A/N: ok this is my first fanfic so read and review please! I'm still new at this

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to the great Jonathon Larson.

*MIMI POV*

"I HATE YOU!" "WELL I HATE YOU TOO!" The door slams. AGAIN.

Ugh. Our lives are becoming a friggin routine. I wake up in Roger's arms, perfectly content after a great night with him. We get up and eat breakfast, which consists of whatever I picked up on my way home from the club. Usually it's fruit or cereal. Roger's parents gave him a microwave for his birthday (they must've run out of ideas) so I'd get frozen waffles or something but I hate the frozen food aisle. It's so cold! Skintight pants and a low cut top do not work for that aisle. Plus for some reason it seems that all the bachelors in New York City seem to congregate there. I've been hit on one too many times to know better than go in that section of the grocery store.

Then, after breakfast, we cuddle and talk aimlessly about nothing and everything at the same time. It's the best part of our relationship. It's like the entire world disappears and it's just Roger and I, the immortal and perfect couple. Too bad it doesn't last. One of us always gets mad about some comment which leads to a "heated discussion," as Mark likes to call it. We yell insults at each other that we know we'll regret, which leads to me hurling something across the room at him, pathetically missing, and him storms out, never failing to slam the door as hard as he can. I'm amazed my door hasn't come off its hinges yet.

I'm starting to get sick of this. Any other guy, and I would've been long gone by now. But he's not just any guy. He's Roger. My sexy, bleach blonde, guitar-playing Roger. And I'm "his Mimi," as he says. I love him with all my heart, I really do. But something in the back of my head tells me this isn't how a relationship should be.

As I pick up the picture frame I chucked at him, I cut my hand. Well this is just great. And we ran out of Band-Aids yesterday when Roger tripped over my stereo and got a huge splinter stuck in his hand. I look down at the picture I'm holding. It was of the good times. After Santa Fe, after Angel died, after my near-death experience. We all were genuinely happy. I mean we never forgot that one Christmas and New Years, but our lives were getting better. Collins was beginning to move on, Joanne and Maureen were together for the time being, Mark had made some money on a film, and Roger and I hadn't fought in two weeks. The picture was from Roger's birthday. He was sitting on the couch, wearing one of those stupid cone hats and grinning like an idiot. I, sitting on his lap, was making kissing faces at the camera. Maureen was in the process of smacking Mark's butt, who was standing in front of her after setting the camera to take the picture in twenty seconds. Joanne was glaring at Maureen, and Collins was just smiling at the camera like a normal person. Those were great times back then. I wish I could rewind time and help everyone treasure them. Tell Maureen that Joanne wasn't going to put up with her flirtatious tendencies much longer. Warn Mark that sometimes companies don't have the same thing in mind as you. Hold on to Roger, just soaking up the love that poured out of him.

But I cant go back. "No day but today" I mutter to myself. I need to clean up this mess of broken glass and my finger. Time for a visit to good ol' Mark upstairs.