A/N: Woo, proud of myself. Longest thing I've written in a while, as in chapter wise. Especially since I just started writing with no story line in mind.

A/N2: Very important one. Today was the 10 year anniversary of Jonathan Larson's death. So everyone take a moment of silence or say a prayer or even just listen to RENT! Just really take a moment to remember him. (even if you read this late, and you probably will, seeing as there's only 15 minutes left in the day)

Disclaimer: I don't own. Sad, but true.

Roger gazed at the young woman's face. Her eyes gazed up at him, burning him, cutting away at him.

April didn't say anything, but he felt her thinking...

'How could you do this to me? How could you not be home in time? Why weren't you there to talk me out of this?'

The woman's breathing was raspy...quick. Full of fear. Full of uncertainty. Roger felt his eyes well up with tears...something he hadn't felt in a long time. Thinking on it, he couldn't remember the last time he cried. The drugs had numbed him so much that it was almost impossible to feel.

Although, looking down at his beautiful girlfriend, it was impossible not to feel. He brushed April's soft red hair out of her eyes and caressed her cheek.

She wouldn't leave me. She couldn't.

He watched as she opened her cracked, pale lips, trying to speak. Roger inched in closer, afraid he'd miss what could be April's last words.

"Did you..." She stopped to swallow. "Did you read the note?"

Roger couldn't register the words. Note? What note was she talking about? Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He shook his head.

Hearing the door slide open, he let out a sigh of relief. He had called the ambulance a while ago, against April's will.

'No! They'll take me away and I'll never come back. I'll never see you again.'

Roger practically screamed at her, desperate to save her. 'If I don't call, there's an even bigger chance you won't come back to me.' With that, he pushed the buttons and waited for an answer.

"In here! She's in here!" Roger screamed, his voice hoarse. But the voice that answered him was a familiar one.

"What are you talking about, Rog? Who's in where?" Mark followed the voice until he reached the bathroom, completely stopping in his tracks.

Roger stared up at him with puffy red eyes, his hand resting on April's forehead and stomach. April was covered in blood, barely breathing.

Mark held on to the doorframe, hardly able to stand. "Holy shit..." He muttered, not wanting to look but finding himself unable to look away.

How did we get here?

How the hell did we get to this?

"I'll...I'll call an ambulance."

"I already did." Roger answered. If Mark hadn't been looking at his roommate, he wouldn't have recognized the small, meek voice in a million years. "I called like 15 minutes ago. Where the hell are they? Don't they know that this is an emergency!" Roger's voice gradually rose until he was screaming.

Roger froze as April went limp in his arms. He slowly lowered his head, looking down at the beautiful girl that he loved, and saw that her eyes were no longer looking in his direction, but at the bathroom's tiled floor. Her hands weren't clutching at his jeans, just sort of hanging off his leg.

All signs of life had ceased. She was no longer breathing.

Roger shook his head slowly.

It's not real.

"No..."

Roger couldn't take his eyes away from her face. More angelic, more innocent than she'd ever looked in the past.

He couldn't tell...but it was almost as if she was smiling.

Happy. This is what it took to finally make her happy.

Mark slowly entered the bathroom, careful not to make any noise. Roger was in a different world and Mark had a feeling that he wouldn't have noticed him anyway. But with the slight risk, he didn't want to disturb him.

On the way in, something caught his eye. A piece of Roger's notebook paper...nothing more than ordinary loose-leaf paper. Scribbled on the paper, in April's messy handwriting (she had unusually messy handwriting for a girl) were three words. Mark stumbled over while reading the three words over and over again in his head.

We have AIDS. We have AIDS. We have AIDS.

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, forcing himself, the name came out in a harsh tone. "Roger...you...you have to read this."

Looking at the paper, Roger's eyes widened.

Did you read the note? April's last words. Did you read the note?

"Oh my God...oh my God..." Roger looked over at the woman, a sort of fury taking over him.

You took the easy way out and left me behind. You don't want to watch me die...

April still had the sick grin on her face. Mocking him.

Yet...he couldn't be mad at her. She was free.

---

Hours later, Mark reentered the bathroom, seeing Roger sitting in the same position. The ambulance had come and gone, April's body was taken away, Mark had scrubbed away the blood surrounding his roommate.

Looking over the musician's shoulder, he saw that Roger was staring at the piece of notebook paper that in three small words, spelled out his fate. He shook his head.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die alone." Turning around slowly and looking deep into Mark's eyes, he began to talk again. "What's going to happen to me?"

Mark walked over and kneeled down. "You let me take care of you. You keep living with me. And you won't die alone."

Roger nodded, agreeing to Mark's terms.

"I'm scared." Roger admitted. Mark was shocked. Roger was never afraid of anything. He even assumed death wouldn't frighten the rock star.

Mark embraced his roommate. "Me too."

"I don't know if I can do this." Roger said, feeling nauseous.

"Well...if we get you treated right away...maybe we won't have to. Maybe we can beat it, you know?" Mark had an underlying feeling that he was giving his roommate false hope, but at the moment, it was the best thing to give.

Roger nodded...he was uncertain...but it was possible. "Yeah...maybe..." he said, his voice full of hope.

Mark yawned. "I'm going to bed, are you going to come?"

Roger firmly shook his head. "No. I'm staying here. I can't leave."

Mark was concerned, but left him to think. Looking back at the disturbed man, he sighed.

Let him mourn.

He stood by what he said. As hard as it would be, he would stay by his friend until the end of his days. Thinking about it, he got choked up...

Thoughts of living without Roger were too hard to bear.

But they'd get through it.

They had to.

You're not alone. I'll cover you.