Author's Note/Disclaimer: This was my second Rent story. It was experimental, since I really had not planned on writing such a large Rent piece while working on a long term Little Shop of Horrors story, but I guess you could say it was my distraction from one of my darkest times when I was coping with not living in a steady home and losing my once stable family life. It's funny how sometimes something good can come out of such seemingly awful days in our lives. I'd like to thank my beta reader Rapp Fan, for helping me out with this. Thanks to her role playing as Mark opposite my character, I really understand his character. I have my little sister to thank too for her enthusiasm and advice. Lastly, I do not own any characters here that you know from Rent, no matter how much I (and every other RENThead out there, I'd assume), wish we did. Enjoy!

*S. Snowflake


The Camera Loves You

-A Rent Story

* * *

Chapter One: Scarves

"So, I'll be waiting for the real thing.

The moment when we're meeting

Will play out like a scene

Straight off the silver screen…" -Nickelback

It all started on that subway ride back to the loft. It was not an interesting day. Hell, it was not even a mildly interesting day, but that's what made changes in the young filmmaker Mark's routine more exciting… at least when they actually happened.

Mark sat in his seat on the underground train that day, barely noticing his surroundings and certainly not the people standing around him. Better not to make eye contact, he thought. His jacket was slumped over his shoulders and his long, striped scarf hung loosely from his neck as he stroked his index finger over his camera's lens cap. It was all he could do to forget the fact that his current project, a follow up to his previous documentary, but this time about the possibilities of HIV/AIDS treatment, was not going anywhere. There were so many theories about a "miracle drug" that could slow down the horrible disease for a very long time period, but no conclusive facts.

The train jerked to its stop in the East Village. Standing up abruptly, Mark moved toward the double doors and prepared to make his exit. A girl of about average height with chocolate colored hair brushed up against him as she came out of the car first and stepped out onto the platform. She moved so fast that he was not able to get a really good look at her, but he saw a flash of blue and white stripes against her black jacket.

That almost looks like my… He looked down where his own striped scarf might be and found, to his shock, that the garment was gone. Then he looked back at the girl, saw her clutching the blue and white fabric, and understood.

"Hey! You, girl! Give that back!" Mark shouted to her with his voice echoing down the station hall. When she didn't turn around, he ran over before she could leave.

"Hey, give me that!" he repeated sternly.

The girl suddenly looked up at the blond stranger. "What?"

"You heard me, give back that scarf!" he said.

"Are you crazy? This is mine!"

"No, it's not! I just got off the train and you took my scarf as you passed by. I saw-well, I didn't exactly see…" He thought about giving her a chance, but then remembered how she had bumped up against him like a pickpocket. "Hand it over!" he said and pulled on one loose end with enough strength to make his glasses fall off his nose.

"Hey, let go!" she yelled.

"-You let go!"

"No, you! It's m-mine…" The girl gritted her teeth and pulled on the scarf with all of her might, but she found herself evenly matched with the stranger. At last, she got an idea. "Hey, heeey!" she screamed to get his attention.

Mark stopped tugging the scarf, but still held on. "Yeah, what the hell do you want from me now?"

"Just take it," she answered and let go of the scarf and it flopped to the ground. "-But before you run off, you might want to read the name on the tag."

Mark might've gone away with the scarf with that, but he smirked and read the tag on the scarf anyway. "To Musetta," he read aloud. "Merry Christmas… oh, shit." He handed the scarf back then, embarrassed to the point of blushing. "Sorry, I-I thought you had taken it."

He was sure that the girl would turn her nose up at him and snatch the scarf away, but instead she took it back carefully and smiled at him. The freckles on her face moved upward cutely with her grin.

"It's alright. I understand." She laughed at the situation and looked around the station. "So, where's your scarf anyway?"

Mark wondered that too until he saw a flash of white hanging from beyond the yellow safety line of the platform. "Shit," he muttered again and walked over to retrieve his scarf. By now it had a large tear in the side and two or three footprints on it from people walking on of it. "Well, at least it wasn't stolen."

"Yeah," said the girl quietly before she sighed. "Too bad it got all ripped up."

Mark dusted off his scarf and stood up. "Eh, this thing's been through worse. My friend Mimi might be able to fix it."

The girl nodded and followed him out of the station and into Alphabet City. She smiled again as she took the frosty air into her lungs with satisfaction. The young man with the scarf like hers, she realized, was shivering a little.

"It-um, it got colder, didn't it?" she asked him.

Mark took a moment to speak, but finally said something to the girl who for some reason wanted to talk with him. He wasn't used to talking to people like this. "-Yeah, it did. I'm used to cold though. Our apartment has no heat."

"-Damn!" the girl said. "How can you stand it in winter?"

He chuckled. "-Illegal wood-burning stove. It's not great or anything, but it works when you need it."

"Oh, oh, I see." She took a pause before asking, "So, where do you live? Around here?"

"Yeah, well, a few blocks from here. On the corner of Eleventh Street and Avenue B," said Mark. It took him a moment to start thinking about this whole thing. Why does she want to know? Why would she care where I live? He cleared his throat and asked, "-And you?"

"Avenue E," she answered, her voice getting a little louder now. "-And my place isn't fancy either. My roommate's kind of a bitch, and having to share a bathroom with her isn't easy. Plus, she's got this big, fat cat. It'd be fine if he didn't sleep on my head and shed all over!"

Mark couldn't help but laugh at that. "It's not as bad as a big, yappy Akita pissing on your floor every time your landlord's over," he said, thinking of Benny with he and Allison's old dog.

"Huh, maybe," the girl muttered, "Anyway, at least we get a heater. Not like you crazy people."

Mark shrugged. "Maybe we're crazy, but it's not all our fault. They can't fix the heat, even when me and my roommate can afford it."

The girl looked over her shoulder. "Oh, I've got to go now." She held out her right hand like someone might do from an old movie. "Nice meeting you…"

"-Mark. Mark Cohen," he filled in and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too…"

"-Musetta Silva."

Mark nodded and began to walk away from her before thinking of something and blurting it out, "-Wait, your name's Musetta? You mean like in La Boheme?"

Musetta turned around, astonished that Mark knew this, and came back to him for a moment. "Yeah. My mom was a fan of opera. Puccini's La Boheme is her favorite, so…here I am! H-how'd you know that?"

"Well, it's not a name you hear all the time," he replied, smiling at her.

"No, I guess not," Musetta said and blushed slightly at Mark's smile. "I-I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Then she walked away with a small wave before vanishing from his sight. Mark stayed in that spot on the corner before finally turning away and shaking his head. He spoke to himself in his interviewing voice, as if he were a reporter for his own life, "-'Aaand Mark Cohen will probably never see her again. What's he got to say to that?'" He sighed before adding, "No comment…"