Disclaimer: RENT is the wonderful creation of Jonathan Larson, as Les Miserables is that of Cameron Mackintosh, Claude-Michel Schonberg, and Alain Boubil.

Act I, Scene II

RENT
You Okay Honey?

How do you document real life?
When real life's getting more like fiction each day?

"Shit."

Gabriel cursed. This was so typical of Marcus, cutting off the power on Christmas Eve. Wasn't it enough that he and Ferre were living in some stupid, crappy loft on the corner of 11th Street and Avenue B? What was he going to do next? Take down the barbed wire in the tent city? He never liked the boy in the first place, he came to them one day and started talking about the most amazing girl, then he married her and just stopped being their friend. It was as simple as that.

"Nice Christmas gift!" Ferre shouted to nobody in particular. He had to admit he was confused when his roommate, hastily ran out of the room and came back with a matchbox. It was a brilliant idea to light a candle, but Ferre obviously thought that a candle wouldn't be enough. He got the trash bin, lit a match, and dropped it in like it was no big deal.

The fire wasn't strong enough, but he could see the flames reflecting in Ferre's eyes. "Gabe, hand me the screenplay." He scowled, sure that everyone called him Gabe just to spite him because honestly, in his opinion, it was a stupid nickname. Despite his resistance, it stuck. He obliged and went over to Ferre's tiny desk.

"Which one?" he called from the corner of the room.

"All of them!" Ferre shouted back, "I'm done shooting with a script!"

That explains why he's being an annoying prick, filming me while I'm working... Gabe muttered, picking up a pile and handing it to Ferre who quickly dropped it in the fire. He saw a grin on his face that quite honestly freaked him out a bit, and he almost opened his mouth to remind his roommate that they were throwing his old movies into the fire and that they weren't killing Batman.

"Look at the situation we're in, Gabe." he said quietly, "How the hell am I supposed to document real life when it's getting more and more like fiction?" he asked.

Gabriel looked out the window to see people lighting fire to their eviction notices and chuckled. "This is reality." he replied, "Everyone else is in a similar situation! There are worse problems though. How are we gonna pay rent?"

"Jenna, I think I'm going to throw up."

The words sounded, coming from the other end of the telephone. The girl in question continued inspecting her nails in the cab she was in, coming home from work. Faye was great, really, but seriously. She hasn't eaten since breakfast. "Did you eat?" she asked.

"How's the production going?" she asked in return.

"Don't change the subject, Faye."

Rob coughed in the alley, why he was still living in New York was beyond him. Everywhere, every time, each night was just Trick or Treat, and it's almost always Trick. "Well this was a nice welcome back to town..." he muttered, putting a hand over his nose to check if it was bleeding.

Fuck, everything was turning a murky shade of brown, his head just kept on hurting and this time it was far worse than the worst hangover he could possibly remember. He couldn't think. It hurt his head too much.

"I need a drink." he mumbled.

Marcus pressed his cellphone to his ear. "Nicolette, what's wrong? You sound sad."

The muffled reply came. "It's our anniversary today,"

"Anniversary of what?"

"The first time I laid eyes on you. Not to mention Christmas Eve."

Marcus immediately felt guilty. "I'm really sorry, cherie, but I honestly can't believe those two after everything I've done! Ever since our wedding, I'm just yuppie scum–"

"And you're not, my dear." she said, her sweet voice coming from the other end of the line. "Besides, you have me, remember? I promise I'll always be there for you, Marcus. No matter what. They'll see! You can help them all out eventually."

He smiled. "I'll be back in a while, Colette, I need to collect the rent." he said,

"I love you."

Marcus hesitated. "I love you too."

"How's the digital display going?" Faye asked again, pressing the subject.

She could practically feel Jenna hesitate through the phone. "There may have been one teeny, tiny spark." she admitted, and the diva rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Faye, I got a engineer. He'll fix it, promise. And you won't–"

Faye sighed. "I'm calling Ferre."

"It's not like I'm a theatre person." Jenna defended herself hastily, "You know I could never be one. But seriously, this engineer guy, he's gonna fix this, you won't need to call–"

In a click, the line was disconnected, and Faye dialed another number.

Ferre's cellphone rang and Gabe's eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.

"Hello? Faye?" he asked, and Gabriel nearly started laughing. "Your equipment won't work?" Gabe could imagine Faye, pouting and calling his best friend pookie. Just a second after, Ferre was already complaining, glancing at him first then making it seem like he was annoyed. "Okay, alright! I'll go!"

Gabe just smirked at him, and Ferre in a moment of childishness stuck his tongue out at the anarchist. He looked out the window and saw Marcus' familiar black range rover pulling up next to the building. They both scowled.

"Use your camera to spar." Gabe said to his roommate, smiling slightly as Ferre started filming the scene before them, and he tossed the contents of the trash bin down to the pavement, out the window.

"We're not gonna pay!" The shout came from the apartment below them, and Gabe looked down to see a big pair of brown eyes looking up at him. The girl had long dark brown hair, and a small smirk across her face as she dropped her eviction notice, the flames falling with it, but she didn't mind it that much. She was looking at him and she was pretty.

Hesitantly, he smiled back, turned his back and left.

The thought of April flashed through his mind once. He couldn't leave the past behind, it just kept finding ways back to his heart, reaching down deep inside and tears you apart inside out. That's poetic. He thought to himself.

Still, there was something special about her hair in the moonlight.

"Power's back on!" Gabe's voice rang through the crapartment.

Ferre grinned happily, wanting to wait a while before he went to look for Rob. He wanted to see his footage first, and although he knew it was a bit selfish to watch film-gold for a while, he knew that Rob could take care of himself. With all the times he'd gotten mind-blowing drunk, he probably knew what to do with all his crazy hangovers, most were stories that would never be mentioned again.

Then, the phone rang. He picked it up, hoping it to be his roommate, but this time did groan when he heard Marcus' voice. "You're lucky I can't make it tonight." he said. "You know, sometimes you just need to draw a line and make a stand."

"Car catch fire?" Ferre smirked when he didn't reply. "I don't understand, dude. I mean we used to be friends! We'd hang out at the Musain, we lived together–"

"Of course I remember. You, me, Gabe and Faye. Speaking of which, where's the drama queen? Still her production manager?"

"Two days ago I got fired." he replied.

"You still dating her?"

"Last week I was dumped."

Gabe raised an eyebrow from across the room, walked over and put Marcus on loud speaker. "She's in love!" he proclaimed, making Ferre scowl. This was probably revenge for filming him. Ferre face palmed.

"Not surprised, knowing her." he said, and it was true. Courtney Faye kissed, flirted and slept with anything that moved. Sadly, one day Gabe introduced them to his friend Ferre, and she found him adorable, stringing him into her web. He moved in with them. "She got a new guy?" Marcus asked.

"Well–no." Ferre replied, his face turning red. A small smile started spreading across Gabe's face, and for once, Ferre kind of wished he went back to being the emotionless statue that he almost always was.

"What's his name?" Marcus teased, and for a split second, it kind of felt like they were all friends again, hanging out in the Musain with fellow Bohemians.

Ferre took in a deep breath. "Jenna."

When Marcus started laughing, he hung up, glaring at the phone.

Ella liked drumming.

It wasn't like she was a professional, she didn't need to take lessons or anything. It was just fun, she could carry a beat, and she used to do it all the time when she was younger, using pencils and books. At least she didn't have to resort to her sister's job either, who she hasn't seen in years, and people pitied her ragged and dirty appearance as she drummed away on her little corner.

Someone pressed a dime to the top of her makeshift drum, which was really just an old bucket.

"Merry Christmas." she said as the stranger walked away, and she continued her drumming on the bucket with the drumsticks her sister bought her for her seventh birthday, which was such a long time ago. Eleven years. She smiled at the memory and resumed drumming.

Bum bum badadadadadadum. Repeat.

She kept the simple beat, until she heard a coughing sound coming from the alley next to the phone booth she was drumming in the area of. She picked up her bucket, threw her sticks inside and walked over. She could stop drumming for tonight, after all, today was a very productive day. Her hand instinctively flew to the pocket in her silly outfit, making sure the cash she earned was still there.

She saw a man in the alley. It was dark, and she could barely make out his face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You okay, honey?" she asked, as the man let out another cough. She noticed a tiny gleam of blood on his face. She was familiar enough with wounds to help heal him, maybe she could bring him to her group. They would help for sure. "They get any money?"

"Had none to get." he muttered back, "They stole my coat." She helped him up, despite her incredibly petite figure. "Thanks."

"It's Christmas Eve." she replied simply.

Once they got out of the dark alley, he could see her face better. She had short black hair cut messily a bit above her shoulders, he wouldn't be surprised if she did it herself. Her eyes were a dark, swampy green color and she was smiling at him, showing small dimples in her cheeks. But what struck him most was how the light, both from lampposts and the moon made it look like she had a halo atop her head. "God sent me a guardian angel."

The girl chuckled. "An angel?" she asked, amused.

"My angel." he corrected, a smirk appearing on his face when he saw the pink tint her cheeks. "You're cute when you blush."

Of course, this only made her face get even redder. "I have a life support meeting at nine-thirty." she offered, "I could help you there, I bet they have a bandage for your knee or something."

He nodded. "Life support?"

She looked down at the ground immediately. "For people with AIDS. People like me." she said, "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I mean–"

"No, it's perfectly fine, it's the same with me." he admitted, "But I shouldn't be telling all this to a stranger. My name is Rob. And you are?"

"Ella." she replied, "Ella Schunardiér."

Ella. What a perfect name for his angel.

Up Next

Tune Up #3
One Song Glory
Light My Candle

Author's Note: The first hour I uploaded this story, I had 35 visitors and 0 reviews. I love reviews, please give them to me. I only got three last chapter. I mean, I know I'm a new author and that I shouldn't be hoarding reviews like this, but they're just so addicting. I even have this goal that one day this fic will get recommended. Thank you to SleepingwithinWater, YouthfulSarcasm, The Mutant Jinx and Eponine T. Daee for their wonderful reviews.

I am pleased with myself that I could combine Schunard and Thenardiér. Update for the confusion: Angel is Azelma. :)

I am not updating so easily next time, I updated simply because I already had this chapter written out and needed to post it. If you love this fic and want me to update it, you will review.

Everyone who reviews gets an excerpt of the next chapter!

Your humble servant,
thrillifying