Disclaimer: Sigh These tasty boys belong to Jonathan Lawson.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed, especially those of you who stuck with me. I apologize for the time lapse between updates, but I went to Paris and then worked a show, leaving little time for writing. I also apologize for the ending. You'll see what I'm talking about. I will actually write RENT for act 2 before I write post-rent.

the-fraulein: Thank you! Yes! I have achieved characterization.

Butterflygurl: I didn't purposely do that, but I'm glad you read into it.

evilemmylou: Here is your update! (Who doesn't love those boys?!)

thehobbitgirl: someday he will. Mark knows the brevity of life better than anyone.

Defining Moments

Chapter Three: Haunting

Christmas Eve. Roger has been looking better day by day. He no longer leaves the house to use the bathroom. Unfortunately he still doesn't leave the house at all. Roger is still a ghost that haunts my room, but in the past month he has begun to solidify, until today I could actually touch him without my hand sliding straight through.

"Hey Roger, I was over at the Life Café the other day." I told him as he pored over old sheet music, not yet daring to touch his guitar.

"So? You go there everyday. Why should this visit be different than any other you've made." Roger didn't even look at me as I continued to speak.

"Well, the Rainbow Vortexes are looking for a new guitarist. They asked me if you were available. Apparently your fame has spread past Avenue A."

"I'm not ready yet. It's a miracle that I can even look at that guitar, let alone actually play it. You say that I haunt this apartment, but that guitar haunts me." Maybe I could let him be. Just this once. I certainly had pushed him hard enough during the past two months. It would be a Christmas present for both of us. For him, a day in contentment; for me, a day where has shouting voice did not pierce my heart.

"All right, Roger. I'll be ready when you are. Just don't make me wait too long." I didn't realize the meaning that could be taken from those words until after they left my lips. Roger stared at me for a minute before he replied. His eyes seemed to be reading me, trying to see what I had meant by those words.

"Oh, the guitar," he said after the long pause. For a second I could have sworn I had seen his face fall with that realization. Had he hoped that I meant more? Time to investigate. I went down upon my knees to be at eye level with him, and looked him in the eyes.

"No matter what you need me for, I'll be ready." His eyes flicked over mine and I tried to broadcast my true meaning in those words. Beat. He seemed to understand and was not panicking. I put my hands down on either side of his curled legs and began to lean in, my heart beginning to pound like the drums of a Roman barge at ramming speed. He looked scared for a second, but then relaxed. As my lips lightly brushed against his own, both us seemed to have submitted to the kiss. His arms moved to my waist, pulling my closer to him.

The phone rings. I suddenly find myself on the floor a foot away from the still kneeling Roger, not knowing whether it was I who leapt away or him who pushed me. I briefly met his startled eyes, before my own were drawn to the answering machine.

"Speak!... oops. wrong number." A familiar female voice speaks and then hangs up immediately.

"Was is just me, or did I know that voice?" asks Roger, his cool voice showing nothing of his seeming panic that I had seen only a minute ago.

"Maureen." His eyes were now closed to me. I had tasted paradise for one brief, shining moment and now it was locked away behind steel. Maureen had ruined that for me with a misdial.

"Roger...we need to-" He cut me off without even thinking.

"No, we don't." Roger skulked off into the bathroom that had finally gotten him to live again and slammed the door in my face.

"-talk." After he shut the door I said it, so quiet that he would have had to be listening for it to hear it. "I love you." I walked away - that seemed to be the only plausible action that I could take.

That was the coldest night of winter. I set up my camera and began to film. Not from a script I had written, but just whatever took my fancy. The most surprising thing happened when Roger came out of the bathroom. He walked off into his room and stayed there for only a few minutes. When he came back, cradled in his hands was the Fender guitar he hadn't touched since April's death.

"Roger..." I stopped shooting simply out of shock, hoping, wishing that this guitar meant more than just a guitar.

"This means nothing. I just don't have enough life left to waste it." That made me love him more than ever. I had given him back his life. If I had been able to touch him once more, my hand would have rested upon the surface of his skin, now perfectly solid. I was no longer haunted.

Insert Act I of RENT here

Roger may have been able to forget. Mimi helped him get out, or at least she took the credit for it. Christmas Eve was truly a magical night. A new family was born, a family that made up for the closeness I wanted having been snatched away by a girl with a candle. I don't bear her any ill will for it. Seeing Roger happy for once makes up for the fact that I am not the one doing it. And I received the best Christmas present that I could ever get. A kiss from the man I loved.

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