Author's Note: Hey all! Well, this would happen to be my first official rent fanfiction and I couldn't be more excited for it! This idea has been floating around in my head for days and I needed to get it down somewhere. Not a very strong way to start off on the site but hey, might as well give it a shot. Just so you all know, the main character 'Mia' who narrates the story is not actually myself. She's fictional. Alright, I hope you enjoy this and like the concept. Read and review, por favore? Thank you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. … Damn.

I remember that day. I remember it in all of its essence. It was December. December 24th, 9 PM. The city was alive; every window or street corner vibrant with color. Past the grim shadows of heartbreak and lost hope, you could see something beautiful. Christmas had meant a million different things to the people of that city, but for me it was a time of finding myself. I had been searching all up and down the Lower East Side, and there I stood in front of the walk-up I had been searching for. Jonathan Larson had laid his eyes on that walk-up more then 10 years ago and knew this was where his characters were going to thrive within his mind. I dug my hands deeper into my coat. I could see my breath hanging in the hair. I exhaled, let out my heart in one breath to paint this city before I climbed the stairs to who I was, and then started in.

I ascended the stairs, slowly, surely, not quite sure of what I was looking for or what I expected to find, but I felt more complete with each step. I passed floor by floor, feeling even more caught up in something that wasn't real as I got higher. The 2nd highest floor – an apartment. The door was ajar. I peered in. No one was there. Of course no one was there. What was I expecting? This walk-up was abandoned and besides…the people I was looking for didn't really exist. Up one more – and there was the loft. The loft Jonathan knew was meant to be the basis of the environment of his characters. The heavy door separated me from a world I believed in, but wasn't real – the world my best friends inhabited. I leaned against the cold metal. I knocked. I knew no one was there to open it, but I knocked anyway. My entire past and who I had become was invested in fictional people who I wanted so desperately to really live behind this door. This cold door. Cold. Cold season. Cold city. Cold reality. It was a cold world, and the only people who lit it up for me were a couple of Bohemians. They sparked a fire. I wanted to be part of that fire.

Against my better judgment, I knocked again. Cold air. Christmas. How I was yet to know what it'd bring.

The door opened.

"Yes?"

I froze. Like the frost on their window. Like the dead passion in their eyes. Like their own worlds that they were forced to plod through. Frozen.

"Uhm, are you alright?"

The ice started to break in my chest.

"Oh my God.."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I.. I…" I spun around, rubbed my eyes, and twirled back to face him. His cold gaze was still settled on me. He was real. No, no. He couldn't be real.

"You can't be real…" I couldn't hear myself anymore. He chuckled nervously.

"Pretty sure I am. Last time I checked, anyway." He tilted his head. "You uh, you don't look too good. Is something wrong?"

"I… I… don't know where I am."

He inhaled deeply.

"Yeah uh.." He rubbed his temples in frustration. "Come on in."

I couldn't move. I felt his palm on my lower back pushing me into the loft.

"Rog?" He called.

I couldn't take anything in. My eyes were overflowing with poignantly beautiful sights I never thought I'd really see. I saw the wood-burning stove. The extension cords. Their phone and answering machine. Roger's guitar.

"Hey what…uh, Mark?"

And then I saw Roger.

"Roger. Roger Davis." I choked.

His features snapped. Something in his face broke.

"How do you know my name?" He rasped.

"I…" I couldn't answer him. I had enough questions exploding in my brain. "Mark Cohen…"

Mark leaned forward with bulging eyes. The companions looked at each other tentatively.

"Your camera. That's right!" I walked over to Mark's camera rested on the metal table. I cradled it in my arms and fingered the antique parts. I could feel it; this was real.

"Your documentary..."

"Alright. This is scary." Mark grabbed his camera from me.

"Yeah, who are you?!" Roger demanded.

I watched them as their eyes urged in disbelief.

"I'm…Mia."

"Mia. Alright. Well, I guess there's no need for our names; you seem to know us already." Mark joked.

"Yeah, and we'd like to know how!" Roger grunted.

Again, I faced their stares. It was too much to take in. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe I'd be in the presence of those stares.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I breathed.

Roger crossed his arms against that green fleece. It was torn at the elbow. I'd known that though.

"Try us." He dared.

I shrugged off the question and took another look around. Lyrics flashed in my head.

"What's today?!" I asked frantically.

Mark sighed sympathetically. "December 24th."

"9 PM."

"Eastern Standard Time?" I whispered.

Roger heard. "What else?"

And then it hit me –

"1989?!"

"Maybe you should sit down…" Mark led me to their beat up sofa and sat beside me. Roger sat on the arm of the chair across from us.

"Let's start over." Mark scooted a little closer. "You're Mia?"

I nodded. "Mia Cordon." I filled in. The name sounded so foreign now.

"Nice to meet you, Mia Cordon." Mark shook my hand. I let out a nervous breath.

"Mark. I'm Mark."

He looked to Roger with my hand still cupped in his.

He gave in. "Hey. I'm Roger."

"Hello." These introductions felt redundant; I felt like I knew these boys for years. And I had. Just…not in this sense.

"Can I ask what you're doing here?" At hearing his voice, I looked into Mark's compassionate eyes. He seemed frightened, nervous even. Roger couldn't wait for me to leave.

"Honestly…I can't tell you that."

Mark frowned. "Alright. Where are you from?"

It took me a moment to figure out how to answer that.

"I live in Queens." And I did. Just not then.

"How did you get to our walk-up, then?"

Another toughie.

"I…came looking for someone."

"And did you find them?"

I paused. "Suprisingly…I did."

"Wonderful." Roger sniped. Mark shot him a glare. He stopped talking.

"Are you alright? You look pretty lost."

"I am lost." But, I wasn't. Not in everything I'd ever dreamed of. "I mean…I can't go home."

"Why not?"

"I don't know how. Besides, I don't think I'm ready to go home yet."

"Alright, I got a question." I looked up at Roger. I nodded.

"How do you know our names?"

"Friends." I locked eyes and dared him to challenge me. He knew I was bluffing. But he backed down.

"I see."

"Look uh do you need to see someone?" Mark started. "A…doctor or something?"

"I'm not insane!"

"Could have fooled me."

"Roger!" Mark yelped. "Come on, man."

"Look, I can't go home. I think I have to…stay here a while. In the city. Until I figure things out."

How could I figure this out? My head was swimming, and I wasn't going to rationalize until I had time to think.

"Where are you staying?" Mark interrogated. His hand brushed against mine.

"I don't know." I looked away. Things were getting fuzzy, and I was starting to lose myself.

"Well uhm, if you wanna…"

"Mark." Roger cut him off.

Mark looked back with hard eyes. I turned to the window.

"Mark. Here." They whispered over by the metal table. I took the time to sort through my head. It was impossible; physically impossible. And yet…there they were. How could this have happened? There needed to be a reason. There needed to be a logical explanation. There was for everything, wasn't there?

"Hey," Mark started walking back to me.

"If you wanna stay here tonight, you can. I…don't think you should go out there."

"What? I can't…I don't think I'm –"

"Come on, it's Christmas Eve." He cracked a smile. I returned it slowly.

"It is. Isn't it?" I looked into my lap for a moment. "Alright." I met his gaze again.

"Thank you so much. I needed this." I added fast.

"Maybe we did too." I don't think he realized the significance of those words. I know I didn't. Yet.

Mark elbowed his roommate. "Yeah, whatever. Don't worry about it."

"Do you want to lie down a little? You look a little frazzled."

Thank you lord for Mark Cohen.

"Yes, that'd be great." I smiled.

"Crash in Benny's old room. Hasn't been here in months." Roger still had his arms crossed. I tried to lock eyes with him. He turned away.

"Thank you both." I decided not to say anything else and started down the hall.

The room was pitch black. I turned the lights on. Not much difference. I padded the cold wood floor quietly. Everything seemed undisturbed and untouched. I felt like an invasive presence. Well, wasn't I? Was I a character? Was I conceived by Jonathan too?

Yeah, in your dreams maybe.

I flopped onto Benny's bed. I shut my eyes and tried to think things through. I needed logic. I needed reason. These characters; these characters who became my family; I was suddenly face-to-face with them. It had to be a dream. Everything I imagined in coming to this loft was a dream. I had to leave. I had to go home. But I knew if I walked out that door, I'd still be in 1989, in a place and time that never really existed. I needed logic. I needed reason.

And then it hit me – when before had I lived by either?

Guitar chords. Bittersweet and raw. Mark's gawky voice.

"We begin on Christmas Eve with me, Mark, and my roommate Roger. We live in an industrial loft on the corner of 11th Street and Avenue B, the top floor of what was once a music publishing factory…"

His documentary. Oh my god, I sat up. I waltzed right into Jonathan's story. But the story was being lived.

Did Jonathan know?

The loft was cold.

"...Inside we are freezing because we have no heat."

Oh right. I knew that.

I tried to drown out Mark's voice. But I waited for the next few words. I needed the next few words to be positive of my fate.

"December 24th, 9 PM. Eastern Standard Time…" And I knew I was in RENT.

Author's Note: Well, that was just a little taste. I'd like to get your feedback, so do me a favor and let me know. I want to know if you guys want to hear more. I have an idea of the rest of the story, and I think it could be something great. Let me know, alright? Thank you all for reading!