Disclaimer: I don't own Rent
Roger smirked when the dorky blond sat down at the bar he bartended at on off-nights. The boy had holes in his jeans and a frayed sweater. His hair was messy and his blue eyes were hidden behind thick, black glasses. He seemed scared.
"Are you legally allowed to be here?" Roger asked, leaning against the bar.
The young man blushed. "Yeah," he replied. "Do you need to see my ID too? I think I got carded like four times already."
Roger laughed. "Nah, I believe you. What do you want?"
"Well, I don't really know," he answered. "I've never really been in a bar before. This is all I have," he laid a ten dollar bill on the counter, "and I need something strong."
Roger nodded and pulled five shot glasses out of a small cabinet and filled them with Cuervo. "Shots okay?"
He shrugged. "Does it work? Drinking to forget, I mean."
Roger shrugged a little. "Sometimes. Heroin usually…" He stopped when he saw the guy's eyes widen. Nope, definitely not from the city. "Yeah, this should work."
The young man smiled. "Thanks," he downed one, grimacing at the taste. "I'm Mark, by the way."
"Roger," he said. "So what are you trying to forget?"
"A girl."
"What did she do to you?" Roger pried. His shift was almost up and the bar was pretty quiet. He had time for idle conversation.
"Well, nothing," Mark downed another shot. "I'm pretty shy, and well, a total dork if you haven't noticed." He paused for Roger's reaction. It was a slow nod, his eyes showing some type of concern. "I just choke up when a pretty girl talks to me. For all I know, she could have been kidding when she gave me her number," he placed a scrap of paper on the bar next to his money.
Roger picked it up and examined it carefully before laughing.
"What?" Mark sounded a little angry.
"No, it's just…" Roger kept laughing. "This is the number to my loft. You got picked up by Maureen."
"You know her?"
He nodded. "We grew up together. I heard her talking to my other friend Collins about some cute blond she met in the park filming homeless people. Said it inspired a protest and she wanted the 'guy with the cute ass' to film it."
Mark blushed. "Really?"
He nodded. "Then I tuned her out. I do that when her and Collins talk about guys. He's gay," he added. Mark nodded. He had abandoned his alcohol, deciding that he may not want to forget Maureen just yet. "So then I just talked to Benny."
"My roommate at Brown was named Benny," Mark said.
"Benny went to Brown!" Roger said excitedly. "Collins met him up there on a teaching gig."
"Benjamin Coffin III?" Mark asked.
Roger nodded. "Listen, my shift is up in a few minutes," he began wiping down the bar, "do you live around here? I'll walk you home, point out some places."
"Oh, um thanks," he stuttered, "but I really don't want to go home."
"Why's that?" Roger walked around the bar and sat next to Mark.
"I saw some roaches earlier and I got kinda scared," he muttered, blushing.
"Welcome to New York apartments," he laughed. "Look, it's late. If you don't want to go home, you're more than welcome to crash at the loft. You can catch up with Benny, see Maureen, and meet Collins."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Roger nodded. "I see you fitting in really well. And besides, we could always use an extra hand with the rent."
"Thanks, Roger," Mark followed him out. "I appreciate it."
"No problem," he replied. "I can help you move your stuff in tomorrow."
"And the roaches?" Those awful black bugs seemed to be more of a concern to him rather than consenting to move in with a total stranger.
"If I can kill them for Maureen, I can kill them for you too," he replied with a smile as he lead his new friend into the New York night towards Avenue B.
Fin