Disclaimers and Notes in Prologue.

control
epilogue: this is where it ends...

Things don't get better over night. It takes time and love and patience... lots of patience. And sometimes, things don't get better at all. It was a scary thought, but one that Roger and Mark had to learn to deal with. Dr. Santania had likened depression and self-injury to alcoholism in an early session and it was the best comparison Mark had ever heard.

It was hard for awhile. Roger could not get used to the fact that this would not go away. "You should be cured!" he would yell at no one in particular when Mark had a particularly down day. "Those pills should stop this! You should be normal again!" He would not accept that things took time and more than once it almost drove he and Mark to the breaking point. It's hard to watch someone you love in pain and at times leaving them seems like a blessing. But love is strong and the love between Mark and Roger was stronger than anyone knew.

"I give them three weeks," Maureen had said early on, but the three weeks had come and gone and they were still inseparable. They went out together and took walks, talking and not talking, but always completely at ease with one another. In time, Roger even worked up the courage to hold Mark's hand at gigs and kiss him on stage when he filled in for their keyboardist. Mark reveled in the attention, which was worth so much more than the occasional name-calling and taunts. It was worth more than the Well Hungarians' other guitarist, Blake, who left soon after Roger started bringing Mark to gigs.

But time was the key factor, and in time things did get better. Mark saw Dr. Santania on a regular basis and Roger dotingly reminded him to take his medication each morning, the same way that Mark reminded him to take his AZT. He worked on his film and Roger worked on his music and in time even Mark's scars started to fade. He would stare at them in the mirror, wondering if he really wanted them to go.

"What are you looking at, baby?" Roger would ask, even though he knew the answer.

"Nothing. Or, soon to be nothing."

"It's better that way. Really. Why would you want to remember that?" And he would kiss Mark's forehead and implore that he come to bed.

But he did want to remember.

He wanted to remember because he was scared that he might forget.

end.


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