Friendship
RENT
by SylverIce2

 "Hi, my name is Mark, and I'm naturally awkward because I'm Jewish." Roger's voice was taunting, but friendly, and Mark had to laugh.

"It's a talent." He shrugged, setting his bag down and unwinding his scarf. "Was it really that bad?"

"No. You did pretty well." He settled more comfortably into the chair, socked feet up on the arm of the couch. "I thought you were going to lose it when Maureen's mom asked if you guys would get back together, but that was about it."

"Yeah. That was...unbelievably awkward." Roger toed his shoes off, dropping onto the couch and sighing deeply. He could still feel the way Roger had touched a hand to his back, letting his palm slide, not wanting to break contact. The simple stroke was enough to hold him up, let him walk away without nervously bitter words.

Roger rolled out of the chair, sliding the arms of his hoodie sweatshirt up to his elbows. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks." Mark waited, head tipped back with his eyes closed, listening to the familiar sounds of Roger moving around; the clatter of cups and spoons, the soft chink as he added just the right amount of sugar to Mark's cup. Without opening his eyes, Mark took the mug a moment later, smiling slightly as the couch shifted under Roger's weight.

Another moment, and the strum of chords; Mark knew that Roger's head would be bent over the strings, hair falling into his face. He opened his eyes, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "Still sounds a bit too much like Musetta's Waltz."

"Thanks. Just what I needed to hear." Roger grinned, knowing that the teasing was just teasing. "I'll get it eventually."

"Just have to have faith." Mark let his lips quirk in a grin, a smile that was ever-so-slightly wider than he normally allowed himself. He slumped more in the couch cushions, letting the delicate sound of the guitar wash over him. These were the moments he loved best, sitting quietly with his best friend, silent or not as they wished; it was a comfort they'd both grown used to as the rest of the group moved out or moved on.

And now it was just the two of them in the spacious loft, every noise echoing slightly, amplified by the lack of curtains or rugs. Mark always knew where Roger was in the loft, knew that Roger could tell where he was. But it hadn't bothered either of them in years, and now, it was another comfort, keeping them warm even when they couldn't afford to keep the heat on.

"Are you going out?"

Roger looked up, and their eyes met, shadows beginning to fall across the room as night descended. "Not tonight."