closest friends as possible, so he would only have to be in the apartment alone, for as long as absolutely necessary. Climbing the steps to the loft, Mark shivered, feeling the expected unreliability of the heat, and also with the knowledge that Roger wouldn't be there waiting for him.
"Though if Roger would have been waiting for me at the apartment, he would have joined me for Chinese with Maureen and Joanne, and I wouldn't have to be alone tonight…" Mark thought sheepishly to himself as he fumbled with the key, attempting to control the shaking of his hands, due to the cold, just long enough to lock the door.
Finally entering the apartment, Mark shrugged off his coat and kicked off his boots, still keeping the scarf securely wrapped around his neck. Roger had often teased him about wearing the scarf, but the scarf had become a part of him, just as Roger had – a part of him that he could never let go of. Walking past the card table and chairs, Mark spotted a message written in the frost and ice of one of the windowpanes.
"I love you baby….Roger". Reading those words left Mark's eyes downcast, the desire to trace those words with his fingertips, so strong, if it weren't for the cold that had already found his hands, and the sad realization that it wouldn't make Roger come home any sooner.
Sighing, Mark entered the bedroom and quickly changed into his flannel pajamas, and slipping quickly between the sheets, snuggling in for warmth. Not being able to seek the comfort of the guitarist beside him, Mark swung his legs over the bed and threw on one of Roger's sweatshirts lying on the floor.
"If Roger can't be with me tonight, this will have to do", he thought glumly to himself. Getting back into bed, Mark lay on his side for what seemed like an eternity, with visions of the guitarist's arms wrapped around his waist, and his neck nuzzling into Mark's, feeling the warm breath against his own.
"I love you…", Mark whispered into the empty room, yearning for Roger more than ever, before drifting off to sleep.