Disclaimer: I really don't know why I have to keep saying this… If RENT were mine, I'd be a much happier girl. Hell, if MARK were mine…babbles on

Too Soon

It was too soon, the young man thought as he stared mournfully at the grave before him. He looked to be in his mid twenties, and a dirty coat and a ratty old scarf were his only protection against the elements. He held a bouquet of white carnations in one hand and an 8mm camera in the other, but the camera seemed more of an afterthought than anything else…like a habit that he forgot to break today. Tears spilled down his cheeks unchecked and a deep despair filled his eyes. It was too soon to have lost him; just another year would have helped. But Mark Cohen knew that he was fooling himself.

It's always too soon to lose your best friend.

Mark moved reluctantly to an older grave and placed one of the carnations at the base of the headstone. April had been the first of them, the first glimpse into their painful future. Her suicide had hit Roger so hard, it had been months before his friend would even leave the loft. Until that Christmas Eve, when they had met Mimi and Angel.

Angel. Mark moved on again, stopping at another grave and placing a carnation at the base. Angel had made that year so much brighter and more hopeful, even when everything seemed to be falling apart around them. He—SHE—had been one of the most loving people Mark had ever known, and it had been a deep blow losing her, after only a year without April.

Mark's next stop was for Gordon, one of his friends from the Life Support group. Gordon had been so upfront about his fears in his uncertain world of AIDS. It wasn't fair, Mark had thought at the time, that Gordon hadn't even had a chance to survive. Just weeks after his big screen debut in Mark's documentary, he had been shot by some drugged up gang member. "Today 4 U: Proof Positive" had been shown had his funeral, at the request of his mother, who had directed Gordon to the Life Support group in the first place. Mark had mourned the loss of the young businessman, who had touched so many lives in his cynical, true New Yorker way.

Mimi had gone next, which wasn't surprising, Mark thought as he placed a carnation at her grave. She had been so weak after Maureen and Joanne had found her in the park. She and Roger had made the most of every minute they had, for the year and a half that followed. In the end, though, her body gave in, destroyed by the drugs she had once relied on and the disease that had chosen her. So many weeks, Mark had been at the hospital while Roger stayed by Mimi's bedside. Roger had told him to go home, but Mark always refused – Roger needed him. Benny came occasionally, but only as a friend, and never for long. When Mimi died, Roger retreated into his music, keeping odd hours and ignoring Mark again, just like when April had died. But there was something a little more…peaceful about him. He didn't rage, and he didn't give up on life. He just wrote, and what songs they were! Beautiful, haunting, and emotional songs. But he still cried, and sometimes when he had finally fallen asleep, Mark would sing "Lullaby of Broadway" softly in his uncertain, far from perfect voice.

A bit of backtracking, and a carnation on the grave next to Angel's. When Collins got really sick, Mark had been frantic – his fragile world was falling apart before his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Collins was dying quickly, he'd been getting weaker ever since Angel's death. And in the midst of that, Roger was starting to get sick despite his best efforts to stay healthy. Mark's world teetered on the edge of destruction. Pneumonia was what took the sweet-hearted anarchist back to his Angel, and Mark had been devastated. It was Roger, now, who sang "Lullaby of Broadway" when he thought Mark was asleep, the words being broken occasionally by a cough that froze Mark's heart when he heard it. Roger was slipping away.

Mark stood again before the grave he had started at. It was fresh, loose dirt sliding down as Mark put his last few carnations on the mound. Roger had done his best to stay healthy, and he'd fought hard. After Collins had gone, Roger seemed to mature suddenly, ready to repay Mark for his faithful friendship after April and Mimi. It was Roger encouraging Mark to keep working on the newest project. Roger was the one singing "that song" to Mark when he felt like giving up. When Joanne and Maureen left for Denmark to get married, and it was clear that there was NO chance for Mark to ever get Maureen back, it was Roger that got Mark to go out and meet new people. Once, when they were fighting, right after Angel died, Roger had accused Mark of longing for a community, but only being alone with his camera. Roger seemed, in those last months, determined to make sure that statement was never true. Thinking about this, Mark's tears, which had slowed some, suddenly came faster than ever. He slumped to his knees, suddenly lacking the strength to stand up.

"Why?" he whispered huskily. "You said you w-wouldn't leave. You p-promised we'd a-always have each other." Sobs wracked Mark's body as he let loose, punching the ground and shouting "You promised, asshole! You f-fucking promised!"

Finally, he calmed down. He was just a kid, all alone, shivering, tears still leaking from his eyes. He picked himself off the ground and looked at the names of those who had left him behind. April Cornwell. Angel Dumott Schunard. Gordon Reilly. Mimi Marquez. Tom Collins.

Roger Davis.

With a last small sob, he turned and slowly left the cemetery, heading back to the loft that Benny had forgone rent on.

On the day that he buried his best friend, Mark Cohen no longer had his community. He was just with his camera. Alone.

It was always too soon to lose your best friend.