Film-chapter 1

I'm watching Men's Figure Skateing so obviously I'm in a slashy mood

This story somewhat goes with To Dance! but it's not neccesary to read that.

Another holiday came and went and still I do not own Rent (hey I rymed)

Rating-PG right now. will probably devolope over time depending on how much figure skateing I watch.

Mark/Roger

(also in this story the chapter names will most likely have nothing to do with the content of the chapter)

Adventure...

Mark sighed heavily as he heard a door slam closed beneath him. Here we go again. He thought with an air of defeat. It was like clockwork. Mimi and Roger fight. They make up. She goes out. She gets high. She comes back. They fight again. Nothing ever changed. Another thing that never changed was the fact that Roger would always take that walk of shame up back to the loft after one of these never ending cycles to seek comfort in the arms and words of his best friend. Mark would always be the glue, he relized. He was the shoulder to cry on. He was the one who could ultimatly fix everything. He was going to be the one to survive.

Mark carefully set his beloved camera down on a milk crate and stared towards the industrial sliding metal door. He could almost count the seconds until Roger would burst into the loft, Mark would give him a sympathetic look, Roger would go into his room, Mark would follow, they would eventually talk about it and Roger would be convinced into going downstairs and apologizing. Nothing ever changed.

A rush of cold air entered the loft along with a destressed looking Roger. He glared breifly at a worried looking Mark sitting on the couch with his hands folded on his lap before storming off into his room. It wasn't long until the sound of a guitar being tuned floated across the loft. Mark hung his head in exhaustion. Better get this over with. He decided.

Mark padded across the loft's wooden floor and knocked softly on Roger's worn and beaten door. When he did't get an answer he walked right in. He found Roger exactly where he knew he'd be. Sitting crosslegged on his bed furiously tuneing his guitar. Mark knelt down by Roger's bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked thoughtfully.

"No" Roger replied simply...exactly like he always did.

"Well you're going too." Mark said forcefully.

"I just don't get it!" He half shouted, half sobbed. "I...I thought if she loved me she would stop useing. Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she understand that the thought of me being without her is enough to put me in hysterics?...Does she even care?" Mark slowly rubbed Roger's back like he always did. "Roger I'm sure Mimi loves you as much as you love her, and I have full confidence in her ability to quit."

"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Roger yelled as he pushed Mark off his bed. "Get out." he said simply turning his attention back to the guitar...isolating himself.

It was going to be a long night. Mark left the room to let Roger cool off a little and situated himself back on the threadbare couch in frount if his camera. Mark sighed again. You suck. he thought. Do you know that. Are you aware that you are slowly loseing the ability to make Roger's last few years as happy as possible? You're not glue. You're like that sparkle paste they give to kindergardeners that never sticks to anything. You're loseing it Marky. Soon you're life will be a compleate waste.

"Shut up!" he said into the darkness. He needed to occupy himself. He looked toward the "kichean" and slowly got up. He made tea for himself and coffee (with like a million sugar packets) for Roger. He cautiously opened the door to Roger's room. It seemed as though he hadn't moved at all since he kicked him out. Roger looked up and took his coffee greatfully. He tasted it and smiled up at Mark. It was his way of apologizing. "I should talk to her." he said. "You two can move past this. I know you can. You've been through much worse over the years." Mark certainly had a way with words. "You're right." He admitted. "Tommorrow." He promised. Mark gave Roger a small smile and ruffled his hair before riseing and walking out of the room. I am super glue. He decided.

Sinking into bed that night Mark couldn't shake off that feeling he sometimes got. A feeling of being alone. It's funny, he thought, how glue can fix everything so perfectly and dry invisible.

Nothing ever changed.

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Tell me what you think. I'm trying desperatly to make the chapters long.