Après moi... (Mark)(Casual)

[ROGER DAVIS]

He couldn't say that he couldn't understand it, because his ways were just the same. But she needed to go. They had money to get pills, Mimi was the one that needed them, not him. He could wait until they came up with some money. He could wait until the free clinic opened back up. He didn't care about himself, all he cared about was her. And apparently, Mimi thought the exact same way about Roger. And when two headstrong forces met, the ending was never good. Which was how it was currently. The two had fought, loudly about things that the two were too stubborn and too proud to admit, and it had left him leaving before one of them said something they would regret. Which was usually him and usually, he didn't think about what he was saying, which lead to very painful and very mean statements.

The air was cold, and the heat was off (another reason why the fight had broken out; they had both been insanely uncomfortable) and as Roger climbed the fire escape to the large window of the Loft, his teeth chattered, and he was sure he could feel the tears of frustration that slid from his eyes turn into ice on his face.

Fuck New York's cold weather. Fuck being poor. Fuck Mimi. Fuck AIDS and AZT and fuck this life.

He pushed the window open and entered; the Loft wasn't much warmer than Mimi's apartment was, and he instantly moved, grabbing the blanket on the worn, duck taped couch. He was emotionally exhausted, and he curled up on the couch, not even sure if Mark was home. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk or just wanted to sleep. He heard footsteps in the hallway and tried to block them out. He knew in the back of his mind that coming to the Loft would only mean he'd have to talk, but it was the only other place he knew to go to get a decent nights sleep.

Sooner or later, anyway.

He curled himself into the blanket, trying to make himself into a cocoon. Maybe if he rolled himself tight enough he could make all the problems go away. Or make it so nothing could get to him. The only evidence that a human was the lump on the couch was the small amount of blonde hair that was poking out from the top of the blanket.

[markcohen]

The thermometer was getting dangerously close to zero, and what concerned Mark the most was how the cold was going to affect his film equipment that was just the typical Mark Cohen mindset - never mind the fact that his fingertips were almost blue and that he was shivering even though he was wearing three different layers and his coat and scarf. Sure he was freezing, but he had a shitload of film that hadn't been processed and what was going to happen to it if something froze? That was almost two weeks' worth of film and he couldn't afford to lose it.

Considering that the Loft was empty aside from him, it should have been dead silent, except the wall and floors and ceilings in this building were damn thin. He could hear the shouts from the apartment below, where Roger and Mimi seemed to be going at it, though over what he couldn't tell. He couldn't make out a word, just the sound of voices.

Well, it was better than having to listen to them having sex, at least. That always reminded him of how painfully single he was, still. Arguments were one thing about relationships he definitely didn't miss a bit.

He sat on the floor of his room (which didn't particularly look like a bedroom at all, considering there was equipment strewn across his bed and every other surface), digging through boxes for the things he needed to get the film processed, when he suddenly noticed the silence below. He sighed softly, mentally counting to himself.

5... 4... 3... 2...

And sure enough, he heard the sounds of Roger entering the loft, his shoes pounding on the hardwood. He shook his head and ran a hand through strawberry blond hair, pushing the large box off his lap and standing, figuring it was probably time for a coffee break anyway. He watched from his doorway as Roger curled up on the couch, then pushed his glasses up his nose, leaning against the back of the couch, poking at the blond hair sticking up out of the blanket.

"What was it this time?"

[ROGER DAVIS]

"I don't wanna talk about it."

The lump that was Roger Davis mumbled out words from under the blanket, and he felt himself sigh out, shifting with a frown. Knowing that the answer wouldn't satisfy Mark, Roger sighed out again, harder at the frustration that seemed to bubble back up inside of him. "I hate her."

Of course, he didn't hate her. Roger was so far from hating her, but frustration lead to words that he didn't mean. "She's such a stubborn bitch sometimes and it pisses me off." Shifting again, Roger tried to curl up tighter to try to make Mark's very presence go away. He didn't exactly want his friend to leave, but he didn't want to talk to him...leave it to his best friend to bring that out in him.

"I don't wanna talk about it, dude. I'm just gonna get upset again and I've about lost my voice screaming."

[markcohen]

In all reality, he should have expected that kind of an answer from Roger, because that was the typical Roger response. He always said he never wanted to talk, but he always seemed to break down after a little bit of pressure from Mark. He thought it was better for Roger to talk things out instead of brooding - pretty hypocritical, since Mark was the one who really bottled things up anyway.

"Okay..."" Mark shrugged, making his way into the kitchen to pour himself the last of the coffee, sipping at the bitter, lukewarm beverage, frowning when Roger went on. "You and I both know that's not true." He spoke in a level, calm voice, the voice he'd been using on a moody Roger ever since his withdrawal days.

Mark moved to the couch and sat down on the empty end, cradling the coffee between his hands to keep them warm, exhaling, his breath a cloud.

"She's not the only stubborn one, you know." He pointed out softly, looking at Roger, who was wrapped even tighter in the blanket. The musician on the other end of the couch repeated that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Rog, you're already talking about it.

[ROGER DAVIS]

You and I both know that's not true.

"It could be true. It totally could be true and you wouldn't even know it." It was such a lie, but he tried as hard as he could to make it sound like truth. Except instead of sounding truthful, he sounded like a petulant child."She's pissing me off more and more." Of course, this was the first time that they had fought in...a long time. He heard Mark speak again, saying that the stubborn ones always came in pairs, and Roger poked his head out of the blanket with a slight frown as he pointed out another piece of obvious truth.

"You really suck."

The words were said with no hatred or frustration that he held for Mimi, and a sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over onto his back to look over at Mark. He stayed silent for a moment, watching his friend before a long sigh escaped his lips.

"We're dying."

The words were said evenly, and he felt his eyes close as he brought a hand up, pressing fingers against his eyes. "We're dying and she's just ignoring that fact. She wont go to the doctor. Wont get her counts. We talked about it two nights ago, and she tried to distract me by screwing me. It only distracted me for a day. Then we started arguing. About how she's sick all the time. About how I'm sick all the time. We're arguing about stupid shit and I can't stand it anymore."

[markcohen]

"I know you, Roger. I know it's not true." Mark shook his head, knowing that he was right - the idea of Roger hating Mimi was absurd at the very best. They might not always get along, but Mark could just see it in his best friend's face that the man was deeply in love with Mimi, whether he'd admit it or not. "She's been pissing you off since day one." And there was the other side of it - they were crazy about each other, but at the same time, they drove each other crazy. Mark wasn't sure he'd ever understand that.

Roger told him he sucked, and the corners of Mark's mouth twitched up into a little smirk. "Oh, so I've been told, on more than one occasion." He rolled his eyes and took another long sip out of his coffee, pulling a face - damn, when it went cold, it went cold fast. He looked down at Roger who was looking back up at him, both of them silent, and he was almost going to leave the blond until finally the other man spoke.

Of course, Mark winced, hating how matter-of-fact it sounded. But it was simply true and there was no denying that. Roger and Mimi were dying... But that didn't mean Mark liked talking about it. "Rog, don't s-" He stopped as Roger continued, Mark pressing his lips into a thin line as he listened. He sat silent for a moment, setting his mug down on their makeshift 'coffee table', looking down at Roger.

"It's not stupid shit." He finally said quietly. "You're worried about her, and she's worried about you. You're both scared for each other, but Mimi's never worried so much about herself. She just... takes it as it comes." Mark shrugged. "I don't know... She'll go when she wants to."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Rog, don't--"

"Don't what?" Roger asked, looking over at Mark seriously. "Don't say that? I can't-- can't deny this fact anymore. I've tried to deny it, tried to tell myself over and over in my head until I go crazy that I'm fine. I'm okay. But you, me, Collins, everyone, we all know the truth. I'm not gonna get old." However, Mark continued, and Roger felt himself swallow. "She doesn't want to go, that's the problem. That's the problem, Mark. She doesn't want to go, and the only way I think I'll ever see her in a hospital is when she's in a morgue."

As morbid as it sounded, it was probably the truth. Mimi didn't like hospitals just as much as Roger didn't, but did that mean he wasn't going to go get his meds? Go get his counts checked? No.

"She says she's worried about me?" Roger asked, and then he shook his head. "If she was worried about me, she'd know how much it'd fuck me up if I woke up and she was dead. She doesn't understand that. I've tried to tell her before. About how--"

Even the simple thought of April's body, lifeless and dead made his stomach drop, and he swallowed. "I haven't told her everything." he admitted after a moment. "I can't. I can't tell her everything, but she knows what happened. I told her at least that. Doesn't she realise how completely fucked up that would make me if I had to deal with that again?" Roger asked Mark, looking over at his best friend.

[markcohen]

Mark looked down at his hands in his lap, his cheeks going warm with something like shame as Roger spoke. It wasn't really something either of them wanted to admit, but at the same time, something that was going to have to be faced eventually. Still, the topic always made Mark stubborn, and he would always switch over into denial mode almost immediately.

"You don't know that, they're making in advances in this stuff all the time, better drugs..." He sat back against the couch, rubbing his hands together to produce at least some heat, heaving a sigh. "Mimi's stubborn, she's not going to budge easily, if she does at all. Did you ever ask her why she's refusing to go? Maybe she's got some kind of reason..." He looked up at the ceiling, staring through the cracked skylight at the night sky that never really got completely dark.

"She doesn't have to say it. I can tell, when she looks at you..." Mark replied without looking back at Roger just yet. He sat in silence briefly, then finally turned his eyes down at his best friend lying on his back on the couch. "I don't know what to tell you, man. Maybe she doesn't totally realize, you know. Hell, I was there the whole time and even I can't totally imagine how much that had to have fucked with your head."

[ROGER DAVIS]

It was then that he had realised once again what he had said. That look, the fact that Mark went silent and looked down at his hands in his lap, the redness that Roger could see vaguely in the dark...it was all there. "...Mark." he started, but trailed off as he realised he wasn't sure what he wanted to say to his friend. "I don't know if there's better drugs, but, y'got the better money to pay for the better drugs? 'Cause I sure the hell don't." Roger said as he sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest as he watched Mark settle against the couch. He brought the blanket up, wrapping it around his shoulders, curling up into it. When Mark asked his next question, Roger curled tighter slightly as Mark asked if he had ever asked why Mimi was refusing. "No." Roger said after a moment, watching as Mark looked up at the skylight. He met the man's eyeline, looking up at the broken skyline, before listening as Mark spoke again.

"...I don't know how to tell her." Roger said honestly. "I--I can't even begin to describe...what happened." Roger stated slowly. "At times, I hate her, you know? I want to tell Mimi that I hate April with everything I am. And then, in the same breath, I understand. I understand why she did it because for a while after, I wanted to follow her. I don't want to tell Mimi that 'cause I know she'll just flip out or look at me like I'm crazy."

He paused, and then continued. "A-And it's not like I can say that to her, because...because what girl would like to hear that some other chick made you feel all these feelings? That another girl made you feel like that? I don't want her to think that I don't care about her like that, because I do. I think I care about her more, which scares me."