Hey everyone! Kris here.

I know it's been a very long time since Ive updated, I apologize for that, shit has been crazy, and I even got me a bae! Honorswolf14. Check her out. She's amazing, and a precious cinnamon roll, and she too writes rent-fic. Ive found the Mark to my Rog.

annnywho, All Rockers Go To Heaven is being worked on as we speak, I haven't forgotten it! In the meantime, enjoy this feelsy pile of emotions I decided to churn out. I have to be awake at six tomorrow, and it is currently 2am. I don't make good decisions.

Reviews are always appreciated!

"ROGER!"

Mark screamed as his gun fell from his hands. His boyfriend had let out a gut-wrenching cry of agony as one of the monstrous creatures had bit down on his shoulder, hard, and tore a piece of flesh from the area. Roger fell to his knees, but still managed to put a final bullet in the snarling being's head before it could do any more damage. With a sudden silence that overcame them, the green-eyed man curled up, hissing in pain, and covering the oozing wound with his hand. His fingers balled up against it tight, and judging by the look on his face, he was three steps from passing out.

Mark's world seemed to come to a screeching halt. The virus that they had managed to avoid for so long had finally got to them. Roger had been bit, and in an area that they couldn't amputate, or salvage. The harsh reality slammed into the young filmmaker, and soon left him breathless.

They couldn't save him.

"Fuck!" Roger yelped, rolling over onto his back, and breathing heavily. He was already drenched with sweat, a sign that the virus was spreading. Mark had seen it a hundred times before, yet now, when faced with it so close, he became dumbfounded, rooted to the spot as he watched the love of his life squirm and curse on the blood spattered pavement. "Oh god…" the musician whined. "I can't… it… ow…."

Hearing his lover in pain finally snapped Mark from his trance, and he dropped to his knees at Roger's side, pulling him close, and gathering him into his arms. Roger groaned loudly at being moved, but soon rested his head against Mark's shoulder, his eyes falling heavily closed.

Mark gazed down at him, tears blurring his vision.

Two young boys are running through a field. Its midsummer, and the exhausting heat of the day finally subsides into a dull roar. Shouts and squeals fill the air as the older one chases the younger with a worm.

"ROGGY! STOP!" A much younger Mark Cohen of age seven hollers. A younger Roger Davis, a boy not yet corrupted by drugs, depression, anxieties, and trauma, at an age of eight chases after him, holding the dreaded insect in question, laughing loudly.

"Awww c'mon, Marky! He just wants to say hi!" Mark giggles loudly, ducking behind a tree, and sticking his leg out. The gullible elder falls for it, and goes tumbling through the grass, the worm flying off into another patch of meadow, long forgotten. The green eyed boy collects himself with small grunts, when all of a sudden, the younger boy soars out from behind the tree, and onto his friend's back.

A wrestling match ensues, full of curses and laughter and fun, until both boys are worn out and giggling quietly among the dull grass. They both sit up, until Roger rests his head on Mark's shoulder, and gazes up at him with playful wonder.

"I love bein your pal, Mark." Roger murmurs, smiling happily. "You always make stuff fun."

Mark returns no words, but smiles down at him with warm affection. The kind that he would hold for the older boy for years to come. He reaches out, petting Roger's hair softly, and grinning. Roger smiles back, his eyes falling closed in contentment.

The memory abruptly ends, and suddenly Roger's smiling, younger features are replaced with his older, familiar haunted ones. Mark's mouth dropped open in horror as he watched his boyfriend turn ghostly pale. He began to shake, and he forced his eyes to open. The normal green began to fade, becoming glassy and feverish.

"Y-you have to take care of me, M-Mark…."

His voice is so strained and quiet that Mark struggles to hear him at first.

"Wh-what?" Mark murmured. "Roger… you… you can't be serious…" he didn't have to press his boyfriend further. He knew exactly what Roger was requesting. They all did.

"Mark…" Roger gasped as he trembled further. "You… you can't just let me… you know what I'll do… you… you can't fix this…"

Mark choked on a sob.

"I… I can't! Roger, for god sake!"

"If you love me, Mark… if you truly love me… you'll put me down before I can hurt you… or anyone else…" his shaking hand reached up to grab at the blond man's collar. "Please…."

Mark looked down at him, and he shut his eyes tight before pulling Roger into a hug, and crying into his shoulder.

Both boys are laying out in the same meadow, gazing up at a starry sky, and pointing at certain things now and then. Mark uses Roger's stomach as a pillow, giggling every time Roger yawns, or takes a deep breath.

"Will we always be friends?"

Mark's question stuns Roger, and he looks down at the younger boy with a quirked brow.

"Whadya mean?"

"You're cool, Roggy. And you like bugs, and you play the best games, and other guys will wanna play with you too… I'm just a dumb baby… I don't want you to forget about me…"

Roger smiles at him, and ruffles his hair.

"Even if other guys play with me, you'll still be my favorite. And I'll play with you before anyone else. We'll always be together."

Mark laughs a bit, newfound excitement worming its way into his small heart.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Yup!"

Mark sits up, holding out his hand to shake.

"Promise?"

Roger takes it happily, giving it a firm movement before winking and laughing.

"Promise!"

"Promise…." Roger begged, coughing heavily as his voice began to fade. "Mark…."

Mark held Roger's face in his hands, still crying, but nodding all the same.

"I promise, Roger… oh god… I promise…" giving his boyfriend one last kiss, he leaned their foreheads together briefly before glancing over at his forgotten weapon. He sobbed again, more forcefully this time. Roger gave him a comforting smile, even though Mark knew it pained him to do so, and did the one thing that caused Mark's heart to break.

He winked.

"Mark, you're the bestest ever! You gotta come over and see my pet lizard!"

Mark lay Roger down on the ground, giving him a jacket to prop his head up on. He slowly began walking towards the gun, his eyes shut tight.

"Mark, can you believe it? Middle school! Oh man… I'm gonna get every girls number! Every single one!"

Step one, two, three, four, five. The gun was at arm's length now. Roger moaned.

"High school, and I'm still stuck with you, huh dweeb? Come to my band practice next week. I need a sound guy for the talent show."

He crouched down, picking the weapon up from the floor, and holding it in his shaking hands. He checked to make sure it was loaded.

"I've never been with a guy before, but… I'm really glad I snuck you up to my dorm. I've missed you, Mark…"

He heard Roger begin to growl. He turned around, and began walking toward his boyfriend's body.

"Collins…This is Mark. He's new to the city, but…. He'll get used to it. So long as he doesn't get mugged whenever he crosses the fucking street."

He took a deep breath, and with a click, the safety was off.

"It's all my fault! She killed herself because of me! I got her sick!"

He pointed the barrel at Roger, slowly making his way upwards.

"Mimi and I…. we decided to just stay friends, yknow? Nothing personal."

The cold metal was then on the rocker's forehead.

"I don't know how I say this, Mark… god… it's… it's been this way for a while…"

The man whom he once knew slowly opened his eyes again, but this time, they were hollow, dead. Roger began to squirm, and snarl.

"I love you…"

Roger tried to get up, to reach for Mark with clawing hands, when suddenly, a loud gunshot, and a sound short of thunder echoed through the desolate atmosphere. Silence fell once more, and the ex-junkie slumped back to his place on the pavement, motionless. The gun fell from its owners hands, and clattered to the ground noisily. Mark's eyes were dark with grief, and he began backing up a little as he realized what he had just done. Struggling to breathe, he buried his face in his hands.

"I love you, too…."