Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: Written for Rent100.
The Death of Inspiration
Mimi and Roger's goodbyes weren't much of a goodbye at all. Silence welcomed Mimi onto the other side, Roger's fingers gently entwined with hers as she took her last breath. Her eyes had fluttered shut and her grip had loosened as Roger looked down at her with the lines of sadness deepening on his face.
Mark had appeared in the doorway, the light from the main room of the loft highlighting his figure angelically. He didn't have to say anything, because he knew. He slowly walked across the bedroom, eyes connecting with Roger's. Silent, unspoken words were exchanged between them as Roger began to shiver.
With light fingers, Mark lifted Mimi from Roger's lap and then placed her underneath the blankets, pulling them up to her chin. With an outstretched hand, he pulled Roger to his feet and the two walked across the room, finally stopping when they got to the cracked wall adjacent to the bed. Roger silently allowed Mark to pull him to sit on the floor, and didn't hesitate when Mark pulled Roger into him to cradle him into his side.
"She still looks so beautiful," Roger murmured, breaking the waves of silence. Mark wrapped his arm around Roger and pulled his best friend closer.
Mark replied by placing his hand against Roger's temple, pulling Roger's face into his chest as he felt his best friend's sobs rumble in the guitarist's chest. As Mark further allowed Roger to cry into him, Roger's fingers balling up into Mark's shirt as Mark gently held Roger, he allowed himself to peer over at Mimi's still figure, looking content and at peace for the first time since she had gotten sick.
"I couldn't agree more," Mark said softly, and he couldn't.