Wide Open Chapter 1: Someone to Come Home to, a rent fanfic

Wide Open

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. "MyDsmbr" belongs to Linkin Park.

Summary: The first part of a three-part Post-RENT MarkRoger songfic. Markcentric--goes along with "MyDsmbr" by Linkin Park. After a heated argument, Mark takes a walk to clear his head and finds his mind wandering to a certain songwriter….and returns with new clarification.

Ships: MarkRoger. Don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. Mentions of MimiRoger, AprilRoger

Warnings: Boy loving boy. Probably some mouth. Mentions of adult topics.

Song lyrics in (((italics and parentheses))) Thoughts and flashbacks in italics only.

Spoilers: Mimi died of AIDS. April committed suicide. This is post-RENT, so Angel has passed on. Didn't know that? Go watch the show…Listen to the soundtrack…anything.

Author's Notes: Ahhh the plotbunnies attack again. So I heard these three songs and went "-gasp-omgmarkroger!" so they formulated a story…and well…here's the first. I hope you like it!

Thanks go out to The Versatile Scarf, AngstyRebel and Amaen for encouraging me and helping me finally get this out.

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Chapter 1: Someone to Come Home to

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(((This is my December

This is my time of the year

This is my December

This is all so clear)))

Mark sat on the cold bench, snow falling softly around him. He stared off into space, head hot and hands cold. He wished he had thought to grab gloves. He laughed in spite of himself. With the hurry he had left in, he was glad he had never taken his scarf off. He hadn't thought to, the commotion had started as soon as he got in the door.

"The Commotion". Mark thought dismally. What an adequate nickname for him.

Mark had come home to find suitcases on the couch and Roger rummaging through the drawers in his room. Packing.

"Roger?" Mark called tentatively.

"Mark. You're home early."

"Rog…what…what is all this. You're not…you can't be…not again, Rog."

"Mark, I am. I'm leaving. Maybe for good this time. You weren't supp--"

"And what -was- I supposed to do, huh? Come home to find an empty loft and a note explaining how sorry you were and how you never meant for this to happen?" His voice rose slightly. "Huh, Rog? Is that what I was supposed to do? After all these years--"

"Shit happens, Mark!" He paused, reigned in his emotion and softened his voice, "I have to leave. It'll be better for everyone if I do. Better for me, better for--"

"--you? You think this will be a better arrangement for me Roger? After all the shit we've been through and you think I'll be better off without you?" Mark lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Without my best-friend?"

"What've I ever been to you, Mark? What've I ever done for you? You'll be better off without me around…"

"Roger, do you know what you mean to me?!?" Mark spoke slowly and evenly, fearing to let a tremor in his voice show how vulnerable this was making him. He had to be calm and rational; and even with Roger leaving, he was still 'The Rock' " Of course not. Of fucking course not, because then you wouldn't even think--"

"And what -do- I mean to you, Mark? What could I possibly mean--"

"Everything! You mean -everything- to me, Rog. I lo--" Mark froze.

"You what?" Roger whispered.

Mark bolted. Out of the loft and into the cold, he was going nowhere fast.

And now here he was sitting on a bench in Central park. Alone.

(((This is my December

This is my snow covered home

This is my December

This is me alone)))

Completely and utterly alone in a city of millions. Ironically it was a reason Mark liked the city. It provided a certain anonymity…a certain…obscurity that was perfect for his work. He could watch others without being seen.

For him though, it also offered comfort. Never one to hog the spotlight, he preferred to blend into the background, subtly becoming invisible. He put up his barriers in this way. Roger retreated to his room, Mimi had retreated to her smack, Joanne to her work, Maureen to random strangers. Angel and Collins had retreated to each other.

Mark retreated from reality.

Mark smirked, seeing the way this fit together. The rest retreated -to- something. They found consolation with something or someone else. One might even call it a relationship. Mark retreated -from- things. He withdrew to the point of detachedness, never really finding a haven, never feeling that relief. He was constantly on the run.

But from what?

Why was he always so afraid, and what was he afraid of?

(((And I
Just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed
And I
Take back all the things I said
To make you feel like that
And I
Just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed
And I
Take back all the things I said to you)))

Maybe he was running from his guilt.

Roger had said that he was leaving because it would be better for Mark. Roger's concern was causing him to uproot himself when he had finally accepted Mimi's death. He was finally able to see beyond his own death sentence and Mark had to screw it up. Mark had to make Roger worried. He was so -selfish-.

Mark thought back to the last time Roger had left.

Santa Fe.

That had been his fault too. There was still a chance. Roger might have stayed. But then Mark's mouth had gotten the better of him.

"Mimi still loves Roger. Is Roger really jealous or afraid that Mimi's weak?"

"Mimi did look pale," Roger commented mournfully.

"Mimi's gotten thin. Mimi's running out of time. Roger's running out the door," Mark continued, blurting words of long-contained bitterness.

"No more! Oh no," Roger pleaded. "I've gotta go."

But even then Mark couldn't stop his mouth. "Hey, for somebody who's always been let down, who's heading out of town?"

It was then that he had crossed the line--crossed the line, and the point of no return.

Roger was gone.

Mimi left the family for the clinic after Roger went. And although he felt awful for it, Mark couldn't honestly say he missed her. He didn't miss the pangs of jealousy he felt when she and Roger were together, he didn't miss the sleepless nights that the pair caused him when Mimi stayed the night at the loft, and he certainly didn't miss feeling like a damned third-wheel.

But he felt at fault for her death all he same.

It was in Mark's nature to take responsibility for everything. Though he never showed it, he took everything to heart. He felt that by not following up on Mimi, by causing Roger to go, and by not caring enough to miss her, he had hastened her death. He was blindsided by his own jealousy, when her should've been concerned for her.

He was so fucking -self-centered-.

And by quickening her passing, he had caused Roger pain. Roger, who Mark would give his life for.

But this time it was Mark who inadvertently caused the hurt.

(((And I'd give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to)))

Mark shivered. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together in an attempt to regain some warmth. But it was no use. The cold was too strong.

Mark smiled remembering the night when he and Roger burned every paper in sight to get some damn heat. But the fire wasn't the only thing that set Mark alight that evening. Mark had seen a glimpse of the old Roger, before April, before Drugs, before AIDS. His passionate spirit had returned. His green eyes had glinted with cause and purpose and intensity. And though he'd never tell Roger, the musician had looked so -beautiful-, Mark's pale cheeks dusted with a pink glow and it wasn't from the heat.

That was the first time Mark had recognized his feelings for his roommate. Roger was just so alive, and vibrant, and raw, and honest, and everything Mark wasn't. He was everything Mark needed to complete himself. And through Roger he found his own source of passion and courage…he had decided to tell Roger, no matter the consequence.

And then Mimi danced into their lives.

She was good for Roger. She taught him how to recapture the passion in each and every moment. She kept him busy, not allowing him to mope around. She'd flash her bright smile, and she'd renew Roger's sense of wonder.

She caused Mark to shut down.

When Mark fell for Roger he was ready to be in love. He had broken up with Maureen, who was never really a lover but more of a distraction, and he was finally ready to let his guard down. He had finally found a haven to run to. He was going to allow himself to feel again.

After Mimi and Roger became a couple, Mark used Maureen as an obsessive lie. As long as he pretended to still be fixated on her, he could detach himself from the jealous longings. He could remove himself from the hurt and the guilt, by simply not feeling at all, but devoting all of his energy into an idea. Unfortunately, this pretense had its disadvantages.

(((This is my December
These are my snow covered dreams
This is me pretending
This is all I need)))

When Mark smiled it longer reached his eyes. It had been a long time since had really felt happy. But for Roger's sake he pretended. If Roger was happy, the Mark could be okay--even if he was hurting or troubled, if Roger was good, then Mark could be too.

Or he could imagine he was.

Mark lived in a fantasy most of his waking moments. His life became a series of trances; he slipped in and out of reality as he so chose. He had frozen his true emotions for so long he wasn't even sure they were there anymore. He hollowed himself, creating a deep void, in an effort to ensure Roger's bliss.

The line between his dreams and his life was slowly blurring.

And yet he was constantly hurting the person he loved most.

And now, Roger knew how Mark felt.

Now Roger would most definitely leave.

Mark's accidental confession had probably made Roger uncomfortable, it had probably insulted him. No not only would he leave, he'd probably never call or write or visit either. It no longer mattered how Mark would face him after the secret was spilled.

Mark would never see Roger again.

(((And I'd give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

This is my December
This is my time of the year
This is my December

This is all so clear)))

It didn't matter…so why shouldn't he face him? Mark was sick of lying. He was sick of pretending. If Roger was going to leave anyway, he might as well know the truth.

What was the worst that could happen? Roger would leave? Wasn't Roger already leaving?

So what was the point, anyway, of keeping up the pretense? His secret was out. Roger already knew.

And maybe if he finally let his barriers down, Roger would finally see.