…Hi-hi *tentative wave* okay, I'm SO sorry this has taken so long, I have no idea where the months have gone! I hate it when I'm reading a fic, and it just cuts off half way through, and the author doesn't update for ages, so I can't apologise enough! I promise the next chapter will be very soon thanks for all the reviews/story alerts/story favourites, they mean so much to me! Love you all, hope you like this chapter xxx
Disclaimer: Don't own, this is a fanfiction site geniuses.
Chapter Two
It was a good hour before they found Roger. He was huddled in an alleyway near the loft, and Mark and Collins missed him the first few times they went past because he blended in with the garbage.
'There he is,' said Mark, pointing. Roger raised his head as they approached, and as soon as he recognised them, a cheerful but very fake smile was on his face. 'Hey guys!' he cried, too brightly. He seemed to be attempting normality, as though Collins and Mark finding him lying on the street was a normal occurrence.
Collins, however, was clearly unimpressed by the façade and kicked Roger lightly in the shin. 'Get up,' he growled. Mark was surprised by his tone for a minute, then remembered Mimi, sobbing in their apartment, and he understood Collins perfectly.
It hurt Mark though, to see him like this. It brought back painful memories, memories of shouting and violence and waiting for hours and hours for Roger to come home.
Waiting, thought Mark would never admit it, for that phone call to say that Roger had overdosed, or got in to a particularly bad fight, or hadn't seen a car as he'd stumbled across the street in a drug-induced haze….Mark shut out these memories quickly. He did his best not to think of those days, ever.
Roger's forced smile faded as he realised Mark and Collins weren't buying it, and an angry scowl took its place. Mark winced. He hadn't seen Roger look so…..so un-Roger for almost two years.
Junkie Roger pulled himself to his feet and stood, glaring at them and swaying slightly.
"What's she been saying?" he shouted aggressively. "Because it's all lies, all of it – I haven't done anything!"
"Really." replied Collins flatly. Roger's eyes narrowed.
"Fine! Believe what you want! I don't need you!" He tried to run, stumbling past them, but before Mark could blink Collins had Roger bundled up against the wall and was an inch away from the younger man's face.
"I don't think so, boy," he snarled. Roger struggled uselessly, but Collins was far stronger. "Here's what's going to happen. We're going back to the loft, and then you're staying in your room until whatever shit you've taken has worn off. Then you're gonna apologise to Mimi, and we're gonna talk about what possessed you to fuck up your life, yet again." The last bit was little more than a hiss of anger. "'Kay, pumpkin?" Roger glowered at the floor but said nothing. "Right then."
Collins glanced over at Mark and his expression softened briefly. "You okay, Mark?" Mark realised he hadn't moved since they had found Roger, and he forced himself to nod jerkily. Collins didn't look convinced, but Roger was beginning to struggle again.
Collins pulled the musician's arms behind his back and half dragged him out of the alley. "C'mon," he pulled a face at Mark over his shoulder. "Let's get this stupid ass home."
Mark walked into the main room of the loft the next morning to find Collins making breakfast. The shock of Roger using again still hadn't worn off. After all we've been through together, he kept thinking. April died for their addiction. After that, and after Angel…
Collins seemed to sense his troubled thoughts, and glanced up to smile at Mark consolingly. "I'm guessing he's not awake yet?" asked Mark.
"Guessed right. And neither's Mimi, so keep your voice down."
There was a long pause as Mark ran his hand through his tousled blond hair and slumped down at the counter. Collins watched him carefully. "You okay?" he asked quietly after a moment.
Mark hesitated. "I guess, I just…" He trailed off and stared blankly at the countertop. "I just thought we were past all this, y'know?" he finally sighed. "I mean, why would he do this to us? To me? To Mimi?"
"That's what we're gonna find out when he finally shows his face."
Mark sighed again. When they'd got back to the loft the previous evening. Mimi had still been asleep in Collins's room, so they had thrown Roger into his old room, locked the door, and gone to bed, trying to block out Roger's yells of anger. Collins had unlocked it that morning, but so far the musician had not made an appearance.
"No Mimi yet?" asked Mark. Collins shook his head. "We'll have to talk to her. God knows what this is doing to her." Collins didn't reply for a moment.
"She'll cope," he said at last. "She's stronger than we give her credit for. I think she'll be okay."
"I'll be fine," came a voice from behind them. They turned to find Mimi standing there, looking tired but steady, watching them to talk.
"You guys worry too much," she continued with her usual teasing smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"It's Roger you need to be looking after, not me. I was just shocked yesterday. I'm over it now. I'm ready to help Roger." Mark grinned at her, relief washing through him. A voice in the back of his mind had worried that Mimi would find all this too much, and leave. That would've finished Roger off. But she was here, she was staying. She was going to help.
"Thanks, Meems," he pulled her into a hug, too choked up with emotion to say more. Over her shoulder, he saw Collins beam at them, his eyes bright. They would be okay. They were ready to help Roger through this, whatever it took.
Okay, I know that these chapters are all dialogue-heavy, and the story is moving quite slow at the moment, but I promise things will speed up and get more exciting soon! But the next chapter's like this as well (sorry!), because it's when they talk to Roger anyhoo, thanks again, I'll be updating soon!
