Mark realizes he is about to be late for Maureen's soundcheck.
As he, Roger, Collins, and Angel step off the subway platform, he announces his leave.
"Hey, you can come with me!" he exclaimed, grabbing Roger by the forearm and pulling him away from Angel and Collins.
After pushing him across 7th Avenue, Mark looked back to Collins and Angel, smiling.
Roger growled at him.
"What was that for? Why on earth would I want to go to Maureen's soundcheck?" he hissed.
Mark looked back to Roger, shaking his head.
"Are you really that oblivious, Davis?" he teased, cocking his head towards Collins and Angel, who now held each other in a tight embrace.
Roger followed his nod and blushed.
"Oh." he replied, shifting on his feet.
"I do have to head to her soundcheck, though." Mark spoke.
Roger looked up at him, his eyes twinkling.
"Collins is right. You are whipped!" he exclaimed, grinning slyly.
Mark sighed, rolling his eyes and walking past Roger, who grabbed at his arm.
"Why do you let Maureen do this to you? Tell you what to do, when to do it?" he asked.
Mark shrugged, pulling himself gently from Roger's touch.
"I'm not whipped." he insisted.
Roger narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Really? So it's my imagination that when she comes crying, you fall to your knees...and not in the manner of pleasure." he asked.
Mark blushed, looking to his feet.
"I'm still her friend! Can't a friend help another friend without being given the damned third degree?" he shot back, quickly changing his sight from his shoes to Roger, glaring at him.
Roger held up his hands palm first in defense.
"Sorry." he said softly, blinking as Mark's eyes softened.
"I don't know why I do it." Mark admitted.
Roger nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"I still love her, I guess. She makes up for what I can't have." Mark went on.
He looked away from Roger, looking back at Collins and Angel, who were skipping on down the sidewalk, heading back to the loft.
"She makes up for who I can't have." he said quietly, looking back at Roger.
Roger frowned, looking into Mark's eyes as if attempting to look into his soul.
"Who can't you have then? Collins? Angel? Mimi?" he asked, whispering Mimi's name.
Mark let out a throaty chuckle.
"You wouldn't understand." he hissed.
Roger's jaw dropped, his eyes widening.
"Mark, this is me you're talking to. Not Benny, not Maureen, me. Roger Davis. Your friend. What is it you're not telling me? And why are you not telling me?" he asked, his tone dripping in fear.
Mark rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to her soundcheck." he announced, going as if to walk away.
Roger shook his head.
"No you're not." he said, grabbing Mark by the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the nearest building.
"What are you doing?" Mark exclaimed, eyes wide in worry.
Roger pulled his arm away from Mark's body, holding him against the building with his other hand pressed against the filmmaker's chest.
"What aren't you telling me? Why can't you trust me?" he asked throatily.
Mark pushed himself off the wall, and before he could make a movement any further, was pushed against it again.
"Roger!" he exclaimed.
Roger's eyes softened again, but he didn't pull back.
Mark sniffled, swallowing.
"I can't tell you. It...you wouldn't believe me, nor would it be accepted!" he answered loudly.
Roger snorted.
"Mark, our best friend is dating a drag queen. Your ex broke up with you for a girl. What wouldn't I accept?" he brought forth, raising his right eyebrow.
Mark, tired of holding it in, finally let loose.