We live in an Abandonded Loft (casual!)|Tag: Mark!

[renthead]

Mark smirked. Of course he did, it was kind of necessary in that point of the conversation. And probably more parts later. "I'm ten times smarter then you'll ever be, Davis. I just don't show it much. Cause it's hard to do around you people." he teased. Mark really had been a nerd. He'd gotten into Brown... but college wasn't really for him. He didn't like the stuffy professors, (minus Collins of course) and he hated hearing everyone partying in the dorms. And never being invited. He'd thought college in New York would be cool. It was New York after all... but all in all, he was really more glad that he dropped out. It was way more fun living in a tiny loft and having a bunch of gay and drug addicted friends then being a business man ever could be.

"And I'm saying I don't want you to try it. You'd turn violent. Start breaking my loft. I don't want that. I'd have nowhere else to live. So please, keep having sex with Mimi. Just, please, please, don't tell me about it...." but of course, this was ruined by what Roger had to say next. Mark was quite sure even watching the couch wouldn't make it clean in his eyes, ever again. The thought that he and April... and then Mimi... "Oh dear God Roger. Why do you tell me about these things?! I feel like I should scrub my mind clean. And donate the couch." he stated, his face scrunching in disgust.

"Woah, you're right. Mimi would have been younger then... ah, man. Now I feel like a pervert. That's disgusting... and you were always focused on April. I bet Jimi Hendrix himself could have walked through the room when you were with her, and you wouldn't notice. It's the same way with Mimi." he agreed. "I guess I should have figured out then. She was way more interested in the girls then me... Although I don't really blame her. And that was a fun night..." Mark wasn't really one to talk about his sex life. Especially not about the parts with Maureen. But whatever.

Mark stuck his tongue out at Roger, and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of the huge bowl of Captain Crunch. It was delicious. Just like he knew it would be. "You have so little trust in me, Roger. But you're right. I did spill coffee on your new pants. And yeah.... no. But it would be nice to have some company. Although, I worry about the cat's safety if you're involved. Why the heck would I dress it up as you people? It'd be traumatized for life. Can you even imagine the kitty therapy it'd have to go through?"

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Okay, I admit," Roger started, pointing the spoon at Mark. "That I am not book smart. I barely finished high school. Actually," Roger paused, bringing the spoon up to his lips, thinking. "If it hadn't been for a few well-placed bathroom romps, I probably would have failed my entire senior year." He waved the spoon as if waving away the thought. "But none of that matters. Yes, it's true. I will probably never go to college. That's true. But I, my dear Mark, am street smart. I can out-talk any cop in Alphabet City. I can get out of an arrest better than Joanne probably could. Point being; I'm smart. I just don't have a piece of paper saying I'm smart. And besides, the parties at the Loft? Totally trumps the college parties. Those kids could learn a thing or two."

"You are not donating my couch." Roger said instantly. "The sentimental values are too much to simply donate it. No. That couch is staying with me until I die. Then, you can do whatever you want with it. In fact, that's going in my will. When I die? You can burn the couch."

As Mark's eyes widened at the mention of Mimi and her age, Roger simply gave him a 'well, duh' look, dipping the spoon into the bowl. "Dude, I thought Mimi was 16 when I first met her, and in the back of my emotionally fucked up mind, I still would have wrecked the shit out of her. Age is no limit. I mean, look at Mimi and me now. She's 19. I'm 25. I was playing with Legos when she was only minutes old. Does that make me a pervert?" Roger asked, and then paused for a moment before shrugging. "Don't care. She's hot. She was hot at 16, she's hot now."

When Mark lamented about Maureen's interest in girls, Roger sighed. "She might have been interested in the tits and ass that was being so wonderfully thrown around on stage, my good Jewish friend, but who's circumcised dick did she jump on at night? Yours. That's gotta say something. And honestly, even though she claims she's all part of the plastic penis brigade now, you ask her over, get her a little drunk or hell, don't even bother getting her drunk, just say her ass looks fab in those little black leather pants she loves to wear, and she'll be begging for your dick quicker than you can say 'Elsie is a giant Moo-cow'. Seriously, dude, why am I giving you advice about how to get your ex-girlfriend back in between the sheets with you? But seriously, give it some thought."

"Um, why would you dress up a cat like me and Collins and Maureen? 'Cause we're awesome? Duh." Roger said, rolling his eyes. "And how dare you shoot down my idea. Angel could make the little outfits; you know she loves to sew. And kitty therapy my ass; we're one big giant fucked up family, no children, catbaby or otherwise, are going to be even close to normal as long as it lives under our roof." Roger paused, thinking once more until his eyes widened slightly at an idea. Surely Mimi would think the idea awesome, because she loved cats, number one, and cats where supposed to be therapeutic, right? When they didn't piss and shit all over everything, that is. But a cat was a commitment, probably the closest thing he'd ever have to a child. And he wanted to have it with Mimi. Roger looked at his friend seriously, as if he had thought of the best and worst idea of his entire life.

"Oh my god, Mark. I think I wanna have a catbaby with Mimi."

[renthead]

Mark listened to Roger's rant about how he was['/b] indeed smart, nodding occasionally. "Yes, Roger, all those things are indeed true. I am the opposite of street smart. I am only book smart. Which makes living in Alphabet City probably a death sentence, but still. I am smart as well." he stated. He really wasn't entirely that smart. Yes, he was smarter then Roger. But he wasn't as smart as Collins or Joanne. Yet another part of his life where he was just securely in the middle.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I can do whatever I please with the couch. It's my couch, not yours. But fine. I'll wait. Then... couch hell for all the horrid acts that have been performed on it." he stated, sitting securely in his one person chair. He was sure that it was safe. It was for one person. Roger and whatever girl he was with at the time wouldn't stoop that low... he hoped. He wasn't going to ask. He didn't want to find out he'd have to donate everything in the damn loft.

"Yes. Yes, that does make you a pervert, Roger Davis. God." Mark said, shuddering a little. It was really quite an odd idea, that Mimi was so young. She was, as she put it so well, old for her age. She was, indeed hot when she was younger, but that was just a little to messed up for Mark. He shook his head of the thoughts, and then squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the thought was gone from his head. He was good at things like that.

Mark thought about Roger's advice, but shook his head. "I don't want Joanne to hate me." he said after awhile of thought. It was a good idea, actually. He had no doubt that Roger knew what he was talking about. How, he didn't want to know, but he didn't doubt his best friend. Sighing, he thought about how he had felt when Maureen had first dumped him. It hurt way worse then it did now. Maybe he was getting over her. Maybe, he'd meet someone else and everything would be forgotten about. And he and Maureen could just be close friends, like they used to be before they started sleeping together. That would be nice. Especially because.. well, Maureen wasn't going to die anytime soon. And it would be nice to have someone else to hang out with after... no he wasn't going to think about that right now. Roger was there, alive and healthy (well, as healthy as he could be) and that was all that mattered.

Mark laughed. "Roger, I'm crazy enough as it is without having to dress things up to look like the people I love. That's just borderline pyscho. And catbaby? Did you really just say that? Although, I guess you're right. But if any of us are dumb enough to actually have a child, like a flesh and blood child, they deserve the screwed up mess they're going to get." he said, thinking about how a child would react around them. Horrible. Collins would probably teach it to "never give in to the man" and Roger would be... poor kid. Too young. At any age, too young to be around Roger.

Mark's eyebrow's rose. "A cat baby? Roger, you're still off heroin right? Do I need to call Collins in to beat the hell out of you?" he asked, calmly.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Dude, don't sell yourself short. You're street smart." Roger reminded Mark, and then paused for a moment, before continuing. "Okay, maybe you're not street smart. You're like...you're like, one of those kids that usually is really slow on shit, but when he gets something right, he knocks it out of the park. You're borderline street retarded, but there's those couple of points that keep you floating above the line." Roger stated, holding his hand up as if measuring height. "You're like, right here. I'm, of course, like right here," Roger held his hand far above his other hand. "'cause I'm awesome like that. But you're still down here. Down here is good, buddy." he said as if reassuring a small child before he shoved another spoon-full into his mouth.

He nearly choked with the statement Mark said next. "No!" he said, a mouth-full of crunch before he swallowed quickly, shaking his head. "No! Negative. I picked that couch out. You were all like, 'Eww, no, dude, it looks ugly blah blah blah." Roger stated, pointing a finger at Mark. "Don't get me started as what's mine and what's yours in this Loft, sir. The big giant painting of a pirate ship? Mine. The broken rocking chair in Collins' bedroom? I picked that shit out. I convinced you to get the couch 'cause you were all hating on it." He shook his head, moving the bowl to slurp up some of the milk. Watching as he slipped into the green armchair, Roger smirked around the bowl, lowering it only slightly. "April sucked me dry twice in that chair." he said quickly before slurping loudly, lifting his eyes heavenward in an attempt to look innocent.

I don't want Joanne to hate me.

"It's just a phase, Mark. Like girls and horses. She doesn't even wear flannel shirts, dude. Once she gets bored, she'll switch sides again. Joanne wont hate you, Mark. She'll hate Maureen, and really, it's not Maureen's fault. She's just that way." Roger explained honestly with a shrug, setting the empty bowl into the sink. He moved, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before he moved, flopping down onto the green couch.

His mouth twisted into a smile as Mark talked about dressing the cat up, and he brought a hand up to his chest, almost pretending to be overcome with emotion. "You love me? Mark. My god. My cup overflows."

A cat baby? Roger, you're still off Heroin, right? Do I need to call Collins in to beat the hell out of you?

"Dude, seriously. Not a single CC has been injected into my veins, and you know that." Roger said with a slight frown. "I'm serious, dude. Like...I've been thinking alot lately. I love Mimi, dude. I love her alot." he felt himself smile slightly as he picked at a stray thread on his sleeve. "We were walking the other day, and I saw her look over at a little girl with her mom. I felt sad 'cause I know that we can't have that." he told Mark honestly. "I know she like, has Mommy urges, 'cause all chicks have that. And, you know...I feel bad 'cause I can't give her anything. But I can give her a catbaby."

Roger took in a breath, looking over at his friend almost seriously. "I love her, Mark. I mean, I thought about kids with April 'cause for a few times, we had to think about it...but I really love her, dude. She gives me like, teenage boy feelings. Like my stomach gets all knotted up when I hear her voice or when I see her smile. I get butterflies. ME, dude. Butterflies. I'm supposed to create butterflies in chick's stomachs, not have them happen to me."

[renthead]

Mark raised his eyebrow at his friend. "Borderline street retarded? Wow, Rog. You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself." he stated. He sighed, and sat listening to Roger talk about how he was like some slow kid. He could say the same about Roger except.. Mark wasn't as blunt as the rock star. He tended to say things nicely, if he said them at all. Unless he was joking around with Rog or Collins. Or drunk. He could probably be pretty mean when he was drunk.

"I'm really over her." he stated, lying out of his teeth. But if there was one thing Mark was good at, it was lying. At least, to most people. He could put on a straight face, and keep it that way. It was part of his gift. But he hated lying to Roger. He tugged on his scarf, and turned his face away. Honestly, life with Maureen hadn't been great. More then once, he had thought about drinking gasoline, she annoyed him so much. But it had been the kind of annoyance you find with love. It wasn't as if he didn't know he was being cheated on. Like he had stated earlier, he wasn't dumb.

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, you're like the brother I never had. It's nice." he stated, smiling shyly. Roger could be loud mouther, annoying, perverted, obnoxious, idiotic... well, you name it. But Mark wouldn't trade him for anybody. He was his best friend, and in reality, he had been Mark's first real friend.

"You better damn well be telling the truth, Roger. It's not like we make you take drug tests or anything but we could you know." Mark threatened. It didn't really hold any threat. He couldn't really do anything to Roger, and he knew it. The only one who could was Collins, and just because he was big and scary and stuff when he wanted to be. Or, Collins could be a teddy bear. It all depended on if he liked you, and if he was sober. "Maureen has no mommy urges. Or at least, I hope not. But you're right, Mimi's the type that would. And you give her more then you know." he stated, smiling at his friend. "I think you probably helped her as much as she did you. And it's a good thing, you know, feeling like that. Cause you found the person you're supposed to be with in your life, and you're with her. So, if you want a catbaby, then have a catbaby. Just don't kill it. I will call the cops on you for animal cruelty."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Hey, if you're borderline street retarded, that makes me fully and utterly everything else retarded." Roger interjected at Mark's statement about making people feel good. "You're alot smarter than me at some things. Well, alot of things, actually. You're just not very good on the streets. It's okay, though. You don't have to be street smart." Roger had learned how to be street smart very quickly once he had started using. He was glad that Mark didn't have that knowledge.

I'm really over her.

"Dude, you said that like two years ago and I know you're still wishing she was here. I know how to tell when you lie to me. You don't look at me." Roger stated honestly, nodding. "Dude, it's okay to miss her. I mean...it's Maureen fucking Johnson, dude. She's not easy to get over." he felt a pause beat in between his sentences, and he lit a cigarette before speaking once more. "She woulda stayed with you if you would have just paid more attention to her." he said honestly after a moment, flicking the ashes slightly from the cigarette. "I told you that. Even in my fucked-up puke-y withdrawal-y phase, I told you to keep an eye on her instead of me. You didn't listen to me, just like I thought you would."

But then, one day, Maureen had just been gone, and Roger had felt responsible. "Look, man, I know you're still hung up on her. I can talk to her. Last time I talked to her, Joanne and her were on the outs. I mean, it's a day by day thing." He lifted a shrug. "If, you know...you want. It's the least I can do. Maybe you won't get boyfriend/girlfriend status, but you'll get laid. And Maureen'll get laid, too. Everyone'll be happy."

Hey, you're like the brother I never had. It's nice.

A smile spread on his face, slow and almost completely happy at Mark's words. Roger had been completely and utterly horrible to Mark at times; he remembered (though barely) cussing the man out over simply stepping into the room, blaming him for April's death and everything, and then two hours later sobbing, saying that he was sorry. That he loved Mark and he didn't mean it. His emotions had been so out of wack during the first months after April had died, he was surprised the man had stayed. Surprised, but thankful in the end. "...me too, dude."

"So, if I'm like, the brother you never had, and like, at one point I wanted to screw your sister...would that be incest?" Roger asked, and nearly choked on the cigarette smoke at Mark's look. "Dude, chill the fuck out. I was kidding."

When Mark spoke of drug tests, Roger crossed his arms over his chest, sinking down into the couch. "Dude, you couldn't afford drug tests, don't lie." Roger said with a roll of his eyes. "And I'm done. I'm done with all of that shit, man." Roger told him honestly, looking over at his best friend. "...I look back and I realise how selfish I was. I loved the feeling...but it caused me nothing but bad memories."

When he spoke of Maureen, Roger felt a smirk cross his lips. "Maureen has urges. Lord knows Maureen has urges, but Mommy urges are not one of them." Roger agreed, and then felt his smile drop slightly. "I certainly didn't help her by leaving." Roger protested with a slight frown, almost in a mumble, though he widened his eyes at the animal cruelty mention.

"Dude! Okay, no!" Roger said, sitting up slightly and pointing at him. "That one time with that stray cat that pissed on my head while I was stoned does not count as animal cruelty. That little fucker pissed on my head while I was almost completely comatose and it got in my mouth. That shit was disgusting."

Settling back as if he had made a point, Roger crossed his arms back across his chest. "But I won't kill it. It'll make Mimi happy. And I also think, at that time, I was fighting with April. And that cat was April's cat. So of course, I was going to try to make her life miserable." He paused, pursing his lips before he felt a smirk cross his face. "She told me later she told the cat to piss on my face 'cause she was mad at me." he scoffed slightly, shaking his head.

"As long as the catbaby doesn't piss on my head, I think we're good."

[renthead]

Mark rolled his eyes. He didn't necessarily even want to be street smart. So he didn't know why being called "borderline street retarded" had annoyed him. "Yeah, yeah. Moving on, so I don't overanalyze this and end up thinking you're trying to tell me I should go back to Scarsdale or something..." he muttered. He was trying not to overanalyze everything lately. For instance, everyone else being busy did not mean they had moved on and didn't want him in their lives anymore. It just meant they were busy, and Mark should get out more.

Mark sighed. Roger was right of course. But that didn't mean he was going to admit that he still thought about her... a lot. "Roger, it's been a really long time. I know nothing's going to happen. I'm not going to get her back. That's fine. I just need to forget and move on." he explained, trying not the get all jittery. "And I know you told me to pay more attention to her. And I was with her whenever I thought it was okay... but you know just as well as I do, that if I would have left you alone you would have found SOME way to harm yourself. Your life was more important then her. Knowing that I lost her because of it, I would still do the same thing." he stated, going all deep for a minute. He thought back to the day he had found out that she was cheating on him. Not when they broke up... when he first found out. He had wanted to cry, and Mark doesn't cry. Now he figured that was probably a stupid reaction. If she couldn't understand that Roger was like family to Mark, and that he was going to be there for him whenever he was needed, she wasn't right for him anyway.

Mark shook his head. He didn't want one night stands. He wasn't that kind of guy. "No thanks Roger. One day I'll find someone even better then Maureen. Or at least, if I don't, I'll realize I'm meant to die alone." he said, trying to make a joke. It wasn't very funny, cause sometimes he wondered if it was true. If he was supposed to die alone. Not even just love wise... friend wise as well. He moved on in the conversation, so he didn't start to get all depressed.

Mark smiled at Roger, and shrugged. He hoped that the shrug was enough, that he didn't have to talk to the man about his withdrawal days. They had been hard, not just for Roger, but for himself and Collins too. Mark nodded. He knew Roger was done with drugs. If he wasn't well... Mark didn't know if he could stay around then. Going through it once was his duty as a best friend. Going through it twice... no one should have to be put through that.

"Close on Roger, Mark narrated, making his fingers into a square and looking at the boy though them. "Who doesn't understand that I don't want to hear about Maureen's urges, and that he did actually help Mimi eventually." Mark stated, rolling his eyes. "Mimi still loves Roger and that in itself is hard to believe. Yet, he doesn't think he did her any good..." Mark lowered his hands and then thought for a minute.

"You know, I forgot about that cat. Thanks for reminding me. Now I know to keep a close watch on you. And maybe you shouldn't have been stoned and lying in a place a cat could get to. In reality, it was your fault. So yes, I will call the cops on you if you do anything to harm the poor catbaby." he stated, nodding seriously.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Why the fuck would you move back to Scarsdale? That place is a shithole." Okay, maybe Scarsdale wasn't a shithole by any means, but it was still Scarsdale. It was suburban life at it's finest, and the small time that he had lived there, he had hated it. "Besides, you'd get back to Scarsdale, bitch and moan because you're in close proximity to your family, and then come back home."

Mark spoke of Maureen, and Roger rolled his eyes slightly, shaking his head. "Dude, just admit it. It's okay to admit that you miss her. Will I laugh at you? Hell no." However, when Mark spoke of the past, Roger felt his lips purse slightly. "You know that's not true." Maybe it was half true; for a long while, Roger couldn't have been left alone because he had been in a place where his mind was actively searching for ways to make the pain go away. But months afterwords, Roger had been trying to tell Mark that he was fine. Depressed, sure. But suicidal? Not really. Not anymore. But Mark had become so used to watching over Roger that it had become like second nature and everything else was put on the back burner. Even his own life.

"Maureen's a good girl, though. I mean, she knew I was hurting. April was her best friend. She just--she didn't know how to deal with it. None of us knew how to deal with it." He felt himself look down. "We were all just too young, man. We didn't know how."

"Dude, don't say that." Roger said with a frown as Mark said that he was going to die alone. "You're gonna die with like, dozens of little Jewish grand babies. Hell, even great grand babies around you and some good little Jewish girl by your side." He knew his friend wasn't going to die alone. He couldn't. He wished he could say that he'd be there when Mark died...but he knew that he couldn't say that. Not unless Mark died in the next five years or so.

That thought made him swallow and fall silent until Mark spoke again, lifting his hands up in a square. "Maureen's urges are fun to hear about, mainly when Maureen herself talks about them. And Mimi still loves Roger." Roger rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mimi still loves Roger, but Roger totally didn't help her out by leaving. I'm not saying I don't do her good, man, but I sure the hell didn't help her by leaving. I know I do her good. I do her good all night long." Roger felt himself smile slightly through the somber words.

"I just--Sometimes I wonder if one day she'll wake up and realise that most of the time, I'm a real shitty person to love."

When he spoke of the cat, Roger rolled his eyes towards the heavens. "I was laying on the couch!" Roger protested. "I wasn't lying in an alley somewhere, I was lying on the damn couch. It wasn't my fault. It was April's fault. She bewitched that cat into pissing on me." When Mark stated he'd call the cops, Roger rolled his eyes again.

"Yeah, whatever, dude. There will be no domestic catbaby abuse in the Marquez-Davis household, so fear not. Your call to the cops will not be needed."

[renthead]

Mark rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't want to go back to Scarsdale, idiot." he complained, closing his eyes briefly. He remembered his life there. Ew. How had he kept his sanity all those years? Oh... right... he probably hadn't. He opened his eyes, and saw his best friend. Yeah, he had lost his sanity a long, long time ago. "Do you think I should go home more? I mean, Cindy called today and my mom called last week and complained that I don't love her cause I'm always here. Maybe I should go back. I mean, I barely know CIndy's kids. That's probably not a good thing..." he mused, thinking back to the phone call from his mother. It wasn't that he didn't love his family, he loved them very much sometimes, but they annoyed him. Greatly. They were the typical Jewish family. He was not the typical Jewish son.

Mark sighed. Roger knew him too damn well. "What use is it to admit that I still miss her? That I still think about her a lot? She's happy. That's what matters." he stated. It was true. Maureen was very happy with Joanne, well whenever they were together. Joanne treated her well, and she could bend to Mo's whims. Mark hadn't been able to give her everything she'd wanted, could barely give her anything, actually. Joanne could. And Joanne was good for Maureen. Maybe she'd never really calm down, but Joanne did make her less of a wild woman. Sometimes.

Mark ignored Roger's remark, and settled in on the thought that none of them had known what to do. They really had all been just too damn young. Mark remembered how he had reacted. Turning in on himself, and turning everyone else away. Even Roger, kind of. Although he would have done anything for Roger, and he had done quite a lot, he never really tried to talk to him. Yes, he'd sat down and asked how Roger was feeling, tried to get him to talk to his friends and go out, had even half-heartedly discussed Maureen with him... but that was it. Most of the talk was about Roger. And Mark had to admit, he'd wanted it that way. He still did sometimes. Or else it ended like this. Where Mark had to think about all his own short-comings.

"We're still too young, Rog. But it doesn't change anything. And maybe I will, or maybe I won't. Maybe when you die, I'll go insane and become a hermit. It's not much of a change from now anyway." Mark usually tried to stay away from saying that. "When you die." He hated it. He hated knowing that Roger would die before he would. Because really, Roger had so much more to live for. He had Mimi, he had his music... Mark just had friends who would eventually all leave him, and a camera. It wasn't fair that he should live, and Roger should die. The whole thing just wasn't fair.

"You came back. That's all that really matters. You came back, and that she loves you. Everyone makes mistakes Roger. Sure, some people make more then others but... everyone screws up. Mimi's right, with the whole "No day but today" thing. Especially because if you sit around stressing about things, you're wasting the time you have to do something. Maybe one day she will give up on you, but I doubt it. I think she loves you just as much as you love her, and you'll be together until you can't anymore." Mark sighed.

Then Mark laughed. Roger sure did no how to lighten the mood sometimes. "Yet another reason I want the dang couch to leave. Cat stains, and who knows what else. God, Roger. You're just not making a good case for it. One day you're going to come down to steal coffee, and it's not gonna be here. And it's going to be all your fault." Mark teased. But he knew that if Roger wanted the couch to stay until he died, the couch would stay until he died. Maybe even after. It held so many memories...

"Yeah, yeah. I know." he agreed, smiling at his best friend. It was times like these that he was thankful he wasn't yet alone.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Don't call me an idiot, jerk!" Roger protested, but paused, thinking as Mark asked him about going home. "I don't know, dude. I mean, the last time you went there was like, what, three years ago? Maybe more? You've got nephews and nieces and shit." He lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug. "This advise is coming from the dude who doesn't want his own mother here. I happen to like your mom. Your dad hates me, but your mom loves me. I'm like the best non-Jewish son they never had."

"It'd mean your human, dude." Roger commented with a small sigh. "You'd get some of that like, pent-up emotion off your chest. Maybe getting it off your chest'll allow you to meet someone else."

Maybe when you die, I'll go insane and become a hermit. It's not much of a change anyway.

"Nah, dude. When I die I'll just come back as a ghost and sit on my couch. It'll be cool. But I'll just have to make sure I'm one of those ghosts that like...can affect things around me. Can ghosts eat Crunch? I'd miss that when I die."

Roger felt himself frown slightly before he continued. "Dude, don't--" he started, and he looked over at Mark finally. "Promise me you won't, dude, okay?" Roger asked his friend. "Just promise me you won't get all crazy after I'm gone, okay?"

When Mark spoke about Mimi, Roger leaned his his head against the back of the couch with a sigh. "I think she does, too. That's what I'm afraid of." Roger said after a moment before looking back at Mark. "That's what I'm so fuckin' scared of at times. I'm just scared that she's gonna make me love her as much as April did and...when she's gone..." he paused and shook his head. "I'm just scared."

However, when Mark spoke of the couch, Roger felt a smirk cross his face, small, but it was there nonetheless. He opened his mouth in slight shock, rubbing his hand against the back of the couch as if it was a live person. "Don't listen to him." he said, as if talking to the couch. "You'll be in my life forever no matter how many holes you get or how many cats pee on you."

[renthead]

(beware, listening to the NYTW version ;] )

"I'll call you whatever I want. Idiot." he stated, rolling his eyes. He listened to Roger talk about his family, and nodded his head. Maybe he should start going back. Maybe he should get closer to his family, and fade away from his friends... no, that was bad. It was like Roger's flight instinct. It wasn't good. "We're hungry and frozen, but sometimes I think it's still better then going home. I mean, I love them but they annoy the hell out of me."

Mark winced a bit. He was slightly a hypocrite, he was always trying to get Roger talk, but he hated talking about his own. "Eh." was all he said. He didn't want to discuss his pent up emotions. That was why they were pent up after all. "I spend so much time obsessing, it's depressing." Mark said with a small smile. "So, she dumped me. It's fine." Even if sometimes he didn't really think it was.

Mark rolled his eyes. "It'd go right through you, and then I'd have to clean it up." he muttered. Roger coming back as a ghost would be scary as hell. But Mark would think he'd probably like it. Which would make him insane, right?

"If I threw my body out the window, I wouldn't have to finish shooting films that no one wants to show." He realized right after he said this, how bad it was. He winced yet again. But he didn't apologize. Hadn't Roger just said it was best to get his emotions off his chest?

"Its normal to be scared about it. But you just have to get used to it." Mark sighed. He was horrible at advice. He looked at the couch, not looking at Roger. He felt like crap. He wished he could help his best friend, but he didn't know what to say. "I'm scared too."

Mark smiled, slightly. The couch was ratty, old and falling apart. There were places where the stuffing was coming out, and was covered in duct tape. But Roger was right, it did have memories. Even if some of them were... well, disgusting. "Talking to inanimate objects. First sign of insanity."

[ROGER DAVIS]

I'll call you whatever I want. Idiot.

"Jerk." Roger stated, settling back into the couch again as Mark rolled his eyes. "I love my mom too, dude, but that doesn't mean I need to live down the street from her." Roger agreed, and then shrugged. "I don't know, dude. I mean, I think at least one Seder a year is, you know, acceptible."

When Mark fell silent and then smiled, saying that he spent time obsessing, Roger rolled his eyes. "Dude, you could make an Olympic sport of obsessing. You'd win every time." However, when he continued, Roger's smirk spread slightly. "Dude, if she just dumped you, it wouldn't have been as amusing. She dumped you for vagina." Roger stated as he stood up, moving to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.

When Mark stated that the food would go through him if he was a ghost, Roger actually laughed. "Oh my god! That would be hilarious! I could stuff like, a whole pizza in my mouth and wouldn't have to worry about puking! I could be like Slimer from Ghostbusters except not all gross and green and stuff!"

However, when Mark continued, Roger found himself pausing mid-pour before he set the pot down onto the hotplate. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking. "...if you jumped out the window you'd probably just bust your legs or arms or something." Roger said after a moment before he looked at Mark, not waiting for the man to even speak. At his look, Roger gave him a look that asked, really? and shook his head. "Dude, c'mon. I once spent four hours wondering how I could kill myself with a fuckin' spoon." Roger explained and then sighed out, moving back to the couch. He stared at his friend for a moment before speaking again. "I like your movies." he said after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "And, since I am your best friend and have known you the longest and am not blood related to you so I'd have to like it...that should be enough." he stated as if that would be the end of the conversation. He ran his finger around the rim of the coffee cup. "I don't know if I ever told you 'cause she like, swore me to secrecy with a threat of chopping my dick off in the middle of the night, but..." he paused, and then shrugged. "Well, April told me that you were the only one she'd let take her picture. Even though she hated pictures and she always wigged out when you filmed her...she said you'd make her immortal. She thought that was cool. And--and...and you made it possible for me to see her smile again."

Roger felt himself shift slightly. "I like your movies." he said again, looking from the rim of his coffee cup to Mark. "Even if no one else does, I like them and I'm egotistical enough to demand more." A ghost of a smile hitched at his lips. When Mark spoke again, Roger sighed slightly. "...she thinks I'm strong. And you know, I try to be for her, but I'm not as strong as she thinks I am."

[renthead]

Mark thought for a minute. "If I can call you whatever I want, I'm changing your name. Your new name shall be Philip." Mark said with a small smirk. He was not a jerk. At all. Stupid Roger... Philip. "I'm not gonna move back... at least, not for a long time. I just feel bad for not going a lot. I know they want me to more... well, my dad doesn't. But everyone else does." he said, thoughtfully.

Mark sighed. "Yeah yeah, I know. Mark got dumped for a chick. Funny stuff." he said with an eye roll. He sure did that a lot around his best friend. "I never even saw it coming, Rog. Well, of course I saw the cheating coming. But not the lesbian part. She never even liked KD Lang!" he said, leaning his head back against the chair. "I feel like such an idiot. Shouldn't I have noticed that she didn't like ANY men anymore?" he asked quietly.

"Falling on concrete from this high up won't just bust your leg, Rog." Mark bit his lip. "My friends have flown or are dropping like flies, and if that's not enough I'm in love witt a lesbo, my rent is due, my family is nuts, I haven't has sex in a milenium... my life just kind of sucks. But I know jumping off the building isn't good. Neither is trying to kill yourself with a spoon." Mark listened to Roger talk to him about his films and April. He smiled. That really made him feel better.

"Thanks Roger. That really made me feel good. And the camera loved April." He said, trying not to make Roger sad, but still saying what was true. "I guess I'll keep making them, just for you." he said with a slight smile. God, he was going to miss Roger so much.

"You're strong enough. Way stronger then a lot of people I know. You could have given up, but you haven't yet. I probably would have. You're just... well, you know it's hard. You're barely an adult, both of you. It's okay not to be strong, every once in awhile."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Phillip?" Roger asked, and then paused, tilting his head as if tasting the name. "I don't look like a Phillip." Roger made a disgusted face as he finished thinking. "No. Negative. I do not look like a Phillip, thank you." When Mark continued, Roger looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup, nodding in agreement. "Like, next Jew holiday that comes up, go up there?" Roger offered. "I know your mother would be happy. And hey, maybe your dad'll stop being all dickish and be happy to see you. I think he's still just pissed off that you hang out with me. My shmendrik goy-ness is rubbing off on you."

"Hey, I'll give you this; at least it's not a butch chick." Roger stated, and then paused, wondering if Maureen would go for a girl who was more of a man than he was. "Nah, I can't see Maureen with a butch chick. Oh my god, could you imagine? A mullet?!" Roger shuddered at the thought. "I don't know, man. I mean, Maureen loves sex. I don't really think it matters where it comes from. And hey, I like KD Lang. And April liked KD Lang, too and April was always, and I mean always down for dick. Always tried to get her to make out with Maureen. Never happened. I don't think I got them both drunk enough." Roger lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and then sighed. "Dude, you had blinders on. And you know Maureen and her very adorable, yet flight-y mind. She may get bored, who knows?"

When Mark continued to lament, Roger sighed. "The love part I can't help you with. The rent part you can just ignore, 'cause Benny's a prick. The family part...well, I totally can't help you with that, but I understand 'cause my family's nuts, too. And the sex part...well, dude, I don't have a vagina. But I could possibly get you one. You know the waitress at the Life with the blonde hair? She's been asking about you. Thinks your adorable. Like a big squishy teddy bear. And I'm sure if you talk to her, maybe go out for like, dinner or some shit, she'll get all squishy with you."

When he spoke of April, Roger pursed his lips and gave him a slight, though sad smile. "It's true. She hated the camera but put up with it 'cause she knew you loved what you did." Roger quietly stated, picking at the black nail polish on his fingers. A smile actually spread on his face as he remembered. "I-I remember when I woke up one night and she was sitting in the living room watching that stupid little thing you did that one day in the middle of the Square asking her why she loved me. I caught her watching it and she swore me to secrecy. She said the camera made her look fat and she hated it." A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. "It was rare, but she watched it."

However, when Mark spoke about Roger being strong, about giving up and being young, and Roger focused on his nails. He had wanted to give up so many times. He had tried to at least once, and now, he was thankful that he hadn't succeeded in his attempt, but there had been times that he had wished for death. The times he had been puking his guts out, the times that the stomach cramps had felt like hot, burning pokers stabbing him in the stomach. It was a wonder why Mark had stayed around after the vile things Roger had said to him when the shakes and vomiting and the pounding headaches. When the only sound in the Loft had been the sound of Roger screaming. The sound of Roger getting sick. The sound of Roger sobbing.

Roger remembered a time, short into his withdrawal that he had gotten so angry at Mark for all the wrong reasons; he had gotten so angry at the words Mark had failed to say. Mark hadn't said a word but he had looked at Roger with that look of confusion and heartache and Roger had lashed out, punching him hard across the jaw. Later that night, Roger had started getting heavy into withdrawal, starting with the shakes and restlessness and leading quickly into the puking and all had been forgotten because Mark had been right there with the bucket and the cold rags and Gatorade that Roger was sure he had to have stolen.

That night, that was the night that the hallucinations started and Roger had spent the night alternating between screaming and sobbing, trying to bury himself into the bed but finding himself unable. Weeks afterward, after he had stopped shaking and throwing up and feeling like he was on death door, they hadn't talked about the punch again. They had barely talked about the withdrawal. They had barely talked about the horrors they had both seen; sure, Roger had panted out, telling Mark what had hurt and about the giant spiders and cockroaches and April's smiling face that he saw in the Loft and about how the medicine made his stomach sour, but never about what really needed to be said.

"I love you."

The words had came out before he had even thought of them, a subconscious thought that he wasn't sure he had ever voiced, but probably needed to every once in a while to make sure that Mark knew. "A-And I don't--I don't mean that in a gay, you know, 'I want to have a thousand adopted babies with you' kinda way but--" A slight almost watery laugh escaped Roger's lips as he shook his head, picking at his nails. "Mimi thinks I'm strong, you know? And maybe I am. Maybe I am strong but what she doesn't know is that everything I am today, I've learned from you. You're the reason why I wasn't a splatter on the sidewalk or a victim of spoon-icide and honestly, if anyone would have asked me if that skinny little Jewish kid Mark Cohen would have been my friend, I don't know what I would have said, but for some reason...some insane reason, you're my friend and you've managed to stick around." He stopped speaking, realising as he looked up that he had spoken longer than he had really intended, and he moved, lifting the coffee cup to his lips.

"I just...I don't know if I've ever told you all that before. So...you know...thanks." he said over the rim of the cup before taking a sip.

[renthead]

(This post is brought to you by the song Losing my Religion by REM and my random Mark Muse.)

Mark smiled lightly as Roger tested out his "new name." Philip really didn't work for him. For some reason, Roger was just... well, he was a Roger. Through and through. He could probably be like an Adam or something, but Roger worked fine. Adam was too common anyway. "Your right. I don't know what I was thinking. You are a Roger. A good Roger." he amended, smiling again. He studied Roger, who was nodding apparently to his coffee cup. Mark didn't know why, but suddenly the mood that overwhelmed him was melancholia. He thought about Scarsdale, and tried not to grimace or groan at the thought. It hadn't been that bad, living in the small town. It was just... he had always been an outcast there. No one had related to him, except for Roger. He just wasn't good enough for the standards of anyone in his home town. He was a failure. Not that it was much different in New York, but at least he had people to relate to, to talk to.

"Okay. I think I will. I don't know, Roger. I think he generally just does not like having a film maker son. You know he wanted me to go to law school. Could you imagine me like Joanne? All.. you know.. lawyer-ish? I can't. I would suck at it anyway. I wouldn't be able to argue worth a damn." he said, rolling his eyes and trying to become happier again. Because he did have people to talk to. Like Roger.

"Maureen is to gorgeous to date butch... or be one. And maybe because you're a pervert, and they both knew that you deserved to be slapped. Honestly, I don't understand what you find so sexy about two women. It just means they don't want you. And she did get bored. With me. And moved on." Mark decided he didn't want to talk about Maureen anymore. He needed to get over her, and day dreaming about her would not help at all. He moved on.

"I can't just ignore the rent, because Benny will kick me out. And, if you had a vagina, that would be weird. Quite, actually. And I don't want a meaningless lay, Rog. I'm not that kind of guy. I'm not like you. If I sleep with someone, I want it to be because we're both interested in each other, not because I'm... what was it? A squishy teddy bear?" he said with a sigh. Mark did not think he was squishy. He poked his tummy, just in case. No, he didn't feel any squishy. He didn't eat enough to be squishy.

Mark smiled at the memory of the video Roger was talking about. Although he couldn't like her now, he had adored April at one point. And he knew that her love for Roger was genuine, not just a quick lay. "April never looked fat. She was really beautiful. Not my type, of course. Too..." he trailed off. He didn't want to get Roger riled up. But the fact that the red headed girl had watched his films, had let him film her although she said she hated it, really did make him happy. Although he believed she took the easy way out, turned her back on everyone who really did love her, and basically killed Roger... well, still knowing that he had had her approval in the short time she was alive was a nice thing. It made him happy.

"I love you." Mark smiled. He loved Roger too, of course. It was nice to hear that he was appreciated, every once in awhile. He listened to Roger's rant, a small sad happy smile on his face. When Roger did finally stop talking, Mark was silent for a moment. He had gone through a lot for his best friend. A lot he hadn't actually had to do. Not one bit of it had ever been required. Not the gigs that lasted until the early hours of the morning, when Mark would rather be sleeping. Not putting up with Roger coming home stoned more and more often. Not going through withdrawal, or the days Roger had decided to be a hermit.

"I love you too." he said quietly. He did, of course. Everything that went through his mind that moment, proved that. He hadn't minded being puked on, and he had still gone back to calm Roger down after the punches that he'd received. Roger was really his best friend, the brother that he'd always wanted, the one guy who wouldn't shove him away and tell him to get lost. That he wasn't good enough to be around him. That no one cared about him.

"I'm not strong at all. You know, I still think about how it'd feel to just kill myself. Even after April, I still do. I'm messed up, Roger. I don't know why, but I think I was just born wrong. I'm not going to be able to deal with being alone. I just can't. The thought is enough to make me want to jump off a cliff. When you die, and I know you will which fucking sucks I'm going to be all alone and I just won't be able to stand it! I still have all of you guys, and I feel alone. Just because I know that its going to happen soon." Mark realized he was crying. Mark Cohen didn't cry. He wiped the tears away from under his glasses, and looked down.

(SAD!)