Rent

"I'm not going to pay this!" Jack threw down the eviction notice in disgust. "It's ridiculous. Didn't Specs say that he would let us live here rent-free anyway?"

Skittery looked up blearily from his battered guitar and shrugged. "What does it matter? Eviction or pay rent," he grunted.

"It does matter! We can't pay this. And I, for one, am not going to. As if we didn't have enough to worry about, with all these breadlines and deadlines," Jack said, turning away from the bill on the table back to his notebook. His empty notebook. Frowning in displeasure, he muttered to himself, "How can I document real life when it gets more and more fictional?" Sighing, Jack swiveled in his old chair to face his roommate again. "Look, Skitts, it does matter. That douchebag told us when he bought the building that he would let us stay without paying him. He's rich enough as it is."

The guitar in his lap was moved to the sagging old leather couch as Skittery stood up. "Jack, I know Specs as well as you do. Yeah, he sold us out. Yeah, he treated us badly. But that's life, you know?" He moved to a dusty mirror hanging on the wall, surrounded by old concert posters and newspaper clippings, skirting the dingy mini-fridge and long coffee table, and tried to fix his hair.

"No. I don't know."

"Damnit, Jack!" Skittery snapped, turning around to face his friend, "Yeah, you do know. You saw what happened with me and –" He stopped, and lowered his voice, "You saw what happened with me and Sw- Swifty." Skittery stumbled over the name of his ex.

Jack blinked. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah. But Specs was our friend. He was in the same boat as us before he met Pie Eater," Jack spat out the words, "and now he's loaded, and can't remember what it was like when he was one of us. But he should still remember that we live here, and be man enough to follow through on his promises."

Skittery trudged to his seat and sat down again. "I guess you're right. But still, I think we should pay. We don't know if Specs has changed enough to kick us out, even if it's Christmastime and all. He's different than he was when he was here." He scooped up the guitar and put his feet on the coffee table.

"He couldn't have changed that much."

"You never know. I changed a lot when I met Swifty. I didn't realize how deep in the drugs I was until I tried to stop, after he –"

"You don't need to talk about it, Skitts. I know that it still hurts."

Skittery paused, both grateful to his roommate that he had interrupted and slightly confused by how observant and thoughtful Jack was being. "Thanks."

"Don't even worry. I –" Jack was cut off by the buzzing of the phone. He got up, hurdled over an ancient armchair, and answered it with a tentative, "Hello?"

"Jack!" A friendly voice said from the other end.

"Mush! I take it you're back in town?"

"Got that right. Hey, throw down the key, wouldja?"

"Sure thing. See you in a sec."

Jack hung up with a smile. "Hey, guess what?" he said, brightening. "Mush is home!"

Skittery grinned back and they both rushed to their window to look down on the snow-dusted street below their building, where a solitary figure in a long jacket stood waving up at them. "Merry Christmas!" The figure yelled.

"Welcome home, Mush!" Skittery called, while Jack waved back and tossed something to Mush. "Come on up!"

Mush caught the keys that Jack had thrown and shouted his thanks. His long jacket brushed the snow as he moved around to the door. Skittery and Jack withdrew from the chilly air and grinned at each other. "It'll be good to have Mush back in the house," Jack said.

"I'll say. Everything's better when Mush is here." Skittery moved back to the sagging couch and flopped down next to his shabby guitar. He glanced at it, and a scowl creased his forehead. "I might as well put this away," he said angrily. "I can't write when the chords sound wrong. I'm not getting anywhere tonight."

Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if wondering when Skittery had gotten anywhere in his song recently. Ever since Swifty had died, Skittery had nearly stopped writing music. Jack knew that his friend was desperate to write something that would outlive him, but hadn't yet found the right notes. "You'll find something at some point, you know," Jack said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Skittery grunted, packing his beat-up guitar into its equally beat-up case and shoving it under the table.

Jack sighed and turned again to his notebook. The blank page seemed to be laughing at him and his inability to write a decent news story. He sighed again, leaned back in his old office chair and closed his eyes.

"You'll find something at some point, you know," Skittery said, mocking Jack with his own words as he came up behind him. Jack opened his eyes to glare at his roommate.

"That was unnecessary."

"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, that doesn't usually stop me," Skittery said, taking Jack's notebook.

"Hey!" Jack jumped to his feet. "Don't touch that!"

"Why? There's nothing in it."

"I never touch your music, do I?"

"Maybe you should. I'm obviously not doing it right."

"Shut up, Skitts. You're better at writing music than I am at writing news."

Skittery tossed the empty notebook to Jack. "Eh. I don't have to rely on what's actually going on for my work."

Jack caught it, and set it down almost tenderly on the rickety desk. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you should be looking at what's going on around you for inspiration."

Skittery shrugged. "Like you said, I'll find something eventually."

Jack grimaced, and muttered, "Damn it's cold in here." He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold in some heat.

"Yeah? Well how can you get warmer when you can't feel your feet and there's nothing to burn?" Skittery scowled.

"There's plenty to burn," Jack said, gesturing at the wall. "Posters. Screenplays. Crappy news articles that I've written. Old music."

"Those will light up a mean blaze, Jack."

Jack nodded as Skittery started to rip things from the wall. Suddenly, he remembered Mush. Glancing towards the window, he asked, "Where's Mush? Shouldn't he have been here ages ago?"

"Dunno," Skittery shrugged again, piling paper memories into a metal garbage can. He lit the final page of a failed song with his lighter and threw it into the can. Warmth and light filled the small apartment as the fragile pages and posters burst into flame.

"Me neither. I sure hope he's all right, though."

Mush cowered against the cold alley wall, his blood staining the bricks behind him as he shook with cold, pain, and fear. The two dark figures had jumped on him as soon as he entered the alley, drawn on by what he thought were cries of pain. But it was only a ploy. The men had robbed him of what little he had, and left him there.

A tall shadow stretched across the rough ground and covered Mush with its oppressing shade. He whimpered softly and pressed into the hard wall behind him. The shadow stepped forward, and Mush tried to shrink away into the bricks. Then a voice said quietly, "You okay, honey?"

The shadow materialized into a smiling face, and Mush relaxed slightly as he gazed into the kind eyes. Well, eye. The left eye was covered by a patch, but not in a menacing way.

Mush found his voice, though it was still weak, and said, "I'm afraid so."

The other laughed. "Did they get anything?"

"Just my jacket. Sadly."

"But at least you're okay. I'm Blink." He smiled.

Mush looked Blink's face over. He couldn't see much due to the shadows of the buildings, but he was struck by the smooth planes and, well, beauty of what he could see. "Friends call me Mush," he said finally.

"Do I get to call you Mush then?" Blink smiled again, and lit up the dark alley.

Mush didn't answer, but he could feel a warm glow rising to his face. He laughed nervously.

"Don't worry, honey. Come on; we'll get you cleaned up, and I'll need to change. I have a Life Support meeting at nine-thirty." Blink rose from his crouch, and helped Mush to his feet.

"Life Support?"

Blink glanced at him, trying to gauge what his reaction would be in advance, and said, "This body provides a comfortable home for the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome."

Mush smiled briefly, happily, and replied, "So does mine."

Blink put his arm carefully around Mush's shoulders as he stepped closer. "Then we'll get along just great. Let's find you a coat, and maybe we'll have time to grab something to eat."

Before Mush could agree to Blink's plans like he wanted to, a small trickle of reality snuck into his mind. "I'm sorry," he said regretfully. "My friends are waiting."

Blink grinned. "The more the merrier, sugar. And," he added cheekily, "I don't take no for an answer."