Roger sat on the worn couch, coughing every other minute. Mark sat in his room, trying to ignore it, but it was impossible. Roger has been doing this for the last week and with every passing day, its just been getting worse.
“Mark, I'm fine,” Roger told him before falling into a coughing fit.
“Obviously you're not Roger! Please just let me help you,” Mark pleaded, handing his roommate a glass of water.
Roger refused the water pushing the glass back into Mark's hand. “No, I'm fine I don't need anything,” Roger stressed through gritted teeth. At this point, just breathing hurt.
“Damn it Roger! You can't fucking lie to me. I can see it, you're sick and you won't let me help you. Why not?”
“Maybe I just want to fucking die Mark, did you ever think of that?” Roger glared at him and instantly regretted saying that.
Mark glared at Roger and turned, walking into his room, completely pissed off that the musician would even say that.
“Mark! Wait, please..” Roger called after his roommate but knew it was a lost cause. After saying that, he wasn't sure if Mark would even talk to him again.
Mark did forgive him though. He knew that Roger didn't mean to say it. He got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the “Mark! Let me talk to you!” call from Roger.
Walking into the bathroom, he closed the door and slid down against it.
“Mark, please, I need to talk to you,” Roger's voice said through the door.
“Roger, let me be in the bathroom alone, seriously, please” Mark called back to him through the door.
“Whatever. I'm giving you twenty minutes and then you better be ready to talk,” Roger's voice drifted as he walked away from the door, coughing.
Mark blinked the tears away. 'Twenty minutes is all I need then,' he thought, getting up from against the door and making his way to the medicine cabinet. Moving the few things in it around, he found the box that he was looking for.
He slowly opened the box and gulped slightly as he watch the metal reflect in the small light.
'If I do this now, I won't have to suffer through this anymore. I won't have to watch Roger die,' he told himself, pulling a blade from the box and tossing the rest into the sink.
He said down on the toilet and placed the blade against his skin, not even thinking about what he was going to do. He made the first cut, inhaling as it stung for the first second. He sighed as the pain left and he made another cut.
He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. “Mark, c'mon. I didn't think you would actually stay in there for twenty minutes. Get the fuck out here now. I need to talk to you,” Roger's voice said, knocking on the door.
Mark didn't reply, he made another cut, hoping this one would be the deepest.
Another knock on the door caused Mark to drop the blade and glare at the door.
“Roger leave me the fuck alone!” Mark called through the door, hoping that Roger would just leave him the hell alone.
“No Mark, I seriously need to talk to you!” Roger called. “Please just come on out,” he gave up knocking on the door and just walked in, not caring if he saw Mark naked or not.
He walked in and saw Mark sitting on the toilet, cradling a red arm in his hand.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Roger asked, glaring at the scared arm of his best friend.
“I want to die,” Mark whispered his eyes not meeting Roger's.
“Why? Why in the hell would you say that?” Roger asked, grabbing a towel and heading over towards Mark.
“Because you do. I figured since you don't want to live anymore, then why should I,” his eyes still strayed from Roger's, he couldn't look at him, not now.
“Mark, please. I wasn't in right mind when I said that. You shouldn't listen to me,” Roger told him, his voice shaking as he wrapped the towel around Mark's arm.
“Roger, you don't understand. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to be left all alone when you leave, and that could possibly be soon. I won't be able to take the silence, I'll slowly go insane and know one will be here to help me. I savor every moment that you play Musetta's Waltz, no matter how much I tell you I hate it. Roger, I can't live without you,” Mark explained, letting his tears fall freely.
Roger looked at Mark and he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the blond and brought him into a hug, letting him cry on his shoulder.
“Mark, Marky. You don't understand, if you're not here, I'll just die sooner. You're my best friend, I couldn't do anything without you,” Roger told him with a shaky voice. “Time goes on, but, you'll always be there, when I need you. I love you Marky, you're my best friend,” and he clung to Mark, and intending to never let go.