I don't own Rent or any of the other characters that I didn't make up…

First Rentfic…I've written fics for other things though, but I couldn't remember my password or my pen name so I had to get a new account. Um…I've only really read a few Rent related stories…so if something like this has been done I promise you I'm not stealing or anything. Please R+R:o)

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Mimi emerged from her apartment, anxious about returning to work. She was surprised that they were actually letting her come back after she just stopped showing up a few months ago, but hey, she has the best ass below 14th street. She laughed and walked full stride into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The person she ran into said, turning around. She thought he was kinda cute, but he was younger than her though, maybe 16 or 17. Obviously lost.

"It's ok, not your fault." she said with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my brother Roger. Roger Davis, I think he lives here, I have the address but none of the apartments are numbered."

This was Roger's brother? He always talked about him like he was 9 years old.

"Yeah, he lives here, the apartment all the way at the top of the stairs."

"Thanks." he said with a smile picking up an ancient army duffel bag that was sitting next to him. Mimi watched him go up the stairs and then disappear. As much as she wanted to stay, she had to go, she needed money and was actually feeling good for the first time in months.

Mark looked through the fridge again, as if something new had appeared in the last 10 minutes. All of a sudden he heard a loud pounding on the door. He had the urge to yell for Roger to get it, but walked over there himself. He swung open the door and saw someone in front of him, someone who looked very familiar. He was about the same height as Mark, with longish brown messy hair.

"Mark Cohen. In the flesh. You look…exactly the same." He said walking by him into the loft.

"Drew?" He asked, finally placing him. Roger's brother. Roger's annoying little brother who never left them alone when they were in high school.

"That would be me." He said dropping his bag. "Nice place, Roger around?"

"Somewhere."

"What?" Drew asked, noticing the funny expression on Mark's face.

"Nothing, I just didn't recognize you."

"Well it has been like 7 years since you 3 took off, abandoning me in the hells of Westchester County."

7 years? Had it actually been 7 years since he, Roger and April graduated and moved here?

"So, you're what, 16 now?"

"17 as of last week." He said with a smile, seeing Roger come out of a door behind Mark.

"Drew? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I can't come and visit my brother?" He said walking over to him and giving him a hug. He pulled away and gave Roger a shove. "What the fuck, I haven't talked to you in like 4 years."

"I know." Roger said, still shocked to see his little brother standing in front of him, if he could still consider him little. "I've been writing to mom lately and stuff though."

"I haven't lived with her since I was 13, I've been living in Cleveland with dad."

"You live with dad?" Roger asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it was ok, and guys get this. As of Friday, January 6th, 1989, I, Andrew James Davis, am officially emancipated!" He said producing several folded up pieces of paper from his jacket pocket, handing them to Roger, who then handed them to Mark.

"Are you serious?" Mark asked looking at the papers.

"Hell yeah, dad signed the papers and everything. He was cool with it as long as I didn't stay at the house and mooch. So, that's why I'm here, looking for a place to stay maybe? I mean, you wouldn't want me to drop out of school and become homeless, now would you?"

"Well, maybe if you didn't go and get yourself emancipated you wouldn't have this problem."

"Hey, he's still a controlling prick, and I wasn't going back to mom's."

Mark and Roger looked at each other, and Mark just shrugged.

"Fine, you can have Benny's old room." Roger said pointing to a door in the corner.

"Sweet, I'm whipped, I've been on a bus for 8 hours, so I shall see you in the morning." Drew said enthusiastically, grabbing his bag and heading to his new room.

Suddenly Roger's beeper started going off. "Shit." Roger said grabbing it and shutting it off quickly.

"What the hell was that?" Drew asked, turning around.

"Just his beeper reminding him to…" Mark started, but was cut off by Roger. "It's just a beeper." He said quickly. Drew nodded and went into the room and shut the door. Roger quickly got his pills and swallowed them. He walked over and picked up his guitar, not looking at Mark. Mark shrugged it off and went back into the kitchen.

"Do you do drugs?" Roger asked Drew the next morning, not sure where this question had come from.

"What?"

"Do you do drugs?"

"No…not really."

"Not really?"

"Oh shut up, it's not like you're some angel. I don't shoot up heroin or anything."

"That's good." Mark said from somewhere behind him.

"Yeah, I'm not one of those junkie fucktards who's gonna catch AIDS and be dead in 2 years." Drew said with a laugh heading over to one of the cabinets in the kitchen behind Roger. Mark snapped his head around and looked right at Roger after hearing the last thing said.

"You guys don't have shit to eat." Drew remarked.

"Go buy something." Roger said, staring at Mark.

"I don't have any money."

"Here." Roger said handing him some cash he had in his pocket.

"Eight bucks?"

"Yeah, have a fun."

"Fine, later." He said heading for the door.

"Don't." Roger said quietly after he heard the door close.

"He doesn't know!" Mark yelled.

"I just, haven't had the opportunity to tell him yet."

"Why?"

"Why?" Roger said, setting his cup down. "Why! I'm his brother! His big brother! He's supposed to be able to look up to me! What's he gonna see when he finds out? Nothing special. He's just gonna see some poor, ex-junkie loser with AIDS that's never going to amount to anything!"

"Don't act like you need to protect him, you probably forgot he even existed until yesterday. He's not 9 years old anymore Roger, you have to tell him!"

Silence.

"Why didn't your mom tell him?"

More silence.

"She doesn't know either Roger? What the hell!"

"Well It's not exactly something you write on a postcard. Dear mom, all is well. April killed herself and I have AIDS. Love Roger."

"I thought you called her. That day, after April's funeral. When I took you to the doctor, I thought you called her!"

Roger sighed. He remembered that day all to well. It was five days after April died. Five days after he found her in the bathtub dead. Five days after he found the note…

Roger-

We've got AIDS.

I'm sorry.

Mark was freaking out after the funeral and wanted to take him to the doctor as soon as possible. Roger finally gave into the whining and went. He heard everything he expected to hear: "You can live for another 10 years now." "This isn't the end of your life son."

Yeah it was. At least that's what he thought then.

After that Mark left him alone in the loft to call his mom. He dialed the number twice and hung up before it even started to ring. He was scared, he was ashamed.

"I did call her. I told her April was dead, nothing else."

"Were you ever planning on telling her why April was dead."

"Eventually. Look, I've got things to do, I'll talk to you later." Roger said dumping the rest of his horrible coffee into the sink. He just needed to take a walk.

Mark picked up his camera and focused on Roger. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just filmed him silently for a few more seconds while Roger just stared at him. Roger then gave Mark and his camera the finger and headed out the door.

A few hours later Roger returned to the loft hoping to be alone, but he then saw Drew laying on his stomach, on the couch reading a magazine.

"Mark here?" He asked walking into the bathroom to get some scissors.

"Nah, some chick called and said she needed some help with her wires. Is that some weird way of telling Mark that she's horny and needs a good fucking?"

"No, that was Maureen. Her and Mark used to be pretty serious though, but now she's a lesbian."

"Really? He's that bad in bed?"

"I wouldn't know." Roger said picking up his guitar case.

"What's in the bag?" Drew asked noticing the small black bag Roger had been carrying since he came in.

"Guitar strings."

"You don't have milk, bread, or power, but you can buy new guitar strings?"

"They're important." He said sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

"So, are you like banging anyone?" Drew asked Roger after a few minutes. Roger was getting sick of these questions.

"I have a girlfriend, Mimi. She lives in the apartment on the bottom floor."

"Ah. I think I met her."

"Yeah." Roger said, not really caring. He was still trying to figure out how to open the package of guitar strings. He began thrashing at it with the scissors.

"Yep. She looked kinda skanky though, wear your rubbers man."

Roger didn't really react to that last statement.

"What ever happened to that redhead you and Mark moved here with?"

"She died. Her name was April, remember?"

"Right, that was her name. How'd she die?"

"Fuck!" Roger yelled as he jumped up and ran to the sink.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I cut my finger with those fucking scissors. Just, grab me some band-aids from the bathroom."

"How many?" Drew asked as he got up from the couch.

"The uh, whole box. And, there's some ointment in a tube in one of the drawers, get that too."

Roger's hands were shaking as he watched the blood drip into the sink. It was quickly washed down the drain by the running water. It wasn't blood any more though, it was poison. Deadly to anyone who came into contact with it.

Drew came out and set the band-aids and the ointment on the counter, then threw a washcloth at Roger.

"Now dry it up and Doctor Drewey will fix you right up, and if you behave…"

"I can do it myself." Roger snapped, cutting Drew off. Drew just walked away.

"Jesus, someone would think you were trying to kill yourself, look at the blood on these bitches!" Drew said holding up the scissors by one of the handles.

"Fuck, put those down!" Roger yelled while he squeezed the washcloth tightly around his finger, trying to stop the bleeding.

"What?"

"Dammit Drew just drop them!"

"Happy?" He asked after dropping them on the ground.

"Come over here and let me see your hands."

"Huh?"

"Let me see your fucking hands!"

He walked over and put them right in Roger's face. "Turn 'em around."

Drew did and Roger didn't see any blood.

"Go and wash them and use hot water and a lot of soap."

"What's your problem?"

"Just do it Drew!" He yelled again.

Roger turned away and heard his brother begin to wash his hands. He sighed.

"We need to talk."