Title: Vocabulary
Author: Sarah.
Words: I'm not sure. :/
Rating: PG-13?
Genre: Angst, but not quite.
Pairing: mentions of Roger/April, Maureen/Joanne, Mark/Maureen, Collins/Angel, and Roger/Mimi/\.
Summary: There are ceratin words Joanne has learned not to say by this point in time.
Notes: Not really.
Warnings: Mentions of suicide and character death.
Disclaimer: Property of the Jonathan Larson estate.

There are certain words Joanne has learned not to say by this point in time.

For example, she knows that 'April' is a verb in itself. April didn't kill herself, or die, or leave, she just...April-ed. It's always "Before April..." or "After April..." like they're talking about a calendar. It's not like she sees why she can't say it, but when she does, Mark and Maureen glare at her and Roger curls into himself. Joanne assumes both are habits left over from the days of withdrawal when a mention of even the month sent Roger into hiding. One night, Maureen sat Joanne down and told her about April and withdrawal and her relationship with Mark. She still doesn't understand it completely, though. She doesn't understand why people use heroin in the first place. She doesn't understand why Mark keeps the note April left on his nightstand. She doesn't understand why they didn't send Roger to a proper rehabilitation center to help Roger get over his addiction when they knew all the risks of doing it themselves. She doesn't understand how Mark didn't know Maureen was sleeping around. And she doesn't understand why- in their eyes, at least- April didn't "kill herself". She had wanted to die, right? If she wanted death, the least they could do was acknowledge it.

Benny didn't move up in the world, he sold out. Joanne almost thinks it's commendable, what he did.Not the marrying for money so much, because she still believes he did that, but the fact that he abandoned everything he'd ever known and even when they'd all turned on him, he payed their rent and bought their medicine. They had a friendship, Collins had told her, and things like that shouldn't be bought and sold. If you ask Joanne, Benny hadn't been bought or sold, he'd just been trying to help himself and his friends the only way he knows how.

Maureen doesn't cheat, she flirts. She flirts and she flirts and she flirts until she wakes up in bed with someone she doesn't know. After seeing so many friends get sick and one die as a result of such careless actions, Joanne would think that Maureen would stop being so precarious and just be happy with what she has. Mark has told Joanne about the time Maureen and Roger got so trashed at a party they wound up in bed together, and how Maureen knew this story and didn't seem to care. What amuses Joanne in a very dark way is how Maureen openly admits she cheated on Mark, but when Joanne found her in bed with another man, she was still just flirting.

Angel died and there are no two ways about it. Possibly because Angel was content with dying, and not in the same way April was. She hadn't wanted to die, she just knew that it was going to happen and accepted it. Or maybe it was because they had known Angel for such a short amount of time, as little sense as that makes. When she asked Collins why he gets upset when someone says Angel 'went' or 'left' he simply explained that she didn't leave or go, she died, and using those other words was just a way to avoid acceptance. Personally, Joanne thinks April died and Angel Angel-ed. Then again, she hadn't experienced April's death, much less known her, and don't they say the first death stings the worst?

Mimi simply left. From what Joanne gathers, Roger didn't love Mimi as much as he had loved April, if at all. He treated her death just as he had treated her disappearance, like he knew she wasn't coming back, yet she was okay, and everyone let him go on that way. Sure the first few weeks were rough, and Roger was sad and locked himself in his room for a while, but Joanne suspects it's because the lesions that covered her body by the end reminded Roger just a bit too much of the lesions trailing down his own arms and legs.

Most importantly, Roger did not leave, go, die, pass on, or even Roger. The slightest acknowledgement that he's gone sends the loft into turmoil; Maureen, who has taken the death much harder than expected, excuses herself to the bathroom and hiccuppy cries are audible from behind the thin door. Collins just shakes his head and takes a swig of whatever alcohol he's drinking that day. And Joanne sits silently as Mark hugs his knees to his chest and mutters on and on about how Roger is not dead, even though he knows it's a lie. Sometimes Joanne thinks she has half a mind to slap some sense into the boy and tell him just how dead Roger is. She knows that on some deep down level, Mark has accepted it, but late at night when she hears him whimper and cry in his sleep, she can't help but want to keep him content in his waking shell.

And when, one night, Joanne walks past Collins' room and doesn't hear him breathing harshly as he has been for the past two weeks she hates that the first thing she wonders is how to break it to Mark and Maureen without using the word "dead". She soon realizes it doesn't matter anymore because as soon as she chokes his name out through her closing throat Mark snaps. And Joanne can't decide if she prefers dancing around the truth or Mark sputtering though tears, every other word 'dead' or the name or a lost friend. She doesn't know if she prefers Maureen locking herself in the bathroom or Maureen clutching Mark, both of them crying hysterically. She doesn't know wheter she prefers Collins being sick and wheezing and crying and there or Collins beign happy and with Angel but not there to clean up the mess he made. And she doesn't know whether she prefers acting like no one has died or feeling like everyone and everything has died all at the same time.