| It was over. As Mark numbly watched the guitarist walk down the sidewalk, he realized just how over it was. He had always held that if Roger had ever come back to him...if they had seen each other just one more time...things would go back to normal. They would pick up right where they left off. But...Roger was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. He was halfway down the street, while Mark stood in the caf�, blinking and trying to keep himself from crying again. �He�s gone...oh God, I�ve lost him again...� It wasn�t fair. It wasn�t fair at all!! Roger swore, he *swore* that he loved Mark...but he just left again. How could he leave if he knew how much it hurt Mark?! How could he really love Mark if he knew, and left still? It didn�t make any sense...at least, it didn�t make any sense to him. Why couldn�t you be with the person you loved? Why couldn�t you be with the one person in the world who made you happy? �He�s not coming back this time, buck-o.� He was startled at the sudden intrusion. He was even more startled when he realized who had said those words. It was him. He hadn�t even realized he was saying it, but as he stood there, slaw-jawed, he realized it was true. *He�s not coming back...* The past ten years of his life had been built around a notion, a brief glimmer of hope that maybe...just maybe Roger would come back to him...maybe Roger would return to him and love him again. But suddenly, that hope dissipated. He had been here...and left. He had a chance to spend his life with someone who still loved him...and left with barely a kiss and a promise of postcards. The hope was gone. His center, the notion that he had been living on these past ten years, was snatched away with the ringing of a pager. �Mark, that girl covered your-� He barely heard Jenny. He was already stomping towards the door and out into the chilly November air. The very soul of his existence was gone. Wasted away. Disappeared. Ten years of waiting for 1 hour of bliss and a slam into the concrete wall of reality. *If I wait another ten, will it be any different? Any different at all?* What was the POINT of waiting another ten years to see the love of his life again? He couldn�t see it at all through the haze of self-hatred that surrounded him as he crossed the street and headed towards his apartment. He had spent a decade coasting on a false hope that he would be happy some day and for what? Another ten years of depression until Roger stumbled upon him at a concert. Another decade of pain and torment and isolation. Another lifetime of guilt that wasn�t his to bear but always somehow landed on his shoulders. He didn�t want to deal with it any more. He knew exactly how he would do it as he slammed open the door to his building and started for the stairs. His antidepressants. He often wondered why such an effective tool for suicide was given to people barely holding on. It would be easy. He could take some vodka...schnapps...whatever he could find lying around. A bottle of that, and the rest of his medication. He had it filled at the beginning of the week...there was still enough in there to make it quick. Maybe he could add some valium to the mix to make sure he went down peacefully. No one called him. No one ever visited. No one would notice. He mentally located all of the things he would need. The last flight of stairs... Mark slammed his own door open, heading straight for the bathroom. *Valium...meds...I can get the alcohol from the cupboard in the kitchen...* He stopped suddenly. Someone else was there. He prayed and prayed and silently pleaded for sympathy from whatever gods were listening as he stood, motionless. �I couldn�t leave you...� Roger was crying. He could tell from the ache in his voice. �I couldn�t leave you again, Mark...� He had been so close. It had seemed easy, out of the caf�, onto the street, down the block. Lyric was behind him and he could feel her eyes burning into him. �Say it!� he finally yelled to her without slowing. �Just say it! You know you want to.� He couldn�t slow down...if he stopped walking, he knew he would go back. �I�m not going to say anything!� she shot back. �If you know enough to realize what I�m going to say, then I think you can make the right choice.� He kept walking, frowning to himself and kicking himself as they reached the corner. A car whizzed by. He had to stop. Lyric caught up with him quickly and grabbed him by the shoulder. �No,� she shouted, �you know what, I am going to say something. I�m going to say that you�re cruel, Roger Davis. And that�s ALL I�m going to say.� She was glaring at him. It was too much. His guilt and Mark�s guilt and Lyric�s...he didn�t even know why he was leaving. �Lyric, I love him. Which is...god, Lyric, I need him so much, you don�t understand...� he whispered desperately. �Than be with him!� she screamed, startling the entire block. �For Christ�s sake, go back there and find him and sweep him off his feet and love him! Goddammit, if it�s meant to be that way, than go after him!� He stared at her for a moment. And then he was off, running down the street at top speed, wondering if his old keys still worked or if he�d have to break in, just like he used to. Down the sidewalk, up the stairs...like a madman, shoving an old key into an older lock, and watching in wonder as the door slid open. Four flights of stairs and he was there. Again, the old key worked. No one was there. He blinked several times. The old loft had furniture...it was decorated and livable. There was heat blasting from the vents, and appliances that seemed to actually work. It looked like a normal apartment. He was frightened of it. It proved that time had passed. It proved that he had really left his poor angel for nearly a decade. He slumped into an unfamiliar chair and glanced at his watch, wringing his hands together. He wasn�t about to make that mistake again...he needed Mark. He loved him. He couldn�t go through with this again... Mark didn�t move, even as he heard Roger�s hollow footsteps across the floor. He didn�t move as those familiar, callused hands gently touched his shoulders. He could get through this if he didn�t see Roger�s face. As long as he kept his back to the guitarist, he could still do this. His body tensed as Roger leaned into him. �Christ, Mark, I need you...I need you so much...I couldn�t leave again, Mark! I couldn�t hurt you again, I couldn�t put you through that...� No...no...those were lies. He would just leave again, he always did. He was always leaving and forgetting about Mark...always. This wouldn�t change anything. It wouldn�t change anything at all... �No...no, I won�t fall for that again,� he murmured. �I won�t let you do this to me again...I won�t...� Roger�s hands found themselves at Mark�s hips. His arms quickly encircled the filmmaker�s waist, still murmuring love and promises and hope, his lips tracing along Mark�s neck, his face burying itself in his hair... �I can�t...I...I can�t hurt anymore...you have to understand that, I can�t let you hurt me...I can�t hurt myself...� He started to tremble, his hands and arms shaking so violently...tremors enveloping his entire slender frame...�Mark, I won�t hurt you, I won�t leave you, I just need to be with you...I need you, Mark, I don�t need the band or music or money or fame or anything else. I only need you...please let me stay with you, Mark...please oh please...� The tears started nearly a full minute before he noticed them. A sob stuck in his throat. Roger�s lips grazed his ears and neck, begging for acceptance. Page 8 |