Disscalaimah: Jonathon Larson own srent, the loft, and every single character in this. the man was a genius.
Mark stretched and got out of his chair, weaving between different couples and pieces of furniture. He reached the cooler that Joanne and Maureen had brought and reached inside, selecting a beer. He opened it, the hiss of escaping air mingling with the smell of alcohol. He took a swig and turned, gazing at the gathering of people strewn around the loft.
Mimi and Roger sat on the large, flat metal table opposite from Mark. Mimi was sitting with her feet on the table, knees drawn up to her jaw. She rested her chin on them, giant brown eyes watching Roger explain something animatedly. Mark smiled. Roger hadn't shown this much energy in conversation for months. Now, he suddenly found all sorts of things to talk about with Mimi.
Maureen and Joanne were having a heated argument over on the floor near the door. Maureen was gesturing wildly all over her body, and Mark could swear he heard the words, "completely naked." Joanne was shaking her head so fast it was almost a blur. Mark sighed. Maureen. Would he ever get over her? Choosing not to answer his own question, Mark turned his attention to Angel and Collins. They were lying on the couch, making out. Mark quickly looked away. No one else minded the way Angel and Collins would touch or kiss so openly. No one else had a problem. But he felt strange watching Collins and Angel love each other like that. He felt strange knowing that, even though the odds, New York, and their own bodies were pitted against them so fatally, they were still able to love and to be happy in such a large way. They had every reason to be angry and sullen and hate-filled, but they chose not to be. They chose to revel in their love, in the time they had left, and in the world.
Mark was jolted out of his musings by a hard knock on the door. Maureen and Joanne stopped arguing and looked curiously at the door. Collins and Angel didn't seem to have heard it. Mimi slid off the table and walked silkily to the door, obviously feeling Roger's eyes on her. She opened the metal door and—stepped back almost disgustedly as Benny stepped forward.
"Hey, I…uh…dropped by to give you these papers. You need them for the loft." At the sound of his old roommate's voice, Collins jerked away from Angel and sat up. Angel slid off of him and adjusted her wig. She regarded Benny with cool, unnerving eyes. Benny caught sight of her and looked away almost immediately, scared by those eyes.
"I see you came up with the delusional idea that you were welcome within a mile of this place," said Maureen nastily. Benny started to scoff but stopped, probably considering his current company.
"If you just sign here…" he said, pointing to a spot on the paper. Mark came forward and coldly snatched the sheaf of papers from Benny. He carried them over to where Roger sat, glaring at Benny. As Mark bent over and began to sign the papers with a nearby pen, he heard Roger say, "I suppose you'll go to the orphanage next and adopt all the kids. It'll just be another one of your many selfless acts of charity, won't it?"
"Look, I'm just trying to give you a place to live; I don't have to take this goddamn crap!"
"Who said we wanted you here to take any of this crap!" Roger launched himself from the table and flew at Benny, knocking him off his feet. Everyone ran to where they lay on the floor, wrestling. Roger aimed a blow at Benny's head, which Benny dodged. But that was enough. They knew that he would really hurt Benny if he could.
Mark and Collins grabbed Roger's shoulders and pulled him up, fists still flailing. Benny scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Roger, panting. There was a rip in his jacket, and a dribble of blood ran down his chin from his bloody lip. Angel silently offered him a Kleenex, but Benny pushed her arm away. Now Collins looked as though he would like to let Roger go.
"Hey, you—" Angel put a hand on his arm and quieted him. They all stood still for maybe a minute. Then Benny, still breathing hard, stalked over to the table, grabbed the papers, and stomped from the room.
Mark and Collins released Roger, who took several steps forward, his knees shaking a little. There was already a bruise on his forehead.
A sudden, choked sound in the thick silence made them all jump. They turned to see Mimi still standing by the door, her face contorted with pain or anger or some other emotion they couldn't read. Then she burst into tears and fled through the door, her sobs echoing as she ran don the stairs to her flat.
Angel and Maureen immediately followed in pursuit, and Joanne tentatively went after them. Roger, Collins, and Mark stood there, staring at the door. Then Roger muttered, "Shit," and stormed over to the window, where he moved out onto the fire escape. Collins looked at Mark and shrugged. Mark shook his head and sighed. Bohemia. Never a simple moment.