Author's Note: Another one-shot! This time with Anita and Roger. Angst and romance: my favourite combination. Please leave a review!

Anita blew a bubble and caught the scent of mint hanging in the air. She retracted said bubble and chewed what remained of the gum. Roger's bedroom floor cradled her as her textbooks fanned out in front of her. The brown, shag carpet held crumbs from Roger's constant late night snacks and ink blots from his fountain pen he insisted on using, despite the convenience of finding bottles of ink. She reread the first line of her chemistry book, chapter 7 to be specific. How did she ever convince herself to take such an awful class during her final semester?

"Darling, you have gum on your nose."

Anita glanced at her boyfriend. He sat in front of the piano keys, arms crossed with his pipe in his mouth. The thing only blew bubbles, but he kept it around just the same. She watched his brows scrunch up further as he stared at the music sheets. His fountain pen was leaking onto the small piano.

She reached up and picked off the small piece. "Roger," she started then stopped. The blonde boy didn't look up from his work.

"Roger, dear, I need you to do something for me."

The male student grabbed his pen and scribbled something on the piece of paper. Anita swallowed a scream.

"Roger, are you listening?"

"Of course I am, darling."

Anita sat up, tucking her striped legs underneath her. The shoes she wore over, thick wedge heels, rested nearby while Perdita and Pongo napped on the bay window. Roger began to play a few chords.

"I think we should break up."

He kept playing. Anita looked at her dog. The Dalmatian had never been happier since her owner met Pongo's in the park one afternoon during her junior year. Since then, the two humans and animals had been by each other's sides constantly. She practically lived with Roger and he usually spent the weekend, every weekend to be exact, at her house. And yet with all that time spent together, they didn't really spend time together. Anita couldn't remember the last time they shared a kiss that lasted longer than a second. She had trouble recalling the melody for the last song he wrote for her. While music flooded from his veins on a minutely basis, none of it was for her anymore. She sat on his floor day after day and watched him love his music more than he did her. Or that's what she had come to believe at any rate.

The aspiring designer decided late last night that enough was enough. She went into the Friday morning with the intention of coming to grips with their relationships. Either they were together, and they loved each other, or they were done and it was over. For good. When she got to the loft and into Roger's bedroom, she found him at the piano. She received a peck on the cheek, the typical "how's it going" then nothing. She settled with her books on the floor and stewed while Roger wrote another song. He hadn't moved from his piano in two hours.

Anita stood up. Perdita looked up from her perch and watched her owner's movements. The girl grabbed her plaid blazer that she deposited near her shoes and shoved her arms inside. Her high-waist white shorts were pulled down as she straightened her back. Perdita saw Anita put on her shoes and the Dalmatian wriggled her way out from underneath Pongo. The two were halfway to the door when Roger asked where they were going.

"Home," she stated.

"Why?"

"Did you even hear what I said before?" she asked calmly.

Roger opened his mouth then shut it. He shook his head. "I admit I got a little wrapped up in my own thoughts. Come," he motioned, "sit. What did you say? I'm listening now."

Anita dug around in her black clutch purse for her car keys. "That's what you always say, Roger," she sighed. "You just never listen at the right time," she whispered.

Instead of turning back to his music, as she expected him to, the young man turned around in his chair and looked at her, hard. His brow was still furrowed, but she saw in his green eyes concern, possibly even fear. She had never been like this before around him.

"Anita, darling, are you alright?"

She looked up from her purse and glared at him. "I said we should break up and you never said a thing. I'm taking your silence as an agreement."

"What?"

"Were you not listening again?"

His cheeks heated up. "No I just—are you serious?"

Anita nodded. "Very."

"But—why? I thought-"

She sighed. "Roger, I am tired of this."

"Tired of what?"

"Of coming in second to your music."

Roger shook his head. "Anita, I would never-"

"You have Roger, you already have. You just didn't notice."

The young man got out of his seat and with a few quick steps he was standing before her. She willed herself not to crane her neck upward and claim one last kiss from him. She remembered the first time they kissed. There was jazz music, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and Roger's hand clutching hers so tightly she thought it would fall off. How had it come to this?

As he stood there, she suspected he was coming up with some grand speech to convince her to stay. Perhaps a declaration of love or a promise to put away the music. She expected he would try to hold in the tears, save a sliver of his dignity (or what he thought dignity was). He took exhaled. She inhaled.

"Please don't go," he whispered with a glisten of tears in his eyes.

Anita bit her lip, holding in the sob. She wanted to yell at him, but she couldn't muster the harshness. "My world does not end without you, Roger. I'm going to Parsons in the fall and there will be so many things I do in my life that do not need you." She shook her head. "But there are pieces of my life that you made brighter and I don't want to let those go. I don't want to live without hearing your music, Roger. But I'm tired of you only playing it for yourself."

She placed her hand on the doorknob and she felt his reach out and clutch hers. "All the songs I play are you for, Anita. They always have been since that day in the park. Haven't you heard it?" He tugged her away from the door and led her back to the piano. Roger sat down and gently guided Anita onto his lap. He reached forward and started to play.

"This was for that coffee shop date, our first one. Do you remember?"

Anita nodded as she clasped the bag tighter in her hands. He played many songs and by the time he was done, she was curled up on his lap with tears running down onto her lap.

"This is our love story. No one can take this away, not even God," he murmured against her caramel, pageboy hair.

"What if we stop loving each other one day? We're only seventeen. Things change. Our hearts-"

"My heart has been telling me that if I let you walk out of my life that will be the single greatest mistake of my existence." He stared at her. "My heart memorizes every smile, every sigh, every whisper exchanged between lines in a movie, and it won't let me stop loving you."

Anita nodded. She turned in his lap and placed her hands gently on his cheeks. "Then when you kiss me, don't you ever forget what you just told me," she whispered before kissing him hard. She felt their teeth clink together but masked the brief pain with a sigh as Roger's one hand pressed against her lower back while the other weaved through her hair.

The clock ticked on behind them and she heard the clang it made when it was nearing lunch. Pongo barked and Perdita whimpered. It was time for their walk. Roger appeared to be ignoring the Dalmatians. Anita smirked.

Perdita went over and nuzzled Anita's back. The young girl, both arms presently clasped around Roger's neck, jumped at the unexpected touch. His laugh echoed in her brain and as she took a brief breath she felt like she was swallowing his joy and it made her laugh too. When they pulled apart, she looked out the window to see it raining.

"Soup?" she asked.

He nodded. "Snakes and Ladders?"

She agreed as she slid off his lap. She took his hand in his and together they descended to his kitchen with the dogs trailing behind.