IV.

February 9th, 1991

Blow Your Candles
By Roger Davis

Hey, buddy, so what's it like
Playin' with the angels there and drummin' with the saints?
Are there artists in heaven and do they paint the sunsets?
And what do the musicians do? Say 'hi' to old Morrison for me.

Hey, buddy, it's been a year since you went
And we're still waitin' for a letter from you,
You ass, did you forget? But we didn't and that's why
I wrote this one for you.

So buddy what're you waitin' for?
There're your candles, from the fire of the stars
And you'd better blow them soon.
Won't be long now, buddy, won't be long.

Slap my ass when I get there so I know I'm not alone.

Roger stared at the song he'd just written almost in disbelief. He wrote a lot of songs, he just never played them all. In a day, he could write about five half-finished ones. On a good day, when he was feeling excellent and his brain was malfunctioning properly, he could write probably about one or two complete songs. He was never a fan of those long, philosophical-like lyrics. Instead he preferred about 10-15 lines, maybe even with no rhymes in them at all. On bad days, he couldn't even find the strength to pick up a pen from the pain, which frustrated him to death because his brain would be coming up with all those fantastic tunes and words and he couldn't put them down. If Mark needed to have his camera and Mimi constantly needed to let her hair down and dance, he had to always have a pen and paper nearby. All his friends often offered to help him during the bad days but he knew there was never going to be a way that they could.

Had it really been a year…?

"Baby, are you ever going to let me see your journal?" he heard Mimi ask suddenly from behind him, sidling up on the window seat next to his spot.

Mimi always wondered what he wrote in his journal but she'd never opened it once. Roger had never warned her to not touch it, but she let him have his privacy all the same. Once in a while though, she'd get really curious.

"Mmhm?" he said distractedly, wrapped up in his thoughts.

"Just a peek, maybe?"

Roger looked up at his girlfriend, breaking loose from the piece he'd just written. Thank God too, because he was starting to feel depressed again.

"Do you want to see it?" he asked. Mimi looked surprised.

"Well…if I could…yeah," she said carefully. She pulled her legs closer to her chest as if she were cold and rested her chin on her knees. "I want to get to know you…better, if I could…do you write songs there?"

Roger shut his journal and smiled. "Yeah…"

"Well, could you sing one? Because you do make great stuff…I loved that song that you made for me," Mimi returned his grin and bit her lower lip. She was beautiful. Roger wanted to kiss her but held himself back.

"I can't," he told her. "Not anymore."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I don't know…I just don't feel like singing anymore…like something's missing and I can't bring it back. Something that made me sing. When I try to, it just doesn't feel right…"

Ever since his teen years, he'd written down his memories and tributes as songs, which was why his song making had never stopped, even after he was able to write Mimi's song. He'd had a dry spell for a bit, after April went, but after he'd made 'Your Eyes', his songwriting seemed to regain lost speed and time since he was able to write every day. But he never sang again. He just played the empty tunes on his guitar now and then, but never accompanied them with their respective lyrics.

Mimi held his face in her soft hands.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Roger felt tears sting his eyes. Great. He didn't want Mimi to think her boyfriend was such a wuss. He seemed to be crying a lot these days since pain was unnaturally a frequent visitor especially at night, though he'd yet to tell someone. It was nothing. Fuck. It had to be nothing.

"I just finished another song about Angel," he said quietly. "Today would've been his 24th birthday…"

He'd performed for Angel before, some days before he…she died. He'd written it just the night before Angel heard it, while he was alone in the bathroom, crying, feeling the fear of losing someone he cared for as well as for his own mortality. How did it go again? The memory of his own trembling voice singing by Angel's bedside sounded hollow inside his mind:

…now why the hell are you leaving?
Who told you that the time was right?
I thought I was crazy to know someone like you
But now I know not everyone's as lucky
To have an Angel by their side…

Mimi's expression changed and Roger could see that she was affected by the news. She looked terribly sad all of a sudden and, before he knew it, she'd wrapped him in a hug and he was crying on her shoulder.

Fuck. He was scared out of his wits. He was feeling vulnerable again. Angel had been there one day and gone the next, without so much as a goodbye, and it still hurt to remember. Sometimes he forgot there had ever been an Angel in their lives and when he realized it, he wanted to punch himself. How could he dare to forget such a good friend, even if they had only been for a year? What was going to happen to him after he was gone? Would Mark and Mimi forget him like he forgot Angel once in a while? Fuck.

"I'm scared, Meems…" he admitted to her in a whisper. She just held him tighter.

"I'm scared too…" she told him softly, stroking his hair. "Don't stop, baby. Your music is what makes you 'you'. Angel wouldn't want that. She loved how you sang, too. Remember, she was always happy whenever you would…I remember that song you sang to him when she was at the hospital. You keep her alive through that song, just like I'm going to keep living after I'm gone, thanks to 'Your Eyes'…"

Roger closed his eyes and just held Mimi close to him, taking in her warmth, her scents, never wanting to let her go.

When I had nothing, I was at the prime of my fucking life, he thought bitterly, Now, when I have everything, one mistake is going to take me away from it all.

Maybe today wasn't such a good day after all.

A/N: Thanksto all those who already reviewed! Cookies and ice cream for you:D