I'm longing for love and the logical
But he's only happy hysterical

"I'm home!" I call out to a seemingly empty loft. I get no response other than an ambient noise that I can't quite place. Roger must be out, he always answers no matter what. I slide the door closed with my foot and flop onto the couch.. Another day of ass-kissing, bullshitting, and teeth grinding. I wonder to myself who the hell would watch the segments they make me film day after day.

I let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling. Three new cracks...huh.

My eyes wander around the room. They eventually fall on the armchair to my right and the garment thrown carelessly on the arm: Roger's coat. That's weird...

Suddenly I'm able to place the noise: running bath water. My eyes travel to the bathroom door as my heart skips a beat and my mind goes back to that afternoon nearly two years ago...the day I found her...

"Roger?" I call out as I stand up. I start toward the door at a brisk walk. By the time I'm halfway there, I'm running. "ROGER!" As I push on the door I now feel extremely grateful we never fixed the latch after that day.

I'm immediately relieved that the water filling the tub is clear and there is no blood on the floor. However that feeling quickly fades when I take in the sight that is greeting me. Roger standing in front of the mirror in nothing but his plaid pants, one hand filled with pills, the other gripping a bottle of Stoli.

I freeze. The reflections of our eyes meet for a moment, then he quickly shoves the pills into his mouth and takes a swig.

In a panic, I hit him as hard as I can in the back of the head, causing him to spit the mixture of painkillers and alcohol into the drain. I then knock the aspirin bottle into the living room and force the vodka bottle out of his hands. It shatters on the floor. I tackle him to the ground when he scrambles toward the living room. After a short struggle he stops and laughs bitterly.

"Fuck you, Marky."

"Fuck YOU, asshole! What were you thinking?!"

"...I'm sorry, Marky...for all this..." In one quick movement he grabs a shard of glass from the floor and brings it down on his wrist.

"Roger, you fucking idiot!" I wrench the glass from his hand and grab a washcloth, holding it to his wrist. Luckily the gash is shallow and in his hurry he cut across instead of down.

He stares blankly at me as I treat his wound, resigned to the fact that he can't accomplish his task with me here. "You weren't supposed to see any of this..."

"Yeah, and just who the hell do you think would have found you had you succeeded?" He looks away, ashamed. That obviously never crossed his mind.

"I miss her so much..." He says, shaking his head.

"I do, too. I miss all of them. But I also know none of them would want you doing this."

"And what WOULD they want?" he challenges me as I bandage his wrist.

"For you to keep loving, to be HAPPY for Christ's sake! Is that so much for them, fuck, for ME, to ask?" Silence. I sigh. "I know it hurts. Of course it does. It hurts me, too. But the pain will ease, if you'll just keep going on. Don't be afraid to let yourself be happy just because she's gone. 'No day but today'. Angel and Mimi taught us that, remember?"

His eyes slowly raise to mine. From the look of them, you'd think either I'd just revealed some divine secret or given him deja vu. Or both. He pulls me close. "I'm sorry, Marky...oh god, I'm so sorry." he croaks between sobs.

"I know, I know. It's okay now. It'll all be okay." I rub his back and rock him back and forth as he cries.

"Don't ever leave me, please."

"I won't. I promise." Minutes pass, although they seem like hours. Eventually his sobs become quiet hiccups.

"Marky?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Anything you want, Rog.