Title: More

Summary: Just once, he told himself, just to try. Just one single freaking time. There was no way he'd get addicted. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Notes: Okay, well, after you read this, you're gunna think I'm morbid. Here's a hint - tissue, maybe? You might wanna get one, I don't know how easily you cry (I did...). I hope you... enjoy, I guess (?)

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT. Thank you, Johnathan Larson!

It was just once. Just once, he told himself, just to try. Just one single freaking time.

There was no way he'd get addicted. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He just had to know, had to feel it… Isn't that what they all said, when he asked what it was like? You had to see for yourself.

And god… it felt wonderful.

More… more…

No worries, no cares, just floating like he was high in the clouds. He guessed that's why they called it high – and shit, they were right. It was perfect. Floating… drifting… not having to see April's body covered in a red liquid blanket.

But the stain… he could still see the pink stain, staring at him like a constant reminder, never letting him forget. He wanted to forget. He wanted it to go away so badly it hurt.

More… more…

Floating… up, up, up… he was so happy he couldn't describe it. The colors began to fade, slowly at first, then rapidly. No more pink stain. No more images of the soaked girl in the bathtub that seemed to be tattooed on the insides of his eyelids.

No more… no more…

But at the same time… more… more….

He had been the one to find her. The first one to see, the first one to cry. They had to remove him physically from the room, rip him from her cold, still body. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't.

"Wake up!" a voice shouted to him, vaguely, distantly. He smiled – it was familiar. "Wake up! God, you idiot, you absolute idiot… Fuck, why'd you do this to me?" A sob.

He felt bad for a moment, but the noncolor was nice… too nice… The voice shouted again. "Collins, call 9-1-1! He's overdosed! He's an effing idiot and he overdosed and god, we gotta save him!"

The voice went on and was joined by another and then sirens and more voices, but he didn't hear any of it. He simply drifted out, into the dark.

No more… no more…

Mark Cohen didn't become addicted to drugs. He never had the chance.

Note: I admit, I am rather attached to that twist. I wrote it with the full intention of it being Mark, but halfway through realized that it could have been Roger (what with talking so much about April). But... Well... You can tell its not him if you pay attention. Anyhow, I have a few questions that when (if?) you review, I'd really appreciate if you can answer. This was an experiment, in a way, so... a) What did you think (obviously)? b) Did you see the twist coming? c) What was the most powerful, touching, etc line in here? Or was there a line like that at all? d) Did you bawl like a baby like I did while I was writing? Mark's my favorite character, but alas, he must die eventually... I always wind up hurting him the most out of everyone, I think... Emotionally, physically... I bet he wishes I had a different fave character.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is wonderful.