Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent. Though Rent may be starting to own me...

This story is told in the time frame of three hours. Each hour will be a different chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Prologue: Morning--

Mark Cohen had always been an early riser. Today was no exception. The sun peeking through the sheet, which served as a curtain, on his bedroom window roused him from his deep, dreamless sleep and he reached for his glasses on the crate that served as a nightstand. He sat up in bed, pulling the sheet away to look down over the alleyway that lay behind the building he had newly called his home. A week in the sparse, industrial loft on the corner of Avenue B with his best friend and new roommates had passed and Mark still didn't regret dropping out of Brown after his sophomore year. He loved New York City and he loved the Bohemian loft and he loved his roommates. Living with three other men in their twenties who believed more in their own personal art than in money or power, Mark felt right at home.

Hopping out of bed (not just because he was still happy about his new independent lifestyle away from his hen-pecking mother or the rigors of college life, but because he was a natural morning person), Mark headed for the kitchen area of his new apartment. Surprise etched itself on his sharp facial features when he saw his best friend and roommate sitting with a mug in one hand and a copy of the Village Voice in another.

"Well, I never expected to live to see this." Mark poured himself a cup of coffee and danced out of Roger's reach as the dark blonde extended a fist intended for Mark's arm.

"Yeah…if you don't shut up you won't live to see much else."

"Hey, hey, hey. What's with the Roger McCranky Pants this morning? Oh, right. It's morning and you usually never wake up until the sun goes down. I never really believed in that vampire shit, but hey…you don't drink blood do you?" This time Roger's fist connected with Mark's arm. Mark just laughed.

"Just because I'm not disgustingly perky like some asshole I know. I'm up early for a good reason. I'm heading out to look for some auditions and maybe partake in a few auditions. There's got to be at least one band out there that needs a rock god like myself," Roger drained the last of his coffee mug and quickly filled it again.

"I have never seen anyone drink coffee like you. You should just invest in an IV drip of caffeine. Oh, and don't get your head caught in the door on the way out. Jesus, Rog, talk about egotistical. That's like me referring to myself as the next Spielberg." Mark chuckled at the thought.

"You will be, but not with that attitude Negative Nancy." Roger placed his now-empty coffee cup in the sink and picked up his guitar case, "I'll be back around four. Benny left when I woke up this morning. He's overly ambitious don't you think?" Mark had known before Roger and Benny had met that Roger wouldn't take an instant liking to Mark's former dorm mate. And he'd been right. Though the thin ice that surrounded their conversations and actions was beginning to thaw, much to Mark's relief. He was just impressed that it had only taken a little less than a week.

"He knows what he wants. Can't blame a guy for that. I take it Collins is gone too?"

"Yeah, had his classes this morning. Said he'd be back around one. So it's just you, unless you want to tag along and capture my rise to greatness?" Roger wiggled his eyebrows playfully and grinned.

"I think I'll pass. I don't think your swelled head would fit the frame of my camera."

"Fuck you. See ya later!"

"Bye! And good luck!" Mark chuckled quietly to himself. Life was absolutely amazing right now. No classes, no pointless homework assignments, no schedule dictating his time. He was finally free.

Since he had the loft to himself, he took a slightly longer shower than he was used to. The cold water didn't sting as badly this morning. It was the middle of May and already the temperature was beginning to rise bringing with it balmy mornings. The kind of morning Mark liked best. They were always good for his most conducive thinking. As he dried off and dressed he organized what he wanted to accomplish for the day. A screenplay idea had been whirling around in his head for days, but with the rush to move in and the customary time spent with his roommates, he hadn't yet had the chance to write anything down.

Deciding that he would take full advantage of the silence in the loft, he finished his morning routine, grabbed a pen and notebook and flopped himself down in a chair. The pen flew across the paper as ideas and dialogue came faster and faster. He was barely able to keep up with his own brain. Five pages of the notebook were filled, then twenty, then fifty before he absolutely had to take a break. His hand was killing him. Getting up from his chair, he filled a glass with water and chugged it down. A quick glance at his watch told him it was after one in the afternoon and Mark couldn't help but smile. Last year at this time he had been running to get to his film theory class halfway across campus. Dropping out had been the best thing he'd ever done.