A/N: Yes, I'm writing something! Eep! I'd always wanted to do one of those RENT-characters-as-high-schoolers fics. So here's my shot, please review and tell me if you like it or if I suck. I don't love my first chapter, but it will get VERY dramatic starting at part 2.
Category: RENT, show-verse and not movie-verse.
Pairings: Nothing hard to handle. Mark/Roger (platonic, will never be slash), Mark/Maureen, Roger/April, Mimi/Angel (platonic)
Rating: T for now, for sexuality, language, violence and themes. May rise later, but for now we'll leave it at T.
Disclaimer: Although I wouldn't mind being able to say that I do, I don't own RENT or its characters and am truly sorry to be this blasphemous to Jonathan Larson (may he rest in peace) by ripping off his great work to create this. Well, it IS the opposite of war. All titles, including fic title, are derived from Mr. Larson's work. Any resemblance between the events in this fic and anyone's life or anyone else's fanfic is purely coincidental.
Summary: The RENT characters deal with issues in what certainly aren't the best years of their lives. Mark and Roger, 17, live in Scarsdale as Roger faces problems with an abusive, alcoholic father. Mark's dating Maureen, also 17, who lives over in Hicksville. Elsewhere, Collins, 18 and a senior, acts up, and Mimi and Angel, both 15, deal with life in the Alphabet City.
And now, the fic.
The Cutting Room Floor of Memory
Part 1—Without a Script
Mark Cohen looked out at the rain pelting the window of the cozy Scarsdale house. A fire crackled merrily in the quaint fireplace. Mark and his best friend, Roger Davis, had stoked it themselves, Mark's stern father breathing down their necks (waiting for Mark to drop a match and set the house on fire, giving him another reason to be disgruntled towards his son, Mark thought). The seventeen-year-old pointed the video camera, a family gift for Hanukah many years ago that nobody but Mark would ever use, at the fire for a moment before switching it back to Roger.
His friend was sitting on the arm of a doily-bedecked sofa, Mark's mother's favorite, with the secondhand Fender guitar he valued above everything else he owned.
"Here's Roger, about to give us a demonstration of pure talent," Mark said, in full narrator mode. Roger picked out a chord, and both teenagers winced as he struck a sour note.
"Better tune that thing, Rog," Mark grinned. He glanced over at the phone, afraid it would ring, and it would be Maureen…
"Stop doing that, Mark. It's annoying," Roger said. He was tuning his guitar, tongue between teeth.
"Doing what?" asked Mark absentmindedly.
"That look at the phone. She's not gonna call." He made a face. "If she even exists…"
"Oh, Rog, don't start this again…"
"Come on, Mark. You, the seventeen-year-old Geek of the Year, scoring a girlfriend who's gorgeous and talented and all the other things you say she is, whom you just happened to meet in a coffee shop when I wasn't there, up in Hicksville when you were visiting some ancient family member, and of course have been calling each other every day since and going on conveniently vague dates whenever you feel like blowing me off? Am I supposed to swallow that? What do you take me for?" Roger chuckled.
"Oh, she's real all right…"
"And you've hired someone to call and pretend to be her?" He put on a falsetto voice in an imitation of a girl's. "Oooh, Marky, my lover, I can't come down from Hicksville today like we planned because my kitty died. And because I'm a figment of your…" Roger's sardonic laughter was cut short by a ring from the doorbell.
Mark's heart fluttered as he went to open the door. He pulled it wide open.
There she was. Wet, wearing a hoodie sweater to keep from the November chill, curly brown hair soaked from the rain, Maureen Johnson stepped over the threshold and threw her arms around Mark's neck. Somewhere behind them, Roger's jaw dropped.
After a long, long embrace, Mark and Maureen pulled apart. She grinned and then moved on past him, keeping hold of his hand. Mark kicked the door shut behind him hastily before Maureen had pushed him onto the couch and settled, snuggling against him. Mark felt a thrill, as he always did. Roger remained speechless.
"So is this the famed Roger?" Maureen asked.
Roger stuttered and finally found a voice. "Um…I'm Roger."
Maureen giggled, a silky and gorgeous laugh that made Mark swoon. "Hello, Roger. I'm Maureen." She stood. "Where's your bathroom, Marky?"
"There." Mark pointed. Maureen waved with her fingers at him and sauntered into the bathroom.
"She's HOT!" Roger whispered loudly. "How the hell did you end up with that?"
Mark's grin threatened to exceed the space permitted by his actual face. "She's got a good mind too. No. Really," he said earnestly when Roger snorted.
Maureen came back out again, her wet hoodie in one hand. She now wore a figure-hugging shirt with a star on the front. Mark felt a thrill again. Roger, who seemed to have regained control of himself, said, "Hello again."
Maureen grinned. "Hello to you too." She settled on Mark's lap and planted a kiss on his lips. Mark returned it wholeheartedly.
Their kiss was interrupted by the phone's shrill ring; Mark broke from Maureen to grab the phone. "H'lo?"
"Helloooooo, Roger?" A slurred, female voice was on the other end. "You at Mark's place? You're not at home…" Roger, for a split second, appeared pained, but replaced the look quickly with a smirk as the girl continued with "and that made me saaaaad."
"Sorry, April, he's right here." He snorted as he handed the phone to Roger. Roger's face was smug as he said "Hello?" in his voice he reserved for girls to make them swoon.
"Girlfriend?" Maureen asked Mark.
"Nope, April's just this girl from school. She's probably drunk at some party. She's always drunk-dialing Roger," Mark replied. "Shh, it's entertaining."
"Soooo," April's voice came through the phone, loud enough for the two to hear. "I was thinking of you, Roger, 'cause it's a rainy night and you're all alone with Mark. Wanna come over? There's lots of fun…" Sounds of screaming girls came over the receiver. A new voice chimed in. "Oh Roger, April liiiiiikes you!"
April's voice squealed somewhere in the background. "Shut up, Josie!"
"I'll be right over. Can I bring a couple of people?"
"Sure, just come, you got it?"
"Be over as soon as I can." Roger hung up, smiling. "You guys wanna come? You don't have to drink anything, Mister Prude, before you ask."
Mark looked at Maureen. "Come on, Marky, we can have a little fun, right?" Her hand was on his arm. "I haven't been to a party in ages."
"I never said anything against it. Let's go." The couple stood up. Maureen twined her arm around Mark's.
Roger opened the door. "Your folks are okay with it, I assume."
"Whatever. They'll be at that anal business dinner till late, and it's only six thirty."
April lived within walking distance of the house. The downpour was easing up as the three started down the street. As they walked, the three remained mostly silent. Then Mark spoke.
"Roger?"
"Uh huh?"
"Can Maureen come with us?"
"Come with you?" Maureen asked. Roger looked puzzled.
"You know. When we get out of here."
"Oh. Right, of course."
Mark got a faraway, misty look in his eyes. "Think about it, guys. The city. Nobody knows us there. We can do what we want. I could make films for serious."
"There's Broadway to think about too," said Maureen, her eyes taking on a similar distant look.
"I could join a band and get real gigs," Roger said happily.
Mark sighed. "And only senior year to finish up. Then we're out. When college is over we're off to the city."
Maureen laughed.
"What?" said Roger.
"It's just…my mom always said I'd make a good starving artist."
"This is it," said Mark as they came to the door of April's house. The rain had stopped. Roger knocked on the door, but it was clear that above the music the knock could not be heard. He knocked again, louder, and the door swung open to reveal several people from Roger and Mark's school.
"ROGER!" a voice cried, and April came over, a beer in her hand. April, the school party girl, had highly permissive parents who left her alone in the house perhaps too frequently, Mark had noted. He'd lived down the road from her since she'd moved to Scarsdale when they were in eighth grade, at which point she'd already triple-pierced her ears, pierced her bellybutton, and procured several halter tops. He pointed his camera at April, her short, wavy red hair flaring a little at the end. Even when drunk, April was photogenic. "Smile."
"Smile this, asshole," April retorted, flipping the camera the bird. Mark shook his head and Roger snorted. "Come on in, retards."
April pulled Roger by the wrist rather roughly into a crowd of partying teens. The music was blasting. Maureen and Mark stayed close as they maneuvered through wildly dancing partygoers, beers in many hands.
"Maybe this was a mistake," Mark muttered.
Suddenly, April's friend Josie stood on a chair. "Y'all ready for a game?" she yelled. Cheers rang out around them. "Okay!" Josie called out. "Dare game! Everyone write your name down…" She looked around. "Who's got paper?"
Several moments of silence followed. People started booing.
Mark sighed. "I have some post-its, Josie." He handed them to her. He didn't know why he was feeding the flagrant display of whatever was about to be flagrantly displayed, but he wasn't sure what else there was to do. Josie accepted the Post-Its gingerly.
"Okay. Write your name down on one of these, and we'll dare you if we get your name."
Mark saw everyone, including Roger, move towards Josie to get a Post-It. He started to follow, but Maureen tugged his arm. "What?" he asked her.
"You don't want to play the dare game when there's been drinking."
Mark realized what he'd been about to do. "Thanks," he said hurriedly.
Maureen looked around. "You want to get out of here, or just me?"
"That'd be nice. I'm not a party animal."
"I figured." The two eased away from the milling crowd. Behind them they heard Josie's shout.
"First draw!" Silence. Then: "Roger!"
"Aw, shit!" came Roger's voice.
"Can I just see this?" Mark whispered in Maureen's ear. She nodded and grinned.
"I dare you to…" Josie's eyes took on a devilish gleam. "I dare you to French April!"
April squealed. Roger snorted. Then, inexplicably, he grinned, walked over to April, inclined his head, and planted his lips on hers.
Everyone shrieked and squealed. April in her state hadn't seen it coming. When it came, her eyes widened, before closing as she returned the kiss. The two backed up against a wall, still kissing. Roger seemed to be enjoying himself. So did April. Before long, the novelty of this development wore off for the other players and they drew the next name.
Mark and Maureen, sensing that now was a good time to get out of the way, walked down the hallway of April's house unnoticed. They opened a few doors before finding an old storage closet. "Let's sit in here," Maureen said.
"And…?"
"Talk."
"Sounds good." The two settled themselves side by side. Maureen took an old chair and propped the door shut. "Don't want anyone to come piss us off."
"So…"
"So?"
"Um…what do you want to talk about?"
"I dunno." Maureen looked out the tiny, dirty window of the storage room at the darkened sky. "New York. We'll be…starvingartists, I guess?"
"Yeah. Roger and I have been planning it since we were freshmen. I'm gonna produce films and he's gonna play in a band, maybe write his own stuff."
"Wow. And I can make the rounds, be an actress for real." She sighed. "I didn't make the school show this year."
"What? That's crazy, Maureen. Why?"
"My audition was awful. I had my song cold, but…" Her eyes were downcast. "I was so nervous."
"Nervous? You? You're the most confident person I know…"
"Not at school. People didn't like me in middle school. You got by on how pretty you were…"
"That was a problem for you?"
She grinned in spite of herself. "I had glasses, see. And I had a bit of a lisp, too. That went away, but…then I got to high school, people still thought I was a bit of a freak. Or a bitch, because I was, to some people. There was this one girl, Mona. She gave me hell freshman year. I shut up and let her. I was still depressed 'cause of Mom." She closed her eyes and continued, a little angrily. "Ran off with some guy she'd apparently been fucking for three years before.
"Beginning of sophomore year I told Mona to shove it up her ass. She never said anything to me again, but she told people I was a slut. They believed her."
"Maureen…" Mark held her and let her head fall onto his shoulder.
"I wasn't one of the popular ones. I did weird stuff sometimes. Like once I stole the head cheerleader's pom-poms and stood on a table in the caf screaming 'Cheerleading is sexist and demeaning!' I got detention and everyone snickered at me, and, well…that was the last month of last year, and I came back this year ready to be all confident because I had you." She tightened her grip around his waist. "But I had to stand up there and sing and Mona was there, and Cassandra the head cheerleader was there, and I was ready to sing but…" Mark was surprised to see a tear on her cheek, and he wiped it away. It was followed by another. "I just got so scared all of a sudden, the second he played the first note."
Mark hugged her. Maureen kissed his cheek, then his lips. He put his hand behind her neck, under her hair. Her hands were on his back. She snaked them forward onto his chest and toyed with his belt a little. It came undone; she pulled it off and cast it aside.
Mark stopped kissing her for a second. "Are you sure…"
"What, Marky?"
"Are you sure it should be here? There are people…"
"They'll be out there for hours. We don't see each other much, and our parents or Roger are always there. Why not here?"
Their eyes locked on each other's. In Maureen's eyes, Mark could see trust. In Mark's, Maureen could see devotion. The eyes met and saw love.
Maureen reached forward and began to slowly unbutton Mark's shirt. He let her, unsure of what to do. He uncertainly ran a hand around to her back and tugged her shirt, beginning to pull it upward. He wanted this, he knew—or did he? He was scared. He looked into Maureen's eyes again, and saw she was afraid too. They drew closer together, Mark's shirt now unbuttoned. Maureen stopped kissing him, just for a second, to smile.
Just then, the door rattled.
"Shit," Mark muttered.
"Shhh!" Maureen hissed. It was Roger on the other side of the door.
"Let me in! Cops!"
"Double shit." Mark hastily buttoned his shirt while Maureen opened the door. Roger crouched inside the little room.
"Why is your belt off…?" Roger's whisper trailed off and he looked suspiciously at Maureen, who grinned sheepishly. "Go Mark!" Roger whisper-cheered.
"Nothing happened, Roger," Mark retorted quietly.
"Oh, sure, whatever. Anyway, while you two were going over the moon, cops came and busted April. They're breathalyzing everyone. You two didn't have any beer, you're okay."
"Did you?" Mark said quietly.
"Didn't have time."
"Right. April." He had a thought. "Wait, was your tongue in her mouth?"
Roger looked away. "I'd be fine on the breathalyzer," he muttered.
"So…why are we in here?" Maureen asked. "It'd be better just to sit and get over with."
Roger replied, "We don't have to. April told me we can sneak out from this room." He knelt and moved aside a few bits of junk, revealing an enormous hole in the wall. "April made it. She says she has ways to sneak out all around the house."
"How'd that come up during the lip lock?"
"Um…she was offering to sneak away and make out. That's when the cops knocked."
"Shut up and let's get out!" Maureen hissed. She crawled through first. Mark, who fortunately had not worn a bulky sweater, followed, his skinny figure slipping through with little difficulty. Roger got stuck very briefly, but untangled himself soon. They hurried across the backyard and scaled the fence, running back to the sidewalk in the direction of Mark's house. When they arrived, panting, at the front of the tidy domicile, Roger looked from Mark to Maureen. "Guess I'd better go," he said, a definite note of reluctance present in his voice. He went inside to get his guitar. Mark sighed and faced Maureen.
"I guess I need to go too." Maureen didn't look at Mark. "Need to get back to Hicksville before curfew."
Mark tipped her chin up to face him. "Maureen…"
"It wasn't right, I know. I just…"
He kissed her. "Shh. I know. It's okay."
They embraced again, held each other tight for a long time. Dimly Mark was aware of Roger leaving with the Fender, but he didn't notice anything but Maureen. Finally they broke apart. Mark reluctantly watched Maureen walk slowly away from him, get into the aging beige Corolla, and drive off. He followed the old car with his eyes until it was out of sight, and then watched the spot where it had disappeared. Before long the rain started again, and he went inside to sit in front of the smoldering remains of the fire.
Please review and let me know if I suck. The next chapter features Roger and will be highly dramatic, so stay tuned.