A/N: There is lots of, lots of language in this chapter. (Yes, when I say there's language, that means something other than 'shit' 'damn' or 'crap'. Usually starts with an 'f' and usually comes out of Roger's mouth. XD) I played 'Count the F Bombs' for this chapter, and I got FIVE! Wow! And all in the last half of the chapter! So, if you thought the first chapter was too light and happy-go-lucky, enjoy angry, yelling, swearing Chapter Two!

.-.-.

This chapter rated PG-13 for language and mild violence.

Where Is My Life Going? – Chapter Two

"Oh, the one with the purple wrapping paper is mine!" Mimi points out a package in the small pile on the table, all of us crowded around the table, Maureen and Mimi with little blue party hats on that say 'Congratulations, Class of 90' on them.

Maureen picks up the suggested gift, but pauses before ripping of the paper. "I can't believe you guys did this for me...it's amazing..."

Joanne smiles at her, taking her hand in her own. "You deserve it. It's your birthday tomorrow, and you worked hard on your performance."

"Which was wonderful, I might add," Collins adds, encouraging a chorus of 'Yes it was' and 'Really great' from the rest of us.

Maureen smiles sheepishly. "Oh, it's all so sweet of you guys...OH! I should open this present, shouldn't I?" She rips off the paper happily, revealing a small sugar bowl. "Oh, how thoughtful!" She looks up at Mimi. "How did you know I broke the last one?"

Mimi shrugs. "Roger found out, and he suggested it."

Maureen smiles happily. "How sweet of him! ...Where is Roger, anyways?"

All of us turn to look at Mimi; she hasn't told any of us where he had gone to. She shifts in her chair slightly under the pressure of all our eyes glued on her. "Well...he had to run into the loft to grab the cake, and he just came out and gave it to me and said he didn't feel good..."

My heart jumps a mile high. "Mimi...did he...?"

"Mark, relax. He looked fine. I wouldn't have left him alone otherwise." She smiles reassuringly at me, but I'm not convinced as my mind races. I've always felt that I've had the responsibility of making sure Roger stays healthy. I always have, and possibly always will, until the day he...

"You just relax, Mark." Joanne places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I sigh, knowing that I won't be allowed to leave to make sure he isn't getting sick.

Maureen sees the need to change the subject and suddenly pipes up. "OK, so I've opened Collins' gift, Joanne's gift, Mimi and Roger's gift...That means this one..." She picks up the only remaining package, wrapped in newspaper. She looks up at me, smiling and excited, and I simply shrug, smirking in spite of myself. She rips the paper off of it and stares at it. "Oh my God...Mark, this is amazing..."

Collins tries to lean over me to see the gift. "What is it? What'd he get you?"

Maureen turns the gift to face the group, and there is a loud, congregational intake of air. I had wrapped up a simple wooden picture frame, and inside was a black and white picture I had taken a long time ago...a picture of everybody. Joanne and Maureen are trapping each other in an intense hug, Roger and I are making faces at the camera that include rude gestures with our hands, and Mimi is making an 'exotic pose' for the camera. And, right in the middle, smiling the biggest of all, secured in a one-armed hug by Collins...

Collins raises a hand to his mouth immediately, shocked. "It's Angel."

Everybody stares at the picture in silence for quite a while. I finally decide to pipe up. "I worked for at least an hour to develop that picture just right. And I have enough prints for all of us, one for each place. I had left the negative alone until not too long ago."

Maureen gets up, trapping me in a great big hug. "This is wonderful, Mark. I love it."

I smile, as everybody else passes around the picture, looking at it with fond eyes, and, in one case, very watery eyes. I feel like, for once, I've given a great gift to everybody, instead of their own lives making me happy. Instead of me watching their happiness, I'm giving something back...I am living my life...

.-.-.

"Hello-ooo...anybody home?" I open the door into the loft, having walked home from Maureen and Joanne's apartment alone. "Roger? You there?"

It isn't until I'm inside the loft that I see Roger, not even looking up at me, playing the guitar, a disconnected tune I have been hearing recently.

I blink, looking at him for a moment. "What's up? Why didn't you come to the party?" No response, as Roger simply continues to play the guitar, not looking up at me. "...Everybody loved the cake..." Still no response. I realize immediately that something is amiss. "OK, what happened?"

I can almost feel the coldness in his gaze as he looks up at me. "You have a message."

I blink again, stunned by his suddenly cold expression. He looks back down at his guitar, as if looking at me is too difficult. Not knowing what else to do, I go over to the answering machine, pushing a button.

"Hello. This is Nancy Moles from Peaks Studios in LA, calling for Mr. Mark Cohen. Your footage you submitted to our studio was top rate, and we would be quite interested in a long-term contract. Your skills would be very useful in one of our upcoming projects. Please contact us as soon as possible to discuss a possible agreement between us. You can reach me at my office at 970-3419. We'll be eagerly awaiting your call, Mr. Cohen!"

The line goes dead as I stare at the machine, amazed by what I had just heard, thinking it over in my head. I vaguely remember sending a clip of my documentary to the studio after seeing an ad in the mail. Just as I start to become almost excited by the fact that they liked my footage, Roger suddenly throws his guitar on the couch, causing me to jump slightly and turn to face at him. I am stunned by the anger in his eyes, glaring at me so fiercely. "So, when you decided to 'face your fears', you meant you were going to sell out, is that it?"

I stagger backwards, stunned. "I..."

"You sent your footage to a studio!" He is furious...I can't believe how furious he is... "Is that your idea of 'living life'? Leave the rest of us and joining some big shot studio!"

"Roger, I..."

"Well, if you want to do that, fine by me. I won't be sticking around for you to come crawling back to."

"You're acting like I've betrayed you or something!"

"You're selling out!" Roger stands up, glaring at me still.

I can do nothing but take a step backwards in amazement, almost confusion at his behavior. "I sent some footage out to a studio! I saw their address, and thought, what the hell, why not?"

"It's that easy for you to just sell your soul like that!"

Something snaps in my brain, a little part of me that was so good at concealing the horrors inside my own mind, and I suddenly feel every fear in my life welling up within me, pouring out and slowly morphing into anger... "It's easier than keeping it shut inside! You don't know what it's like..."

"FUCK THAT, MARK!" The sheer power of his voice was almost overwhelming as he takes a step forward, but my own anger is too strong to be blown over. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE CHANGING!"

"WHAT IF I..." My fingernails feel like they will cut into my palms soon as I struggle to fit words to my anger that's pouring out like a faucet. "WHAT IF I WANT TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE!"

"SO ALL THIS WE'VE DONE...IS JUST WAISTED LIFE! ALL THIS WAS JUST NOTHING!" He throws his hands in the air, motioning around the loft wildly.

The final bit of my control suddenly abandons me as I say the first words that spring from my mouth. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU NEVER WILL, BECAUSE YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE AIDS!"

I know I've crossed a forbidden line the moment the words escape my mouth. His eyes flare up with an angry fire and widen in pure and unadulterated hatred, and suddenly he's right up next to me, his face right in front of mine, his voice dangerously low as if a growl. "You think that because you...Little Mark, Poor Mark, he doesn't have AIDS..." Suddenly he's shouting, right in my face as I glare right back at him. "YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT! YOU'RE STILL THE FUCKING FILMMAKER, STUCK WITH US! POOR MARK! HE DOESN'T HAVE AIDS! WHAT ABOUT POOR APRIL!" He shoves me roughly, and I stagger backwards slightly, side stepping slightly so that he isn't backing me up against a wall. "YOU DIDN'T CARE AT ALL THAT SHE DIED! WHAT ABOUT POOR ANGEL!"

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT ANGEL!" I shove him back, a little harder.

"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T!" He shoves me back, quite hard this time, and now he's advancing on me, forcing me to back up as I continually glare at him. "WHAT ABOUT POOR MIMI! HUH? WHEN SHE DIES, IT'LL STILL BE 'POOR MARK, POOR MARK!'" He shoves me again, and now I'm up against the wall. "WHAT ABOUT POOR COLLINS!" His hands are pinning me against the wall now, pressing my shoulders against the cold cement. "NO, NO! IT'S 'POOR MARK!' WHAT ABOUT POOR ROGER! ROGER DIES! OH, FUCK ROGER!" He grabs me by the shirt, slamming me against the wall, pinning me up so that my feet dangle just above the ground. "JUST FUCK ROGER! IT'S 'POOR MARK!'"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" I scream at him, shaking from pure rage, and from Roger's own shaking hands.

"GUYS!" Suddenly I realize that Mimi is right behind Roger and is trying to pull him off of me. "ROGER, PUT HIM DOWN!"

"MIMI, HE DOESN'T DESERVE YOUR KINDNESS! WHEN ALL OF US DIE..."

"HE WILL SIT AT ALL OF OUR FUNERALS AND CRY OVER OUR DEAD BODIES!" Mimi is trying to pull him off of me, almost hysterical.

There is a long silence, during which the three of us are completely silent, me and Roger glaring at each other with complete loathing and Mimi still trying to pull Roger off of me. Finally, Roger lets go of my shirt, and I fall a few inches to the ground, having to lean against the wall for support, suddenly very weak. Roger turns away from me, and I see his fists clenching. Just as everything is still, he spins around, his fist making a hard blow to my face. I fall to the ground, clutching my face, feeling blood coming out of my nose. "Take that, you motherfucker. If you're lucky, you'll die of blood loss."

"ROGER!" Mimi is completely hysterical now; I can even imagine the tears falling down her face as I clutch my face, my nose stinging horribly. The blood feels horrible in my fingers, and I almost feel sick just from feeling it. I can do nothing but sit against the wall, clutching my face, using every bit of will power I have to not break down into tears in front of Roger from the pain. My eyes are clenched shut, so I cannot see anything. The blood feels horrible on my hands...I finally hear and feel footsteps storming out of the loft, and a door slamming loudly. I feel Mimi kneel down in front of me. "Mark, are you all right?"

I let go of my face, letting the blood fall down freely now, dripping out of my nose and down my face. I look up, glaring at the door. "I hate him...I hate him..."

Mimi takes me by the shoulders, making me face her. "Mark, you do not hate him. He's your best friend. You're just angry..."

"Did you hear? All that stupid shit he said!" My mind is so cloudy and filled with rage, I can hardly think straight. "All that...stupid...shit...he said..."

Mimi stands up suddenly, going over to the phone, picking it up and dialing a number quickly. A pause. "Collins? Umm...no, it's not all right...No, it's not Roger...it's Mark...I'm-I'm not sure...I dunno...Collins, just come quick!" She hangs up the phone, collapsing to the ground in convulsive sobs. I can do nothing but stare at the door with complete loathing, the only thing stopping me from breaking down into sobs myself...

After a minute, Mimi must have gotten up and left, even though I don't notice her leave. All I can think about are his words. How they ring in my ears, echoing every word that came out of that idiot's mouth...

I have no idea how long I sat there, simply hating Roger when I felt like crying. All I know is eventually the door bursts open, revealing a distressed Collins. The second he sees me, he rushes to my side. "Mark! What the hell happened?"

"The biggest...mistake...of my life...happened..." My voice sounded so odd, since I could hardly breathe through my nose anymore, though I don't really care. I continue to glare at the door as Collins lifts me up with some difficulty and sets me on the couch.

"What happened?" He looks at me straight in the eyes, and I know he can tell I'm angry.

I take multiple deep breaths through my open mouth before speaking. "That idiot... that idiot..."

Somehow, Collins comprehends almost immediately what happened. "Oh, damn..." He stands up immediately. "You stay here. If I come back and you're gone, you will never hear the end of it from me." With that he turns and leaves, leaving me with my drying lips, my blood-covered face, and my hatred of a man I thought half an hour ago was my best friend.

.-.-.

A/N: WHEE! It's the new craze that's sweeping (OK, not really, I made it up, but it's GONNA BE A CRAZE!)

Count the F Bombs!
Rules:
1) READ THE RULES.
2) Count how many times you drop an F bomb in all of your published RENT fan-fictions (Authors Notes don't count towards the total!) on This is your High Score!
3) Count how many times you dropped an F bomb for each story! Tell us in Story Count (SC)! (You can use abbreviations for your stories.)
4) Count how many times each character dropped an F bomb (who was talking, whose POV it was)! Tell us in Character Count (CC)! We'll find the biggest potty mouth in RENT! (Original character's F bombs do not count towards the Character Count, but do count towards your Story Count and your High Score!)
5) When you first find a high score on somebody's profile higher than yours, put their high score and their pen name in the 'Highest Score I've Seen'. (HSIS) If you see in somebody else's HSIS a score higher than your HSIS, copy the number and pen name there and make it your new HSIS!
6) Post this exact paragraph (with your stats) in your profile! We will begin an epidemic of the sweetest game ever! Any questions, message Kiwi Anime, the creator.
My High Score: 18
Story Count: ATLL: 3 MsJ: 1 MPS: 13! Buzzline: 1
Character Count: Roger: 15 Mark: 3 Mimi: 0 Maureen: 0 Joanne: 0 Collins: 0 Angel: 0 Benny: 0
Highest Score I've Seen: 23 (Kiwi Anime)
Comments on My Score: So, Roger has 15/18 f-bombs. And half of those f-bombs occurred in MPS, simply because of that last section. XXDD And Mark's 3 f-bombs are from MPS too, because Mark randomly felt like swearing. I usually don't let Mark swear unless it's in Hebrew. XXDD