A/N: Hello, hello , hello my readers! :D I am back with another humorous oneshot… Have fun with this! It's probably already overdone but I thought it was cute and I couldn't resist.

Disclaimer: *sigh* RENT… Mark and Roger…. And Mimi…. I'm sorry, but none of you are mine.

Roommates? We're Close

The songwriter looked up from his acoustic, momentarily distracted from his tuning. What was that commotion on the fire escape? The window wasn't locked, and Mark was out; the only key was with him. He raised his eyebrows as he peered through the frosty glass, his grip on the neck of his guitar slackening and then tightening again as the window swung inwards to reveal the same Latina girl who had barged in with her candle the night before.

The girl- Mimi, wasn't it? He couldn't remember exactly- flashed him a flirty smile and flung her arms out as if presenting herself to him. His eyes narrowed in distaste. Her outfit was too scanty for a nineteen year old What the hell did she think she was trying to do, inviting herself into the loft dressed like a stripper in a black minidress and scarlet stockings?

"Please take me?" she simpered, not bothering to close the window behind her as she scampered inside and grabbed the guitar away from him. Shocked, Roger could only stare, frozen, as she proceeded in what he supposed was her seduction of him. "Don't forsake me," she continued breathily, leaning closer.

Shaking his head slightly, he opened his mouth to protest, but the curly-haired brunette was already talking again. The musician could barely keep up with her. "I'll letcha make me…" her voice trailed off as she hopped onto the metal table he'd been sitting on. She crawled towards him, and he caught a glimpse of her mocha-colored inner thighs that he definitely DID NOT need to see before she finished her sentence. "Howl, tonight!"

Before he knew what was happening, Roger found his lips captured by the beautiful Spanish girl's. This obviously wasn't her first time going about something like this; but wait, was that a condom she'd just pulled out of her pocket before tackling him? Oh, fuck no- he wasn't getting into this. He was twenty five, he was HIV+, he was a washed up rock star whose life left a lot to be desired- and then there was Mark.

Suddenly, anger swelled up in him. How dare this… CHILD, just barge in and assume things about him and what he wanted? Shoving her away with both hands, Roger began his tirade, green eyes blazing furiously.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked her, practically barking the question. Her brown eyes, at first so dark with excitement and lust, widened as her face slipped into a surprised, slightly open-mouthed frown. "Barging in on me and my guitar! Little girl, hey- the door is that way," he shouted, gesturing violently at the loft door. "You'd better go, you know the fire's out anyways! Take your powder, take your candle- your sweet whisper. I just can't handle!" She didn't move, still staring at him with that lost puppy expression. "Well? Take your hair in the moonlight, your brown eyes- goodbye! Good night!"

He stormed towards the metal door and with a single yank slid it open, leaning there for a moment, knuckles white where they gripped the frame and heart hammering. A sense of guilt threatened to overwhelm him, and he sighed. Perhaps that had been a little harsh of him, but he'd acted on impulse. As he always did. Mark did always say that was his biggest fault.

"I should tell you, I should tell you…" he started reluctantly, apologizing. She needed to understand that he wasn't interested, not because she wasn't attractive but because... "I should tell you, I should- NO!" He ripped himself away from the delicate arms that had begun to wrap around him from behind. God dammit, was this girl EVER going to give up? He shouldn't have to explain this to her. His anger rose again, uncontrollable.

"Another time! Another place!" he said, trying his best to repress his anger and get his point across. He wanted to keep his cool, he really did. She was only a teenager, misguided. "Our temperature would climb. There'd be a long embrace. We'd do another dance- there'd be another play. Looking for romance? Come back another day." He paused, then reiterated firmly. "Another day." Hopefully that would do it.

Unfortunately, she persisted in her argument- he must not have been clear enough. Fuck. Really, Roger just wanted her to leave his apartment and leave before Mark got back so he wouldn't have to explain this awkward, frustrating situation to his roommate. She kept talking about freezing and burning your heart, about how they should seize the day and make the best of their situation, how it was only them… no day but today. The philosophy, he admitted, seemed sound, but right now he couldn't think about that. He finally chased her out of the loft in his rage, yelling at her to get out before his roommate came back.

"You have a roommate?" she asked as he pushed her out. Her eyes pleaded with him to talk to her, let her get to know him at the very least. But Roger was done talking. He nodded tersely. Disappointment and understanding seemed to radiate off of her. "Is it… a girl?"

"His name is Mark, " Roger muttered, whirling around and slamming the loft door behind him, effectively cutting off conversation.

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Mimi stormed into her apartment, on the verge of angry tears. That fucking Roger Davis! She'd admired him since the moment she'd seen him brooding on the fire escape; he seemed like a lonely soul, someone she could identify with. And she'd done everything in her power to start something passionate and beautiful and meaningful with him.

She'd thought for a moment that the roommate he spoke of might be a girlfriend or something like that, which would explain his rejection. If he was taken, she'd back off; but he'd said his name was Mark. A male roommate, then. So he DIDN'T have a girlfriend…

What kind of young, single man could resist a scantily clad stripper with a sexy smile and a condom in her hand, throwing herself at him? She'd been so pumped up to meet him again after his awkward, cute resistance the last time. With the candle. That night… it seemed magical in her memory. She really thought she could have loved him, given the chance.

And he wasn't giving her that chance.

Mimi felt like screaming, flopped onto her bed. The baggie of white powder in her dresser seemed so tempting, but she was too angry to even think of holding a spoon and lighter steady. As she laid there, chest heaving with the force of her erratic breaths, she began to calm down and realize… Perhaps she'd come on too strong. Word on the street was that this ex-rocker was recently recovered from heroin withdrawal. He probably hadn't had any kind of romantic contact in at least half a year. He could be scared. Scared, like a cornered animal. Lashing out.

She made up her mind. The Latina girl changed swiftly into something a bit more appropriate, preparing to go upstairs and give Roger a sincere apology. Perhaps he'd be willing to talk to her if she wasn't shoving her boobs in his face?

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Mimi paused before rapping her knuckles on the metal door of the loft, listening curiously. Two male voices issued from beyond it; Roger's roommate must have returned. Despite her guilt at eavesdropping, the stripper was far too interested to hear what they were talking about. It sounded an awful lot like they were discussing her…

"Mark, I didn't do anything with her-" Roger was saying, a desperate tone in his voice. "She just barged in through the window! I kept trying to get her to leave but she was so convinced I wanted her here, it took me forever to get rid of her."

"It's fine, Rog," the other man sighed. Mark, that was it. He sounded defeated. "I overreacted, I'm sorry. I just don't like the thought of some stripper coming in here and seducing you…"

She bristled at that and prepared to barge right in there, thoughts of apologizing flown out of her head. She was going to give that Mark guy a piece of her mind along with Roger- she wasn't JUST some stripper! What did he know? The next part of the conversation confused her, however, and she stayed put.

"You know I wouldn't do that to you, mark," came Roger's voice, soft and comforting.

"I do know that." She could hear the smile in Mark's voice. For a few long minutes there was silence, just rustling, and she couldn't fathom what they were doing. Impatient and remembering her purpose, she yanked the door open, deciding that if they weren't talking anymore she wouldn't worry about interrupting.

"Roger, I wanted to-" Her sentence choked off as her eyes bugged out at the scene before her. Mark- she had seen him somewhere before, she was sure, the shy ginger-blonde boy with the geeky glasses- was leaning against the wall, head tipped back and cheeks flushed as he whimpered and fought to keep still. On his knees in front of him, Roger had his mouth wrapped around his member, green eyes turned upwards to watch the other man's face as he blew him.

"Rogerrrr…" Mark was moaning. "God, Roger!- ohmyGod." His big blue eyes popped open as he heard Mimi enter, staring at her in mortification. "You're, um… Mimi?"

"You're Mark," she replied faintly, in the back of her mind registering the humor of the situation. The man she was trying to seduce… was sucking off another man… in front of her… Suddenly, the Latina burst out laughing, unable to think about it anymore. She laughed so hard that tears sprang to her brown eyes, and she doubled over in front of the two embarrassed men. Roger sat back to stare at her, green eyes and red face reminding her of Christmas.

"Roommates?" she asked in amusement, and Roger scowled at her, looking away. Mark laughed and answered for him.

"We're close."