Pairing: Mark/Maureen, Maureen/Joanne, mentions of Roger/April
Word Count: 229
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money off of this.
A/N: Contrary to title, neither second-person nor all lowercase.
“I need you,” Maureen always said now. She used to say, “I love you, Pookie,” but she never does anymore. Mark could tell it was a struggle for her to say I love you at all.
He remembers the exact moment ‘I love you’ became ‘I need you.’ It was one month ago to the day. Roger had called, choking out something Mark didn’t understand. Finally, he pieced together that April was dead, and Roger had HIV. Even a month later, it was still a shock.
When he told Maureen, she had clung to him, sobbing. What was she going to do without her best friend? April had always been there for her (well, not so much in the last few months, since she was too busy shooting up, Mark sensitively refrained from adding), and now that she was gone, Maureen didn’t know what to do with herself. For about a week, they had barely left the apartment; they just clung together, shivering. Goddamn landlord wouldn’t turn the heat on.
She never said ‘I love you’ anymore. In fact, Mark can count the amount of times she did say it: three. Maureen was always such a commitment-phobe.
Nine months later, she is all over Joanne. “I love you, Pookie,” Mark hears her say from across the room, and he rolls his eyes. Maureen. But deep down, it still hurts.