(Post April, midst of withdrawal, 4 months post last chapter)
"Shh Roger, It's all right, It'll be alright"
"April?"
"No It's Mark."
"Mark, It hurts" He winced. But what could he do? He wasn't capable of simply dismissing the excruciating pains of withdrawal. He was not the one causing it, nor was he the one with the power to halt it, or the ability to over throw it. And if he could trade his place, take the pain from Roger and endure it for himself.
He would in a heart beat.
"I know Roger, I know, you'll be alright" He pulled the man closer, melding his arms firmly around their familiar and proper place . The others sweat rapidly began to soak through his shirt, the violent tremors causing his own arms to shake .
"Mark" He's sobbing now, his thin frame shaking with the effort. Yet it's a dry sob, tears only falling as a result of his wrenching body, not a manifest of inner tragedy and heart ache.
"I'm going to go get you some more blankets, alright ?" He wanted it too bad. He needed to get away.
"Don't leave me"
"Roger you're shaking incredibly hard, I'm getting you blankets. I'll be right back. I promise"
"She promised too" Desperation. Fear
" I'm not her"
Selfish bastard
He was selfish fucking ass hole and he knew it.
Hypocrite.
He reached into the cupboard and pulled out the bottle of scotch.
Liar
He drank an amount that would conventionally leave ones senses hinder, yet under the circumstance your body had become immune to large and frequent amounts of alcohol assumption, could remain ineffective.
Under the circumstance you were an alcoholic
Addict
His own desperate need for another drink subsided, and he figured drinking a little over half the bottle as he just had would leave him satisfied long enough to tend to Roger.
Bastard
He replaced the bottle
Hypofuckingcrite
Grabbed blankets
You don't fucking deserve to be alive
And returned to Roger, who had remained in this state of withdrawal long enough to miss Mark's addiction.
He held and consoled the other just as he had for a month now
He made empty promises to soothe
He cried a little
Because he knew
For hope, just as promises, can be hallow
And he still wanted it
And yet, this time he couldn't get away
And as he looked at Roger, so vulnerable and desperate, a contrast to his commonly angry and violent self, the lack of lights and bills pilling up, the empty loft, all past inhabitants abandoning them, just as the world tended to do. Why was it always them forgotten ? Condemned ?
The want transitioned into a need.
And he found himself atop the shaking figure
Discarding garments as rapidly as he was capable
Because this, he actually had control over
"Mark?" like a small child
"Shhh" He rubbed the inside of the vulnerable ones thigh, groped at him through his sweat laden pajama pants. "Its alright, its just me"
"Mark , I.. I'm cold"
"Shhh its alright" He entered him slowly, a forceful air present " You'll be alright"
He began to pump. Hard
"Mark, it hurts" and really, he was referring to the withdrawal pains, and the sexual ones being forced upon him. Yet he was oblivious to what was happening. Simply knew it hurt.
"I know Roger, it'll get better, trust me. Its just me, Mark"
"It hurts Mark"
"It'll get better. I promise"
Silence, He pumped harder
"Please Mark make it stop, let me have a hit, make it stop. Please"
"I can't let you. It'll get better Roger"
Silence
"Mark, please"
Silence
"Mark, I thought you loved me"
.