Mark Cohen looked down at the headstone, falling to his knees, leaning his forehead to the stone, pressing against it.
"Fuck." he said quietly.
He looked up, hearing Benjamin Coffin III rustle to his side, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"I...in the end, I'm alone." Mark said in a sing-song voice, leaning into Benny's shoulder, sobbing.
Benny ran his hand comfortingly against Mark's back.
"You...knew this time would come." he said softly, instantly regretting his words.
Mark sniffled against his leather coat, leaning to look up at him.
"It's still hard." he hissed.
Benny smiled, leaning in and kissing his forehead.
"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." he retorted, looking to Roger Davis' headstone and sighing.
After a moment of silence, Mark pulled out off Benny's grasp, going to stand, but stumbling.
Luckily, Benny caught him before his head could literally smash into the headstone.
"I miss him already, Benny. And it's only been a day!" he sobbed, leaning his head back onto Benny's shoulder as Benny lead him to a bench, gently sitting him down.
He sat down and blinked as tears fell.
He didn't bother to wipe them away.
Benny bit at his lower lip as he sat down beside Mark.
"I know this is probably not the best time...but what are you going to do about the loft?" he asked softly.
Mark slowly let his eyes trail to Benny's, glaring at him.
"Collins is gone, Mark. Maureen is with Joanne. You can't live in that loft alone. It's not safe." Benny said simply.
Mark snorted.
"You don't care about my safety. All you want is the rent." he exclaimed, shaking his head and leaning back against the bench, looking down at the ground.
"No, Mark. Fuck the rent. I'm worried about you. You became isolated when Collins died. Now that Roger is gone...I can't help but to worry about you." Benny reprimanded.
Mark wrung his hands together, popping each of his knuckles.
"I'm fine." he insisted, bringing his sleeve to his eyes and wiping away the wetness.
Benny sighed, leaning forward, resting his head in his palms.
"Mark. Roger was the last one. You can't look over this as if it is nothing." he spoke.
Mark chuckled.
"I'm not the one talking about closing shop, am I?" he said angrily.
"Come live with me." Benny offered suddenly.
Mark's eyes shot towards him.
"Excuse me?" he questioned.
"In Westport. I want to keep an eye on you, Mark. Contrary to popular belief, I do care." Benny explained.
Mark went to protest, but pulled back.
"Okay." he replied.
Benny narrowed his eyes.
"Really?" he inquired, doe-eyed.
Mark shrugged.
"It'll give me time to get back on my feet." he replied.
Benny reached out, patting Mark on his shoulder.
"I just...I need to gather some things at the loft. Pack some stuff up." Mark concluded.
Benny wrapped his arm tightly around Mark's shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze.
"Roger probably still has so much shit lying about his room." he said in a reminiscing tone.
"You need some help with that?" Benny asked, standing, pulling Mark along with him.
Mark nodded.
"It's something I need to do alone." he replied.
Benny took him into his arms, and Mark accepted, wrapping his arms around Benny.
Benny pulled back, smiling as he turned and walked away.
Mark found himself back at the headstone, falling to his knees in front of it.
"I hope you're okay with this. I can't stay in that loft. Not alone. Benny's right. It's not safe." he said, reaching out and caressing at Roger's name carved into the stone.
"I can't believe I already miss you." he commented.
He blushed.
"I mean...you get what I mean, right, Rog?" he questioned.
He pulled his hand back.
"Roger Doger." he said quietly, laughing hysterically.
He bit at his lower lip before standing.
"Goodbye, Roger." he said in a finalized tone, turning and walking towards the bike rack.