Author's Note: Hello, peoples. Well, I just got back from seeing the RENT cinecast and I loooved it! I didn't care for the Mimi, but other than that it was freaking amazing! So, while watching it, I noticed something I never had before, which is that Roger has April's name tattooed on his knuckles. And so, I was inspired to write this. It's just good ole plain Roger angst. It's not very creative it's like his thoughts during One Song Glory. Anyway, give it a chance please?
Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, Roger Davis would be sitting next to me, but nooo, that's not the case.
"I'm writing one great song before I…" Roger muttered, strumming at his Fender guitar.
He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He would never be able to.
He began to play the beginning chords of Musetta's Waltz on his guitar.
It had been over a year since he had found out and he still couldn't say it. He understood it. He accepted it.
But there was something about saying it out loud that made it seem all too real. All too realistic. Almost as if his life span would shorten even more if he said the words out loud.
What did it matter if he died now anyway? What did he have to live for?
He desperately plucked at the guitar strings before slamming it down in pure frustration.
Roger rubbed his temples and sighed.
He was a fucking failure. He only had one thing that kept him motivated. That actually inspired him to get his ass out of bed in the morning and he was a fucking failure at it.
No matter how hard he tried.
One song…glory.
One song before I go.
Glory – one song to leave behind.
Roger had a fucked up childhood. He wasn't going to deny it. His parents were always arguing and didn't give a shit about him.
Hell, he could've shot up a liquor store and they wouldn't have noticed. They were just that absorbed in their own issues and problems.
So, growing up, Roger had no one to talk to. He was completely and utterly alone and he hated it.
Roger would sit alone in his room day in and day out, just listening to tape after tape. They never failed to soothe him. To help him feel as if he was not alone. As if other people felt the same things he did. Were going through the same shit. It never failed to amaze him that this tape could live on for God knows how long.
And that's when Roger decided he wanted to become a musician.
To him, there was nothing better than the idea of some kid like him sitting around listening to his voice on a tape forty years from them. Helping some kid like him to feel as if he was not alone. To feel like they have someone to identify with.
One day Roger Davis wanted to help someone just like him. And that's why he wanted to write one song. Just one before he went.
Find – one song, one last refrain.
Glory – from the pretty boy front man,
Who wasted opportunity.
One song – he had the world at his feet,
Glory, in the eyes of a young girl.
A young girl.
Roger internally scolded himself. He remembered when he was nineteen. It was only a few years ago. He had just arrived in New York and he had the world at his fingertips. And then he met her. April Ericcson. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday.
It was December of 1986 and he was playing a gig at CBGB's with his band. As Roger allowed his eyes to skim over the audience, his focus fell on a slim girl with fiery red hair smiling up at the stage.
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked admiringly at the stage and shone her perfect white smile that made his heart melt.
After Roger was finished playing, he offered to buy the girl a drink. She accepted and they spent hours at the bar just sitting and talking.
Loneliness was an emotion that Roger was very well acquainted with. But, for the first time in a while, he didn't feel it. All he felt was a spinning in his head and the increase in his heartbeat as he spoke to the girl before him.
At the moment, Roger Davis was on top of the world. He was sure of it. He was talking with perhaps the most stunning creature he had ever become acquainted with. His band was doing well. He was seriously wondering where the hell Allen Funt was to pop out and tell him he was on "Candid Camera".
That didn't last long though. His success continued, and he and April began seriously dating.
Then the smack came along.
Find – glory beyond the cheap-colored lights,
One song before the sun sets.
Glory – on another empty life.
Time flies – time dies.
Glory – one blaze of glory.
One blaze of glory – glory.
Find. Glory – in a song that rings true,
Truth like a blazing fire.
An eternal flame.
It was great for a while. Until that day. January 11, 1988. Roger was positive that he would not forget that date as long as he lived. It was a Tuesday. He and Mark had just gotten back from dinner.
Mark had to use the restroom and headed immediately toward the bathroom, while Roger strutted into the kitchen to make himself a mug of coffee.
Roger reached up and grabbed a white mug when he heard a deafening scream.
He immediately dropped the mug on the floor, shattering it to pieces as he fled into the bathroom.
When Roger finally entered, he found himself wishing he didn't. His heart completely stop as he allowed his eyes to devour the sight before him.
Mark was standing in the middle of the room, min-flavored floss in hand, looking as if he had just seen a ghost. Roger rapidly moved his eyes from his roommate down to the bathtub. In a matter of seconds, Roger had completely forgotten what he even had to live for anymore as he eyed April spread out in the bathroom with slashed wrists, her pulse failing to beat.
Roger sprinted over to the bathtub and sobbed over her lifeless body.
Roger examined his knuckles that were tattooed with the love of his life's name. She would always be there. Haunting him. Not allowing him to forget about her. He couldn't decide if that was good or bad though. He didn't want April to be forgotten. Ever. But as he looked down at her name, he didn't want to be reminded of her on a daily basis.
Roger knew that she killed herself because of the HIV, but sometimes he couldn't help but blame himself. Maybe he wasn't good enough to her. Maybe she just wanted to get away from him. Maybe if he had simply not approached her that night at CBGB's, she would still be happily alive.
Indeed, Roger Davis would never forget January 11, 1988. It was the day everything good in his world came crashing down.
Find – one song – a song about love,
Glory, from the soul of a young man.
A young man.
Find the one song,
Before the virus takes hold.
Glory – like a sunset.
One song – to redeem his empty life.
Roger Davis could completely and honestly say that since April's death his life had been empty. He felt miserable and numb.
There were so many times when he questioned why he even allowed himself to live, but then he thought of two things. The two things that would always be most important to him.
First of all, he wouldn't want to do that to his friends. They went through so much emotional trauma, him especially, after April's suicide, and he certainly didn't want to purposely put them through that, especially knowing it's effects.
Secondly, was music. Roger had to write that one song. Otherwise, he should have just died on January 11, 1988, because since then, he couldn't honestly say he had been living.
Time flies,
And then no need to endure anymore,
Time dies.
Roger was interrupted by a knock on the door. He muttered under his breathe as he got up to answer it.
A/N: Well, review and let me know what you thought! Also, if I typically follow your RENT fic and I haven't read and reviewed in a while, I've just been busy. I haven't abandoned them. I'm going to try to get caught up on reading them tomorrow!