Disclaimer: I don't own Rent or the characters in this story.
Scars
Roger and Mimi lay on the couch in the loft. She had taken his hand his her smaller one and was inspecting it closely.
"See anything interesting?" he asked jokingly. She inspected it for another moment, bringing her finger from her other hand and tracing a faded line along his palm.
"What's this scar from?" she asked softly. He chuckled lightly at her curiosity. She was cute and childlike sometimes. It was charming.
"A few years ago I sliced it when I was cutting an apple," he said nonchalantly. She looked at him confusedly.
"How the hell did you slice your palm like that cutting an apple?" He laughed.
"I was drunk at the time," he explained. She rolled her eyes.
"Genius." She began to inspect the hand more intently. She turned it around and looked at the back of it, noticing another small scar. "How bout this one?"
"Chopping carrots," he said. She laughed.
"Why do people let you near knives?" he shrugged with a grin.
"They don't. I get them when they aren't looking." Mimi sat up, pulling him with her, and straddling his waist. She let her gaze flit over his face, down his neck, along his bare arms, before returning her gaze to his face.
"Got anymore?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow.
"Scars?" he asked. She nodded her confirmation, and waited as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing several small scars, and one long one which had obviously been stitched up.
"Wow, you spend a good amount of time in a blender when you were younger, or are these just more mishaps while chopping various produce?" she asked. He laughed and pointed to one small scar.
"This is where my brother stabbed me with a pencil when I was twelve," he said, pointing to another, "this is from landing on a sharp rock when I was fifteen after falling out of a tree."
He pointed to another one.
"This is from Mark tackling me and trying to hold me down when I was going through withdrawal," he said. Mimi raised an eyebrow.
"How did that happen?" she asked. He sighed lightly.
"I was trying to sneak out of the loft at about three in the morning to go by smack. I had been off it for about two weeks and could barely think without it. He caught me on my way out, and I tried to get past him. I was losing it. I pushed him, he pushed me back... we fought for a few minutes, and he got me off balance. I went down, hitting the corner of the table on my way to the floor. He held me down for about ten minutes before letting me up. It wasn't until I was up that we realized I had a massive gash on my side," he explained.
"Wow," she said softly, "he was really devoted to getting you clean, wasn't he?" she asked. Roger nodded.
"Yea. I definitely wouldn't be clean today if he hadn't been here. He kept me from giving up so many times." Mimi looked back to his chest and fingered a long gash that ran just under his collarbone.
"How did this one happen?" she asked. Roger swallowed hard.
"I don't really want to talk about it," he said, pulling his shirt back on. Mimi was confused.
"Why not?" she asked. He shook his head.
"It's just not something I like to spread around," he said.
"Spread around? It's just me," she pushed. He sighed deeply.
"Look," he said, looking her square in the eye, "I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of. Sometimes they got me hurt. I just don't want to rehash all of the dumb shit I've done in my life," he said very matter-of-factly. Mimi moved off of him and settled into the seat next to him.
"You know I wouldn't tell anyone," she said, dejected. He looked at her sympathetically.
"I don't think you would. It's nothing. Can we just move on?" he asked. She bit her lip and nodded.
"I guess." The two were silent for a moment, a new tenseness between them that hadn't existed a moment before. Roger broke. He turned to her on the couch.
"Okay, look... I'll tell you, just promise you won't think any differently of me when I do," he begged. She saw the worry in his eyes and nodded.
"Nothing could change my opinion of you, Rog. I've got baggage too," she said softly. He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands, which were suddenly fascinating.
"I started using when I was about 18," he began. Mimi watched him intently as he recounted the story.
"I was young, and naive, and new to the city. I didn't understand how things worked around here. I was in a band, and since we weren't very good, we didn't get very many gigs. Unfortunately, though, that was my only source of income, and I wasted most of it on smack.
"One day when I was 19, your age, I went to buy some from the Man, knowing full well I didn't have the money to spend on it. When I got there, he met me in the alley, and gave me a bag. I pulled out what little change I had and went to hand it to him when he stopped me.
"He said "Don't worry about it kid". I was confused, but didn't question it. It wasn't often that people were nice in the city, so I just took it as a fluke, and left with my little bag of powder.
"A few days later I was walking by the alley when he spotted me.
"Hey Kid," he said, calling me over. I went. He asked me where the money was for the smack he had given me. I was surprised he was asking for it, I mean, I thought it was a favour. I thought he was just being nice. I told him that, and he laughed at me. He said "Kid, there's no such thing as a favour ." I didn't know what to do. I didn't have any money for him.
"No problem," he said. But I could see in his eyes that he was lying. I just said thanks and turned around to walk away, and he grabbed me and pulled me back into the alley. I could feel his knife resting against my neck.
"You don't like to pay your debts, kid?" he asked me. I apologized over and over, and basically begged him not to kill me over thirty bucks. He laughed when I said that. "Kill you?" he said, with that tone that just makes you sick. You know, the one that's just so sweet and dripping with sarcasm. Then he said, "I'm not gonna kill you, kid. I'm gonna give you a chance to repay your debt."
"I really didn't know what he meant. He was still holding me against him with the knife to my chest. If he wasn't going to kill me, then what the hell else was he gonna do?
"I asked him what he wanted, which, obviously, was a mistake. He drug me further into the alley, away from where people on the street could see, and pushed me against the wall. My face was smashed against the brick, and the knife digging into my chest. He was leaning hard against me, trapping me between him and building.
"What do you want?" I shouted. I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect from him at this point. Next thing I knew, he turned me around so I was facing him, and forced me to my knees."
Roger stopped a moment, breathing heavily, recounting the event in his head. Mimi looked at him, her eyes tear-filled.
"What did he do to you?" she asked, her eyes filled with fear. He took notice of this and brushed her hair away from her face. He swallowed hard.
"Mimi, tell me you haven't taken anything from him without paying," he pleaded. She nodded slowly.
"A few days ago," she said softly, a tear escaping her eye," I didn't know." Roger dropped his head. "But that means he's gay, right? He wouldn't want anything like that from me." He shook his head.
"He's not gay, Mimi. Trust me, I know plenty of women who he's tricked like this," he looked up at her, "All he wanted from me was a blow job. What the hell do you think he'll want from you?" She let a cry escape from her.
"What am I gonna do?" she asked softly. He pulled her in tightly, holding her.
"We have to come up with some money for him," he said, trying desperately to figure out how to save Mimi from even worse than he had faced at her age. It wasn't her fault. She was young, trusting. She'd never experienced something like this before. "How much did he give you?"
"Enough for one shot," she said, "not much." Roger nodded.
"Then we'll give him enough for three." Mimi nodded, composing herself.
"What if he doesn't take it?" she asked. Roger shook his head.
"I'll go with you. I won't let him hurt you," he told her, secretly worried that he couldn't promise her that.
Within a few moments Roger and Mimi had managed to find the money, and bundled themselves up to protect against the cold as they ventured out into the frigid wintery Alphabet City.
They found the Man in his usual place, dealing with a customer. As that person left, Mimi gathered herself. She motioned for Roger to stay a few feet away as she made her way over to the Man.
"I have your money," she said, pulling out the small roll of bills and extending it to him. He raised an eyebrow.
"What money?" he asked. She swallowed hard.
"From the other day. I want to pay for what you gave me." He laughed his sarcastic laugh and rolled his eyes.
"You kids just don't get it," he said, pushed away her outstretched hand. "I don't want your money," he said sardonically.
"Why not?" she asked nervously. Roger wanted desperately to stand next to her, but forced himself to stay back, out of view.
"Because it's not enough," he said with a tone that made Roger feel sick. Mimi shook her head.
"This is worth three times what you gave me," she said, trying to give him the money again. He grabbed her wrist and used it to pushed her against a nearby wall. Roger rushed in.
"Just take the money," he said in a commanding tone. The Man looked at him with amusement.
"What did you say?" he asked. Roger walked close to the pair and jerked the man's hand away from Mimi's wrist.
"I said take the fucking money, and leave her alone." His voice was steady, but his eyes showed his nerves. The Man turned to him, and pushed him hard away.
"And what if I don't?" he asked, walking menacingly toward Roger, "what if she gets exactly what you got?" Roger clenched his jaw. He wasn't scared anymore, just angry.
He rushed toward the Man and forced him against the wall with his face into the brick, holding his hand behind his back.
"Roger," Mimi said in a warning tone. He shook his head.
"Stay out of this," he shot back. He leaned in and whispered roughly in the Man's ear, "I'm gonna give you a chance to repay your debt," he said in a menacing tone. The Man fought against him but found it to be useless. Roger was leaning his weight against him and had him pinned.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the Man yelled, but his voice betrayed him. He sounded just as much like a scared little kid as Roger was all of those years ago. Roger said nothing. He used his free hand to pull out the pocket knife which he always carried and flipped it open, wrapping an arm around the man and digging it into the chest.
"The question is," he said, ignoring the muffled cries from the man as the knife lightly cut the skin, "what are you gonna do?"
"What do you want?" he cried. Roger enjoyed eliciting such meek and pathetic cries from the Man who had caused him and Mimi so much pain.
"Leave us the hell alone," he told him. The Man agreed readily.
"Fine, fine. Just fuck off," he yelled. Roger complied, pulling away from him, keeping his knife out in case he decided to lunge.
He didn't. The Man turned around slowly from his position facing the wall and glance between Mimi and Roger for a moment before swiftly leaving the alley. Roger watched him walk away before closing the knife and slipping it back into his pocket. He turned to Mimi, who looked at him with a shocked expression.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. Mimi shook her head and ran to him, wrapping him up tightly in a hug, which he readily returned.
"You scared the living shit out of me," she said into his chest. He sighed deeply and pulled her closer.
'Me too,' he thought. He didn't say anything. Instead he just turned them away from the alley and led them home to the loft. He knew they'd probably go on to discuss this in detail later, but for now, he was shaken, but relieved to know Mimi was safe. He had kept her that way. He wasn't that scared little boy anymore.
End
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