Actually, this fic started much differently, but I was feeling in a bitter mood, and Benny just happened to pop out. I thought it was kinda of strange this took place at such a specific moment in the play; usually, if fanfictions do take place in the musical time-frame, it's usually vague at least, when I write them, and this didn't turn out like that. It happens on New Years Eve, probably. Benny's taking all the stuff from the loft and transporting it, and he's examining everything before the movers come in. Also, there a bit of serious April hate going on; I was feeling very hostile towards her, and that's why.

Actually, I really do like this a lot and hope you guys do too! Enjoy!

He's looking at her picture. It's a pretty scene, her dancing in the middle of the snow, mid-laugh, her face turned to the sky.

It's disgusting. He tips it over so it falls face down. Secretly, he really hated her. Always had.

Benny looks around the apartment. Filled with mementos of the past and present, memories blending together in the loft. He's in Roger's room. Lots of pictures of his band, random posters adoring the walls. Then, so out of place, a picture of April on the nightstand. It's beautiful; Mark probably took it. He was always good at taking certain shots that made your head turn and stare for a few seconds. Simplistic, wonderful. Ugly. April. He couldn't stand April, he couldn't stand her and Roger's relationship. He knew it would end in misery, in disgust, a loss of grace. And it did.

Benny didn't tell them, "I told you so." Benny kept quiet, Benny kept to himself, Benny turned the picture down and made April disappear.

It was hard coming in here. Extremely hard. They might have thought Benny would have enjoyed coming in here to teacher them a lesson, to steal their stuff and padlock the door, but no. It was painful, seeing all the memories. Old and new. Memories without him, memories they had shun him from. Benny looks to the main of the loft. Table to one side, leftover coffee cups on it. A few bottles of beer, Roger's guitar on the couch. A little lamp here, a clock over there. It seemed so comfy, like home.

Benny's house wasn't like this. It was rich, spoiled. Nice curtains adorned every window, carpets on practically every floor. Huge bedrooms, large stairs ways, three floors. It was nice, expensive, luxurious.

It was empty, cold, unfeeling. It wasn't home, never was. It was only an house, made up in pretty wallpapers and shingles. It wasn't cozy, wasn't comfy...wasn't home.

He takes a seat on the dilapidated couch. It sunk in a little, and for a second, Benny almost smiles at the feeling. Even being gone so long, he still felt the nostalgia in his bones, his mind. The loft hadn't changed much. Sure, there were new things, new pictures, but overall it was just the same when Benny had come here all those years ago. Before he moved on, before the rehab, before the suicide, before any rock shows or any of those fucking drugs. When they were all friends.

Benny remembers the last time he came here, before the whole rent situation. Roger was in rehab. Collins was away, traveling. Maureen...who the hell knew where Maureen was. But Mark was the only one there. "Benny," he said, and it wasn't a question or a statement. It was something in between the two emotions, a sudden surprise.

"Hey, Mark," Benny replied, his voice tired. They stood there for a few seconds. Benny didn't expect to be welcomed in. The friendship had obviously deteriorated to the point where they were almost like strangers.

"Why are you here?" Mark had always been a little hard to figure out sometimes. Usually Benny could read him well; after all, they had spent lots of time in college to get to know each other. But this time appeared to be one of those times where Mark was successful at hiding his feelings. His tone was neutral, nothing harsh, nothing welcoming, just...nothing.

"I'm just here to say what's up, see what's going on."

"...You haven't been here in over six months."

Benny adverted his eyes. "I guess it's been a long time, hasn't it?" He felt a little ashamed, Benny would later admit to himself (Mark had the power to do that to someone), but it was more than that. He felt so utterly hollow, so lost. He felt that if he made peace with everyone again, that things could go back to the way they were and everyone could be happy like they used to be.

"Too long," Mark said coldly. He didn't move from the door, he didn't welcome Benny in. Oh, those eyes. No one ever really told Mark, but his eyes were his emotion. Beautiful, they portrayed anything Mark wasn't outwardly showing, like love or fear. They weren't showing any feelings now. Only that frigid icy blue.

"...What is it?" Benny asked, and there were so many more unspoken questions in those three words that zoomed out, hung in the air. Why won't you let me in? Why are you being so cold? What's wrong with me? Why won't you treat me like a friend anymore?

"Why are you doing this now, Benny?" Mark asked, frowning. His tone was filled with confusion, and sorrow.

"Doing what?"

"This!" he said, motioning to the space between them. "Trying to make friends again, trying to act like everything's alright!" He met Benny's eyes again. "Trying to act like you haven't missed anything, that you haven't been gone." It hurt both of them to hear Mark say that.

"Why can't I reconnect then?" Benny asked, a little angrily. "Why can't I catch up?"

Mark looked at him. "You can't just...catch up, Benny. You're different now. We aren't the same people we used to be. You didn't invite us to your wedding, you've never called us just to say hi." His eyes flashed. "You didn't even come to April's funeral, didn't come comfort Collins when he told us he had AIDS. You just walked away."

Benny looked down. Well, of course he didn't go to April's funeral. He hated that bitch, hated the way she would suck the life right out of Roger. And AIDS...AIDS was big. He was scared. Benny wanted to be forgiven, wanted to be back home again. "I guess this is goodbye, Mark."

"Guess so." He was trying to be tough, Benny saw, but Mark just couldn't hide his hurt well enough.

"I'll see you." And so he descended the steps, and as Benny got to the second flight of stairs on his way down, he heard the loft door shut with a loud click. That was it. No going back.

But look at him now, here he was, sitting on the couch again, almost like he was waiting for Roger and Mark and Collins to enter any second, and greet them. Benny got up suddenly, like the couch was on fire. This was horrible. He hated this. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as he stormed out of the loft, out of his only real home. Benny quickly sped down the stairs. He wanted to be in the loft again, but knew he never could.

"It's all ready. Take everything," Benny briskly said to the moving men as he went out the door of the building, into the snow. He looked up, and for a second the picture of April flashed in his mind. Her smiling in the snow just as everything was falling apart.

Benny didn't look back.

-fin.

Reviews are always welcome.