-1A/N: Just a moment piece, not really a story. Mark and Roger friendship. Also, I don't own this. So, yeah.

Denial

"Hey Mark," I say, upon hearing the slide of the door open and your footsteps come trudging in. You stop suddenly and I don't turn around, just continue to watch the world pass by on the streets below the window, "Where have you been?"

I can hear your hesitation through the shifting of feet and sound of fingers running through your hair.

"I went to go film some stuff in the park," You finally say, and I hear the sound of you throwing your belongings on the metal table by the kitchen. Your voice is thick with lies and fake nonchalant ness, and you stink of secrets.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," I acknowledge, bringing the chipped coffee cup to my lips and taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid that makes me grimace. My eyes catch the sight of a dark purple bruise that was tainting the back of my hand, and I wonder when that had shown up.

Down on the streets below, my eyes catch Mimi's figure as she saunters down Avenue B, her destination probably here, and I smile.

God, I love her.

From behind me, I hear you rummaging through the pretty-empty cabinets in search of something to snack on, and for that I am grateful. You haven't been eating much lately, your thin frame border lining on emaciated. I could only imagine what your mother would say if she saw you now.

"Yeah, well, it's really pretty there," You finally reply, and I heard the sound of dry cereal pouring into a mug. I don't have to turn around to know that in only a few moments I'll hear the sound of the dry cereal crunching between your teeth and that you'd be leaning on the counter, staring off into the ceiling.

The thing, however, is, that I desperately want to believe you, that'd you had been walking through the park all day, camera in hand, with that sort of reminiscent smile you get when you've captured something beautiful. No, I can't, though, because I caught sight of your camera laying idly on your bed through the door that led into your bedroom which was slightly left ajar.

No, you've become increasingly distant lately, making excuses not to sit with everyone when we're all just talking, or leaving during those times you would used to just sit with Mimi and I and just chat, back when things were almost normal. Well, as normal as they could get with everything.

You think I don't notice, but I do, and so does everyone else. We just don't have the balls to talk to you about it because hearing you say why you've become so distant could possibly destroy the faux air of happiness we've all been buzzing lately.

I know what it is, because it started right after you noticed that first lesion on the back of my elbow that night when I had been wearing a teeshirt. I know it's because you know I'm dying, and we all know I'm dying, and I know I'm dying, and you can't pretend like nothing's happening like the rest of us have perfected.

You can't watch me die, and you can't pretend like it's not happening, so you flee, mourning the loss of me without anyone to help you, and I can't blame you. I can't blame you because you're stronger than the rest of us right now, Mark. We're all in denial and you've faced the truth, and this is your way of dealing with it, and I can't hold that against you, which is why I will never bring it up, not ever, not tomorrow, not three weeks from now, not on my deathbed.

You are being the strong one, Mark, and I admire that. And because of that, I know you'll be okay.

I hope to God you'll miss me, but you'll be okay.