Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson owns the characters ... and half my soul.

--

A pretty redhead wandered down Avenue B, paranoia and worry written plainly on her face. Dressed in patched up jeans and an old t-shirt, she carried a worn suitcase in her left hand and held a piece of paper in her right. She had just dropped out of college, unable to hand the pressure of term papers and daily lecture halls. She escaped the pain with occasional heroin and cocaine, and it seemed to help.

There were the guys too. She thought she was so special when all the boys came knocking and wanted to go out to her. But they never called again after they got sex – which was all they wanted in the first place. It left her feeling gypped. She regretted losing her virginity – which she had been saving for someone "special" – to Josh. He introduced her to heroin, whispering "I love you, April" in her ear. She believed him too. In hindsight, the pretty redhead thought it was stupid. Who really says I love you on the first date? After that, it was all a blur. A whirlwind of failed assignments, cute boys, and drugs. She didn't want to deal with it anymore, so she left. Her mother had married some rich entrepreneur a few years back and never asked why when her daughter called asking for money. She never knew that she was paying for April's apartment.

Focusing her attention on the paper in her hand, she successfully located her new apartment, happy to set the heavy suitcase down on the hardwood floor. It wasn't much, but it came with some furniture. A kitchen table, a beat up red sofa, and a tiny TV. April wandered into the bedroom. Sure enough, an uncovered mattress was on the floor across from an ancient armoire.

"Better than nothing," she concluded, tossing her clothes into the drawers. She had put the sheets she had taken from her dorm room and put them on the mattress. "A job…"

She laid in her "bed" awake. She was tired, but sleep wasn't finding her tonight. April had been lucky. She found an apartment in New York that wasn't assloads of money. She got a job a few blocks away at a bar, despite being only nineteen. The owner didn't seem to care. He had looked her up and down. Just another piece of ass for him, she thought. But she was happy to have the job. There were lots of guys there. Wannabe rockstars too.

"Just what you need, Sweetheart," she told herself. "A boyfriend." What guy in New York didn't want sex? April knew she was pretty. She had lots of boyfriends in high school. Prom Queen and everything. Everyone was surprised when she decided to go to college. They all just figured she'd marry the captain of the football team on graduation night. After all, was the captain of the cheerleading squad expected to make something of herself?

It was finally tomorrow. Seven o'clock rolled around and she had to go to work. Dressed in a skin tight black tank top and low rise jeans, she left the solace of her home and entered the New York night. She stood for a minute, the chilly May breeze hitting her. A young man with short, bleach blonde hair was standing against the wall, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. What looked like a guitar case was on the ground next to him. April glanced at his well built arm. The word "glory" was tattooed across his bicep.

"Well, you're knew," he said, taking April by surprise. He must have noticed her staring.

"Yeah, I moved in yesterday," she replied. "I'm on my way to work."

"Where at?"

She told him the name of the bar.

"Really? I have a gig there tonight with my band," he said, grinning. "If you can wait ten minutes for my slow ass roommate, we can walk over together."

"Sure," she consented. Here we go again. She tried to make conversation, "So, do you play guitar?"

"Nope," he responded, "I just like carrying one around with me. It attracts girls."

April laughed. "Dumb question."

"It appears to be working," he laughed too, tossing the cigarette butt aside. "I'm Roger," he extended a hand.

She took it. "April."

"My birthday is in April!" he said, beginning to like her already. "Hold on for a sec." April nodded. "MARK COHEN GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND!"

April was confused. "Who's Mark?"

"My roommate," Roger replied. "He's kind of a dork. You can point and laugh at him when he comes down if you'd like."

"Point and laugh at what?" a geeky blonde with thick rimmed glasses asked, coming through the door. He was gripping onto a camera for dear life.

He's kinda cute, April thought.

"April, this my roommate Mark," Roger said, slapping his friend on the back.

"Hi," Mark said. "Did you just move in?"

"Yesterday."

"Let's go," Roger whined. "The guys are expecting me like now."

"I have to get to work," April murmured, following the boys.

--

Roger's band put on a good show. Between serving beers and collecting numbers from drunken old men, she was able to get a good idea of what they sounded like.

"Hey, April," a voice called. She turned to see Roger. "We're all going over to the Life Café for some food. Wanna come?"

"My shift isn't done for another half hour," she replied, sad that she couldn't join them. She really liked Roger. He was funny – and cute.

"I'll wait for you," he replied, taking a seat at the bar.

And sweet. "Thanks," she smiled.

--

Mark had headed home after the show, not going to the café with Roger and his friends. Steve, the drummer was a little drunk. He tried to hit on April. After that, Roger kept his arm around her.

"He's not someone you want to get involved in," he whispered. She just nodded and leaned on his shoulder.

By the time they left, it was near two am. Roger kept his arm around April the entire walk home.

"Do you live up to your name?" April asked slyly.

"Roger?"

"No…" she said. "Not the brightest crayon in the box?"

He laughed. "Well, maybe you'll find out soon." He winked.

"How soon?"

It was about a week before April saw Roger again. He did gigs at the bar pretty often, always asking April to tag along with his friends. The next Saturday, he invited her up to his loft.

"Mark's back in Scarsdale visiting his mom," he said. "I'm all by myself."

Roger's apartment was set up the same as April's. She daringly gave herself a tour, entering Roger's room when he turned his back. She saw two beds – one neatly made, obviously Mark's and one with covers tossed everywhere and random things on the nearby floor.

"Impatient, are we?" she felt arms slip around her waist and Roger's head nuzzle into her neck.

"You promised me that--," April started.

"I know," his eyes were wild, as he turned her facing him and began kissing her mouth. This was their first real kiss. Sure, Roger had kissed her on the cheek when he walked her home, but never full on snogging. April let her arms snake around Roger's neck as she kissed him back. He began walking, dragging her with him and falling into her, knocking them both onto the messy bed.

They laid there for a while, him on her, just kissing and touching.

"Hold on," he got up and walked over to his dresser. He dumped something on the top and pulled out a straw.

"What are you doing?"

"Just got some bad habits," he replied, snorting half of the line of coke he laid out. April walked towards him, taking the straw from him before he could finish. She finished for him.

"Aahh," she breathed. "It's been awhile."

He smiled. "Now where were we?" He wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her again. His hands moved up her back, taking her shirt with them.

They collapsed on the bed, shredding garments on the floor as they moved. As the night wore on, the passion grew. April shivered at Roger's touch, the way his experienced hands ran up and down her body. The way he hit her in just the right spots.

It had been awhile since she felt that way. Since someone had cared more about her than what she had to give. Roger didn't complain. He just held her afterward, his calloused hand resting on her hip, the other stroking her face as he stared into her dark eyes.

"You're eyes are so pretty," he said at last.

"No one's ever said that before," April replied. "But thanks."

"What were they looking at?"

"I guess they were distracted by… other things," she cast a look at herself.

Roger followed her gaze, taking in the image of her naked body in the moonlight. "I see." He moved his hand from her face and ran it down her figure. "Well, I like being different."

April laughed. She lifted her arm up and pulled herself up on top of Roger. "I guess you should know this…"

His eyes widened. "You weren't like…a man before or something."

She laughed aloud, burying her face into his chest. "No," she reached over towards the bedside table, grabbing a new condom. Slipping it over Roger, she looked him in the eyes with a mischievous grin. "You do live up to your name."