Author's Note: This is my first RENT fic, so I hope you enjoy. This is what I have written so far as a Prologue. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.
"Mark? Mark?! Hello!" Thomas Collins repeated with an edge at his roommate, Mark Cohen. He waited for an answer, but saw one wasn't coming. "Did you hear me?" he asked.
Blinking sluggishly, Mark looked up at Collins and shook his head to clear it. "Huh?" he choked out. "Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just sorta out of it today. What'd'ya say?" Mark yawned and started tapping his pen on the pad of paper he held in his hand that was filled with cross-outs.
"Me, Roger, and Mimi are goin' out tonight. Maybe to sneak into a show. You wanna come?" Collins told him. He hoped his friend would come along. He was beginning to get concerned for Mark, who'd stayed in their apartment everyday for the last couple days, other than work. Nonetheless, it was unlike him. "It'll be fun."
Mark shook his head and regretted doing so. The motion caused his head to spin. "Uhh…" he trailed off, trying to think of Collins's question. "No, no. Not today. I think I'll-" Before he could stop it, a sneeze escaped his mouth. "I'll stay home. I've been wanting to just sit down and jot a couple things down anyway. Go. Have fun. Get out of my hair!" he joked.
"You sure?" Collins insisted.
"Sure about what?" Roger asked nosily as he entered the room. He put the guitar in his hand down on the table and took the empty seat. "Collins is right. You should come with us tonight. If you want, we can go see some sappy chick-flick," he smirked.
"Look, it's been a long day and I just don't feel like it," Mark explained through a congested voice.
"You know, you've been really boring these last couple days," Roger noted as he put on his coat. "And you sound really nasally. And you look…" The guitarist thought for a moment. "You look all… blech!"
"Well, after that lovely description of myself, I really wouldn't want to go." He ripped off the top piece of paper on his pad, angrily crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go ahead."
Collins sighed. Mark looked so lonely there, sitting in the chair.
"But-"
"Guys, I'm fine," Mark assured his friends. "Will you go already?"
"Fine," Roger concurred. We'll be back tomorrow morning," he hesitantly added. "See you later."
"Call me when you need bail money!" Mark yelled to Roger and Collins as the door slammed shut, leaving Mark to himself.
**********
An hour later, Mark could still be found sitting in the same chair. Though he'd never admit it, Mark had nodded off and dozed a couple times during the night. It was odd, though. Mark always was wide-awake, especially when he was writing.
With a shaky hand, Mark's pen dropped suddenly onto the floor of the loft, making a clinking noise.
"Ohh. It's cold," he whispered to himself. He tossed his writing aside for the moment and went to go get his red and white plaid coat. Shivering, he put it on.
"Damn, it's freezing!" he cursed to himself while rubbing in and up and down motion on his arms, trying to heat up.
Suddenly, his vision swayed and swirled before him. If Mark hadn't reached out and grabbed onto the back on the chair, surely the filmmaker would've toppled over.
"Whoa…" murmured Mark, squinting to clear his still-blurry sight. A rush of tiredness abruptly came over Mark, and all he desired was to sleep. In an attempt to lie down, Mark staggered back over to the couch, just trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. If he could just reach the couch, he'd be able to lie down and sleep. A good night's sleep was all he needed, right?
With that intent on his mind, Mark attempted to take another step towards the couch. Instead, his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor.
Before passing out into oblivion, Mark's last conscious thought in his head was:
Hmm. Maybe I am a little sick after all…
So, that's the beginning! I hoped you've enjoyed. If you can, take the time to leave a review! I love hearing from you!
P.S. Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you next chapter!