THE ECHOES OF MEMORY
Legal Disclaimer: Larsons own, I rent.
Author's Note: Plot Bunny came and asked for carrots, I indulged. Will be a one shot. I promise. Also note, written at 4am.
He wrapped the scarf around his neck for the last time as he walked through the loft. The building was empty, the demolition scheduled for the next morning. He had argued with Benny, but the plain fact was that it would cost more to renovate the building than tear it down and build a new one, complete with working heat and water. He was promised a space at the top, a new loft as planned, per the agreement they made when his next film was a hit. Pure economics, not sentiment, had guided the decision and Mark Cohen couldn't stop them.
He could at least have the last moments in the loft. He found himself sitting on the windowsill, which was still in good shape, staring at the empty room. The echoes kept running through his head though, and it was echoes that he really didn't want to lose. He closed his eyes and let the memories play.
What's your name? Mark Cohen? I'm Benjamin Coffin the third, you can call me Benny. That guy over there is Collins, who's the guy with the guitar?
Mark laughed. Remembering that day was fun, Roger and he were scared to death of what Benny and Collins would do with their stuff. Then again, they didn't have any stuff.
Sweet Memories.
You know what, Mark Cohen, I love you, my pookie…
Maureen's voice played over in his ears. If Joanne ever knew, then again, she did know.
Horrible Memories.
April? Oh god, no April…Roger's trip to hell after that.
Seeing the old Roger return, the one who wasn't on drugs and was more into the music than the hell of addiction thanks to Mimi had replaced the splintered edges of that one, but he still did miss April.
Sad Memories.
She really is gone…
Roger when they came home from their last visit to Mimi in the hospital.
Happy Memories
Collins and Stoli. Toasting those who had been, and those were to be.
He still thought of Collins, even after he was gone, felled by a bullet at NYU and the not the disease that ate away at his spirit. It was only fitting that it was at a demonstration to get the University to fund more AIDS programs. He knew Collins preferred to go out that way.
"Mark, man, you ready?" Roger asked from the doorway.
Mark looked up, smiling at his friend through the tears that ran down his face.
"What's up?" Roger continued, seeing the sad look in his friend's eyes.
"Nothing," Mark said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "Just remembering."
"Dude," Roger walked into the room, "You have to remember the good times, the ones that are worth it. That's what keeps me going."
"I know, I know," Mark smiled, "And ten years later, you still are."
"Thanks to good living and good medicine, now come on, Benny will get pissed if we hold up progress…"
Mark got up and started to follow Roger out the door and into their new life, friends running a company, living for today.
He heard the last memory though, as if it was a whisper..
And it can be loosely based on La Boheme, the playwright said to the empty room, and I'll call it Rent