Roger ran to the bathroom and fell to the floor. Fourth time this week. He hasn't been like this since just after April died. I don't think it's hit him till now that Mimi left him. None of us thought this would happen until one of them died, but it did. Mimi was gone, and it was pretty obvious she wasn't coming back this time. Benny came looking for her one night, Mimi assured Roger that everything was okay when she went off to talk with him for a few minutes. That was four months ago. A week later, all of the things were moved out of her apartment, not by her, but by movers. Benny came by once, more rent related stuff, and refused to answer any questions from Roger. Needless to say, Benny had to drive himself to the ER with a broken nose.

There's nothing I can do for him at this point. I know that. It wasn't until he passed this phase with April that I was able to help him. So I sit at the table with a glass of water sitting waiting for him, where he knows it will be, and watch him run to the bathroom, vomit in the toilet, and sink to the bathroom floor, the cold tile freezing his feverish skin.

Twenty minutes later, Roger walks out of the bathroom, picks up the glass of water I had sitting out for him, and gulps it down in one sip. I look at him, and I know he can tell, though he doesn't acknowledge it. I sigh as he sets the cup back down on the table and turn back to his room.

I try talking to him a few times, little things, wishing I could engage him in something other than the conversation in his head. He gives me no response, so finally, I get just a bit frustrated and practically shout his name. "Roger!"

That, he heard. He whirls back around, and I expect him to yell, but he doesn't. He looks me up and down and sighs before taking a deep breath. "You... Where's 'ur camera?"

This is the first time he's –talked- to me in over a week. He'd yelled at me a bit, mainly telling me to fuck off, but not actual conversation. I just stare at him for a moment, and I can see him growing uncomfortable. "I didn't have much to film today." I pointed out the window, where thick rain drops where slamming into the window.

Roger looked toward the window and let out an 'ohh', as if he didn't know it had been raining. He looked out the window for about seven minutes, I clocked him. I stood up, to put the cup in the sink, when Roger sniffled. I turned back to him, and he had tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Roger, I…" but he cut me off.

"Please don't Mark." The tears continued to roll down his cheeks. "She's not coming back, Benny's not stopping by again, I've already cut up all the pictures of Mimi that you didn't hide, and it's raining."

"…You used to like the rain."

He seemed to think about this for a few minutes. "That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I figured out that everyone's gonna end up alone."

He continued to look out the window, and I continued to look at him. "Is that your way of giving up Roger?"

He started to raise his voice a bit, but he still didn't look at me. "Shouldn't I Mark? What's the point? April gave up on me, Mimi gave up on me, and eventually you need to too."

I could feel my jaw drop. "What are you talking about Roger? I would never give up one you."

He looked at me, and I couldn't tell if he was ready to hit me, hug me, or just collapse. "You need to. You're not dying. And once you finally realize that I am, you're gonna realize that there's nothing you can do about it, and you're going to leave me too. And then I'll be alone, and I'll die."

I can't take it when he gets like this. "Ohh shut the fuck up Roger." He looks at me and opens his mouth, ready to speak, but I cut him off. "How much do I have to do for you before you realize that I'm not leaving! I'm so sick of you thinking that you're going to die alone! If I was going to leave, I would have left. What's the point of helping you through the withdrawal and everything else if I was going to up and leave the next month!" His jaw drops and I storm over to him and grab his cheeks and look him in the eyes. "Roger, I love you. You've been so much more than a brother to me for so many years, and you need to get it out of your head that I'm leaving." I shake his head softly. "I'm not leaving you, and you had better not leave me either. Don't make the last six years of my life pointless." They had been friend for over twenty years, but the last six were the hard ones. "You need to understand me just some of the time, okay?"

Roger was clearly ready to yell, or punch me. He swung his arms up, pushing me off him. "You don't fuckin' get it Mark! What do you think is gonna happen to you once I die? You're gonna be just as alone as you've always pretended you weren't!" He grabs my shoulders and slams me into the wall, holding me there. I wince as my skull bounces off the decaying cement walls. An apology flashes in Rogers eyes for the briefest moment before he's back to yelling. "It's not going to get better! –I'm- not going to get better! This isn't some movie with a happy fuckin' fairy tale ending!"

He pulls in a broken breath, and his eyes glaze over as he looks past me, past the wall I'm still pressed against. I don't know what he's looking at, but his head falls to my shoulder and though he's utterly silent, I can feel his tears soaking through this sweater. His death grip pushing me into the wall has turned to Roger clinging to my shoulders, holding on for dear life. I wrap my arms around his waist to brace him when I feel his knees buckle against me.

I manage to get Roger over the sofa without ever making him pull his hands off my shoulders, or his face from my shoulder. So we're sitting there, him clinging to me, me stroking his damp hair away from his face, shushing him softly. "Come on Rog. It's gonna be okay. I'm still here."

I knew that this wasn't just about Mimi. April was just as big a part of this, and at the moment, Roger seemed to think that I was gonna be his third strike.

I still remember sitting there with April and Roger. She hadn't been smiling as much in the past week, more staring out the window and sitting quietly. Roger had his coffee, and April and I had our tea.

She was the one that started me drinking tea. She was in the kitchen, in just an over sized tee-shirt and her underwear, and when I walked in, she instantly saw me tense up. She just grabbed her mug of tea with a smirk and walked past me, handing me an herbal tea bag as she went, and kissed me on the cheek, an odd act, I thought, for the fact that I had only known her for a month, and that she was dating my roommate. "You're too tight strung Mark. Settle down. I'm not gonna jump ya." So I tried the tea, and stopped drinking coffee from that moment.

But anyway, Roger and I on the couch, April at the window. She spoke without looking at us. "It's not right Roge."

He gave her a quizzical look, or to the back of her head at least. "What's not right?"

"We're just so stupid, you and I." She laughed softly. "Mark knows what's going on. He's not stupid like us."

He and I exchanged a glance. "What are you talking about April."

We could see the sigh in her shoulders, and her hands tightened around her mug. "The drugs Roger. Mark's not stupid, he knows."

Roger's eyes went wide in my direction as I lowered my head. "Mark?"

He didn't want me to know, and he tried to hide it, but sometimes when you're high, things slip. I'm sure he didn't actually mean to leave the empty needle in the bathroom that day.

April looked away and to Roger for the first time in hours. "He doesn't approve."
April had a way of talking about people as if they weren't there. As if she could simply see through them if she chose to. "Of course he doesn't Roger, we knew that. Why else try to hide it?" She looked back to the window. "Really Roger, you should have been smarter than that."

Roger got the three word note… 'We've got AIDS.' I got the letter. I didn't find it until the next day.

Mark,

I'm sorry. We've both hurt you so much, and we didn't mean to. It's all my fault, and I know that Roger is blaming himself for everything. Don't blame him. I was the one that asked him to try the drugs. We were so stupid and bored and it just seemed like fun. I know I was wrong to ask, and he was just as wrong to accept it. But he's still my man Mark. You're the only person in the world who could understand that I think. Can you take care of him for me? PLEASE get him off the drugs? Please? Don't let him give up like I am. He was always so much stronger than I was. I can't take it. I won't have anyone, but Roger will always have you. You own that part of his heart, and I resent it. I would end up alone, and Roger would still have you. I know he'll always have you, and you have to make sure it stays that way. Take care of him for me, in that way that you've only been able to comfort him. I love you Mark.

April

We found her that day, lying in the bathtub, water a clear red, her red hair plastered to her face, a bloody razor dangling from her pale fingers.

Roger fell to the floor, his head slamming into the wall as he read the note. I had to look over his shoulder to read it. We just sat there for a moment, not saying anything, not looking at April… April's body, more accurately. After what seemed like hours, Roger looked from her face, and down her arms, and to her hand, eyeing the razor.

My eyes went wide as I caught on to what he was thinking. "Fuck Roger." I pushed past him and carefully took the razor from April's lifeless hand. "Fuck fuck fuck Roger." I looked at the razor in the palm of my hand, not knowing what to do with it.

Roger never broke down on that day. It was at least a week later before he cried. He just went numb, slowly standing from his spot on the floor, reaching into the tub with only the slightest wince against the clod water, and pulled the clog from the drain, watching the water drain out around his girlfriends body. He took her hand in his and kissed her finger tips. I was frantic and crying at this point, but Roger was stone faced. "Mark, you need to call 911." I shook my head. Calling them would make it all too real. "Mark… now."

Roger started sleeping on the couch that night. It wasn't until Benny bought him a new bed that he was able to return to his room. He tried to fold into his self. Nothing could penetrate that exterior. I found the note the next day, and never told Roger. I helped him though. I got him off the drugs.

We're back in the living room now, him clinging to me, me comforting him. His stone face had broken down since April, and it was much harder for him to face everything. This was why he had me. He's only twenty five. This should be the time of his life. He would be a rock star by now, living the dream he'd had since high school, elementary in some ways. I run my hand over the side of his face, brushing away his tears, but they don't subside. "Come one Roger. It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

He pulls in a ragged breath, shaking in my arms. "You're gonna leave?" He meant this to be a simple statement, but I can hear his questioning tone behind it.

I pull his face away from my shoulder and hold his cheeks in my hands. "Roger, I will never leave you… Never."

He tilts his head to the side with a sniffle. "You're not gonna leave?"

Why won't he believe me? "Never Roger. I promise."

"You promise?"

I can't help but smile a bit at the puppy dog eyes he's sporting. "I promise Roger."

I can feel him relax in my arms a bit as he leans back against my shoulder. "You're gonna make every thing better, okay Mark?"

He knows, as well as I do, that's there's nothing I could ever possibly do, in a million years, to make –everything- better for him. But that's not what he has to hear, so for now, we both pretend that I can. "Ya Roger. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna help you. You'll be okay."

He looks back up at me, his eyes watery, and hopeful. Roger always had a thing for eyes, kind of a mutual attraction kind of thing. He had the most perfect eyes, not in a color, romantic attraction way, but in a way that there was no way you could ever not tell exactly what he was thinking just by looking into his eyes. "Thanks Mark." It kills me how hopeful his eyes are that the moment. We both knew it was a lie, I wasn't going to be able to fix the big things in his life, but he was putting every ounce of energy he had into believing them.

"Roger, if I'm gonna help you, you're gonna need to start listening to me when I yell at you from now on okay?" I'm trying to lighten the mood for him, which works, cause he laughs and pulls away from me.

"Ya Mark, I can probably manage that. You're just gonna have to start yelling a bit louder." This was the way of it. We both knew what had just happened, but we would never speak of the breakdown or the promise ever again. Roger leaned back against the couch, and you couldn't tell he had just been crying. "Maybe I should try to teach you not to be such a wimp sometime." He hits me on the arm playfully, and I make a silent wish.

Let him be okay for a little while. Let me help him again. I knew that eventually, there would be nothing left I could do, but I always prayed that this wasn't that time. I had to be the strong one in the family. "Ya Roge…" I roll my eyes and cross my legs on the couch, facing him with a smile. "Maybe I'll take you up on that later." There would always be a later with us.