I stepped out of my bedroom and saw Roger by the window, softly strumming his guitar. I swallow hard and walk over to him. The door slides over and Mimi appears. Roger smiles and beckons her in with his hand. She glides into the loft, she waves at me then sits across from Roger. I take a step back and force a smile. I turn around and go back into my room. I sump against the door, and take a shaky breath. This was so hard.

...

Roger was at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. That's all he had been doing lately. Ever since Mimi died he just sits around. He looks clam so I ventured over to him.

"Roger can I talk to you." I almost whisper.

"No." He grunts. I open my mouth to ask him again but Roger glared at me. I bite my lip and walk away. Maybe tomorrow he would be feeling up to talk. I clench my fist until my nails dig deep into my palm.

...

I peek out of my room and see Roger smiling. I feel really hopeful. He's writing and playing his guitar. I leave my room and walk over to him.

"Roger can we talk." I say a little stronger then the last time.

"Can you wait a while, I want to finish this song." He says not looking up.

"S-sure." I say a little happy.

I come back an hour later to find Roger laying on the couch. I quickly move over to him.

"Roger?" I asks tentatively.

"What." He huffs.

"Can we talk now." I say slowly, not liking the way he's talking.

"Just leave me alone." Roger says turning away form me. I want to scream, but instead I bite my tongue. Hard.

...

Collin's had just left and Roger and I were on the couch. Collin's had just broke news that he didn't think he was going to be around much longer. His T-cells had dropped and the doctors had told him to stay in the hospital. He wouldn't, he wanted to tell his friends and live his last moments. He came to tell Roger and me where he wanted his funeral. I could hardly listen. I don't know if Roger was paying attention. We sit alone on the couch.

"Roger I need to talk to you." I say quickly.

"Shut up." Roger hissed and got up and left me alone. He grabbed his coat and left the loft. I grab my hair and pull my face into my hand. I cry hard. I need to tell him.

...

I need to talk to him. He's in the kitchen. I have been crying for three hours. He hasn't noticed, at least I don't think he has. I step out of my room and try to wipe away stray tears.

"Roger?" I say with my voice breaking. Roger turns towards me and look frightened.

"Mark? What's wrong?" He says running over to me.

"I need to talk to you." I say, my words are slurred together. The room is swaying and I feel very sick.

"Marky?" Roger's hands are on my shoulders. My knees feel week. I feel one hand drop from my shoulder and take hold of my arm. "Oh God Mark."

"Roger I need to talk to you." I say again, my eyes are blurry. My knees won't hold me up anymore. I intend to feel the floor hit my knee caps, but they never do.

"Mark..." Roger says. "Mark please stay with me." He holding me up. I feel him pick me up and place me on the couch. I hear him rush over to the phone and shout into the speaker. I feel him come back and kneel next to me.

"Mark...why didn't you say anything." He whispers.

"I tried." I whisper back.

He presses his hand into my wrist.

Maybe I shouldn't have cut so deep.