Title: Never as Fast
Author: AC
Pairing: Past Roger/April. However, it is Benny-centric.
Rating: PG-13.
Genre: Angst, I guess. Very light Angst. And Reflective, a bit.
Summary: Benny's not the only one who fantasied about another place.
Notes: This is really how I saw Benny leaving, because he was so stressed by all the loft drama and he couldn't handle it so he dated Alison. I think it was a more a subconscious then this, but this fic just sort of appeared from this prompt out of no where, so whatever.
Warning: Graphic Description of Suicide, A lot of Drabble, Someone Wanting to Live in California a Little too much.
Disclaimer: If you are led to believe that I own RENT, you are very stupid. Yeah.
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His hand is posed under the ash tray, as he watches the hot golden bits fall inside, simmering into a light gray. He's choking on smoke and the smell of beer, but it's better then being at home. Here, the smoke twirls in slow lazy circles and everything seems quieter and better. Even when a fight erupts it's short and easy, and pleasurably thrilling because Benny's watching from a very, very safe distance.
In the loft, time moves at a rough and dangerous. Roger's screaming and the tiles are still red from blood and there is a large concern worthy gash on the side of Mark's head, broken glass is scattered everywhere and Collins is often confused or angry, a bitter reminder that he's just as human as anyone of them, and Benny just can't stand it. All of them are exhausted, but time keeps them along at it's set rate, and they hurry along to keep up.
He taps his hand on the table and motions for another drink, swallowing the last bit of something he doesn't recognize... He just ordered something strong. He doesn't care anymore as long as it gets him drunk and gets the job done quickly.
Benny's accepted his not strong like Roger, or smart like Collins, or firm like Mark and serves no use in trying to get through this, and there's no need to try just to see if he can shuffle by at their pace at the risk of getting destroyed by it.
Collins had sprung the question, "Fight or Flight?" on him once. His first reaction was fight. Benny was a fighter. He didn't duck out for any old reason. He'd risk being taken down. He'd risk his own safety. Now, Benny was honestly rethinking his option.
He'll become a business man. Like his father wants him to be. He'll let his old man feed him money and he'll go out to California, where slow and steady always wins the race, and he'll sip margaritas and find some pretty tan girl who loves him for his money. Benny'll be the richest bastard on earth. A sell-out, sure, but a care-free rich bastard that everyone wants to be so that won't matter.
He laughs at himself and gives the waiter a nodded thank you before taking up the drink and taking in a healthy gulp.
Yeah, he'd miss them. He'd miss talking to Roger out on the fire escape about women and smoking with Collins and messing around with Mark's camera. He wouldn't miss the pictures that swarm in his brain as he enters the loft- Roger crouched in the corner holding up his wrists as if the cautious Mark is going to kill him, screaming about April and crying like he's never seen a guy cry before. He's not going to miss Collins pressing Roger against the wall and screaming sense into his head, as if his tone was soft it wouldn't penetrate the hard head of Roger's. He wouldn't miss watching Mark being pushed around like a pin ball, trying to yell at Roger above the sound of grunts, wails and glass against the ground. He's not going to miss going into the bathroom and being hit in the face by the smell of cleaners, remembering moving her body from the sink, being faced to face by the scarlet dripping down her wrists and unto his shirt as he tried to avoided the open gashes where the pink fleshed with ripped apart. He's not going to miss the memory of throwing away her old razor, clogged with blood, skin, and tissue.
He takes a large sip of the drink and drowns away these memories, replacing them with new ones.
The sun. The slow movement of time as it raced by on golden, simple wings. Cold water. The smell of girly perfume and sun tan lotion. Everything he ever imagined California to be. Everything California promised to be.
Benny pulls the very end of the cigarette to his lips, relishing in a slow drag as the pictures from the last few days dash across his mind and then disappear.
Yep, Benny'll take a one-way ticket out of Bohemia. He'll take flight. Yeah, he's a coward, but at least he'll admit it.
Yep, he'll become a businessman in California like his dad wanted him to do. He laughed at himself a bit there again, bringing down the cigarette to shove it in the tray.
He'll become a businessman and send them big fat checks every months to remind them they that he loved those bastards. Oh yeah, and that bitch Maureen too. He'd send them checks, and they'll understand, like they always understand. Benny's was just not ever as fast as they were..