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(Additional author's note at the bottom. Enjoy the ending!)

Epilogue: Evening

"So you really ran naked through the Parthenon? That's insane!" Mark laughed as he placed a frying pan on the stove. On their way back to the loft, Collins had insisted they stop in the grocery store and pick up something of actual substance for dinner. This way Mark was happy eating in and Collins, Roger and Benny were happy eating, period.

"Yeah, I can't believe I got away with it. Best ten minutes of my life though. I met the man of my dreams." Collins chuckled but Mark noticed the deep sadness in his brown eyes.

"There's more to that than what you're saying. I mean, you don't have to tell me. It's not my business, but I'm sorry for whatever he did that made you so sad." Mark met Collins eyes once and then turned back to buttering bread for grilled cheese.

"No, it's fine. I mean, well it's not fine."

A pregnant pause, and then Collins spoke again. His voice was soft and filled with sorrow, "He was the man of my dreams, but he's also the reason I'm HIV positive today."

"I'm sorry Collins." Mark turned back around, his face sympathetic.

"I've come to terms with it. I wasn't angry about the HIV. I mean, I wasn't jumping up and down with glee, but I wasn't angry. He was a fellow undergrad from a private school near UPenn. After the Rome trip we kept in touch and he was my first real relationship. He was the first real person I'd ever truly loved, so I guess I thought the HIV was worth it. He died two years ago." Collins' head practically touched his chest and he sat very still.

Mark wanted to hug him, to tell him he'd be fine, but even after learning a small amount of information on AIDS and HIV he knew there was nothing that he could say to make that statement true. Collins would never be fine, but he would live as long as he took his medications and kept himself healthy. So instead of empty words on grief, something Mark didn't have much experience with, or hollow-sounding reassurances, Mark placed his hand on his roommate's shoulder and squeezed it lightly. Collins reached his hand up and placed it over Mark's, returning the squeeze.

"Come on. Enough wallowing. If we don't have dinner done by the time Benny and Roger get back, there'll be verbal hell to pay." Collins stood and went back to ripping up lettuce for an impromptu salad.

Mark smiled and started placing buttered bread in the frying pan. Both he and Collins worked diligently in silence until a stack of grilled cheese and a big bowl of lettuce, with carrot and green pepper sat on the long silver table. Just as Mark set plates down next to the salad, the loft door slid open. Both Benny and Roger entered, Benny talking animatedly and Roger looking as if he were refusing the reflex to roll his eyes.

"Honey, I'm home!" Roger yelled, unnecessarily.

Mark rolled his eyes, but laughed, "Looks like things went well for Benny. What about you?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Dinner is still hot, so tell us over it." Collins pointed to the table and smiled.

"Damn, you two have been busy. Thanks for dinner." Benny said as he grabbed a plate.

"Seriously, thanks. This was awesome of you guys." Roger smiled at both Collins and Mark and headed for the table. Collins slapped his hand against Mark's back and smiled, pushing him toward the food.

During dinner Mark and Collins learned that Roger had had a very productive day; he was now the front man of a band called "The Well Hungarians". The bad joke was not lost on any of the roommates and groans and "Oh, that's just bad!" filled the loft. Benny was starting an entry-level position with Westport Grey Realty and his first big event was a dinner party at the Grey family estate. He was to escort Mr. Grey's youngest daughter, Alison.

"So what did you guys do today?" Roger asked in between bites of his grilled cheese.

Mark looked at Collins and together they broke out into huge smiles.

"Just had lunch and got to know each other a little better." Mark said as he speared a tomato with his fork.

"Nothing big," Collins said nonchalantly. He met Mark's eyes and winked imperceptibly. Mark gave a small, secretive smile in return.

Later that evening, as Mark lay in bed, he recounted the day's events. After dinner, the loft mates had cracked open a new bottle of Stoli for the sole purpose of celebration. Collins re-celebrated his last day of classes, Roger celebrated his new band and Benny celebrated his new job. As Mark raised his glass to announce his celebration, he paused. He hadn't really done anything tremendous today. He had written half of a half-decent screenplay, but without a major studio picking it up it wasn't worth mentioning. He had gotten drunk, but that didn't warrant any revelry. Thinking hard and quick, his mind raced. Then it hit him like an eighteen-wheeler and had been standing right in front of him the entire time: Collins. He had made a great new friend today. So he raised his glass, smiled and very softly said, "To new friendship, old friendship and very old friendship. Here's to a community of friends." Collins, Benny and Roger all smiled and tapped their paper cups against each others.

Lying in bed, Mark smiled. Life was certainly very different now. For the first time in a long time Mark couldn't wait to get up in the morning, early as usual, and start his day all over again.

Post-Epilogue: Time Flies

One year later the loft was the same, except for the addition of Roger's new girlfriend April. While going through his earlier New York City films, Mark would find himself startled to see that he had already met April. She was the redhead with the Roger-like guy that Mark had filmed in Tompkins Square Park on his first afternoon with Collins.

Two years after moving into the loft, Mark knew grief and he knew love. April had killed herself in the bathroom and Roger was going through heroin withdrawal and now infected with HIV. Collins had a new job at MIT and Benny spent more time with his girlfriend Alison Grey than he did at the loft. Love for Mark came in the form of a fiery, spunky brunette Maureen Johnson.

Three years after moving in both Mark and Collins met Angel. Maureen was out of the picture, so Mark used Angel as his new muse. His irrelevant screenplays were discarded for a more relevant documentary about the homeless and those with AIDS. In that same year, the Bohemians lost Angel but they didn't lose Mimi. Roger's brief trip to Santa Fe and his words to Mark weren't forgotten, but all was forgiven. Mark stopped forcing himself to detach from pain and grief and finally confronted years of emotions.

Five years after moving in Roger was without Mimi and Mark was nearly without Roger. After a scary bout of pneumonia, where Mark prayed every night not to lose his best friend Roger pulled through and stopped mourning his beloved Mimi and instead chose to enjoy the life he was given to live.

Eight years after moving in Collins passed. Mark was heartbroken and no matter how hard he tried, there was no way to detach from his emotions. It seemed as if his eyes were filled with a river of never-ending tears. At the funeral he refused to stand close enough to the grave to see the casket and had sat outside the church during the service. His mind told him that Collins was really gone, but his heart refused to believe it. After six months, Roger had yelled at him to go see Collins and Mark had finally gone. He stood in front of the grave and sobbed. It was true. Collins was dead and there was nothing that Mark could do to change that cold, hard fact.

Ten years after moving in, Mark was moving out. His first documentary had won an Academy Award, he was married to the woman of his dreams and she was pregnant with their first child, a baby girl. Alphabet City was no place to raise a baby, so Mark had purchased a beautiful house in Long Island. Roger would be living with them in the guest-house. Mark's wife didn't mind much that her husband was bringing his best friend with them; Roger was her older brother after all.

Thirty-five years after moving into the loft, a date that was engrained in Mark's brain , much like his wedding anniversary and the birthdays of his three daughters, Mark returned to the loft alone. It had been recently vacated and as he moved from room to room he could swear he heard Collins' deep chuckle and the familiar strains of Musetta's Waltz coming from Roger's Fender guitar. Roger was now gone and Mark kept in sporadic touch with Maureen, Joanne and Benny. Memories filled his mind, but the one that wouldn't leave him alone was his memory of waking up in his room and spending that first real day at the loft with Collins.

Mark set a paper bag on the slightly dusty floor and pulled out a bottle of Stoli. Pouring a little into a paper cup he lifted it in the air, looked to the ceiling and said softly, "I miss you all so much. I never stop thinking of you and I'll never forget you. I love you all." Lifting the cup higher he whispered, "Here's to a community of friends."

FIN

Author's Note

Hey readers and writers--

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I want to apologize for the lapse in my writing. I'll try to keep this short, but everyone who reads this, especially my faithful followers, deserve an explanation. I've just got over pneumonia, I had classwork and catching up on classwork, and then finals followed. I'm now on Winter Break (a Happy Be-lated Holidays to all and Happy New Year) and my internet is absolutely terrible here at home. Updates will be few and far between, especially on "A Family Affair" which I assure you I haven't abandoned. I ask for your patience and understanding. I end my litle author's note with a final thank you for reading.

--GenuineAmy