A/N: Woo hoo! All the reviews I've gotten lately have cheered me up so much. I haven't been having the best week ever lately (long story), and all these reviews are really cheering me up. So, I had a MAGOR writing surge, so here's a nice long chapter for you! Biiiiig chapter! WHEE!

P.S.: There is language in this chapter. You no like language...well, you shouldn't even really like RENT if you don't like language, but whatever. Psycho. But, anyways, you no like language, you no like...this chapter. Again, why would you like RENT if you don't like language? WHATEVER. Nevermind. RAMBLE.

A Thing Like Life – Chapter Three

"Mark?"

I jump up suddenly. I had been sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, oblivious to the world around me. I didn't realize until I was conscious of Roger standing in my now open doorway that tears had been falling down my cheeks silently. I immediately turn away from Roger, hating it when he saw me like this. Why the hell am I crying?

"Mark, were you...?"

"I'm fine," I croak out. "Really." I hear Roger shifting slightly in the doorway, knowing from my voice I'm not fine. I can also hear some movement in the living room, telling me that Mimi must be here now. "Roger, please. I'm fine."

I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Mark, if you..."

I duck away, gathering up the tangled sheets from my old bed. "Just...Roger, I'm OK." I make as if to start making my bed, which probably tells Roger something, since I never make my bed.

"Mark, if it's this hard for you to watch all that..." He falters for a moment, as if expecting me to cut him off. But now I am silent, so he continues. "Why don't you come out with me and Mimi? We...uhh, were gonna go to this place and hang out..." I keep making my bed, my eyes stinging from holding back whatever tears wanted to burst forward. "...We'll be back later. You'll be OK without us, right?"

"Roger, I'm not a kid. You two go have some fun." I manage to keep my voice calm, and this seems to be enough to satisfy my roommate. After a moment's pause, I hear his footsteps as he walks out of my room, shutting the door for me behind him. I hear some muffled talking between him and Mimi as I finish making my bed, and then hear them leave the loft.

He's happy. Angel was happy. Is that why I'm crying? Am I just lonely? Or is it more...?

I sigh, long and almost worn out. I go over to the projector, taking the film from that day at Life Support out and putting it back in the box by my bed. I rummage through the box a little more, looking for the next roll to watch. I spot one I know I hadn't put in my film, since I have scribbled out the date with my marker for some reason. For some reason my hands shake as I weave the film into the projector and turn it on, sitting down on the bed.

What will I see now?

.-.-.

"February Sixth, Four PM, Eastern Standard Time. A week before Valentines Day. I am in the loft alone, listening to some shouts above me. Pan to the cloudy skyline out the window, covered in an odd smog."

I filmed out of the window blankly for a moment or so, transfixed by the odd sunlight. I heard more shouts above me, and suddenly the slam of a door as somebody walked out onto the fire escape. I backed away from the window as loud footsteps clattered down until Roger climbed in through the window, his guitar in hand, his face red. He seemed to not notice me as he fell onto the couch, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling, as I filmed his every move. There was silence, the only sounds the film going through my camera and Roger's heavy breathing.

Out of the blue, there is a harsh shout. "Mark, can you turn that thing off?"

I blinked, obliging.

The film goes dead for a minute as I stare at the image on the wall. I find myself struggling to remember what had happened...but it didn't take long for the film to resume playing.

"February Si-"

"Mark, you said it already, didn't you? Do you need to say it again?"

"Well...no. OK, Roger, just talk." I held the camera steady on him, messing with the camera a minute more so that Roger's face is in focus. He was sitting on the couch, looking straight at my camera

"OK. You said you wanted to look deep into what people with AIDS were thinking, right? Well, I'll tell you right now, Mark. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much, I don't think I can stand it much longer." He was breathing hard again.

I faltered. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Mark, just let me talk to the inanimate object, will you!" I fell silent. "You see, with AIDS, you don't know quite when it's going to strike. It just keeps stalking you, and the second you let down your guard, you know it's going to hit like some tornado in Kansas or something."

I blinked, but I didn't look at Roger directly, only watching him through the camera. It was a way of me being able to see him without looking him in the eyes. "Roger, are you saying...?"

"I'm not saying anything except I don't know when it's gonna hit next, OK? I mean, I think I've found somebody I love, and I mean really love...and they leave me."

"...Roger, I don't think that's AIDS' fault, and I don't think Mimi's left you."

"Sure she has. She still sleeps with me, and she still hugs me, and she still kisses me...but she's not just mine anymore, Mark." He was talking to me, now. "And April...I felt it, long before she died. I had lost her. And I'm losing Mimi too. I...I was able to stop. I did it."

"I know."

"But...she isn't...she won't. And...it's just like April, Mark." I knew he wanted me to look at him, instead of watching him through the camera, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand facing him in the eye. Right now, I was not really a part of this conversation. It was Roger talking to a camera. And it was easier...

Roger turned away from me. "You're not gonna turn that thing off, are you?"

I faltered once again. "I..."

"No. Of course you aren't." He picked up his guitar and began playing.

I lowered my camera. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just forget about it. I...just wanna be alone for a minute."

I sighed, setting my camera down and turning it off.

I stare at the blank screen. I am completely numb now, stunned. Roger had seen me getting like this a long time before Halloween. But he hadn't let it out. He didn't wanna tell me. Why? I get up, moving to the projector to remove the film, when suddenly...

"OK, Mark, I dunno how the fuck you work this dumb thing...Oh, I hear it. It's on."

Oh my god. He's holding the camera, pointing it at himself, filming himself. He obviously was just barely able to figure out how to turn it on, so the picture on the wall is slightly blurry and out of focus. But I know it's him. I freeze, staring at the picture on the wall. How had I never seen this before...?

Roger set the camera on a table, pointing it at himself, sitting on the couch. "I don't think I'll ever get a shot with this thing ever again, so I better take my opportunity. You've just gone out with Collins and Angel to another Life Support thing. But I didn't want to go. You sure tried to make me, though."

Of course I did, you idiot. It was the third week in a row you hadn't gone.

"And you reminded me to take my stupid AZT." He held up a pill for the camera, waving it in front of the lens before putting it on his tongue and swallowing. "See? Now, every day, I get to remember that I have this. You asked me right before you turned on your stupid camera to just talk to the camera. But I couldn't. Because I was trying to talk to you."

He paused, looking away from the camera. "I don't know if you'll even ever see this. I'll be careful to make sure you don't see it immediately, though."

HE'S the one who scribbled out the date. It all makes sense now.

"But, in case you ever do...I want to tell you, you can't figure out how I feel. You can never figure out. Because AIDS throws you at the mercy of the whole world. That's what it does. It just throws you out, defenseless, and laughs at you while doing it. And if somebody comes along and decides to hurt you, you can't do anything about it. You can't hide anything. Not like you."

I freeze. Oh, God...

"You get to hide. You never looked me in the eye once while you were talking to me with that camera on. So you can hide. Well, maybe I can put it into perspective for you. Imagine AIDS was that big thug on the street you ran into a few years ago. Remember that?"

Sure, I remember. I was about to get mugged, and you saw me and saved me by threatening the guy with a knife you didn't have.

"Well, let's say I didn't show up, Marky. Let's say that AIDS took me away. Not only that, it took away your precious camera too. Anything and everything you use to hide from the world I've been thrown into, AIDS takes it away. Just try to imagine that."

I am shaking uncontrollably now. It was as if Roger was right there, yelling at me, accusing me of all those things, just like he had Halloween...

"Can you imagine it, Mark? Well, if you can, then you feel a FRACTION of what I feel every day. So really, you trying to sympathize with us, trying to tell us to not deny our emotions, telling us to just 'talk to the camera', that's just you hiding even more. And you've been getting worse lately. I'm losing my best friend to a camera, Mark. Just like you lost your ex to a girl. Mark, I'm losing you. I'm losing everybody..."

The film cuts short. The projector keeps going, the film getting tangled up from trying to keep rolling when there's nothing left. I jump up, my tears flowing freely now, as I turn off the projector, saving the film before it gets damaged beyond repair. Then I blink, wondering why I'm trying to save it. I angrily grab the film, opening up my bedroom door to throw the dumb film out the window...

"Mark?"

I jump backwards, seeing Mimi in the doorway...and Roger behind her. "Mark, what are you doing?" Mimi sounds confused, looking between me and the film I'm holding with an odd look on her face.

Roger walks by Mimi, confused. I can't help the angry tears, now. I glare at him, all those things he said echoing in my head... "Mark? What the hell is up..." He spots the film I am holding, and sees the scribbled out date. A moment of confused silence, and then realization. "Oh, God..."

"Yeah, Rog. Now it all comes back, huh?" I make for the window, ready to throw it out. Just as I am about to let loose, throwing away all those memories, a strong hand grabs my arm, stopping me from moving any more. Roger spins me around to look at him, his eyes concerned. Those green eyes...I hated them at the moment...

"Mark, calm down. When I said those things...that was a long time ago. Mark, just..."

"Just what!" I am furious at him, trying to pull myself out of his strong grip. "Act like none of it happened?"

"No, I want you to just calm down." His voice is calm, but I feel it slowly escalating. He keeps his grip firm.

I try still to release myself from his grasp. "Let go of me, you..."

"You what? Just let it out. I won't take any of it personally. You have every right to be mad right now. Just let it out. You'll be that much closer to letting go.'

My anger finally bursts forth. "I'm not the only one who hides! YOU hid too! Remember? You hide just as much as I hide, if not MORE!"

Roger keeps looking at me in the eyes, holding back the hurt. "What else? Come on, I expect more from you after seeing that."

"More! I could go on for YEARS about you, Roger!" I'm screaming now, completely lost. "You, with...with your guitar...and..." Suddenly I'm on my knees, on the ground, sobbing, hating myself just as much as I hated Roger. "GOD, I HATE YOU!"

I feel Roger kneel down next to me as well, lifting me up. "Come on." He lifts me up, grabbing me under the armpits and hoisting me up until I'm standing, leaning against him, too weak to stand. He leads me over to the couch as I sob uncontrollably. I don't even think about Mimi as she stares at the two of us, now sitting on the couch.

Roger turns me to face him. "Mark, stop this. Calm down."

I couldn't... "I can't..."

"Yes you can. Just calm down and let me say something."

We sit together on the couch. I feel Mimi sit down next to me as well, rubbing my back lightly with her hand. After a while (I'm unaware how long) I have calmed down to the point that I am simply shaking. I want to get as far away from Roger as I can...I hate him...

"OK, now you're going to listen to what I want to say. Forget what you just heard."

How can I forget it! Would you forget it if somebody said all that to you?

"Mark, you're not like that anymore. I get why you're watching that now. And I'm telling you that you don't need it anymore. Sure, you still use that camera. But I'm seeing more and more of my best friend every day. You're getting better. We're both getting better. It's hard, but I think we can make it."

I take a deep breath. "I...I'm sorry..."

"You? Sorry? Why the hell are you sorry? I'm sorry. For saying those things. I know it was ages ago, but there's something about seeing it again...I had hoped after finishing you would never see it. I guess we can't all get our wishes."

I am still breathing heavily. Roger continued. "Tell you what. From now on, we're both going to work together and stop hiding. I'll watch the rest of your cut film with you. Because we both need to help each other get through this. I'll help you. But you gotta help me."

I look up at him. "Deal." I hate my voice that croaks out at him. Hate it very strongly. But Roger simply smiles and holds his hand out, as if to shake hands. I nod, taking his hand in mine, and we shake.

Roger stands up from the couch. "Here, before we get on with all this movie stuff, why don't we go get something to drink?"

I stand up, an eyebrow raised. "You kidding? I haven't gotten seriously drunk for ages."

"You're long overdue, buddy." He gives me a clap on the back with his hand, smiling at me. I smile back. Not a big toothy grin. But it is a smile none the less. And it felt good.

"But your leaving the camera behind."

I stammer. "Wh-what! But...think of all the people we'll get to pass by! I might miss my next chance at a really good documentary!"

"You'll live." And as he smiles back, I see multiple meanings behind that little phrase...