A/N: This is my very first Rent fanfiction, so I apologize if the characters are OOC. I've only ever seen the movie, but I really hope that I can see the live play at some point. I hope that you guys enjoy this and leave a review :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent or the character. I just play with them for my own entertainment.
It was past four in the morning. The loft was quiet as I stood in my room looking at the events I had caught on camera and thinking about editing them into another film. More for my own benefit than for a documentary. I knew Roger was asleep because he wasn't fiddling around on his guitar or pacing through the living room. For once it was me losing sleep instead of him. I could feel the exhaustion in the way my eyes kept going out of focus, and it didn't help that my back felt like it needed to be popped and the muscles were so tight it throbbed. In short, I felt like shit. Nothing knew to a starving artist on Avenue B.
I sighed and shut off the projector. I took off my glasses and rubbed at my tired eyes, trudging to my bed. I didn't bother changing clothes as I flopped onto my bed with a groan. Shit...I really felt like shit. I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until I was waking up to the familiar sound of Roger procrastinating. Musetta's Waltz rang through the loft making me sigh and fall out of bed onto my feet.
Another day in the life of Mark Cohen. Amateur director. Starving artist. HIV negative. And in love with his roommate, and best friend Roger Davis. Self proclaimed rock star, song writer, ex-junkie, and HIV positive. I had only recently realized my feelings for Roger and admitted them to myself. Collins and Angel knew-correction, had known before even I did. They both said I should tell him. But I was a coward. Mostly. There were times when I had moments of bravery and acted before I thought. Example, at the Life Café after Maureen's protest. Anyway, I guess I was waiting on one of those moments to come along before I told Roger my feelings.
Angel said I was making excuses. Collins, of course, agreed. They were both right. Sometimes I hated how perceptive they were. Angel with that knowing glint in her eyes and Collins with that damn smirk. My excuse would have been Mimi had she and Roger still been together. But they had broken up.
It had been everything but messy. A clean break that left them still close friends. Basically what happened was: 'This is over, isn't it?' 'Yeah. Still friends?' 'Of course!'. And that was that. Mimi was great. She came up to the loft a lot and hung out with Roger and I. She had stayed clean, and we were all proud of her. She was dating a man she'd met in rehab. He was nice too and fit in well with all of us Bohemians.
Joanne and Maureen were doing well. Maureen still protested and over dramatized. Joanne was as patient as ever with her. She deserved a medal for all of the patience she had. They were still engaged. And it looked like they were going to be together forever despite how different they were.
I guess the only thing that had really changed was me. Well...not really. I had only made a realization. Nothing changed between me and Roger except the fact that I blushed a lot more about random crap. Like right now.
I had walked out and told Roger to stop procrastinating. He had jokingly challenged me to make him. Which had let to an innocent wrestling match. We laughed and rolled across the floor trying to over power each other. It wasn't long before he had me pinned to the floor. Having him over me, his hair falling around his face and his chest heaving as he panted, made heat rise into my face. His large, calloused hands held my wrists above my head and he was wearing a triumphant grin.
"Looks like you can't make me, Marky," He said with a laugh. Well, no shit. He was taller than me, had more muscle than me, and was, of course, stronger than me. I'd experienced that strength first-hand during the days of his withdrawal. I hoped he took the flush in my cheeks as just exertion.
"Y-yeah, okay. You win," I said, cursing inwardly at my own damn stutter. Roger didn't seem to notice as he got off of my and plopped right back down on the couch. He grabbed his guitar and began fiddling around again.
"You slept pretty late. Everything okay?" He asked as I made my way towards the kitchen to see if there was any coffee left to make. Thankfully there was.
"Yeah. I was just looking through some footage," I replied as I went through the motions of making coffee. "You want some coffee?"
"Already had some," Roger replied, his hand going over the neck of his guitar. Moments later he started playing Musetta's Waltz again. I sighed and gave him a look. He snickered at me and stopped. I was glad he wasn't brooding.
The day went by like all the others. We went to Life Support together. I filmed, Roger stayed quiet for the most part. I reminded him to take his AZT, he took it. Roger went up to the roof to try and get inspiration, I didn't follow. It was probably around seven that night when there was a banging at the door. Well, it was more like a tune rapped out on the door. I knew who that was. I opened the door and let Collins and Angel in.
"What's up, guys?" I asked as I received their hugs.
"Just thought we'd come by and liven up the day for you," Angel replied with a smile, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. She had her drum sticks in hand, as usual. Collins chuckled and sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"Here," He said, pulling out a couple of joints from his pocket and handing one to me. I took it and the plastic Bic lighter he offered. The fluid was probably getting low because it took a couple of tries to get a flame. I lit the joint and took a drag while Collins did the same with the second. "Where's Roger?" Collins questioned as he passed his joint to angel and took the one I handed to him.
"He's up on the roof getting inspired," I said before letting out the smoke. Collins always had good stuff, and I was a light weight when it came to anything-alcohol, pot. I never did anything else.
"You tell him yet?" Collins asked as the second joint made its way to me and the first to Angel. She smacked his thigh lightly.
"You know he hasn't," She said before looking over at me and leaning forward, the joint held between her thumb and forefinger. "Now, Mark. You know you can't wait around for that bravery of yours. You have to tell him. Soon." I sighed and took another hit, already feeling a nice buzz.
"I know," I said just as the door to the loft opened and Roger came back in. He shut the door and I held out the joint to him.
"You know what?" He asked curiously before he took a hit from the offered joint.
"That we're right," Angel supplied, passing the other joint to me as Roger went to sit on the floor between my chair and the couch. Roger passed the joint off to Collins and Angel finally passed the second one to me.
"Right about what?" Roger asked, his curiosity growing. I knew that look and that tone of voice. He wanted to be let in on the secret. I looked at Angel and Collins pleadingly. Roger looked between the three of us with a growing frown. "Guys, what the hell is going on?"
"We think that Mark should be the one to tell you," Collins said, shifting to lay down on the couch with his head in Angel's lap. "It's his secret, after all." Roger looked at me, eyebrows raised and expectant. I swallowed and took two hits from the joint before passing it to Roger. I sighed. Maybe I should tell him.
I was stoned and feeling relaxed, so the consequences didn't occur to me at the time. I was extremely glad that they didn't. I still held the Marijuana smoke in my lungs as I slid from the chair and onto my knees. I grabbed Roger's shoulders and leaned close, pressing my lips to his. He made a noise of surprise, but he didn't pull back. His lips parted and I exhaled the smoke into his mouth while he inhaled.
It was after the smoke exchange that the real kiss actually started. I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me into his lap so that I was straddling him. His hand cupped the back of my neck and I let out a soft noise at the feel of those calloused fingers against my sensitive skin. My hands fisted in the material of his leather jacket and I pressed closer. There was laughing and clapping in the background. it caught out attention and we pulled apart.
"Now, you should probably tell him in words," Collins said with a grin. I blushed and looked down, concentrating on Roger's shirt.
"Rog...I-I love you," I admitted in a mumble.
"Sorry, what was that Marky?" Roger asked. I could hear the smirk in his voice so I knew he heard me. But he wanted to hear it again and that made me smile. I looked up and into those amazing and stunning green eyes.
"I said, I love you," I repeated. Roger grinned and kissed me again, his fingers moving up my neck and into my hair, making me shiver in delight.
"Love you too, Cohen," He said when we parted. Collins whooped and clapped. Angel giggled and passed us one of the diminishing joints. Roger took it and took a hit before passing it to me. He kissed me again and passed the smoke to me. I coughed because my lungs couldn't hold all of the smoke from my own hit and his. "I was beginning to think that you were never going to admit you loved me."
I blinked. Wait. "You knew?" I asked with a frown. Roger sighed and rested his head against my shoulder.
"Yeah. Those two told me," He said, pointing at Collins and Angel. I looked at them and Angel smiled innocently while Collins chuckled and pulled a third joint from his pocket. He set it down in the ashtray that sat on the coffee table for later.
"We needed a backup plan," He explained while I stared at him dumbfounded.
"They said that you loved me, and they already knew how I felt about you," Roger said, cupping the side of my face in his hand and turning me to face him again. "I wanted to tell you the day I found out you felt the same, but they said I had to wait. I had to let you tell me. Said it would build your confidence." I huffed and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my forehead against his.
"You're so lucky I love you, Roger Davis," I said. Roger grinned and kissed me softly.
"I know," He said, grinning wider. I knew that in five, maybe ten, short years the love of my life, Roger Davis would die from AIDs. It was a horrible reality, but one I accepted. Because I had a feeling that when I finally passed on. He'd be there waiting for me on the other side. Who knew I'd be right?
It was probably forty or so years later when I passed away in my sleep. I'd directed a few good movies, got some fame. Nothing too big, but it was nice. I never married or had a serious relationship because my heart was already held by a ghost. You know that clichéd line 'I saw a light at the end of a dark tunnel'? Who knew they were right about that, huh? I don't know what I expected to see when I broke through on the other side, into that white light.
But when I looked around me as the blinding light dimmed I saw a familiar place that had this overwhelming sense of home. The loft in Alphabet City, Avenue B. Collins was on the couch with Angel in his lap, joint between his lips. Mimi was perched on top of the metal kitchen table, laughing at something Maureen had said. Joanne was with her wife, arm wrapped around her waiste and smiling. But there was one face I didn't see.
Just when I was starting to worry a pair of strong, leather clad arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against a strong chest. I instantly leaned back into Roger's embrace, my hands going to cover his arms. He kissed my neck and murmured into my ear, "What took you so damn long, Cohen?" I laughed.
"Sorry. I had to live enough for us both," I said, turning around in his arms and wrapping my own skinny, pale arms around his neck. Everyone looked just like they had when we'd all been starving artists in New York City. Except...healthier, happier, and just...perfect. I looked up into Roger's face and just drank everything about him in. Every detail about him that I had missed so much was just the same as I remembered. Finally, I leaned up and kissed him. Moaning softly. Perfect. Absolute perfection.
I wasn't sure how long we kissed. But after a while Maureen's voice interrupted us. "Enough with the mush fest! Come here you and tell us what you've been up to!" We parted and walked towards the group, hand-in-hand. I wondered what kind of ruckus us Bohemians could cause in the afterlife. This would be a long, fun, trying eternity. And I was going to enjoy every second of it.