So, this update has been in process for a bit now, but my computer was in fixing yet again, so it took a bit to post.

Now! To start off with! I'm offering a warning to any readers right now. I've mapped out this story. I won't tell you what the length will be, but I'll tell you that it's probably going to be very very long. Beware of my little false endings too. There will be points where it seems like the story is over. Unless I say it's the end, it's a false ending. I'll only make this warning once, by the way. The ending still isn't fully finished, but I think I know where I'm going. It'll make sense later, and I'll always ask for opinions on how the couple should end up.

The song Mark sings in this chapter, which he will do more of later, is called "New York, NY" by Chronic Future. I figure Mark's got some kind of musical creativity in him, much like Roger has an eye he doesn't let anyone know about. There's a reason Roger's in film and Mark's in music. This is where we begin to really see why. Also, this is the beginning of the major furthering of the plot. It's a very heavy chapter, and it doesn't have much humor in it, but... It's necessary. I'm hoping I'll make the next chapter make up for this one. But this is really the start of our heavy plot lines. It's not easy. And it may leave readers upset. But it's how things go.

This chapter starts to push the boundaries of a T rating, but isn't quite at the M rating. There's a lot of homophobic comments toward the end of this chapter. I just need to say, obviously, I'm not homophobic. But it fits certain characters. There's also some flirting in this chapter, like the previous, and you learn a lot about Roger and Mark's families. Anyway, this author's note has ben far too long. I must begin the story now.

To days of inspiration...

The first month of school proceeded pretty much the same way that the first couple days had gone. We skipped one class a week, never the same two weeks in a row, and hung out after school until just before dinner. I had to be home for dinner, so he'd drop me off, and we'd have our awkward car moment before I went inside.

The due dates for our film and song were getting closer, so we were working harder on those, and I did the stupid interview for my english class one of the days we were skipping.

I reached over and flipped the camera off, looking at Roger at the end of the interview. "Well, she can't be upset about that one. I got enough info, and didn't go overly personal... Right?"

He smiled a bit, nodding. There was one question I'd been wanting to ask since I went to Roger's house a couple of nights for dinner, but I wasn't sure if it was okay to ask yet. He must have noticed me pause, because he responded. "Another question, Marky?"

I looked at him, nodding lightly before shaking my head.

He laughed a bit. "You can ask me, you know."

I nodded, looking down for a minute. "Well, I was just wondering... I've only ever met your mom and sister... I was kinda wondering about your dad... I get it if you don't want to talk about it. I was just... curious..." I trailed off, looking at my hands again. I wasn't sure how he was going to respond.

He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking. "Mark... It's okay. You can look at me. I'll tell you." I looked up, meeting his eye, and saw how difficult it would be for him to speak of it. I reached a hand out and took a hold of his, holding it gently. He sighed and began. "My father left when I was about 13. Before that... he and my mother didn't get along. Especially because my mother didn't mind that I was a 13 year old boy in a rock band. He... ah... Well, he hit her a lot. And one day, I was maybe 11 at the time, I finally decided I would step in and tried to stop him from hitting her. So he started hitting me instead. I hit back, of course. I was that punk of a kid he couldn't stand. We both walked away with some pretty good marks from it. But he always seemed to walk away worse for the wear. The worst I suffered was a bruised rib and a couple black eyes. I broke his nose three times. The third time was when he left. Just packed everything and was gone. Kayleigh was born about 6 months later. Mom was... depressed, but not as much as I thought she'd be. She started getting better, she was finally happy and everything, and then she decided we would move back here, to her hometown."

I sat there through his whole explanation, listening quietly, squeezing his hand when he paused, and when he finished, we sat there in silence for a minute. I noticed a tear had started down his cheek, however uncontrolled it was, and reached my free hand out to wipe it away. He looked back up at me, blue-green eyes meeting mine. I kept my hand on his cheek for a moment, leaning forward slightly. I paused momentarily and then leaned forward more, kissing him just slightly.

This kiss wasn't awkward like our car kisses were. It was gentle, but felt right. I pulled back after a second and looked at him again, trying to read his expression. His eyes looked less sad, though the smile I'd grown to adore hadn't started to show again. He held my gaze for another minute before kissing me again.

This time was a little longer, a little deeper. We pulled away after a couple seconds, though, and just stared at each other.

We stayed that way for a good ten minutes, neither moving nor speaking. We didn't need to. In some way, the silence spoke words that we could never form. Dimly in the background, I heard the bell ring for our next class.

I sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to just stay in that spot, and stood, picking up my camera bag and backpack. "We've got music now, Rog... Let's go..."

XmXrX

Roger went off to his locker before music, feeling the need to clean up the eyeliner he was worried he'd smudged, so I told the teacher he was in the bathroom and sat at the piano. I hadn't come up with much for the song yet, but I also refused to play in front of Roger yet. Taking advantage of the fact that he was out of the room, I started playing a song I had sort of come up with last year. The piano portion wasn't overly complicated, but I could hear a guitar riff and drums to go with it, at least. The piano suited me just fine though.

I kept my gaze on the keys, thinking of the words I wasn't so sure of. I cut to what I figured would be towrad the end of the song, since I had no clue as to what the verses were going to be yet, and started singing quietly to myself. "Go get your map and compass and don't listen to them, and don't think about how much time you're fixing to spend. The dirt only ends when the pavement begins. This is your heart your dream, and you're your only friend so go. New york city's so far away, but I can't wait even for one more day. They say these things come and these things go, but if I don't try I'll never know."

Feeling ready to start working on the song Roger and I were doing, I pulled out the page I had with the words on it. I should have realized at that point that Roger should have been back in the room, but for once I was caught in what I was doing. I didn't even notice someone pick up my camera.

I skimmed the lyrics carefully, remembering the bass line, and started to play a set of chords that I thought might work. When I got to the actual singing, I sung along lightly, but still with the confidence the lyrics required. When I finished the first chorus, I nodded to myself, jotting down the chords I used, and then realized the class had gone quiet.

I turned around to see Roger holding my camera, filming me as I played, the smile on his face curious. The class looked surprised and the teacher was grinning widely. I blushed as Roger turned off the camera and said, "Okay, everyone, show's over."

The teacher walked over as the other students went back to work. "You've got talent, Cohen. And not just with that camera either."

I shrugged, blushing, and looked down at my hands. I heard Roger chuckle lightly as he sat across from me, his bass across his lap. "Mark's shy, sir. He won't admit he's any good either way." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the teacher smirk and pat Roger on the shoulder before walking away. I looked up then, meeting his blue-green eyes. "You really did play well. What was that first song you played?"

"That?" I questioned stupidly. I glanced down again, but returned eye contact. "It's something I came up with last year. When I wanted to go to New York. My parents won't let that fly, of course. I'm headed off to the University of Rhode Island when senior year is out. But I'd love to be in New York. I want to try so badly..."

"So try it, Marky. You can do it."

I just looked at him for a minute, contemplating the statement, and shook my head. "It's my parents, Rog. You... haven't met them yet. For a reason. I know your story, but... I can't tell you mine yet. You'll see why I can't just go to New York. It'll all make sense." I looked back down at the sheet with lyrics in front of me. "Anyway... To this song..."

XmXrX

Lunch that day was probably one of the beginning of the trauma of senior year. Maureen was sitting with the cheerleaders for a few minutes, waiting for Joanne to come out of the lunch line. The way she was giggling and touching made it completely obvious that she was flirting, desipte how many times she would argue that she hadn't been.

Joanne came out of the lunch line, turning to see Maureen sitting on the table flirting. Of course, Maureen had gotten caught up in what she was doing, so she didn't notice. I could see Joanne seething and, without a second thought, pulled out my camera. Joanne walked over to the table and nodded at me, putting her tray down, before walking over to Maureen.

She tapped the giggling girl on the shoulder, receiving a surprised look. "Can I talk to you?" I could hear her say quietly, even across the room. Her tone was serious and if she hadn't been holding together, she obviously would have been glaring at the people sitting at the table.

Collins walked up to our table then, a cigarette in his mouth, and looked where I was pointing the camera. He raised an eyebrow as Joanne walked Maureen over to a secluded corner of the cafeteria, near their table and out of earshot of everyone else.

The two had a visible argument, though the only thing audible was the end when Joanne threw her hands up and said, "THAT'S IT! I'M DONE!" and stormed over to us.

She picked up her tray, shaking her head, and tried to keep the tears in her eyes from overflowing. "I'll see you guys around," she said quietly before walking away.

I turned back to Maureen, who was standing in the same spot, shock evident on her face. She looked at us, then at the path Joanne went in, and turned the other way, hiding her own tears from us. She walked out of the cafeteria, out the doors of the school.

XmXrX

Film was our last class for a change, since there had been planning in the morning and the schedule had shifted for the day. I sat near an editor in the back, looking over that day's film. I cut out some clips from the interview, happy to have more film, and then got to the cut to music class. I went to cut it all when Roger stopped me.

I was a bit surprised, to be honest. He'd never edited our movie. So most of the clips were him, Maureen, Collins, and Joanne. I made a point to keep myself out of the movie as much as possible. But this, he wouldn't let me cut out.

He gestured for me to let him sit where I'd been sitting, watching the film carefully. He made a few cuts, and then rewound what he'd edited to show me. Suddenly I understood why he'd been adament to keep it in.

Roger had filmed better than even I expected. He had left in a shot of just my hands, a pan up of the sheet music, and a shot of my face while I'd been singing the first song. I could tell it was the first. There was just that expression that said... this is mine, I guess.

I looked at him and he smiled lightly, giving me the seat back. He leaned over my shoulder when I'd sat and whispered in my ear, "And make sure you leave that. You look amazing in that shot."

XmXrX

Roger and I sat in his car, as usual, after getting food at the local pizza place. I sighed, looking at my camera as a song Maureen loved came on the radio. "I'm worried about her, Rog. She wasn't in any other classes, she wasn't at the pizza parlor, and she hasn't answered her phone. She even missed drama club."

Roger put an arm over my shoulders, hugging me close. "It's okay, Mark. She'll be fine. From what I've seen of Maureen, she always bounces right back."

I nodded. "You're right." I leaned on him for a moment before shaking my head. "I have to go inside. Can't be late for dinner, ya know..."

He nodded, leaning toward me just slightly. He kissed my temple comfortingly before releasing me. I opened the door and pushed my stuff onto the sidewalk, turning back toward him for a moment. He smiled, as this had become almost routine, and kissed me lightly. I smiled back and stepped out of the car, waving as I walked up my drive.

After he drove away, I sighed and walked in the door, immediately going up the stairs to put away my backback and camera. I stared at the wall for a moment, looking at my old pictures, and then headed back downstairs for dinner.

I was the first one to the kitchen, as usual in my family. Mom was still cooking, so I walked up and looked in the pans to see if anything needed to be done. When Mom came back in the room, I was stirring the pasta and sauce at the same time.

She took the spoons from my hands, tsking at me. "Men do not cook, Mark, we've been over this."

I shook my head, but went to sit at the kitchen table regardless, soon joined by Cindy and my father.

Dinner went as always, quiet and with little discussion amongst us. Finally, Mom sent Cindy to bed and set about cleaning up the dishes, leaving Dad and I sitting at the table.

We were quiet for a few minutes before Dad spoke. "So, who's this Roger kid?"

I looked up, surprised. "Just a friend from school. Why?"

"Well, he's the Davis kid, isn't he?" Dad sounded almost angry, but I wasn't sure why, so I just nodded. "Rumor has it, the reason they moved is because the kid got kicked out of his school for being a faggot."

I heard Mom drop a dish in the sink, turning to look at her for a moment to compose myself.

Dad continued before I could speak. "Is it true, Mark? Is he a faggot?"

I turned to look back at my father, keeping my face clear. "Not that I know of, Dad."

He nodded. "Good. Because I won't have my son hanging out with a queer. God knows what it'd do to you. You're pansy enough without an influence like that."

I just looked at the table, taking a sip of the drink I still had in front of me.

"Didn't you hang out with another fruit? Tom Collins or something like that? Maybe he's the one who made you a pansy."

It took every effort I had to keep calm at that moment.

"Then again, you did date that dyke. Maybe she's the one who turned you. Made you realize you'd rather be whipped by a faggot than a woman."

I looked at him for a minute before asking to be excused. He nodded, letting me go. I put my plates in the sink, thanking my mother, and walked up to my room.

Once there, I kicked the nearest bookshelf and sat down on the bed, my head in my hands.

My father would never accept it if he knew what was going on with Roger. And it didn't help that my mother wouldn't either.

I stared at the camera bag next to be before taking it out and replaying the film from that morning. I couldn't help but smile when Roger did on screen, frowning when I realized what I was doing.

I closed the camera and let out a sigh, picking up my phone to dial a familiar number. Maureen still wasn't answering. Now I was getting really concerned. I left her a message before hanging up and considering if I should or not. Deciding it was okay to do, I dialed another number, this one just as familiar, though less used.

"Hello?" came a deep voice on the other end.

"Collins? Hey man, it's Mark. I, ah... I need your help with something. Mind if I come over?"

So there's the end of another chapter. I'm telling you right now, you will never see the conversation Mark and Collins have from this chapter. It's not in the plan, and it's kind of pointless when I cover what happens in the next chapter.

If you're still following, reviews will make me a very happy author.

Until next time, Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.

~Rappy