Disclaimer: I don't own any of the RENT characters mentioned. They are Jonathan and Co.'s. Don't sue. I have no money anyway. You wouldn't get much of a payment, so it's useless. Thanks.
A/N: The long awaited sequel to 'holding on'. If you haven't read it, I'd suggest you do. If you are too lazy to, Roger dies and Mark and Roger finally confess their feelings toward each other. But not in that order, silly. Dedicated to all those wonderful people on 'rentficauthors' list!
"Close up on this pigeon. Scourge of New York. Known as a dirty rat with wings. Zoom in on her speckled wings." Ash opens up her small beak and lets out a small coo. "Hear that sound? You think that's dirt and grime? No. That's the sound of all the places she's been all the things she's felt. Ash brings them back to me, to help me experience different things. Look at those perfectly arched wings she has. Look at her fly…away." Ash looks out over a ledge and takes her flight up into the sky. Awayawayawayaway. Everything and everyone I ever loved always goes away.
I slam the camera down, which is a move that I would rarely try on my prized possession, but when the emotion takes you, you learn to just surrender to it. 'Who cares what they say? It's not like you see anybody anymore,' my conscience reminds me. My appearance reminds me as well. Long gone is the baby-cute face of Mark with his short, carefully cut blond hair. It's now longer and unkempt, and and due to my complete lack of a social life, I've got the start of a beard going. God if Maureen or Mimi saw me now, they'd probably laugh right in my face. 'But they've gone away too. Nobody wanted to stay around to see you destroy yourself.' Now, all I've got are the birds that occasionally visit. Seven rolls of film on pigeons. 'Pathetic, Cohen…really damn pathetic.'
I want everything to go back to go back to, what was it? Eight months and ten days ago when I was still in Roger's arms. I want to see him breathe and somehow make it so he didn't die. I don't care how I would do it, but I damn well know that I would. I'd make him better. I'd have him seen the sun again. Hell, if it were possible, I'd give him the sun to keep in his hands so he could see it any time. But, of course, he went away too. Not that it was his fault. God, I'd never blame anything on him. It was my fault his got sick anyway.
I'm obviously calmed down some so I head to the kitchen. The apartment sounds so abandoned. Probably because it is. Mimi left for her sister's two weeks after Roger died and one week after I told them about what Roger and I did. Maureen was with Joanne somewhere. She hasn't talked to me for eight months. Not that I care, or anything like that. All I need is my camera and Roger, but we can't always have what we need. One out of two ain't that bad though. Benny is…somewhere. I suppose he owns twenty hotels and has given up on the building. Either way, I still don't pay for rent, but he's not on my case about it.
Not everyone left, though. I'd have to give Collins recognition of sainthood. Since January, he's stopped by once a week with groceries, film, batteries, or whatever I asked for the week before. And he doesn't ask for pay, even though I've tried to give him all the money mom and Cindy have graciously given me. I guess that's what happens when you're one of the best professors at NYU. He doesn't stay in the Loft but he has a "quaint little room" near the university (or so he's told me, since I haven't seen it). He's so completely selfless. Giving up his time to visit me make me feel like a burden. And I hate to think that I'm that to him.
I sit down with a cup of tea, with complete ignorance to the piles of dirty dishes that haven't been washed for a week and reflect back when I first told Maureen and Mimi about Roger.