The finale! Copyright stuff: Roger and Mark do not belong to me, though I wish they did… anyway… Jonathan Larson created the characters, I just use them for my enjoyment…

I walk in the apartment. Roger is sitting on the table and scurries like he is trying to hide something. In fact, did he just cover up something with my New York Times? Whatever, in and out that was my plan.

"Back so soon?" He is sitting really still and has a scared look in his eyes.
"Yeah, I forgot my camera, but I'll be on my way." I turn around, and walk towards the door, but something stops me. "Is everything alright?" Right back into co-dependence mode.

"Yeah, just fucking dandy."
"What are you doing?" Mark; just get out of the apartment before you contradict everything you just said.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine."
"Uh-huh…Seriously, Roger, what are you hiding?"
"Nothing. You don't care anymore anyway."

Uh… he is so frustrating. "Roger, you know I care. I was just pissed off. You are really acting weird though, what is wrong? What are you hiding?"

"Mark, for the last fucking time, mind your own fucking God-damn business!"

"This is obvious my business." I put my camera back on the table. "I hate fighting with you Roger, especially now… after Collins… its times like this we need each other the most. You just keep pushing me away so I was trying to give you a taste of your own medicine. I care about you; you are like a brother to me. And the realistic picture is, I'm the only one you have left. We're stuck with each other for the time being."

Roger turns to look at me. He looks beaten down. "I hate admitting that I need people, and I especially hate admitting that I need you." I laugh at that. "Truth is Mark, I need you now more than ever." He then picks up the newspaper to reveal his needle and stash.

I jump back astonished. "Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm afraid not. Just this once, just now was the first time in years."
I'm speechless. I don't know what to say.

The phone begins ringing. We both ignore it.

'SPEAK!' BEEP!

"Mark? It's Maureen, obviously. Just wondering if you'd found Roger yet. Joanne and I are worried about him. Call us ok sweetie." BEEP!

"How's that for irony?" Roger speaks my own thoughts for me. He laughs, but then grows serious. "I guess you are right. No one worries about you. You never seem to need it. You're always taking caring of us…" His voice trails off because the phone rings again.

'SPEAK!' BEEP!

"Mark, it's me again, We're worried about you too. Call us or come over. We want to see you… Don't be a stranger!" BEEP!

I chuckle. "Leave it to Maureen."

"Yeah." He laughs. "I feel like shit. Why did I do this again?"

"I haven't the slightest, but I won't go through that bullshit again. Roger, I will help you, I will be there, but I won't put up with that shit. You have to choose, right now. You can stay here and flush it all, or walk out the door now."

"I just don't want to hurt anymore."

"If you don't hurt, are you really living?"

"Ooohhh, that's really deep." He starts laughing at me. "Where would I be without your little Markisms?"

"Markisms. I like that." I roll my eyes, worried about what his next action will be. I don't want to see him walk out that door, but…I reach out and grab his shoulder. "I mean it Roger, you have to decide now."
"Ok, I understand." He gets up from the table and walks straight in the bathroom "I feel like shit now, but maybe we can go out later…"
"Yeah, whatever you want."
"You'll have to pay" He yells from inside the bathroom, "I kind of wasted all my money today." And with the word wasted, I hear the toilet flush.