A/N: This is just going to be a bunch of shorts about how various characters in Rent met, probably about 9 chapters in all. I'm having them aged like this- Mimi the youngest, Angel a year older than her, Maureen 2 years older than Angel, Mark a year older than Maureen, Benny the same age as Mark, Roger 2 years older than Mark, Joanne 2 years older than Roger, Collins 2 years older than Joanne. So that would make them 19, 20, 22, 23, 23, 25, 27, and 29 during the play. I know that's a little confusing, but I thought it was important to know for the story. Oh, and the title is from Pacific Overtures. And as always, I don't own anything.
Roger stormed up the stairs into his room, trying desperately to block out the sound of his stepmother's voice in his ears. He wasn't even sure what she was yelling about. All he knew was that it had ended up where it always did. Some combination of the phrases 'your father didn't even want to have you', 'you'll never amount to anything', and 'no one would give a damn if you dropped dead right now.'
He collapsed onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe she was right. No one would care. Everyone would be better off if he ended it right then. His mother wasn't there. His father could barley remember his name, so it would be no great loss to him. His so called 'friends' were just people to get drunk or high with whenever they got the chance. There had to be something to do, Roger thought. Besides, he was too scared to kill himself. Too afraid of what would come after. Like Hamlet, he thought, remembering English class. Too angry to live, too scared to die.
But it wasn't anger, not anymore. After listening to years of his stepmother scream at him for what appeared to be no reason, he was too tired to be angry anymore. He wasn't even sad. Then it struck him, the feeling that had driven him to contemplate suicide more seriously than ever before. It was knowing that he was about to give up. After all the years, he was about to give in and agree with her. That was what had terrified him to the point of wanting to kill himself. Because he had told himself that he would never, ever believe what she said to him.
He opened his eyes and stood up. I'm not afraid to do it, he thought. But I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing she's gotten to me. He opened his window and got halfway out. Then, he turned around and grabbed something out of the corner. If he was going to die, his guitar was going with him. He slipped out the window and into the dark, careful not to make any noise. He walked briskly for a few streets with no idea where he was going to go or what he was going to do. Then he stopped. Or, more accurately, he was stopped.
"Ow! Watch where you're going, you little bastard!" Roger glared and the boy lying across from him on the sidewalk.
The boy scrambled for a few seconds to find his glasses and put them back on. Roger was checking to make sure his guitar was still in the case when the smaller boy spoke.
"I-I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't see you there, really!"
Roger rolled his eyes. "Look, kid, how could you have not seen me? You walked straight into me."
"I know, but I wasn't looking at you. I was looking at the moon. I mean, have you ever looked at the moon? I mean, have you ever seen the moon? You can look all you want for so long, but that was the first time I've ever really seen it! There's so many different colors in it and the dimensions are-"
This kid was starting the annoy Roger with his babbling about 'seeing' the moon. What a freak.
"Hey, whatever. How old are you, twelve? Its late. You could get hurt out here."
The boy looked offended. "I'm fourteen…almost. And I'm not going to get hurt here of all places. You're the closest thing to a mugger I've ever seen. Anyways, muggers don't usually have guitars, do they? That is yours isn't it? Or did you steal it?"
Roger snorted, stood up, and pulled the other boy up by the back of his oversized sweater. "Yeah, sure, I stole it. Think that if you want to. See you later." He crossed the street into the small park, aware that the kid was following him with an incessant stream of questions. They took a seat on a bench together. Roger took out his guitar and began to tune it. He decided that there was nothing better to do than make conversation.
"So, stalk people much, kid?"
"Don't call me that. You can't be much older."
"You said you were thirteen. I'm sixteen in three weeks. To me, you're a kid."
"Fine. What are you doing out here, anyway?"
Roger finished tuning his guitar and began to pick out a melody. "Trying to think of a way to kill myself without giving my stepmother the satisfaction of knowing that she drove me to it. You?"
By telling the truth, Roger had hoped to shock the stranger into leaving. It didn't work. He kept talking.
"Oh. I'm hiding from my big sister. Here comes a car. Go ahead."
"Huh?"
"If you stepped in front of a car, it wouldn't seem like you killed yourself. It would look like an accident."
Roger stared at him. What was with this kid? First of all, his idea about stepping in front of a car wasn't all that bad. Then there was the way he had said it, and the way he had been talking. He never looked directly at Roger, but always around him, like he was trying to take in everything he saw, trying not to let anything change until he had memorized it all.
"Alright. Who are you?"
"I'm Mark, Mark Cohen. Who are you?"
"Roger Davis. Why don't you ever stop asking questions?"
"I like to know about people, everyone's so different, it's interesting, their different problems, stuff like that. For example, what's made you so desperate that you think there's no way out other than killing yourself? It's gotta be something really bad."
Rogers temper flared up within him. "How is that any of your business?" he asked angrily.
"It isn't," Mark responded quickly, excitedly. "And that's why its interesting. We should talk. Tell me what's wrong. I bet its fascinating. Oh, but here's another car. You know, if you wanted to not do it for a little while, kill yourself I mean, I'm really, really interested."
Roger took Mark's glasses and snapped them in half. "I told you that you could get hurt out here after dark, especially an annoying little kid like you." Roger started to walk into the middle of the road, but something stopped him. It was Mark. He wasn't looking at his glasses, horrified. He wasn't jumping up to try and stop Roger from walking in front of the car. He was just sitting there, looking very disappointed. Like he would never get to know Roger's story.
Roger turned and walked back to the bench. "Fine. You want to talk? Let's talk."
Up next: Angel and Mimi. This is going to go in rough chronological order. Such as, Mark and Roger were thirteen and fifteen in this chapter, so Mimi and Angel will be a little older than that in the next chapter, about fifteen and sixteen. I'm going to cover all the main characters. Reviews, please!