A/N: Yeah, I saw Rent on Broadway last Sunday, and the way they portrayed Mark's pain really made me want to capture it, somehow. I couldn't draw it, there was already a song about it, so I finally ended up writing this little one shot…

Disclaimer: Mark, Roger, and all related characters are the property of Jonathon Larson.


Truths
.:X:.

Who are you to tell me what I know, what to do?

A friend!

But who, Mark, are you?

Mark was about to slam his bag down on the table, but at the last second thought better of it. That camera cost way too much to be an object to vent his anger out on.

Scratch that. Make that rage. Vent his rage out on.

'Mark has got his work. They say, "Mark lives for his work' and 'Mark is in love with his work.' Mark hides in his work.

And of course, cue in the attempt to laugh it off. Or at least smile it off.

From what?

God, he felt stupid.

Facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact that you live a lie.

Really, really stupid.

"Yeah, y'know what, Roger? I don't give a damn," he said out loud to the empty room. It felt almost too empty. Roger was down in Santa Fe (how ironic, he thought), Collins had gone back to try and find another teaching gig, Maureen and Joanne were off somewhere attempting to solve their problems, Mimi was in rehab, Benny was trying to smooth things over with Alison (Muffy, he thought smugly) and Angel was, well, dead.

Which, in a way, more or less started all of this.

More or less.

Yes, you live a lie, tell you why: You're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive.

Perhaps that's because I'm the one of us to survive

Why couldn't Roger understand that? Angel was dead; AIDS killed him. And Roger knew better than anyone that he was going to die. One cold could kill him. It was the same with Mimi, Collins, and Roger himself. If they die, they die. They won't still be on the earth, without anyone left, without any friends.

Selfish? Yeah. Maybe he'll pull and April and go slit his wrists or something.

Nah. That was way dramatic.

Poor baby.

That went beyond a blow to his dignity. Roger was his best friend. They fought a lot, but never, ever has he wanted to punch Roger more than he did then.

He felt like shouting. Really, really shouting out loud as loud as he could. Calm. Be calm. Take a deep breath.

Without thinking, he muttered to himself.

"Don't breath too deep… don't think all day…"

.:X:.