A/N: Well, hi there, I see you stumbled upon my little fic here. I used to
write Harry Potter fanfiction, but I've moved on to bigger and brighter
things – that being RENT! I'm a RENThead for sure =] Anywho, this is my
first RENT fic, so be kind. I was just writing it for the hell of it and I
wasn't going to post it – but alas, here I am posting it. Enough about me.
None of the characters are mine, they are credited to the AMAZING Jonathan Larson. The plot is original...it belongs to me =)
If I don't get reviews I just won't post any more of this and I'll just move on. Like I said, it wasn't written for any specific reason...just to cure my boredom.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Mark opened the door and threw his arms in the air. "Honey, I'm home," he sang. His happiness left him when he saw his best friend and room mate on the couch, with a distraught look on his face.
"You ok Rug?" Mark asked as he strolled over to the couch where Roger was seated.
Roger looked up at Mark, who could see the tears building in his best friend's eyes.
"I'd take that as a no. What's wrong? Where's April?" Mark asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.
Roger picked up a small piece of paper and handed it to his friend of many years. He threw his face into his hands, trying to hide the tears that escaped his eyes.
Mark read the note.
Roger,
I'm leaving and I won't be back. Take care of Erica...and yourself, of course.
Remember, I will love you forever. This is just something that I have to do.
Tell the gang I said goodbye and tell them I love them.
April
Not knowing what to say, Mark tossed the note back onto its resting spot on the table. He looked down at Roger, who returned a glance. They were both lost for words. Confusion overcame them. Neither could understand why Roger's wife would feel the need to get up and leave. The marriage was one of the most successful marriages that Mark had ever seen. He and his girlfriend Maureen fought nearly everyday, while April and Roger never had an argument—except one. That fight was certainly a doozy. Things were thrown every which way and unforgivable things were said—all because April had confessed to Roger that she was pregnant. As soon as April had said, "Roger, I'm pregnant," he had stormed out of the apartment on her. But after that fight four years before, they had never fought again.
"You ok man? What am I talking about...of course you're not...are you?" Mark asked. He wasn't quite sure what to say.
Roger shook his head and let out a laugh, saying, "I'm a fuck up dude. What can I do about it? And now I have to raise a kid by myself. Do you really think I'm ok?"
Mark put his hand on Roger's shoulder. "Look man, you're not alone. We'll help out with Erica, you know we'll help. We'll help you pull through this man." A smile managed to creep across Roger's face. Mark didn't know if it was forced, but he didn't care. A forced smile was better than no smile at all.
"I know you guys will help...but April was the only one of us who actually had some sort of steady income. Without her, there's no money in this place. Might as well just stab myself and kill myself sooner. I'm just going to starve to death. We won't even have enough money for a bag of chips or a beer or anything," he said.
Mark thought for a second. "Roger, you're 26. Maybe it's due time you get a job?"
Roger gave him a rude glare. "Mark you're my age and all you do is run around with that fucking camera. You're not so stable yourself."
"I didn't knock my girlfriend up. I don't have a kid to look after. I'm supporting me and only me. You on the other hand," Mark replied. His tone was loud and angry. Maybe he shouldn't have offered his help to Roger. He wouldn't have if he would've known his "best friend" would've just been an ungrateful bastard. "You need to grow up Roger. You need to put your Fender away and pick up a briefcase and go make something of yourself. Show your kid...and us...that you're really not a complete fuck up."
"Erica's only four. She doesn't know how much of a fuck up I am...yet," Roger said quietly, hoping Mark wouldn't be able to hear him.
Mark heard him.
"Rog, look. You can raise your daughter and be responsible or you can throw your life away...and her life too. It's up to you. How much do you love her? How much do you love yourself?" Mark asked. He tried to keep his voice down as to not come across as an ass hole, but rather as a friend looking out for a friend.
"I love Erica with every fucking thing I've got, you know that," Roger yelled in reply. "I don't want her to see me as 'the dad who couldn't do anything right except play the guitar.' But what qualifications do I have for any job? I have none, Mark. None."
Mark knew that this was somewhat true, but not completely. Roger was never the smartest in his class. And he was a junkie for the majority of his life. If you needed a definition for irresponsible, Roger was it. Hell, his picture would probably be featured in the dictionary for the word negligent. But Mark couldn't let Roger know that he was right. There had to be something that Roger could do for money, but what? It dawned on him. Collins. Collins would have the answer. Collins would be able to help Roger out. Mark told Roger that he had to go shoot some footage of Maureen at some protest, though he was really going to find Collins and tell him everything.
Once Mark was gone, Roger sprawled out on the couch, rereading April's note a hundred thousand times until he was interrupted.
"Daddy?" a little voice called. Roger sat up on the couch and saw his daughter approaching him, rubbing her eye with one hand as the other dragged a pink blanket that Angel had made for her when she was born.
Roger ran over to Erica and scooped her up into his arms. He rocked her and kissed her, thanking God that he still had his daughter. If April had taken Erica with her when she left, he would've completely lost it. Erica was the one person he loved as much as his wife.
"Daddy, why were you screaming before? You and Uncle Mark...you woke me up," she said, rubbing her eyes once again.
Roger pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly. He didn't know what to tell her. He could tell her that he was fighting with Mark, but then he'd have to tell her that her mom ran out on them. He knew she'd ask where her mommy was eventually, but Roger would never be ready to tell her.
"God," he wondered to himself, "Why me?" He looked into Erica's eyes—the same blue eyes that adorned April's face.
"Collins! Collins, look we need to talk. Now. It can't wait," Mark said. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.
"Mark, I'm teaching," Collins muttered in front of his night school class. "Are you sure this can't wait?"
Mark nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "April—left—note—Roger—gone—she's—not coming back," he finally was able to complete his jumbled sentence.
"Excuse me class," Collins said. The students all looked intrigued and excited about this whole situation. They wanted to know what was up, but Collins escorted Mark outside the classroom, where the students couldn't hear a word.
"What are you talking about? I heard words come out of your mouth, but what the hell you were trying to say is beyond me," Collins said.
"April left Roger a note. She left him. She left him to take care of Erica. April's gone and she's not coming back."
Collins stuck his head back into his classroom, asking his teacher's assistant Rod to take over teaching the class. Collins knew that he had to go and see Roger.
"Collins do you think you can...help him out? Find him work...something?" Mark begged.
"Not for his sake. It's not my fault he screwed up his life with drugs and shit. But I'll help him for Erica's sake. God knows I don't want her growing up with a fuck up as a father. I could never forgive myself if I looked into those blue eyes, knowing that I didn't do anything when I know I could've done something to help. What the hell can he do though? He has the mind of a sixteen year old. NYU doesn't want sixteen year olds running around doing important business," Collins explained.
"Then don't give him important stuff to do. But there has to be something you can do. He's really willing to work even if it's something little. Fuck April for supporting him for the past couple years. If she hadn't have left him today, he never would've had to even look for work," Mark bitched. "And she didn't even leave him a penny. Bitch."
None of the characters are mine, they are credited to the AMAZING Jonathan Larson. The plot is original...it belongs to me =)
If I don't get reviews I just won't post any more of this and I'll just move on. Like I said, it wasn't written for any specific reason...just to cure my boredom.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Mark opened the door and threw his arms in the air. "Honey, I'm home," he sang. His happiness left him when he saw his best friend and room mate on the couch, with a distraught look on his face.
"You ok Rug?" Mark asked as he strolled over to the couch where Roger was seated.
Roger looked up at Mark, who could see the tears building in his best friend's eyes.
"I'd take that as a no. What's wrong? Where's April?" Mark asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.
Roger picked up a small piece of paper and handed it to his friend of many years. He threw his face into his hands, trying to hide the tears that escaped his eyes.
Mark read the note.
Roger,
I'm leaving and I won't be back. Take care of Erica...and yourself, of course.
Remember, I will love you forever. This is just something that I have to do.
Tell the gang I said goodbye and tell them I love them.
April
Not knowing what to say, Mark tossed the note back onto its resting spot on the table. He looked down at Roger, who returned a glance. They were both lost for words. Confusion overcame them. Neither could understand why Roger's wife would feel the need to get up and leave. The marriage was one of the most successful marriages that Mark had ever seen. He and his girlfriend Maureen fought nearly everyday, while April and Roger never had an argument—except one. That fight was certainly a doozy. Things were thrown every which way and unforgivable things were said—all because April had confessed to Roger that she was pregnant. As soon as April had said, "Roger, I'm pregnant," he had stormed out of the apartment on her. But after that fight four years before, they had never fought again.
"You ok man? What am I talking about...of course you're not...are you?" Mark asked. He wasn't quite sure what to say.
Roger shook his head and let out a laugh, saying, "I'm a fuck up dude. What can I do about it? And now I have to raise a kid by myself. Do you really think I'm ok?"
Mark put his hand on Roger's shoulder. "Look man, you're not alone. We'll help out with Erica, you know we'll help. We'll help you pull through this man." A smile managed to creep across Roger's face. Mark didn't know if it was forced, but he didn't care. A forced smile was better than no smile at all.
"I know you guys will help...but April was the only one of us who actually had some sort of steady income. Without her, there's no money in this place. Might as well just stab myself and kill myself sooner. I'm just going to starve to death. We won't even have enough money for a bag of chips or a beer or anything," he said.
Mark thought for a second. "Roger, you're 26. Maybe it's due time you get a job?"
Roger gave him a rude glare. "Mark you're my age and all you do is run around with that fucking camera. You're not so stable yourself."
"I didn't knock my girlfriend up. I don't have a kid to look after. I'm supporting me and only me. You on the other hand," Mark replied. His tone was loud and angry. Maybe he shouldn't have offered his help to Roger. He wouldn't have if he would've known his "best friend" would've just been an ungrateful bastard. "You need to grow up Roger. You need to put your Fender away and pick up a briefcase and go make something of yourself. Show your kid...and us...that you're really not a complete fuck up."
"Erica's only four. She doesn't know how much of a fuck up I am...yet," Roger said quietly, hoping Mark wouldn't be able to hear him.
Mark heard him.
"Rog, look. You can raise your daughter and be responsible or you can throw your life away...and her life too. It's up to you. How much do you love her? How much do you love yourself?" Mark asked. He tried to keep his voice down as to not come across as an ass hole, but rather as a friend looking out for a friend.
"I love Erica with every fucking thing I've got, you know that," Roger yelled in reply. "I don't want her to see me as 'the dad who couldn't do anything right except play the guitar.' But what qualifications do I have for any job? I have none, Mark. None."
Mark knew that this was somewhat true, but not completely. Roger was never the smartest in his class. And he was a junkie for the majority of his life. If you needed a definition for irresponsible, Roger was it. Hell, his picture would probably be featured in the dictionary for the word negligent. But Mark couldn't let Roger know that he was right. There had to be something that Roger could do for money, but what? It dawned on him. Collins. Collins would have the answer. Collins would be able to help Roger out. Mark told Roger that he had to go shoot some footage of Maureen at some protest, though he was really going to find Collins and tell him everything.
Once Mark was gone, Roger sprawled out on the couch, rereading April's note a hundred thousand times until he was interrupted.
"Daddy?" a little voice called. Roger sat up on the couch and saw his daughter approaching him, rubbing her eye with one hand as the other dragged a pink blanket that Angel had made for her when she was born.
Roger ran over to Erica and scooped her up into his arms. He rocked her and kissed her, thanking God that he still had his daughter. If April had taken Erica with her when she left, he would've completely lost it. Erica was the one person he loved as much as his wife.
"Daddy, why were you screaming before? You and Uncle Mark...you woke me up," she said, rubbing her eyes once again.
Roger pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly. He didn't know what to tell her. He could tell her that he was fighting with Mark, but then he'd have to tell her that her mom ran out on them. He knew she'd ask where her mommy was eventually, but Roger would never be ready to tell her.
"God," he wondered to himself, "Why me?" He looked into Erica's eyes—the same blue eyes that adorned April's face.
"Collins! Collins, look we need to talk. Now. It can't wait," Mark said. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.
"Mark, I'm teaching," Collins muttered in front of his night school class. "Are you sure this can't wait?"
Mark nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "April—left—note—Roger—gone—she's—not coming back," he finally was able to complete his jumbled sentence.
"Excuse me class," Collins said. The students all looked intrigued and excited about this whole situation. They wanted to know what was up, but Collins escorted Mark outside the classroom, where the students couldn't hear a word.
"What are you talking about? I heard words come out of your mouth, but what the hell you were trying to say is beyond me," Collins said.
"April left Roger a note. She left him. She left him to take care of Erica. April's gone and she's not coming back."
Collins stuck his head back into his classroom, asking his teacher's assistant Rod to take over teaching the class. Collins knew that he had to go and see Roger.
"Collins do you think you can...help him out? Find him work...something?" Mark begged.
"Not for his sake. It's not my fault he screwed up his life with drugs and shit. But I'll help him for Erica's sake. God knows I don't want her growing up with a fuck up as a father. I could never forgive myself if I looked into those blue eyes, knowing that I didn't do anything when I know I could've done something to help. What the hell can he do though? He has the mind of a sixteen year old. NYU doesn't want sixteen year olds running around doing important business," Collins explained.
"Then don't give him important stuff to do. But there has to be something you can do. He's really willing to work even if it's something little. Fuck April for supporting him for the past couple years. If she hadn't have left him today, he never would've had to even look for work," Mark bitched. "And she didn't even leave him a penny. Bitch."