Complicated Chapter 1: Paradise? It's Complicated, a rent fanfic

Author's Note: As always, I don't own RENT or the characters. I also do not own any of Idina Menzel's lyrics, or any other quotes used. Some parts of this were written for speedrent – and a sequel is in the works, in case anyone is interested. (Yeah, I'm excited to be writing in this 'verse again. Sue me. :P)

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Paradise? It's Complicated

- - -

"What are you doing here?"

"Shut up."

A giggle. "No, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Shut up."

"'Cause if you're looking for tech, you're way off, okay? It's, like, three periods away – "

"Maureen, do you ever shut the fuck up?!"

Maureen plopped down next to him on the dusty black floor. "Don't hiss at me. It's not my fault you went to the wrong classroom."

Mark tiredly put his head in his hand. "I'm not in the wrong classroom."

Maureen glanced at him quickly before returning to scan the other students gathering in the theatre. "The wrong period, then? The wrong century?"

Mark sighed. "I knew this would happen."

"What?"

"I knew that you would just have to be in this class and make my life a living hell."

"Hey!"

Mark looked at her. "You're the one teasing me. You don't have the right to be offended."

A small smile crossed Maureen's face. "I honestly thought there was a mistake. I've known you since we were eleven and you've never voluntarily gotten on a stage."

"Yeah, well," Mark said, looking around at all the strangers gathering. Well, strangers to him. They all looked as if they'd known each other in a past life or something. "Apparently everyone needs to take a fucking fine arts course. I was set up for pre-calc but then stupid Mrs. Donovan informed me I needed one more art credit to graduate. And," he said, intercepting Maureen's next question, "Art and tech were filled up. So I'm stuck," he finished glumly, picking at a shoelace.

Maureen looked at him sympathetically, which just made him want to punch somebody. He didn't need sympathy – it was just a stupid class, how hard could it be? Was he really that one-dimensional no one could see him in drama?

"Well," she said. "It's really not that bad. You might like it."

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Really," she insisted. "It'll be fun. We'll be together, we can partner up for all the improv stuff – "

"What the hell is improv?"

"And, I mean, we've already kissed, so we could do the romantic scenes – "

"Maureen!" Mark looked around frantically, then lowered his voice. "That was one time. In Nanette's closet. It doesn't count."

Maureen grinned. "What, you don't think you were good? Don't worry, you're a good kisser."

"It's not that," Mark said, looking at the floor. "Just – I don't like my personal life getting spread around. Okay?"

Maureen laughed. "You don't want me fucking up your game! You don't want people to think I'm your girlfriend!" She threw an arm around Mark's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "That's so cute. But don't you know that unavailable guys get more attention from girls?"

Mark squirmed away. "You're impossible."

"But you love me," Maureen said, looking towards the doorway of the auditorium, and the boy who was walking through it. She brightened. "Benny!"

Mark swung around. Benny was taking this class? Awesome. Another outsider to share his misery.

"Hey, Maureen," Benny said, smiling and sitting down next to Maureen. "Mark, what the hell are you doing here?"

"My artistic sensibilities have been stifled by the man for much too long," Mark mumbled. "I had to finally break free by signing up for Drama 12."

Benny laughed. "What bullshit. Tech was full?"

"Tech was full," Mark confirmed. He looked over at the teacher, a wild-looking woman in an ugly print skirt that swirled around her ankles. The pink of it made his eyes ache, and the jangling of her bracelets hurt his ears. And she was bent over a boom box. Mark shuddered to think of what was about to be played by this woman. He looked at her again. Definitely the Grateful Dead. Fuck.

Benny and Maureen were leaned in close to each other, talking in low voices. Sure, for Benny she'd be quiet. Mark sighed lightly, and the teacher turned around, skirt swooshing.

"All right, class," she said, clapping gently. Mark was interested to see everyone settle down immediately, staring at her attentively. Definitely a change from his other classes.

"We're going to start by arranging ourselves in a circle – " She swung her hands in circles. "Come on, get going, do it now."

Mark looked around, deciding to stay right where he was. The group formed a haphazard circle, Mark sitting a little bit on the outside. He didn't mind.

"Okay, next we'll all introduce ourselves – when we get to you, say your name, and a descriptive word that starts with the same letter as the first letter of your name!"

She was sickeningly enthusiastic. Maureen glanced at him and grinned. Mark narrowed his eyes at her, then caught himself and grinned hugely. He wasn't going to let her enjoy his misery.

"Then we'll do a few trust exercises, see how you guys interact with each other – because trust is essential when working on the stage, you have to trust the people you're working with. And we'll end up with a little meditation."

Mark stared at her disbelievingly. She was a fucking kook.

"Okay, let's start! You!" She said, pointing dramatically to a shy-looking girl across from Mark. As the girl stammered out her answer, there was a resounding clang from the back of the theatre. The group turned as one.

"Sorry," the boy walking in said, hurrying down the aisle. "I didn't know which class I was supposed to be in until the last minute, and …" He stopped, looking amused. "Do I need to do penance or something?"

"Not today," the teacher answered wryly. "Come join the circle …?"

"Roger," the boy supplied, walking over and plopping down gracelessly next to Mark, arranging his long limbs. "I was supposed to be in Band, but …" He shrugged, and the teacher smiled.

"Save it for the circle," she said, and pointed to a girl sitting next to Maureen, who was watching the newcomer with interest.

Mark glanced at the boy beside him. He was wearing tattered jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket and a Ramones t-shirt. He had short brown hair and his nails were bitten practically to the quick. Mark looked up, and saw he'd been caught staring. "Um. Hi."

"Hi," the boy said, leaning towards Mark and keeping his voice low. "Are you another refugee, or did you actually want to take this class?"

Mark grinned. "Tech was full."

They boy grinned back. "So you actually wanted the geekier option. Interesting."

Mark looked at him, unsure if he should be offended or not. He decided it was okay when the boy lightly bumped his shoulder with his own.

"I'm Roger," he said, glancing quickly at the teacher. Maureen was currently describing herself as masterful.

"I'm Mark," Mark said, smiling.

There was a sudden silence, and Mark looked up to find all eyes trained on him. Dammit.

"Um, I'm Mark."

The teacher gave him what she must have supposed was an encouraging look. "And a word that describes you?"

Mark looked at Benny, desperate for an answer to come to him. What was he supposed to say again?

"Um … uh …"

Maureen piped up cheerily, "Milky!"

The class laughed, and Mark wondered if he had a nickname for the semester now. He shot Maureen a look.

He was going to kill her.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"So, are you liking it more?"

"No."

"Mark, come on, I know you like it."

Mark sighed. He didn't like the class any more than the first day – and he didn't think their teacher was any less of a freak. But there was something to be said for not having any homework, and for basically dicking around for forty-five minutes with your friends.

He actually found himself looking forward to drama class now – even though Maureen and Benny were all over each other now. Not dating though – they were both emphatic about that – they just spent all their time together and could only talk about each other.

But they weren't going out. Right.

Mark usually ended up doing whatever stupid game the teacher thought up with Roger. Usually they'd pretend they were acting when the teacher came by – the rest of the time they just talked.

"We're learning more about acting doing this than if we actually did what we were supposed to," Roger grinned one Friday.

Mark laughed. "Yeah. Actually, we should get extra credit."

"Oh, yeah." Roger laughed, too. "We might even be up for an award at the end of the year."

Mark was about to lean forward and ask Roger to go to a movie that weekend. Maureen and Benny would be going out on a not-date, he was sure, and the prospect of a weekend alone was vastly unappealing. But just as he took a breath to speak Ms. Dalaine appeared out of nowhere.

"I take you two have been working on your scene?"

Roger grinned, and Mark nodded, trying to not look at Roger and keep a straight face.

"Then I take it you also have the scene memorized?"

Mark looked up sharply, then nodded.

"Good," she said crisply, looking over all the other students. "Then I take it you won't have any problem presenting it on Monday."

Roger nodded, but Mark felt a horrified look freeze on his face. "Present? Do you mean, like, perform? On the stage?"

Ms. Dalaine smiled at him. "It is drama class, Mark. You expected something different?"

Swallowing, Mark shook his head, turning back to Roger when she turned to pounce on her next victims. Roger got a good look at his expression and laughed.

"Do you need the nurse?"

"What I need is a case of chicken pox or something. Immediately."

Roger looked at him. "Do you have stage fright?"

"No!" Mark said, looking around to make sure Maureen wasn't nearby. "I don't. I've gotten on stage before, I just don't like it. Besides, we're not ready, at all." Mark glanced around the room. "And I don't relish the thought of making an asshole of myself in front of all the drama freaks."

Roger chuckled. "So says the Tech freak."

Mark gave him a wry smile. "Hey."

"Aw, c'mon, Mark, we're all freaks of one kind or another. It's what makes us human."

Mark smiled, but sobered quickly as he stared over at Maureen and Benny. Maureen was laughing as she yelled at Benny for cheating on her. Roger followed his gaze.

"You like her?"

Mark shook his head. "No. We've been friends for a really long time. That would just be … weird. No, I'm just … well, not nervous, exactly, but …" Mark sighed, then grinned at Roger. "I'm fucking nervous, all right? Feel free to mock me."

Roger looked at him. "I won't. We could come here after school, if you want, and work on the scene. Remember Dalaine said anyone could if they wanted?"

Mark thought a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Thanks."

Roger smiled at him. "No problem. So we'll meet here at, what, 3:15?"

"Sure."

The bell rang, and both boys looked up towards the intercom before turning back to each other. Mark suddenly felt a little nervous.

"Listen, uh, the lovebirds over there are probably gonna ditch me again this weekend. Do you want to, um, catch a movie with me or something?"

Roger grinned, leaping lightly off the stage to grab his backpack from one of the theatre's chairs. "Sure."

"Great," Mark grinned, and Roger lifted his backpack up to him. They both paused.

"Well," Mark said, taking his bag and feeling unaccountably awkward, "I'll see you after school."

"Yeah." Roger nodded and turned away. Mark felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"So, you and Roger Davis."

Mark swiveled around to look at Maureen. "What about it?"

She shrugged. "People talk about him, that's all."

"I don't care," he snapped, shouldering his pack, feeling annoyed.

"I never said you did, don't get all bitchy," Maureen said. "I just know you don't like people talking about your 'personal life' – and being with Roger is a gossip guarantee, that's all."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "You're being weird. I'm not with Roger."

Maureen looked down the red aisle leading to the door Roger had just disappeared through. "Like I said, people say things about him."

Mark sighed, turning away. "So?"

"So maybe he doesn't know you're not with him."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Forget Math class. And History. Mark was barely able to find the familiar rooms, let alone actually pay any attention to what was going on. He just watched the clock, stomach feeling a little tight and sick whenever he thought of meeting Roger after school.

What did he care what people said, anyway? He'd been called every name in the book, including any number of charming gay slurs, and he couldn't really give a shit. Fuck them.

But Roger thinking it was a little different. Over the past while a friendship had sprung up between them, and Mark liked it. He knew Roger was a big reason he actually looked forward to Drama now. They had an ease together that Mark had never really had with anyone else – not even with Maureen or Benny. He never felt scared about saying anything to Roger. He wasn't nervous about laughing at Roger, and was never nervous about Roger laughing at him. It was like they both understood before anything got said.

And Roger was fun, always knowing exactly what could make Mark laugh hysterically when they were supposed to be quietly meditating at the end of class. He was nice, too.

Mark didn't want that to get fucked up. Plus, if Roger did … if Roger thought he was interested or anything, he didn't want to hurt Roger's feelings, either.

Mark let his head fall to his desk with a loud thunk when the last bell of the day rang. He didn't want to deal with this – he didn't want things getting weird or complicated. He just wanted a friend.

Mark slowly walked to his locker and gathered his books one by one, stopping to wipe the dust off the top shelf and fix the drooping side of a movie ad he'd taped to the locker door. He sighed, knowing he was stalling. And that he was going to be late.

As he turned, he caught a faraway glimpse of Benny and Maureen disappearing through the school doors together. A flash of resentment burned through him – Maureen ditched him and then dropped this stupid bomb on him. She should have kept her stupid mouth shut. What did she care what he did, anyway? She was always with stupid Benny ….

Mark sighed and started shuffling towards the theatre, noticing that the halls were rapidly emptying, kids leaving for home or holed up in locker rooms getting ready for practice. When he reached the door to the theatre, he took a deep breath. Fuck it. Maureen was probably just full of shit, anyway. He'd act as if everything was normal. Everything was normal.

He opened the door and immediately heard soft strains of music. Mark slipped through the door and closed it with a gentle click before turning to walk towards the stage.

The auditorium lights weren't on – just the stage's everyday fluorescent lights, humming a little overhead. The stage looked bathed in light, a light blue that gave everything a hushed feeling.

Roger was sitting on the edge of the stage, feet dangling and a guitar resting in his lap. His head was down, immersed as his fingers slid over the strings of the instrument, looking oblivious to the world. He stopped for a moment, then played what sounded like the same notes over again.

Mark walked forward slowly, watching Roger's face blank in its concentration. Mark got closer, almost to the stage, and Roger again stopped, pausing before playing the same notes – maybe a little higher than before. Then he opened his mouth and sang along under his breath, his voice soft and gentle. But Mark could still hear.

"Remember me for my passion…"

His fingers seemed stiff as they played, like it hurt Roger a little to coax the music from it. Mark froze, fascinated.

"The paradise that I imagined…"

The lights glinted off the guitar, off Roger's longish brown hair. There was another pause in the music, and Roger looked to the ceiling, as if searching for the words he needed in the lights, and when his head fell forward again he saw Mark.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "You're late. I thought you were the one who was nervous."

Mark stared, feeling heat running through him. "I … I didn't know you played guitar. Or sang, for that matter."

"Yup." Roger said, sounding light and cheerful and unmoved as he lifted the guitar off his lap and carefully placed it on the floor behind him. Mark had thought he heard real heartbreak in Roger's voice, in the words, but now he seemed as normal as ever. "I'm gonna be a rock star."

Mark laughed, but quickly quieted when he saw Roger's face. He was smiling, but Mark could see the earnestness there. Roger meant it, even as he laughed at it. Mark licked his lips.

"Well, it was – beautiful," Mark said, swallowing. "The music, and the words."

"You heard them?" Roger said, smiling. "It's not even near what I want it to be yet, but that's going to be the chorus."

"Well," Mark said, struggling for the words, "It was really good. Poignant."

"Thanks," Roger said, looking away for a second before catching Mark's eye. "I figure it's something everyone can relate to." Roger got a faraway look in his eyes, making Mark feel a little left behind. What was Roger seeing that he couldn't? "I mean – everyone wants to leave their mark, be remembered for what they loved the most … never dying, because what you've created … it's forever."

Roger looked up at him, back in the same room again, eyes shining. "You know what I mean?"

Mark could only nod silently, watching as Roger pulled himself up.

"Come on, you're the one who was freaking out," Roger said, teasing in his voice. "Let's actually get some work done."

Mark nodded again, not smiling as he walked up the short flight of stairs to the stage. Roger stood in the light, waiting for him as he approached slowly.

They started their scene, reading off their papers when they needed to. But Mark knew it was a waste – everything flew out of his mind the moment he finished saying it. He'd screw it up on Monday, he knew.

But it didn't matter so much anymore. Watching Roger saying the lines, every so often looking earnestly into Mark's eyes as he said a line or breaking character and laughing – once in a moment of silence smiling at Mark, hair falling in his face a little bit –

Well. Things had just got a lot more complicated, that's all.