April Fool's Day|(Mark/Rog) FINISHED

[ROGER DAVIS]

Maybe it was the time of year. It didn't help that it was raining outside. It was April 1st, and everyone that knew Roger Davis knew what April 1st was. It wasn't like the rest of the world, where people pranked each other endlessly. No one dared to touch Roger on April 1st.

"Okay, I don't know if I'm working this right. Shit, is this on? Okay, it's on." a voice much like his own, except younger sounding (it almost sounded alien to his ears for a moment) came from the projector as the image was spayed across the canvas screen. A pretty red-head came into view, rolling her eyes and smiling. The disembodied voice came out once more. "Okay, so this is April 1st, 1986, ten-fifty two in the morning. Close on this completely sexy chick right here. Hey, baby. Say Hi."

"Roger, put it down! I look like complete shit! Roger! Turn it off!"

"You look the best in the morning, April Showers. Your hair's all messed up and shit, it looks hot--"

Roger felt a slight smirk cross his face as he brought the cigarette up to his lips, curling his arms around his knees as he stared at the screen. The owner of the disembodied voice came into view, his cheek pressed against the red-heads. Roger realised that he looked so much younger then, even though it had only been...what, three years ago? Four? He looked so much younger; his smile was wide and bright. Eyes wide and full of life. Sure, he had times where he looked like that now, but every time he looked in the mirror, it seemed like the life was slowly being sucked out of him minute by minute. As if a little piece of his soul was floating away at every moment.

"Okay, seriously. So I've stolen Mark's camera, gentle viewers, to make a little video for my super awesome girlfriend. And...and I just wanna say that I think I love this girl more than any other girl I've ever been with. I love her more than life itself. She's never going to leave me."The redhead turned, wrapping her arms around the blonde's neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. Then, a voice came from the background. "Yo, Mark! Roger's filmin' porn on your camera again!

"Shut the fuck up, Collins! We're not filming porn, you ass! But now that you say it." Roger watched as a smirk appeared on the face of himself on the projector. "Baby, get naked. The sound of Mark's voice came onto the screen, proclaiming that Roger was going to break his camera and he'd kick his ass if he used any of his film for filming home-made porn. April squeeled and jerked out of bed, Roger followed quickly, laughing wildly, the camera now held by Mark. "Like a buncha kids." the voice of Mark muttered.

The projector shuttered to a stop, the reel of film ending, and Roger moved, standing up to place another reel onto the projector. He didn't even glance at what he was picking up, but shoved it onto the wheel, loaded it and started it up. The picture shuttered and cracked for a few moments, until a large, looming church filled the frame. Blinking, Roger moved, sitting back down, his eyes glued to the screen. Flash, and a shot of a empty room. Flash, the shot of a bathroom. Flash, the shot of a headstone. The sound of his singing filled the room, the sound lowered slightly, and Roger felt himself lay down on the couch, hugging the pillow. April's voice filled the room as her face lit up the screen. "What do I like about Roger? I've already--Roger, I've already told you what I like about you! I'm not blowing your ego up anymore!" The voice of Mark asked her what she liked about him again, and April rolled her eyes. "I like it when he sings. I like that he can make me smile. I like the fact that I know I'm going to be with him until the day I die."

Flash.

"Just turn the camera off, man. I don't want to be on camera right now, okay? The voice sounded like his own, but sick and strained, cracky with tears and heartache. Flash. A bed, with a giant lump in the middle. The lump shifted, twisted and turned on the bed until blonde hair poked up from the top of the blankets. "I'm gonna die." The voice sounded extremely sick, and Roger felt himself look down, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. A sigh escaped Roger's lips as he rolled onto his back, looking away from the projector as he heard footsteps shuffle out into the Loft's living room. Lifting his head, Roger saw Mark's thin frame, and he felt himself scoff slightly, unsure of whether he wanted to talk about it with Mark. Unsure if he wanted to talk about the pain. About the longing and loss. April's voice came out of the projector once more.

"Yes! Yes, this is my birthday! This is my birthday--""

"Girl, this is your birthday and the 'April's not pregnant and Roger's not screwed' party, get it right!"

[markcohen]

April 1st. Mark knew what April 1st was. And he knew that Roger wanted nothing more than to be alone. So what did he do when he got up early in the morning? After getting dressed and eating a stale breakfast, Mark went out for a long bike ride. He didn't care that it was raining; he needed some good gray shots for his latest short film.

And there was no way in hell he wanted to see Roger in the morning.

Once he was soaked to the bone and when his camera's juice ran out, he dutifully made his way back to the Loft. Mark stomped loudly up the first flight of stairs, cringing at the squeaking from his shoes and the unbelievably gross feeling of the rain water in his socks.

Then, he paused at the start of the second flight. The hum of the projector was unmistakable, and a feeling of dread filled his stomach. What was Roger doing? Mark blinked in surprise when he heard her voice.

He carefully made his way up the last flight of stairs and padded quietly into the Loft and removed his soaking coat and scarf, waiting patiently for the reel to finish. Mark heaved a sigh when Roger looked at him. He crossed his arms over his skinny chest and spoke quietly over the film.

"What are you doing?"

[ROGER DAVIS]

What are you doing?

"Getting drunk."

The words were said simply enough, and he lifted the bottle of Stoli up for Mark to view before he took another long swig of the clear liquid. A breath escaped his lips as he winced, feeling the seering liquid hit the bottom of his empty stomach. "I didn't even know you had all of these." Sure, he had came to the Loft to get away from Mimi, because...well, Mimi wouldn't understand. Sure, she said she understood. Understood that he needed a day...but Roger couldn't be around her today. It hurt even to be walking around on the planet whenever the day came about, let alone to be around anyone. "It's still raining?" Roger asked, though the sound of thunderclap overhead confirmed Roger's statement. "In three years, I don't think it's ever not rained on her birthday." Collins had said once that he thought April was crying because she couldn't be down here. Roger had dismissed it, but then, the years passed again and the rain continued to come. Maybe she was crying. Maybe she missed everything. April was currently on the screen, laughing wildly at something that Collins had said, and Roger stood up, bottle in hand, and moved to turn off the projector, cutting her laugh off sharply. The Loft was left in silence again.

"I'm sorry, man. I just--I came up here to get rid of Mimi. Saw you had the projector up again. Just thought I'd go through a few old movies and...and I found all this." Roger lifted up his shoulder in a slight shrug. "Mimi said she'd even take today off for me. I told her we needed the money, so she went. How do I tell her that I can't stand to be around her today?" Roger asked, looking over at his best friend.

It wasn't as hard to be around Mark, though it still hurt; April had been close with Mark, too. Mark was Roger's best friend. Mark had been there, wide-eyed and shocked when Roger's scream had cut through the Loft early that morning. Mark had been sitting next to him in the pews at the church. Mark had taken his drugs away. "I just--" Roger felt his head shake slightly, and he pressed his head against he back of the worn and dirty couch. "I'm waiting for this to get better. It's been two years. I'm--I'm fine, most of the time. I'm perfect with Mimi and then...and then this comes around and I just lose it. It doesn't help that it's fucking pouring outside." Roger muttered, bringing a hand up to press his fingers into his eyes for a brief moment.

But he couldn't talk about it anymore. "Um, did you film anything good?" Roger asked, trying to change the subject quickly so he didn't have to talk about it. "Sunny said she saw some chick the other day down in Tompkins, stripped down to her underwear. She was dancing in the fountain. Says she's been doing it every day for a week. Y'see her, or did she get arrested?"

[markcohen]

Mark snorted, "Of course you are." He rolled his eyes at the bottle of Stoli, "I'm amazed that thing has lasted this long." He nearly stepped back at Roger's words, "Yeah... well, my film is my business. There's a lot of good shots there." He stated firmly, if not a little defensively. So that wasn't totally the truth. He'd kept the footage this entire time because it was some of the few tapes he had of April. She had seldom allowed herself to be filmed.

Mark's face pulled into a frown as he wandered over to the 'kitchen' cupboard to pull out a coffee mug, "You should be honest with her. As much as you don't believe it, Mimi understands. You can't wait around for me every time you need to talk about April." He sighed deeply; of course the mug was cracked and had a bunch of weird crap at the bottom. His eyes dropped down to the coffee pot, and Mark groaned. And of course, there was no coffee left.

"Yeah, we should make a complaint. Ask them to take away the month of April all together." He meant for it to be a joke, but then realized moments later Roger wouldn't want to be joked with today. Mark cringed.

He leaned against the counter and pulled off his rain spattered glasses to clean them on his shirt, "I got some dramatic shots. Didn't see the fountain dancer, but I could always ask Maureen to reenact it. Sounds like something she would do." Mark chuckled.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"I'm nursing it." Roger stated at Mark's comment that the bottle of Stoli had lasted as long as it had. "As much as I'd like to be completely and utterly incapacitated, I'd like to not wake up with a hangover from hell." Although, today was shaping up to be a one-way path to a hangover. "Or maybe I do. Working on my first bottle."

When Mark spoke of film being his buisness, he nodded, hearing the man's slightly defensive tone. "I know she didn't like to be filmed, Mark. She said she heard once about that saying, that if like, you take a picture of someone it takes a peice of their soul, or something." Roger lifted his shoulder slightly. "I didn't mind because I didn't think that one day, they'd be the only thing I had left of her. Maybe it did take a peice of her soul. Just...really slowly until there was nothing left but a shell."

When Mark spoke of Mimi, Roger felt a sigh escape his lips. "I don't wait around for you. I'm somewhere, and you're usually always around." That was the truth; it had been something that Roger had learned quickly; he and Mark were probably the hardest to seperate out of all the Loftmates. "I can't talk to her about it. I can't talk to my girlfriend about my ex girlfriend who won't leave me alone. I can't tell her that even after two years, and even though I'm completely and utterly in love with her, I still am--" Roger felt himself sigh out. "I'm still in love with April. I'm in love with a girl who was a selfish bitch. You want to tell me how I can tell that to Mimi and make it sound decent enough that she wont kick my ass out?" When Mark spoke of removing April all together, Roger laughed mirthlessly. "Believe me. If I could, I would."

Maureen was brought up, and Roger arched an eyebrow, lifting the bottle up to his lips as he took a gulp of the liquid. "Maureen naked in a fountain? I'm down. Or, you know, up." Roger lifted a shoulder in a shrug and moved to light a cigarette, holding out the bottle.

"You're out of coffee. Mimi's got some upstairs if you don't mind spanish roast."

[markcohen]

"Stop on on your first bottle," Mark said firmly, "Cause if you continue, Collins'll come over cause he smells liquor, and Maureen will come over because she's bored. All three of you will get hammered, and I'll have to clean up. It's always me."

Mark blinked rapidly and didn't say anything for a few moments.

A clap of thunder covered up Mark's groan of frustration.The few lights in the room flickered, meaning the power was going to go out at any moment.

He wasn't going to say it out loud, but he was getting sick and tired of being Roger's rock. Yes, they were best friends, but why was it always him that had to bear the brunt force of Roger's problems? "It's hard being your friend sometimes, Rog." He muttered, pulling himself away from the counter and marching towards his room so he could change his socks. No way was he walking around this place barefoot while it was still cold out. He couldn't risk getting sick. Because if he got sick, it was most likely Roger would get sick. And Roger couldn't get sick.

Mark's shoulders shot up at Roger's next words, and he turned to face the Rocker, "You... You--" He started meekly, "Your just like me with Maureen." He finally said, and was unable to continue.

He shuffled to his door, scoffing quietly when Roger spoke of Maureen, "Your hot for my lesbian ex. Nice," Of course, now that he thought about it, Maureen in a fountain- all wet- was a nice image... Mark gulped loudly and shook himself and bolted into his room before Roger could see what that image had caused.

He stepped back out a few moments later, pulling a fresh sweater over his head, "Yeah, thanks for that diagnosis; I know I'm out of coffee, though I had plenty this morning when I left." He put a lot of implication in his words, and stared at Roger pointedly.

"Hm, spanish roast... You know if it's any good?"

[ROGER DAVIS]

"It's always you, because you never wanted to drink with us." Sure, he had gotten Mark drunk many times, but it had usually always been Roger, Collins and Maureen who were always willing to toss back a shot or ten, and Mark was always the one willing to be behind the camera to record the alcohol's effects. "We're not alcoholics, Mark. We don't need to drink. We choose to. Alot." To further the absurdity of the statement, Roger took a swig from the bottle in his hands. "Besides, you've got yourself some good blackmail with those reels."

Mark spoke of how hard it was to be Roger's friend, and Roger knew that the man wasn't wrong. Roger had made it so hard to stay friends; he was wondering why the group stayed around him. Was it from pity? "I don't--" Roger started, but he noticed that Mark walked to his room, and a sigh escaped his lips. When Mark returned, Roger looked over at Mark. "Dude, I--I know I don't make it easy on you." he said finally. "I know I havn't made--I'm a dick, okay? I know I'm a dick. I'm selfish prick, but...but even though it doesn't seem like I'm thankful, I am. Even when I said I hated your guts and I didn't ever want to see you again. I was thankful." Roger remembered when he had been kicking heroin, sobbing and shaking and curled up in a blanket in the middle of the bed that seemed too large for him, he had told Mark that he hated him. That he wished he never met him. He had spat the most hateful things at the filmmaker, because Mark had, for lack of a better way of explaining it, released the demon inside of Roger.

When Roger spoke of Maureen, Roger felt himself look down. "Maureen's not like April, dude. Maureen's a good girl. She's just horny as hell. Yeah, it's fucked up what she did...but she's still around." Though, Roger's words could have been taken the wrong way, he realised, and he continued. "But I get what you're saying."

When Mark stated that he was hot for his lesbian ex, Roger felt a small smirk cross his face. "Dude, I have a dick. I'm hot for most girls. Now, the fact that your girl just happens to be a smoking hot chick that just decided she likes to eat out every night? That just made it ten times better." Roger told him surely, though he continued. "But yes, I will say that Maureen Johnson is a hot peice of ass, and well done, sir, for snagging her." He paused, and shook his head. "Dude, I know she still loves you, she's told me that she does. For some reason, your skinny little ass makes an impression. But for some reason, she likes Joanne, too. I mean, Joanne's a sweet girl...but well, I wasn't that shocked that Maureen decided to go the way of the carpet layers, because...well, shit, man. The girl loves to fuck. Why not try the other side?"

When Mark asked about the coffee, Roger shrugged, ignoring the pointed look that Mark gave him about the coffee. "It cheap shit, so it tastes like cheap shit. But it's got some sort of like...different flavour. It's not Starbucks, but it isn't the shittest coffee in the world."

[markcohen]

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Roger down the contents of the bottle, "Your stomach must be a bottomless pit," Mark viewed sarcastically, "And your probably going to throw up later. Have you even eaten yet today?"

A grin formed on his face, "Blackmail that I will use eventually..."

Mark sighed deeply and ran a hand through his still-wet hair, feeling kind of guilty for what he said "C'mon Roger... Your still a good friend. The amount of times I would have gotten my ass kicked without you around." He chuckled dryly, "Granted, half of the time, it was you doing the ass-kicking." This was Mark's way of evasively bringing up the withdrawal days. Those were horrible, and tested their friendship on one too many levels. Mark would rather just shrug them off as a bad dream. That lasted way too long.

He walked over to the couch and plunked himself down next to Roger, his blue eyes wide, "You don't get it. Maureen ripped my heart out the same way April ripped out yours. The difference is, I still have to see her everyday." He winced. Mark didn't like saying any of this openly, but it was starting to feel like he was about to suffer from a bad case of word-vomit.

Mark groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands when Roger went on about Maureen, "Ugh! Just shut up now, please!" He pulled off his glasses and rubbed furiously at his eyes, trying to erase the X-rated film that was still running through his mind, starring a certain Diva...

He then pulled his hands away, "Mimi's hot too." He offered meekly, but meaning every word. A sly grin formed on Mark's face, "She even said I was adorable once. Like a puppy." He was used to being called words like that. The only cutsie word he couldn't stand was Pookie.

"Starbucks is disgusting. I'd rather take that crap any day."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"My stomach's always been a bottomless pit. Alcohol and food both." Roger didn't mention the obveious, that he could eat everything under the sun and the disease that he had would never allow him to gain weight. When Mark asked if he had eaten, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother." Roger said, though it was a lie. He hadn't eaten because there hadn't been anything more int he fridge than coffee, and nothing really sounded good to eat.

Mark plunked himself down and stated that he was still a good friend. Roger looked over at him and sighed slightly. "You were always the kid that got beat up in school. I always had to threaten to hit kids in the face with my guitar just to get them to leave you alone." Though the truth was, Roger wasn't much of a fighter, at least physically. Roger fought with his words, which were just as cutting as any knifeblade. Mark subtly reminded him of that, and Roger looked down, nodding slightly as he played with a frayed edge of his sweatpants. "Yeah. I was, wasn't I?"

He spoke of Maureen, and Roger felt a breath escape his lips. "...not gonna lie to you, dude, but...for some reason, I totally would think it would hurt less if she was still walking around. 'Cause at least I'd have gotten to find out why."

When Mark groaned out, pressing his fingers into his eyes, Roger rolled his eyes. "Dude, I've been saying this for a long time. Get her over here, get her alone, and fuck her. If you're really still that hung up on her, then just do it already. Stop being a pussy about it. Invite her over or something. Hey! I'll invite her over! We can have a party! Yeah, we can have a party, and we'll invite her over. I'll get her a little tipsy, you take her into the bedroom to show her like, pictures or whatever the hell you want to show her, and then bam. Make your move." Roger shrugged slightly. "She's always more horny when she's buzzed." Roger said offhandedly, but he realised then that he wasn't sure if Mark would wonder how Roger knew that for a fact.

"Dude, Mimi called you a puppy?" Roger asked, an actual smirk coming to his face. "How adorable. It's because you are adorable like a puppy. Like one of those puppies you see in the window with those big bows around their neck. Except yours is that damn scarf you wear."

"And thank you, I know Mimi is hot. It's the problem that every other guy with money in Alphabet City thinks my girl looks good when she grinds." Roger felt a sigh escape her lips. "She knows I don't like it. I-I mean, it's not that I don't like it. 'Cause I mean, strippers are cool. But I'm not cool with every guy in ABC jerking off to my girl at night. Or in the bathroom. Or shit, even right there on the club floor." Roger felt himself shutter at the thought of some random guy pleasuring himself to Mimi. "I'm sure if she saw some dude playin' with his dick in front of her, she'd probably rip it off. That's why I love her."

[markcohen]

“Yeah, okay Mister If-I-Eat-Too-Much-It’ll-All-Go-To-My-Thighs-And-Then-I’ll-Get-Fat.” Mark paused, “Just... remember what the Doctor said; you can’t take your meds on an empty stomach. It’s not good for you.” He squinted at him, “You have been taking your AZT, haven’t you?”

Mark snorted, “Like you would risk your guitar for my face.” The lighting flickered again. “Damn... if the heating goes, we’re dead.” There was still a heavy downpour outside, and it sounded as if the roof was leaking. Drop...drop...drop... “Your lucky you live on a lower floor now, Rog.”

He shook his head, “I don’t... really think it would help. April had always been good at keeping things to herself, remember?” He muttered, “I still don’t really know why. We had been dating since we were seventeen, and then she just decides that she like women one day? I mean, I know I couldn’t give her all the attention she wanted during the last couple of months, but I was taking care of you. If she was a good girlfriend, shouldn’t she have understood that I couldn’t leave you alone?”

Mark pressed his lips together tightly. Though Roger’s plans weren’t always fool-proof, he knew Maureen would probably have no problem giving him some- which would be great- but there was that one little problem... “What about Joanne?” He demanded desperately, “She’s my friend and she trusts me. Plus, I think she got Maureen tagged so that she always knows where she is.” Then, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, “And how do you know when Maureen get’s really horny?” Oh crap, was it what he suspected all along? Did Maureen cheat on him with Roger? “Did you have sex with her?!”

“Yes, she did. And you think I’m adorable?” He snickered, “Gee, thanks Rog; you know I’ve always thought you were sexy.”

“Don’t diss the scarf!” Mark snapped hotly, “You bought it for me, remember? For my bar mitzvah.” He chuckled as he remembered that day, “That had to be the most bizarre party I’ve ever had. Both Cindy and my Mom came on to you,” He shuddered, “I was surprised you still agreed to be friends with me after that.”

“Mimi’s serious about her job, and she’s serious about you. You just get jealous way too easy, and we all hate that.” Mark paused, his face flushing for a moment, “Though she did offer me a lap-dance for my next birthday. I probably won’t take it, though!” He added quickly.

[ROGER DAVIS]

As Mark asked about the AZT, Roger's beeper made a loud, shrilling beep, over and over again to once again remind Roger about the things he truely wanted to forget. "Yeah, man, I have." Roger said, moving to grab his jacket from the back of the couch. Digging into the pocket, he pulled out the bottle, depensing one pill and washing it down with a swig of Vodka. "Done."

Well, if that wasn't the mood-breaker, Roger wasn't sure what was. A thunderclap sounded overhead, and Roger looked up towards the ceiling as he saw the lights flicker. "The rain doesn't look like it's gonna let up any time soon. And it's fuckin' cold outside." The sound of water dripping made him frown, and he glanced up at the broken skylight that they had tried to repair over and over again. He saw a small puddle of water on the ground over by the edge of where the skylight ended. "Shit, we gotta leak." Roger said, moving to stand up and walk to the kitchen, grabbing a big pot. He placed it underneath the water, watching as it dripped into it. "Yeah, Mimi's ceiling still leaks, too, dude."

All while Roger was doing this, Mark spoke of Maureen and April. "Dude, I'm sorry about that. Breakin' you up like that. Everyone dealt with that shit in different ways. I dealt with it by almost dying and being a dick, Benny dealt with it by pretending it didn't happen and moving in with Muffy, Collins got stoned, you did what you did and Maureen decided she wanted to fuck someone." They all dealt with grief in a different way. "But I know I didn't help. So...you know...sorry."

Joanne. Oh, yeah. "Um...well, yeah, dude. Y'got yourself a cock-block there, don't you? I don't know, dude. And c'mon, she doesn't have Maureen tagged. Maureen wouldn't let herself be tagged, you know that." Then, Mark brought up something that Roger was hoping he wouldn't realise. "...dude, we lived together for like, ever. I know everything about everyone. I know things I shouldn't know." Like what turned Collins on and how loud Benny was when he was getting fucked.

"I do think you're adorable." Roger replied with a nod. "And I know. I think I'm sexy, too." However, Mark's mood quickly turned hot at the mention of the scarf and the way Mark had came about it. "Okay, dude, yes, I remember I bought you that scarf. And that bar mitzvah was the best damn party that I've ever been too. Not enough alcohol, though. And your sister came onto me because I told her she had a nice ass. Your mom came onto me because..." he paused, and then shrugged. "I got a way with older women." he said finally, the answer satisfying him. "But dude, if your grandma didn't leave me alone telling me how adorable I was, I was gonna scream. And your aunt wouldn't stop pinching my cheeks and telling me how cute of a little boy I was." he paused, and looked at Mark honestly. "Your grandpa hated me, though. Probably he was all pissed off because I could have easily gotten lucky that night if I played my cards right with everyone."

"I'm telling you this only once." Roger said seriously, looking over at Mark as if he was going to tell him the secrets of the universe. "Take. A lapdance. From my girlfriend. I won't be mad! Take it! It's the best birthday present you'll ever get!"

Then, the question came.

"...dude, what?! Me!? Have sex. With...With Maureen?"

Mark wouldn't let it go. Roger knew that for a fact, and Roger fell silent for a moment, and then moved, sitting up on his knees on the couch. "Okay, dude, before you get all like...insane and start turning green and shit, let me explain. It was like, New Years Eve, dude, like ten years And--And I don't even really remember it, so--so it doesn't count! And you...sorta weren't really dating at the time, at least I don't think so. And there was drink involved. Lots and lots of drink." Roger said, nodding as if that would take all of the blame. "I don't remember coming. At all. I passed out. Dude, c'mon, don't look at me like that."

[markcohen]

"Don't take it with liquor!!!" Mark shouted hoarsely, "Honestly, was I the only one that paid attention at all of those meetings with the Doctor?!" He demanded in an exasperated tone.

"I have a leak," He corrected, "You don't live here anymore, remember? Though it still seems like you do sometimes." He added, nodding towards the familiar Roger-Mess strewn across the Loft.

Mark watched as Roger fixed the mess for the moment, "That has to be the most cleaning you've ever done around here." He noted with some amusement. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, "You were kind of there the day of the break up. It was one of your better days, and it meant a lot. I knew how hard it was for you to try and be nice to me, when all you really wanted to do was... get out." The last part of his sentence was finished awkwardly.

"And I know way too many things about you than I would like to know," He responded tartly, and he was going to leave it at that. Mark had so much dirt on the Rocker, it wasn't even funny.

But the dirt was.

" Ah yes, Monsieur Conceited." Mark muttered, " And I use french cos' you're an ass."

He laughed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief " Really? My bat mitzvah was better then all the parties at the Life? And of course thee was no alcohol; we were thirteen!" He paused, a look of utter horror on his face. " You told Cindy... My Mom?!...Gammy?" He was sputtering, " Jeez Roger. Who in my family have you not...infected?" It was the only proper word he could think of. " Well of course Grandpa hated you. They all used to think you were going to corrupt me. And he thought we were gay together." He frowned.

" Okay..." Mark answered timidly, though he was suddenly dancing on the inside.

Mark had been contemplating how to ask Mimi about his lapdance when Roger's words jarred his brain, forever altering his universe. His face twitched with a combination of disbelief and fury as he looked at his best friend.

He began to feel increasingly numb, almost dead really, and he found himself saying into his lap in a tight, strained voice, " Don't worry about it Roger. It's in the past. Not like I can do anything about it now." Mark breathed deeply, staring at his hands, which were clenched into fists.

[ROGER DAVIS]

When Mark shouted and demanded Roger to answer whether he payed attention, he frowned. "God! I payed attention! They told me I'm dying. They told me that taking these pills could give me, what, one or two extra years if I'm lucky. A whole five-hundred twenty-five thousand six-hundred minutes." Roger snapped, though he instantly regretted his words. A sigh escaped his lips. "Look, I'm sorry. I did pay attention. And I guess, since we're in the mood to prove that I didn't pay attention, no, I havn't eaten anything. Wait. I had a half a peice of bread 'cause the other side was moldy as hell." Another sigh escaped his lips, and he looked over at Mark. "Let's order food. Or go get food. I have a few bucks; that way, I can pacify your need to make sure I'm still walking around, and I can pacify my insistance for you to stop." Though, secretly, Roger knew that Mark kept on him because he truely did care, and that meant something to the Rocker.

At Mark's statement that he'd done more cleaning than he had ever seen, Roger frowned. "Hey! Blow me, film-boy. I clean! Sometimes. You remember that time I cleaned the entire Loft? I cleaned. You guys were fucking shocked." Though, Roger remembered it had been because he had been on intense Cocaine high and he had to do something or he was going to explode. However, Roger felt himself swallow slightly at the mention of the break up. "I sorta remember that day." It had been one of the rare days that Roger had been both coherent and willing to venture out of his room.

"Monsieur Conceited, my ass. It's not an ego trip if it's true!" Roger replied, and then found himself chuckling slightly. "Dude, okay, the Hebrew was like, wicked boring. I almost fell asleep until your Dad hit me on the back of the head and told me if I shamed him in the Synagogue he'd have it in for me. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't a Jew so it didn't matter, but he did look like he could kill me at that moment, so I shut up. But seriously, I was 13 and was Jew-ing it up! There was even cake and shit! And I really thought your uncle was gonna drop your ass from that chair." When Mark asked, mouth hung open at who he hadn't infected, Roger felt himself smirk slightly. "I almost got a date with your cousin. Thirteen years old and I was working that room." Roger said, standing up to grab the ashtray from the small coffee table that was held up by milk crates. "And dude, everyone still thinks we're gay together, times havn't changed. And if it makes you feel better, you're the only one I'd want to be mistaken for gay with anyway." Roger said, lighting the cigarette.

However, he could see that his words had affected the filmmaker, and Roger felt himself paused, taking in a drag of his cigarette. "She was gone the next morning, Mark. Back in bed with you. She loved you." He felt himself paused.

"C'mon. Let's go out in that shit and I'll buy you some food and you can tell me how much of a dick I am. I won't even stop you."

[markcohen]

((OOC: Sorry if this post doesn't make much sense. I'm dead beat at the moment.))

Mark stared at Roger cooly, his glasses flashing, “I pester cos’ I care. You know that; you make fun of me for that. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you dying any earlier than... Okay, wrong choice of words.” Mark cringed, and then sighed. “I need to get some more food soon. Especially if your gonna clean me out,” he added dryly.

“Fine, let’s go to the Life. The waiter probably won’t cry this time because it’s just the two of us.”

Mark grimaced at Roger’s choice of words, “I’d rather not. And besides, if I remember correctly, you were on a major high when you cleaned. You destroyed the entire place with Collins two minutes later.” He paused, his brow furrowed, “And Benny and I had to clean up after you both. Well, more me than anything, really. Benny was off fucking the Westport Grays. Yuppie Scum...” He added under his breath. Mark laughed dryly when Roger said he remembered that day, “So you remember you just kept telling me that I was going to miss the sex the most.” A sigh escaped his lips, “You were right...”

“You were... Jew-ing it up...” Mark repeated slowly, shaking his head, “That’s really something Roger. You find Jewish tradition entertaining, which is more than I can say about other people, that’s for sure.” He scoffed at Roger’s smirk, “Nice. I assume your talking about cousin Lucy; you know, the one with the braces and the uni-brow. She couldn’t stop stalking you for days after that!” Mark sniggered at the memory.

He watched as Roger lit the cigarette, trying not to look too repulsed, “Well, I’m already single, and if Mimi doesn’t work out...” He paused and shuddered, “Nevermind, it’d be too weird to be... be with you.” Mark gritted his teeth, “Gah! Mental image!” No one could still really understand why the two men were so close. Hell, Mark himself still had no idea. They just had a weird connection no one could figure out. The filmmaker and the songwriter, the rocker and the nerd, the confident and the timid... it just didn’t fit.

But apparently it did.

He took a deep breath, trying his hardest not to look at Roger,“She was... with you all night though...” Mark said in a clipped tone, trying to use as few syllables as possible, “You fucked her because you were both drunk or because you just wanted to? Is that right, Roger? You just wanted to fuck my girlfriend?” He sighed angrily, ignoring Roger’s suggestion. “I should have known...” He muttered, furious at himself. But he wasn't going to let it get to him. He was just going to bury it with everything else. It was the simplest thing to do.

He looked up, a tight, ironic-looking grin on his face “You can go without me. I don’t give a damn. I’m just gonna stay here... and film. Besides, it's April's birthday; you should do something alone to make youself feel better.” Okay, so Mark knew that was the wrong thing to say. Though Roger would never admit it, he wouldn't want to be alone today. Just in case.

[ROGER DAVIS]

((OOC: It was perfect! XD ))

"I know you do." Roger found himself mumbling, looking down at his lap as Mark stated that he pestered him because he cared. Mark always cared. Cared too much sometimes, because Roger didn't deserve it. When Mark mentioned dying any earlier, Roger's eyes glanced up towards the filmmaker before looking back down at his lap. "It's okay, dude. You can say it." However, when Mark stated that he was going to clean him out, Roger smirked. "Dude, I always replace what I eat, you know that." At Mark's suggestion of the Life, Roger felt himself nod. "If the waiter says anything, he can kiss my ass. I can't help if he gets all offended when we come. And okay, so we got up on the table once." Roger said, as if it was the silliest suggestion that the group was trouble. "...and okay, yeah, Maureen did her 'When Harry Met Sally' Deli scene rendition. Or when April decided she wanted to blow--look, it's all random freak occurrences." Roger told Mark with a wave of his hand. "Random. They need to lighten up."

"Oh yes, Mark. Your uni-browed cousin with the braces just got me all hot and bothered, you don't even know." Roger said, trying to hold the seriousness in his voice before he smirked, sucking in a drag from his cigarette. "No, man. It was your older cousin. The 15 year old. What was her name? Wendy? God, perfect ass. I seriously didn't even know all about sex back then, but looking back, she could have ridden anyone like a triple-crown jockey." He paused, and looked at Mark thoughtfully. "What ever happened to her, anyway? She's probably got kids and shit now, huh?"

When Mark mentioned Mimi not working out, Roger felt a snort escape as he brought a hand up to stifle it. "Oh ew! You got an image!" Roger said, a amused, yet hilariously disgusted look crossing his face as his tongue moved between his teeth. "You know I love you, Mark. With like, everything I am...except my penis. Sorry." Roger felt himself laugh to himself as he shook his head, moving to suck in another drag. He paused, watching the cherry end burn down the stick. "Seriously, though. If Mimi doesn't work out, I'm giving it up. I don't think I could do all of this again. This heartache and happiness and then more heartache. I don't think I have it in me to do it again if this ends up not panning out in the end."

Then, the mood turned even more sour. Mark's tone became clipped, and Roger's brows narrowed slightly, deeper and deeper as Mark continued. "Oh Jesus Christ on a fucking cross, Mark." Roger said through gritted teeth. "You know what? Yes. Yes, that was my intention. I went out that night with full intention of fucking your girlfriend just to get you pissed off at me later. You've caught me. I totally planned that shit. You know what? If you fuckin' dig, I'm sure you'll find the movie I made with me holding up the sign that says, 'I'm pounding the shit out of Mark Cohen's girlfriend!'" Roger seethed out, getting up from the couch angrily. Bringing a hand up, he ran it through his hair, frustrated. When Mark stated that he was going to stay inside, that he didn't care. It was April's birthday. He should be alone.

Scoffing, Roger moved, grabbing his leather jacket roughly from the couch. "You know what? That's a fucking awesome idea, Mark. Maybe I can finally be alone to do what I've wanted to do for two fucking years instead of being interrupted like I was before." He remembered it clearly; it had been after the funeral, Roger sat with trembling hands, trying to cook, to steady his hand with the needle, and then Mark's face at the door. It was her birthday, he had told Mark through tear-filled sobs. It was her birthday and he was a mess and it was something that he needed to do. He needed to feel better. Heroin was always his fall-back. It was the thing he went to when he fought with April to calm down. It was his go-to when he and April needed to crash after seemingly days of partying. His drug use had always, as every junkie, been called on by his mood. And then, for the seven months, he had nothing to fall back on. No drugs to put him in a forgetful and blissful haze. Nothing. The call for the sweet release was stronger now, simply because he was upset. He was upset that it was her birthday. Upset that he and Mimi had fought. Upset that he and Mark were now fighting...over what? A one night stand that was more years ago than Roger probably had left on this earth?

Making his way to the window, he knew that Mimi's front door had been locked; he left it locked. It was pouring outside, and freezing to boot. He moved to the window, opening it and exiting the Loft into the pouring rain. He felt himself swallow, the tears pricking at his eyes as he felt a sigh escape his lips. He knew he couldn't be alone today because...well, even when he had wanted to be alone, Mark had always been there. It had been Mark that he had called every week while he had been in Sante Fe. Sometimes twice a week if he had "Fuck." he whispered almost painfully, and then moved, ducking back into the Loft, water dripping from his hair and face. For a moment, he simply stood, staring at Mark with his mouth open as he tried to figure what he wanted to say.

"I--I can't be alone today, okay?!" Roger said finally, his tone completely exasperated as he looked at Mark. "I can't be alone today, because I know if I go back out there, I'll just--I'll go get drunk at the Life and wander around in the rain and then I'll get sick and I'll fucking die, okay? You always--" A scoff escaped his lips and he brought a hand up, pressing his fingers against his eyes for a moment. "You know what? This is bullshit. It's bullshit, I'm going to the Life." Roger said, making his way back to the window.