Disclaimer: I do not own Roger, Mark, Mimi, Maureen, nor April. Nor Rent, nor anything else associated with Rent that I've failed to mention here. I do, however, sort of, own Krissy.
Author's Note: I don't know why I'm bothering to post this.I'm not particularly proud of this. It was just something I wrote, in hopes of getting rid of my writer's block so I can work on There's Only Us. Alas, no such luck. Just a bit of musing in third-person, but from Roger's perspective. Because that's how it is. Krissy is a real person. From Norway. Ilove her. She loves Mark. It fits.Enjoy!
Love, Roger decided, many years ago, just wasn't worth the time. It was overrated, tossed around, used and abused; it meant nothing anymore. Sure, he loved his friends, and April, and Mimi. But that wasn't real love. Hell, Roger wasn't even sure what real love was, but he supposed it had to be close to what he felt about Mark.
That had been, needless to say, a shocking day in the guitarist's life. The last thing he ever expected was to realize that he was in love (real love) with Mark. He just woke up one morning, went out to the kitchen to eat breakfast, and, suddenly, there it was. Plain as day. Roger might've just acted upon it, too, had it not been for the fact that Mark was, at the time, dating Maureen and he, himself, had April. Roger had just blamed it all on the drugs. Of course, he should've known better. Even after April and Maureen, Mimi came into life. Roger just sighed and let life run its course. It was a frustrating course.
Being in love with your best friend, Roger realized over time, was not an easy thing to deal with. Each day he was finding it harder to keep to himself. Living with Mark was becoming a chore. At times, Roger likened the feeling to suffocating. But, of course, there were the many drunk nights where Roger got in his kicks. Well … Nights were Mark was drunk, and Roger not quite so. On these nights, Mark was usually as easy as clay to manipulate, and was usually up for all sorts of things. Kissing was not something a drunk Mark shied away from. Sometimes, if Roger was particularly lucky, there would be touching.
Nights like these haven't come around in a long time.
Mark has found himself many things to do suddenly, and Roger cannot get him alone to even talk, let alone get him drunk. Between meeting with producers who want to help with Mark's documentary, and the cute girl downstairs who just moved from Norway, the filmmaker has been – Heaven forbid Roger for even thinking of this expression – busier than bees in spring.
So here, on the couch, sits Roger. In his lap is Mimi. In Mimi's hair is Roger's hand, twisting it about lovingly as he nuzzles her neck. Vaguely, he watches Mark bustle around the loft trying to make himself look presentable. Tonight is Mark's seventh date with the cute Norwegian girl. Roger bites back a frown. Mark stands in front of the couch, arms spread out.
"How do I look?" he asks. He sounds nervous.
Roger gladly takes the excuse to check out Mark.
"You look fine, Mark." He laughs at his roommates suspicious look. "I mean it. Really. She'll think you look good."
At this moment, there is a knock on the door. Mark makes a small nervous sound and runs to the door, opening it and smiling. There stands his date (Krissy or something like that, Roger remembers). She is smiling brightly, and blushes a bit as Mark gives her a small kiss. Yes, she is the perfect girl for Mark. Roger smiles sadly, and busies himself again with adoring Mimi.
It seems, to Roger, that things like love, like Mark, were just never meant to be.
Author's Note: Yeah ... I know it's not much. Oh well. Bear with me.