A/N: So…updates might be a little longer from now on seeing as…I haven't had the energy to write much these days. Sorry guys! But I will try to make the chapters as good as possible Thanks to all reviewers and I'm sorry for the horrible wait again. And anyone who reads my other story "Eyes of a Young Boy", I'm working on the next chapter, but give me some time.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV

I'm not the same person I was two years ago. Maybe I've learned things, maybe not. Maybe all that I learned is how to not fuck up my life. But lately, it doesn't seem like I've learned that at all. Mimi has been blatantly brushing me off ever since I told her about my band, telling me nothing is wrong, when I know it really is. I'm just thankful I have Mark to talk to about these things. Even if our talks only consist of me venting. As long as Mark is listening, he's helping.

By the time I actually get up enough courage to call the band, it's been two weeks since I first suggested it. I don't know what's been stopping me. My "busy" life, my laziness, or just the fact that I was afraid. Afraid that they wouldn't want me back. Afraid that something happened to them while I was mourning my losses, and I wasn't able to help them. They tried to support me when I was going through shit, but I didn't do enough for them. And after they told me I needed to stop doing drugs, that was the last of them. I decided I didn't need their shit.

…Even though that "shit" would have been the best thing to take at the moment. But I was too proud to accept help. Until Mark convinced me that I needed it. And that was at rock bottom. Now that I'm back and better, I'm ready to apologize for giving up on them so quickly.

"You calling them?" Mark watches me going for the phone, a rare occurrence these days. I don't really have anyone to call except Mimi, and when I want to see her I simply go down to her apartment. I pick up the phone, nodding in Mark's direction, as I begin to dial. My heart is pounding in my chest, and for a second I'm afraid that it's going to burst from my body. With every ring, I get closer and closer to throwing up. I don't remember being this nervous before.

"Hello?" Aaron's voice floats into my ear, and suddenly I'm at a loss for words.

"Hey..uhh…Aaron?" I take a precaution, to make sure I'm apologizing to my old bass player instead of some random stranger.

"Yeah, who is this?"

"Roger, man. How've you been doin'?" My eyes wander over to Mark, who is sitting at the counter, smiling giddily at me. Goddamn it, he's too happy for me. I silently chuckle at him, before turning away so he doesn't make me laugh in the middle of my sentences.

"Holy shit! Roger fuckin' Davis! Where the hell have you been?" At first his outburst is appreciated, and I'm slightly relieved that he didn't hang up when I told him who it was. But then again, he's just surprised. I'll see what happens when we start to get into the past.

"Uhh…I'm living…in the loft with Mark. How are you doing?" I try to keep calm, keeping my deep breaths silent so Aaron can't tell how goddamn nervous I am.

"I'm uh…I'm fine. Just surprised that you called! How long's it been? Jesus. Seems like ages." Memories of gigs, girls, groupies and good times flash through my mind. Playing sets then taking advantage of the dozens of panting women who surged around us. I never seemed to mind it, until after I met April. Then it was just a temptation. Something that was trying to get me into trouble.

"I don't know man. Uhh…a few years. At least. But I was just wondering…if…umm…you might wanna try it again? You know, start up the band?" I close my eyes, waiting for the smallest sound to come from my former band mate. I never thought that one day, I would have to be begging my band to forgive me. But now that I think of it, I never apologized.

"Rog, look. I don't know if the guys'll wanna do that. I mean, Jimmy's off in LA, and Paul's got a wife and a baby on the way. And me…well…I don't know if I can forget about what happened." Aaron's words hit me hard, when I realize that I probably wouldn't forgive me either. I did some shitty things to my band, just for the drugs, for the money and for the fame. I thought I was doing what was best at the time, but now I can see that I was betraying all of them.

"I…I understand." I nod along, even though inside I feel about to burst. Mark creeps up behind me, lying his hand on my shoulder. I appreciate him trying to help me, but I shrug away his touch as fast as he can blink.

"I'm sorry man. It's just…been too long."

"No, no. It's…it's fine. I get it." I slam the phone down on the receiver, rubbing my temples roughly and trying to catch my breath. It feels as if someone's just punched me straight in the gut. My band was the last thing that I had. Now what is there do to? Continue my "song-writing"? Maybe after a few more years I'll finish another song.

Sure, I have Mimi, I have Mark, I have Collins and all of my other friends, but they are not something I can take pride in for myself. I want something just to myself, just for me. To make me feel good. And although my friends do make me feel good, they are not exactly a career or a guitar.

"What happened?" I remember that Mark is standing behind me, awaiting my first reaction after my sharp breathing has slowed. I turn around with a light chuckle, but the disappointed look on Mark's face remains. He's too used to my faking, my acts and my lies to believe any of it anymore. He's been through all of my stories just so I could go get drugs, but he never let me leave. Even if he wasn't positive I was in fact lying. He learned when not to trust me, and as degrading as it sounds, it makes me feel better in a way.

"They…they've moved on. I guess it took me too long to bounce back. While I was trying to become my old self, they were trying to forget about their old selves." My smile even feels fake as it spreads across my lips, when I know very well that what I'd really like to do is scream and break things right about now.

"Rog…it's not your fault." Mark's hand levitates to my shoulder, almost attempting to pull me into a hug, but I harshly push him away.

"No…it IS my fault! I'm the one who did all the fucking drugs, and the one who would take any chance to screw over my friends just to get a deal on heroin, cocaine or any other fucking thing that turned my mind to shit!" I throw Mark's camera case into the door, and it slams wide open as Mark slowly backs away from me and into the kitchen. I know he's not scared, this has happened too many times before for him to be scared.

"Yeah. You did do all those fucked up things, and they won't forgive you…so who says you need them?" He sits down on a stool, crossing his arms over his chest and pressing his back against the counter.

"I can't start over Mark! This was always where I was trying to get…this is what…what I've been waiting for." The confusion settles in his face as I storm to my room, ignoring the pounding knock coming from the door.

My body practically throws itself on my bed, burying my face in my pillow and trying to drown out all negative thoughts in my mind. It's never worked before, and I doubt it's going to work now. All that occurs from this is simply more self-loathing. But that's what I'm used to.

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Mimi's POV

My feet climb the stairs quickly, almost jumping over two at a time. After Roger's band mates didn't answer the phone yesterday I decided to leave, telling him I had to go to work because there was no one covering my shift. In reality I didn't want to be there when he called again and this time got to talk to someone. I didn't want to be there when his band accepted him back, telling him that band practice would be strenuous and time consuming. I didn't want to be there as I watched my already absent boyfriend get sucked into another section of his life that he would love more than me.

I might just be paranoid. I might just be hallucinating Roger's hollow behavior. But yesterday I didn't feel like I was the one with the problem. I was almost positive that Roger was ignoring me. And maybe not even intentionally. Maybe he doesn't know that I'm feeling neglected. Then again he doesn't know that he's madly in love. And not with me.

The front door of Roger and Mark's loft is inches away from my nose now, and seconds later Mark is opening it after my loud and rough knocks. Mark's face is caked with regret and melancholy, and I'm already worried about Roger.

"Hey…is Roger here?" I shift in my boots, lifting up my right foot and brushing it up against my left calf. Mark frowns, dropping his head for a second before proceeding to gaze towards Roger's door.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's here. But he's locked up in his room."

"Can I come in? Is everything okay?" I lean my hand against the door, tipping my tiny body in towards the loft, trying to catch a glimpse of…Roger's closed door?

"I don't know. He's just discouraged. I think we're fine. You don't have to…"

"No, Mark it's no trouble. I can help." A huge smile spreads across my face as I desperately try to get into the loft that now seems like foreign territory to me. What happened to the times when I used to just come in through the window?

"Mimi, I think…he just needs one person right now. I got it under control. I've consoled him through many shitty times." Mark's face stays serious, a grim expression cemented onto his pale skin.

"All right." I sigh in defeat, backing away as Mark shuts the door almost in my face. I don't think I've ever felt so rejected in my life. Why does he have the right to slam the door in my face, telling me that I won't help Roger? Wasn't I the one who got him out of that fucking loft? Wasn't I the one who let him open his heart again? Wasn't I the one he fell in love with when he thought it was no longer possible?

And just because Mark was there through his heroin soaked years, he thinks that he has all rights over the rock star I once called my loving boyfriend.

As I stomp down each step individually, my anger grows. Who is Mark to think he's better than me? To think he loves Roger more than me? But then again, maybe he does. Roger sure does seem to love Mark more than me. It's a fact I would be positive of, if only I had some proof.

I've been there for Roger, helping him love again, helping him talk again, and helping him open up. Don't I deserve the same? Roger helped me get off drugs, which I'm seriously craving at the moment, but I feel like that's all he's ever done for me. And was it even for me? Was it just to prove that he could get someone off drugs? Because he couldn't stop April from killing herself, he needed this compensation?

Now I feel used.

And as my anger boils over, I begin to hesitate with each step down. After a few seconds of standing still on the seventh step, I head back upstairs towards the loft. I need to talk to Roger. I need to tell him how I feel. If not for my own sake then for his.

Once I reach the door, I refuse to knock, sliding it open myself with a little muscle and courage. The living room is empty, the sun shining through the gigantic windows and draping shadows on the torn up couch. I gaze around the loft, trying to find a trace of either men. My eyes scan the whole room, and then land on Roger's closed door. I take a deep breath, and head towards the wooden board, examining it like a dug up fossil.

I grasp the knob and turn it slowly, contemplating closing my eyes until the door is fully open. But I'm not even able to move my eyelids. And so they stay wide open. But when I see what's on the other side of the door, I really wish I would have shut my eyes and never opened them. There sit Mark and Roger on the floor, in a tender embrace. Roger shakes with sobs, his face buried in Mark's shoulder, nuzzled into his neck as his hands cling to the filmmakers back. Mark holds his roommate just as tightly, stroking his back with his fingers, trying to comfort as best he can.

I stand with my mouth cracked wide open as I watch my boyfriend and his "roommate" rock slowly back and forth. I listen to Roger's choked sobs, and Mark's whispered words to help. For a few seconds I try to say something, but all that comes out are breathy gasps and whimpers. After what seems like an eternity, Mark lifts his head to grab a tissue for his emotionally injured best friend, and spots me in the doorway.

"Mimi…I…I told you I didn't need…" He stumbles to stand, pressing his palm to the nightstand that rests next to him and glancing down at Roger for a split second. Roger clears his throat, wiping away his tears and fixing his hair.

"Yeah, I can tell you don't need me here. Jesus." I turn away with a scoff, bouncing on my feet. I really don't know what to think of this.

"Meems, I just found out that the band doesn't want me. Mark was trying to help and he didn't think that I needed to see more people."

"Oh, yeah. I'm only your girlfriend. I can understand why you wouldn't wanna see me!" I stomp into the room, plopping down on the floor against the wall, positioning myself as far away from the boys as possible.

"What's the problem? He was trying to help me!" Roger's voice starts to rise as I lay my arms across my chest, rolling my eyes at the teary eyed rocker.

"The problem is that I break in on you two cuddling! How the fuck am I supposed to react!" I can see Mark's eyes bug out when I say the word "cuddling", and I hold back a laugh as he proceeds to question me about it.

"Cuddling? What the hell do you mean? I was trying to help him!"

"Yeah, and Mimi I don't understand why the fuck you care so much!" Roger stands up, and I soon follow. I lean my forehead against the wall, telling myself that I'm right. I'm the victim. I'm the one who is being ignored, neglected. Unloved.

"Because you two are fucking in love! You don't even see it, you're so blind. It's there every second of everyday, and you two idiots don't see it! Well I do. And it fucking hurts. It kills. So why don't you just acknowledge it, and do everyone a favor?" With that I run out of the room, leaving the two boys to sort out my confession. Or leaving them to make their own confessions. Either way, I'm now out of the picture.

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Notes: Again, I am soooo sorry for the long wait, but I hope this ending helps! And I can't promise anything, but I certainly hope I can finish the cliffhanger faster than this chapter came. Review and be loved by an idiot!