Chapter 1 - Crying Alone

Mark walked up the old rickety staircase leading up to the loft after a quiet night on the town with the rest of the gang. A year had passed since the passing of one of his best friends and his relationships with the rest of the gang had come to pass as he knew they would. Mimi had gone off with Benny and tried to rekindle their relationship, but failed to accomplish her goal and again lived in her little loft the floor underneath Mark and Roger, Maureen and Joanne had went their seperate ways, but once again Joanne had realized that she couldn't be herself without Maureen and gone back to her and were now living together in a large appartment on the opposite side of town, Collins had gone to another college as a professor, but teaching nothing now and lived alone with his own habits, and of course Mark was still trying to live his life shooting for different organizations just barely scraping by, and Roger was still writing songs living with Mark after buying another guitar and was actually making it somewhere.

As Mark reached the top of the staircase he slid his key into the all too familiar lock and turned the lock, releasing the deadbolt and sliding the large metal door to the side and walked in. It had been nice to see the gang again, and now that they were all friends again, all except that backstabber, Benny, who still had eyes to make a virtual wonderland, Cyberland. Mark set his keys down on the table and realized that there sat Roger on the couch, staring at the TV, entranced by the program on the television. The light from the TV lit his face up in different shades as Mark made his way to the couch. Roger looked up to Mark and Mark soon realized that Roger was not doing as well with his problems as he let off. On the side table next to the other end of the couch sat a bag of white powder and a syringe, making Mark think the worst. As soon as their eyes met, Mark knew that Roger had not done anything, that the needle and powder were what was left of Mimi's previous, not so glorious, visit. Mark exhaled the air he had held in his chest as he reached out to Roger and touched him on the shoulder.

"Hey Roger. How are you doing?" Mark asked as he walked around the side table and sat on the couch and looked at the TV. He soon recognized the documentary he had made himself, of their friends two years ago, when Angel ws still alive and all was going well between everyone. The movie flashed scenes of the friends' lives, happy as could be. It showed the scenes he had shot in front of a gray screen of the gang. As the movie finished with a picture of Angel with his blue nail polish. A tear filled Mark's eye as he turned the TV off, shutting out all the light in the room. He looked at Roger who had yet to answer his question. Mark reached his out and grabbed the pullstring for the lamp on the side table next to the syringe.

"I'm fine, I guess. Mimi came over today. She was having troubles with her addiction. She tried to get the stash she tried to use last week," Roger replied after the light was turned on.

"Was that before we all went out today? We missed you at the cafe. Why weren't you there?" Mark asked, trying to find out why Roger had not gone out with the rest of their friends.

"Well, yeah, that's why I didn't go. I knew that Mimi would be there, and I couldn't stand to see her after what happened earlier," Roger said before hoping up from the couch, setting his new Gibson on the stand before making his way to the kitchen portion of the large room. He quickly grabbed two glasses, vodka, cherry grenadine, and coke from the refridgerator and mixing them some pretty strong drinks. As soon as the drinks were made, Roger brought them back to the couch and handed one to Mark. "Oh, c'mon, drink up, it's not the first time we've had a drink," he said as he sat down on the small couch next to Mark.

"Remember those times when everyone was kind," Mark sang out looking down at his glass.

"I remember those days. They seem so far away," Roger answered in his own, higher, yet rougher sound.

"Thank God we're here to stay!" Mark sang as he looked at Roger.

"But are we really? What happened to yesterday? What's happening tomorrow? Will we ever truly know?" Roger cried out as he stood up.

"Yesterday, I needed you. Tomorrow, I'll need you. And as for the future, who knows? But now we live in a world, so overridden by," Mark answered standing up himself.

"What if's? Hows? and Who knows.!" Roger interrupted, putting his two cents in, but knowing that he had a point.

"Like what if we get in a fight? Or who knows about tomorrow, and how, how will this world turn?" Mark replied, his arms making gestures to show what he was talking about. In the silence that followed, he grabbed his drink and took a long gulp, downing about half the glass, without even thinking about it. Roger looked at him in suprise, but also as if he was taking it as a challenge. Roger himself grabbed his glass and downed it as well. Their heads spinning, they continued singing.

"What if's? Hows?and Who knows." They sang together. Their thoughts clouded, their drinks terminated, and their voices ringing, they continued their song, and finished by dancing together, in close proximity to each other and, being drunk as they were, didn't even notice that they were practically on top of each other the entire time. At the end of the song, Mark ended up being nose to nose with his roommate as they finished their dance.

The boys' eyes locked together for a milisecond, but it wasn't just a milisecond to these boys. To them, it felt like an eternity. As they broke the eye contact, they pretended to feel awkward, not that it wasn't, but it wasn't bad awkward, it was comfortable, new awkward, and oddly, each of the boys enjoyed that sensation. Not that they would let the other know that.

"Well, I have to go shoot some stupid story about a rally down at the Cat-Scratch Club tomorrow during the day. Come to think of it I've never been there during the day... But oh well, so I should probably get to bed... As should you... Got lots of songwriting and sleeping in to do tomorrow," Mark joked before grabbing the glasses and throwing them into the dishwasher.

"If you see Mimi, tell her... Ya know what? Nevermind. If she wants to talk to me, she'll talk to me," Roger said in response to Mark talking about how he has to get up early for work, of which Roger had none of. "Well, I am going to bed, I'll see you tomorrow." Roger said before walking off into his room.

Mark looked at the apartment one last time before grabbing a few things from around the loft, mostly trash that had been left by both of the slobby men, threw them away, and headed to bed himself. Yet, Mark could not get the thought of Roger's eyes looking into his like that, and neither could Roger, both of which just lie in bed and stared at their cielings, trying not to think about what might be happening, or what might have already happened...