DISCLAIMER: Don't own Rent. It belongs to Jonathan Larson. Don't own Nowhere Fast. It belongs to Head Automatica. I decided to just post this because, as I've said in the previous chapter, I'm anxious. This is my favorite chapter out of the ones I've written so far, so I really, really hope you guys like it. Reviews are loved, but not necessary. Uhm. Also, I know the last chapter ended with Mark saying he wasn't moving to the city. This chapter is supposed to take place months later, so you're supposed to assume he finally gives in and moves. Sorry if that was confusing. Anyway, now that that's out of the way, enjoy.

Mark smiles at me as I come off the stage. I don't know why he's smiling. I'm sweaty, my eyeliner is running, and my set sucked. "You sounded incredible." Either he's lying to me or he doesn't know shit about good music. "You wanna go get something to eat? My treat." What the hell is he talking about? He's broke. I shake my head, declining, and motion towards a redhead standing in the doorway of the club. "Ohhhhh... Well, I'll just meet you back at the loft, then." I shrug. "Oh, alright. I won't wait up, then. See you later, Rog." There's a tinge of sadness in his voice, but I stand there and watch him leave, staring at his back as he gets smaller and smaller. The redhead gives him a look of disdain as he passes her. Anger wells up in my stomach but quickly settles down. She really is hot and I need to get laid.

"Hey, cutie." She smiles, big white teeth stained with blood red lipstick. "You sounded incredible." She growls at the end of her statement and it makes me believe her more than when Mark said it. I feel her lips against mine and I give in to the familiar taste of cigarettes and vodka. All these girls taste the same. "Let's get out of here." Finally. I wrap my arms around her waist and lead her out of the smokey club, cheap colored lights flickering dimly in our path. We end up in a nearby parking lot and she makes herself comfortable on the hood of someone's car. I give her a strange look. "Oh, you thought we were going to...?" She laughs, chuckles cruelly, and I feel stupid for not understanding her intentions. I'm ready to get up and leave when she grabs my arm. "Where're you going, baby? I have something else in mind. Let me give you wings."

I needed just a hit, one hit

It's a very little hit

I'm sure I won't like it

I needed to be heard

One hit would send me flying

I got away with murder last night in the parking lot

In cold blood I have murdered parts of us that we forgot

I'm not addicted. Mark's wrong. It's love, not addiction. I'm in love with April. I'm in love with life, in love with feeling good. Mark says I used to be in love with music, he says that I've changed. Do you know what I think? I think Mark's just fucking jealous. I grunt to myself as I grab my leather jacket and leave for CBGB's. She's waiting there, of course, with the same chesire cat smile curving her red lips. "Hey, baby. Back for more?" We kiss and I can almost taste the drugs pulsing through the veins in her lips.

I walked into a kiss, one kiss

From the very lovely miss who lives to fulfill my wish

I needed to be heard

One kiss would send me flying

I got away with murder last night in the parking lot

In cold blood I have murdered parts of us that we forgot

I will be going nowhere

I will be going nowhere

I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast

The more I see April, the less I want to write songs and play my guitar. I don't think it's a big deal, but Mark has been getting on my ass about it. He doesn't get it. I don't need music, not anymore. All I need now are my girls: April and Hera. My girls are what keep me going, keep me alive. "What about your song, Rog?" He keeps asking me. "What about leaving a mark on society? What about writing meaningful lyrics? What about--?" I always block him out after the first question. My eyes burn, my stomach is clenching and turning, and the last thing on my mind is fucking music. I need a hit. I only have enough for a nickel bag, but I don't care. It's enough to get me high. I stagger when I lift myself up and Mark steadies me before I fall back onto the couch. "Roger..." Concern glistens in the pools of blue he has for eyes, but it's easy for me to ignore it. I try to yank myself free of his grip, but end up smashing back against his chest, instead. Did he get stronger, or am I getting...? Fuck it. I try again and am finally released of him. I leave the loft without a goodbye.

I had to write a hit, one hit

It's a very little hit

I'm sure you wont like it

I needed to be heard

One hit would send me flying

I got away with murder last night in the parking lot

In cold blood i have murdered parts of us that we forgot

And in the end I grant you a farewell and final kiss

I got away with murder

Who's the next to make the list?

I will be going nowhere

I will be going nowhere

I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going no

I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast

* For those of you that don't know: "Giving wings" refers to the first time someone learns how to shoot up, "Hera" is a slang term for heroine, and "a nickel bag" is five bucks worth of drugs. If I missed anything else, lemme know. Thanks!