Summary: Just a quick Roger/Mimi story. Pretty much pointless drabble. During RENT, right before New Years. Rated R for language and a little sexual stuff. Roger's POV.
Notes: I just had an urge to write Roger/Mimi in the middle of writing my story "I Have Always Loved You" about Mark/Roger. Thanks to all my previous reviewers! Hope you guys like this short blurb of my mind.
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Roger's POV
Her black hair runs down her back, sweeping at her skin like curtains on a window. Her brown eyes are wide, beaming balls of life. But I still see death in them. Somewhere my soul is able to dip in, and pick out that part of her that is dying. Every time I kiss her, or touch her, I feel a bit of depression from that part.
"Roger, don't look at me like that." She smiles, and I come out of my daze. We sit, staring out the window, just enjoying each other's company.
"Sorry."
"When does Mark come home?" She smirks seductively, and I cross my arms.
"Not sure, he's not exactly set on a schedule." Her body rises out of her sitting position, and crawls slowly over to me. She lies down across my chest, her hair sloppily landing on my neck. "Do I make a nice pillow?"
"Mmm…" She moans, mocking me sweetly. I run my hands over her ash colored hair, when I feel her hand slip gradually down the front of my pants. I jump slightly in my seat before sinking into her touch.
"Mimi! What…" My head falls back, and I allow her hand to massage my body carefully yet firmly. Although I'm reluctant, I begin to enjoy it, and vaguely let my hips thrust against her fingers. I sigh faintly, but my pleasure is ruined when Mark barges through the door.
He walks naively into the apartment, his bike thrown over his shoulders and camera in his hand.
"Hey, I got some great footage of…holy shit! Roger, Jesus!" I violently pull Mimi's hand out from my jeans and smile, embarrassed as hell.
"Sorry! What are you…fuckin'…shit!" Mimi giggles at my scared, whining voice and kisses my chest apologetically.
"Mark, we were just having some fun." She adds to my attempt at an explanation.
"Okay, then. Well, I'm gonna go have some fun with myself. So have…" Mark stops, realizing what he's just said and looks down at his feet. Now he's the one with a reason to blush.
"You do that. Knock yourself out." I laugh, and suddenly don't feel so bad about the fact that Mark just saw me getting a hand job.
"I didn't mean it…I meant…" He looks frustrated, and even though I know what he meant, I let him try to clarify. "Uch…whatever Roger. Fuck you both." He gives us a sarcastic look before disappearing into his room.
"See? That's why I don't like to…"
"Oh, shut up." She presses her lips to mine and I smile beneath them. I'm still shaking from the shock of Mark's interruption, and she finally notices. "You sure do scare easy. You should calm down."
"I am calm." She removes my hand from inside my sweatshirt pocket and holds it in hers. I feel the vibration, and for once, it's me not her. "Okay, so I got a little nervous, but that's not my fault."
"Its just sex Roger. Plus he's your roommate."
"Okay, so next time I'll just invite him into the fucking room when we're doing it." She drops my hand onto my chest, and I see the anger in her eyes.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know. I'm sorry." I rub my thumb over her jaw line and let a brief smile show on my lips. "I'd just rather not get pulled off in front of Mark." She looks away, trying not to laugh, but eventually allows it. Her innocent giggle melts me, and I give in to her red cherry lips. She pulls away playfully, pushing her hand lightly against my neck.
"No, I'm mad at you." She laughs again, allowing me to peck at her neck but not her lips. "Roger…stop it!" The smile spread across her face is like a rainbow.
"Fine…I will." I start to get off the couch when I feel her hand grasp my shirt and pull me back down.
"I was kidding asshole!" She looks at me as if she's five, as if she doesn't understand sarcasm.
"Oh really?" I quickly lean forward, and she lets me connect our mouths together. The feel of her tongue is velvet against mine, gently twirling around in my mouth. Immediately after I press my body firmly against hers, she breaks our kiss.
"Shit, Roger!" She climbs off the couch and desperately looks at the clock.
"What!"
"It's seven. I have to go to work." She grabs her black boots and slips them on, one at a time before pecking my cheek. I hold onto her arm and pull her back into my lap.
"Don't leave. You have to stay." A small smile displays on her face, but she stands up anyway.
"I have to. I'm sorry baby. See you later?" I nod, and she kisses my temple before walking out the door. I feel satisfaction overcome my body, as if she makes me giddy. I glance out the window, seeing the moonbeams spreading themselves across the glass. Then I catch sight of something else. My fingers pick it up off the floor, and then I can finally tell what it is. A bag filled with white powder.
I hear the door open and Mimi looks worried. My eyes connect with hers, and I hold up the bag.
"Is this what you're looking for?" I see her shrug and her breathing becomes heavy.
"I…I just wanted…"
"Mimi." I stand up, facing towards the window and letting the powder in the bag crunch between my fingers.
"Roger, I don't…I mean I'm…you knew."
"I know. But…that doesn't mean I like you doing it." I feel her arms wrap around my waist and try my hardest not to push her away. "You can't even stop for me."
"I can…but…"
"It's too hard." I sigh and gently tear her hands off of me. "I went through it you know."
"Roger, I have to go to work. Can't you just give me the bag?" She holds out her hand, and I see the shadow of it shake in the moonlight. I hesitate before tossing it into the garbage can. I can tell that she's holding back a shriek, and her eyes burn with betrayal. "Wha…Roger!"
"You don't need it."
"Yes, I do! You don't under…" She stops and scoffs in frustration.
"Don't say I don't understand. I know it's impossible to even consider giving it up, but you can do it! I know you can!"
"Roger, don't give me a lecture on your turn from drug abuse! Don't tell me what I should do!" She storms out of the apartment, leaving behind hurt, anger and tears.
I slouch down onto a stool in the kitchen and bury my face in my hands. Shit.
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Four hours later
I lie awake in bed, spending too much time with my thoughts. I can hear Mark's deafening snore in the next room, and I smother myself with the pillow at an attempt to drown it out. As usual, it doesn't work. It also doesn't stop me from hearing the window in the living room open.
Seconds later, Mimi is sneaking into my room and climbing next to me in bed. My anger has repressed, and I snuggle up to her warm body.
"I…"
"I'm sorry, baby." She interrupts, and I feel her shaking fiercely in my arms.
"It's okay. I was too hard on you." I hug her tighter, and her bones dig into my skin. She's so fucking skinny.
"No, it was me. I'll try to stop. I promise. I'll try." She whispers in my ear before closing her eyes and resting her head on my chest. Now I realize why she is shaking so badly. She didn't get a hit tonight. I cover her with the heavy blanket on my bed and rub her shoulders to heat her up. I better get used to doing what Mark did for me. My time of need is officially over.