Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, sadly.

Notes: Here is chapter 2 of the latest story. Yes, it's still canon, and yes, my Mark is still straight. XD Roger is falling farther and farther away from real life, and Mark is falliing farther and farther from his friends. Both are going under in different ways, though they haven't figured out they need each other to get through it.

Collins and I had been talking a lot lately about his move to Boston. He had already found a place to stay out there with some friends he knew from before even Roger knew him. He was becoming too much for Collins to handle, and he just wasn’t listening to him; normally he would take Collins advice, but this time he had been acting as if he just didn’t care what Collins had to say.

He was happy… He had his girlfriend, who was “the love of his life” as he always called her. He had a pretty good thing going with his rock music; he’d been playing everywhere from CBGB’s to The Pyramid Club, and just about every hot spot in the Manhattan area, and was even planning on taking his music out of the area… a sort of tour. He’d also been talking to a record producer, who’d been hanging around when he and his band played. The record producer had been telling Roger and his band that he wanted to sign them as soon as they “got all their ducks in a row.” Well, that was becoming increasingly difficult for him since he’d been using the drugs on a more consistent basis than ever before.

Even I was getting fed up with him by this point. I was still quite upset with him for having me go with him on a drug run, but I still hadn’t said anything to him… not yet anyway. How could I? Whenever Roger was in a good mood, or not high, he was always too busy with his life; he and his girlfriend were inseparable, and the success of his band was “taking him places.” So, I opted to just hanging around. I finally started filming some of my scripts, but in all honesty, they all kind of suck. Although, I sent in one of my scripts to see if it held any value in the movie world, but it got sent back. But they left a really nice message on one of them: “The narration crackles and pops with incendiary wit.” Yeah, that meant, “thanks, but it’s really not that good, and but we’ll say something nice because it has potential.”

I got bored with the filming, since I’d been doing it all day, and I just couldn’t focus anymore. I rubbed my eyes hard. What time was it? I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and to check the time. 2:30. I hadn’t realized it was so late. No wonder there were no lights on when I came out here.

I started back toward my room with glass in hand, but stopped about halfway there. I heard a faint sound coming in from the fire escape window. I moved closer and heard the sound of a guitar being strummed. Roger was still awake. That didn’t surprise me.

That usually meant April was out cold in his room, and he could have his alone time. It was the only time he could write his music; at least, that was how it seemed.

Ever since he and April started dating, it seemed she took up all his time. He didn’t have time for any of us. Benny didn’t much like that, and would plan “guys night” so Roger could spend some time with his friends.

That was when all four of us guys would hang out, get drunk and/or stoned, talk shit, and be complete morons. It was a lot of fun. Watching and hanging out with these guys made me feel like I was one of them. They never made me feel like the outsider. It was cool.

After a few really good nights, and some not-so-good, and around the time I had my third bad hangover, I decided it might be safer to get high with Collins. I figured out that I didn’t handle smoke very well, however. I tried it a few more times, but one, couldn’t quite get the hang of it, and two, just couldn’t handle the smoke. I would cough so bad, it hurt.

Finally, I figured I could drink some but not too much, or get too drunk. Besides, they used to pick on my when I was too drunk or too stoned, and I couldn’t really do anything about it.

Roger really seemed to appreciate “guys night” and would take the time hanging with us to write his music. He wrote so many songs in a month once, because Benny set it up where “guys night” had to be every weekend during the summer months. But April wasn’t too thrilled with that, so by the end of the first month it became biweekly… if we were lucky.

When “guys night” dwindled into Benny and Roger constantly sniping at each other because Roger and Alison shared a kiss that almost lead to something more; Benny was convinced. He had gone out to buy more alcohol--we were running low--and somewhere between Benny leaving, Collins and me passing out, and Benny coming home, Roger and Alison got a little too close.

Roger swore it was just a kiss, and that it meant nothing, but Benny wouldn’t believe him. Even Alison told him it hadn’t meant anything, but it didn’t seem to help. Their yelling woke Collins and me up in time to see Benny slam the door, and Alison chase after him.

After that all happened, it seemed like Roger spent all his time with April, obviously avoiding seeing or running into Benny. I had never seen him so angry before. Not only was he avoiding Benny, but he started being a bitch to Collins and me. I usually took it; not because I was some wuss, but because I knew he wasn’t mad at me. Why make things worse?

Roger and April had been together for almost nine months by the time she got him to try a new drug--but not long after to get him to try others. It was right around the time everything fell apart; imagine that. Before I knew it, there were people hanging out here I had never seen before.

He hated crowds, but seemed to work really well in them. Everybody wanted his attention in some way; he would give them some attention, then just get up and move to someone else. I had only seen this once before after I had moved into the loft… at a bar they snuck me into.

Some of the people would pass out on the floor in some weird positions. Some didn’t sleep at all, talking all night about some of the strangest shit I had ever heard. Others were… moving about the room as if they were dancing while in a trance. That was one of the first times I had ever truly seen what a group of people on drugs were like.

But Roger had disappeared from the crowded room. April was one of the people having the strange conversation, ignoring everything else around her, and I had been hiding in my room, flipping through my accounting book from Brown. It was one of the last classes I took before I left. I was bored.

That was when I heard the music for the first time since shit hit the fan. I climbed out my window up to the roof to make sure he was all right. When I got there, I just froze. He was sitting on the almost-broken rusty chair playing something I hadn’t heard before. It was a song he wrote for April.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, giving him a smile.

He chuckled. “Thank you.” Then he held a smile, and shook his head. “You need to get yourself a girlfriend, man. Especially one that can inspire you, and make you wanna give up everything to be with her, but she doesn’t expect you to. You know I mean, man?”

I laughed. “Not a clue.”

He laughed harder. “Are you gonna start whining again about how you think you’re ugly, and… oh wait… not ugly, just a nerd. And how no girl would ever wanna date you cuz… no… no wait… how no hot girl would ever date you cuz you’re too scrawny… uh, too dorky… do I have these right?”

“You’re such an asshole,” I said, indignantly, while trying not to laugh.

“I know.” He laughed again. “You really need to get yourself a girlfriend, dude. Seriously. Hey, April’s got some pretty hot friends… interested?”

I shook my head, though in reality, I wanted to nod vigorously. “Nah. I’m okay.”

I glared at him the moment I realized what I said, and why he looked like he was about to burst into a hysterical fit. Then he exploded. “Fuck you, man. You are a such an asshole.”

“Hey… I’m not the one who, uh…” He snickered. “Likes to uh… you know… hang out with uh… rosy palm and her…”

“Oh, fuck you! Why do always have to bring that up?” I was a tad pissed at him.

He was still laughing… asshole. “Cuz it’s funny. So what if you got caught,” he snickered. “You know… mastu…”

“Don’t say it, Roger. Please.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with it. Dude, everybody does it. Trust me.” He giggled. “Some… more than others,” he said, patting me on the back.

I rolled my eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

“Chill out. Hey, if I was using that info to embarrass you, I’d of done it in there. I’m just having fun with you, man.” He patted me on the back again, smiling. “Besides… if you’re ever gonna get a girlfriend so you don’t have to do that...”

I cut him off a bit eagerly. “I’d like to have a girlfriend,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah? You get laid like, every night, and, well… you get what I mean, right?” He laughed.

“What are her friends like?” I said curiously, giving him more of my attention.

“Pretty cool, actually. A couple can be a little snobby, but not so bad.”

I nodded. “Are they all really pretty too?” I asked, half nervous, half hopeful.

“Oh yeah. I’m talking H-O-T.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Would any of them go out with someone like me?” I crossed my fingers behind my back. I actually had a chance to have a real girlfriend.

There he was again, just like before, only this time he was in between highs. Some days he actually seemed normal, could function well, and had even asked me to help him get off the drug.

Those moments were becoming few and far between, but tonight was one of them. I hadn’t seen him so lost in his music in a while. He seemed like the old Roger when he was in these states. I climbed back into the loft and ran into my room, grabbing my camera. I wanted to get this Roger on film before he had a chance to change again.

I filmed him for a good ten minutes before he stopped and realized I was out there. He heard me winding my camera.

“Oh… hey,” he said quietly. He set the guitar down beside him, and gave me his undivided attention.

“Hey. So, you uh… writing any new songs?” I moved closer, turning off my camera, and took a seat against what looked like an old air conditioner.

“Nah. Nothing new. Can’t think of anything…” He picked up the guitar again, but didn’t seem to know what to play.

“Play me something.”

He sat there for a moment, looking a little uncertain, then started playing a tune I swear I had heard somewhere before, but couldn’t place it.

Roger played it softly and slowly, at first, as if unsure of the chords, but by the time he got through about two measures, he brought up the volume, though his confidence in his playing seemed to still be diminished.

He didn’t shine like he used to; before, he was vibrant and full of confidence. He always carried himself as if he had all the answers in the world, but didn’t act like it. At least, that was how he was since I’ve known him… until the drugs took over his life.

The music gradually faded away. Well, at times it felt that way; especially after Benny moved out.