"Mark!" Roger said from somewhere within the loft.
I didn't know where he was, I knew that I left him in his room aimlessly strumming Muesta's Waltz.
"Roger?" I called out. I peaked into the kitchen and checked the fire escape. No Roger. I checked both our rooms. Still, no Roger.
I heard him call my name out again, from just down the hallway. I followed a trail small dark spots on the floor to where he was. Roger was curled up in the corner next to the mismatched end table and doorway to my black room. He was shaking uncontrollably and sweating profusely.
"Roger, what happened?" I asked. I bent down beside him and wrapped my arm around his waist.
"I couldn't make it to the bathroom, Mark." Roger mumbled. "I tried, but I couldn't."
"It's okay." I said. Roger tried to protest my picking him up, but I really could care less if I got sick. "Hold onto me." I told him. He weakly gripped at my neck, his fingers were barely touching me.
I didn't know where to go from there. The phone was cut off earlier today - I bought AZT instead of paying the bills this time around. Collins was supposed to be in by now, but he wasn't. With Roger still in my arms, I struggled over to the couch. I put him there and ran out onto the fire escape. I shouted out into the night, hoping Collins was waiting for the keys or that Mimi was taking a smoke outside her window.
Collins voice shouted back up at me. I told him that we needed an ambulance, and I threw the spare key down to him.
"Mark, there's something wrong with me." Roger said softly. He started to attempt to get up, and I pushed him back down.
"Collins is calling an ambulance. Everything is going be alright." I tried to be comforting, but the words sounded strange and strained to my ears.
"No it's not. I think I'm going to be sick." Roger said.
I helped him over to the toilet where he emptied the contents of his stomach out at. The sounds of his retching were horrific. They didn't sound the same as the ones he would have with a hangover or during his withdrawl. And blood came up. It scared the shit out of me.
After a while he stopped long enough for me to drag his fully clothed body into the shower. It proved to be harder than I thought, peeling soaking wet clothes off in the shower. I helped him get slightly clean, and then dried. By the time I was able to slip on a pair of sweatpants on him, Collins was at the door.
"I called an ambulance and I can hear the sirens getting closer." he said, at the doorway. He helped me get Roger back to the couch, where I sat holding him until the paramedics burst through the loft door, talking in their unrecognizable jargon.
This is short, but I definitely will post the next chapter up tomorrow. I already have it written out, just have to type it. Hope you liked it. Feedback is lovely.