Whee! Roger and Mimi are finally together! Haha. Thanks so much for the reviews! Thank you most especially to RomanceOfTheSky for some constructive criticism. :) I'm keeping the story the same though, I'm really trying to experiment with the charactes, you see. Thanks for continuing to read! XD

Sorry dudes, Mimi and Roger are really just going to be... well, not themselves. It's how I pictured they would be deep down, you know, rather than the outer obvious personality. :)

When you review, you put one more chapter into this story. XD Btw: I changed the lyrics of your eyes to suit the story in this one. :)

Disclaimer: Though I am aspiring to be Jonathan Larson, he still owns rent. I, however, am still working on my own masterpiece. XD

(Narrator's POV)

Mark and Roger's loft: December 11, 1990, 10 am, Eastern Standard Time

"Good morning, sunshine," Roger teased, as Mark exited his room sleepily.

His eyes were red and his hair was sticking up in odd places. Roger saw that he went to bed in the clothes he had on the previous night.

"You're actually up before me?" Mark asked, scratching his head and squinting to make sure he wasn't hallucinating (he didn't have his glasses on, pity).

"You slob, you went to bed in your clothes again?" Roger said wryly, hitting Mark with the line that he used to throw at Roger every morning.

Roger was up at 10 am, already bathed and dressed and eating a bowl of cereal with a glass or orange juice – it was all too much for Mark to handle.

"I must be dreaming," Mark muttered to himself. "I'm going back to bed."

"You go do that, sleeping beauty."

Mark slammed the door shut behind him, ignoring Roger's remark. Roger laughed quietly to himself and focused his attention back on his cereal. Usually, he would've skipped breakfast and just grab a cup of coffee, but something in him felt like a little cereal and juice that morning.

Mark came back out of his room, this time wearing his boxers and a muscle shirt. Roger didn't even look up and threw his roommate the aspirin bottle from all the way across the room.

"Good morning, again."

"How many bottles did I drink last night?" Mark asked, plopping himself beside Roger in the kitchen.

"About a thousand."

Roger poured his best friend a glass of orange juice, and the blonde used it to choke down two pills of aspirin. Clearly, his head had felt the hang over a few minutes after he had woken up.

"It did happen, didn't it?" Mark asked, frowning.

"Maureen breaking up with you, and you acting like a whining baby all over it?" Roger said. "Yeah, mostly."

Mark groaned and knocked his head repeatedly on the kitchen table.

"Mark! My cereal!"

Just then, someone knocked at the loft door. Roger ran to answer it, after placing his beloved cereal bowl away from Mark's self pity.

"It's probably the plumber here to fix the toilet," the blonde grumbled.

Roger pulled the door open, but found no sewer technician.

"Mimi! What are you doing here?" Roger feigned confusion but was actually very happy to see her.

"Uh, nothing," Mimi answered, smiling.

"Check on Mark after what happened last night," she lied, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Oh, come in then," Roger grinned. It was the first time he actually silently thanked Mark for sucking at relationships.

"Nice to see you put a new shirt on," Mimi teased, taking mind to pinch Roger's side playfully.

"You still need to help me wash my other shirt. It smells like crap," Roger teased back.

"I think I'll just have to take you up on that, Mr. Davis."

Mimi strode across the loft in her short multicolored skirt and brown leather boots, which Roger took great care to look at. She looked around and found Mark talking to his orange juice glass.

"What's wrong with me, huh? You'd love me, right?" he asked it, chin rested on the kitchen table.

"Hey Mark."

The film maker jumped up in surprise, finding Mimi standing right behind him. He shook his head, believing that he was still dreaming.

"Hey… uh, Mimi?" Mark looked at Roger with a brow raised.

Roger simply nodded.

"You look – er - okay," Mimi tried hard not to giggle.

"Oh, Jesus," Mark remembered he was just in his boxers and muscle shirt.

"I think I'll go take a shower," his cheeks grew red, and he ran off and shut the bathroom door behind him.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1," Roger counted.

"OH CRAP!"

"ROGER! THE TOILET ISN'T FIXED YET!" he yelled.

"Lysol's in the bottom cabinet, Cohen!" Roger called back.

He and Mimi burst into laughter. The young Latina kept on laughing, unaware that Roger had stopped to stare at her.

When she noticed, she waved her hand in front of Roger's face.

"Rog?"

Roger smiled and grabbed her arms to pull her closer. He kissed her, and she didn't stop him. Another knock on the door ended it though.

Roger pulled away and sighed. Mimi had her eyes closed, but opened them once he stopped.

"One moment, one moment," he held a finger up as he went to answer the door.

"It's just the stupid plumber," he said, quite angrily.

"Okay, but after you open that door, you're all mine," Mimi said, smiling and sitting down on a nearby worn out couch.

Roger grinned broadly and hurried to answer the door. Again, he found no toilet repair man, but Collins and Angel.

"Oh, it's you," Roger's cold eyes met the two.

"Well look whose up," Collins whistled, pushing a empty plastic pickle tub in Roger's chest.

"Buenos dias, Señor," Angel greeted merrily.

"Why are you here?" Roger asked bitterly, letting the container slide to the side of the loft.

"Que?" Angel asked, shocked.

"Uh, I live here," Collins said, pushing past the musician and into the loft.

"Mimi!" Angel called, seeing her new best friend on the couch.

"Angel!" Mimi ran into Angel's arms, as if they hadn't seen each other for a month.

"What're you doing here, sweetie?" Angel asked, quite clueless.

Roger coughed really loud to get Mimi's attention and sat down on the couch. Angel took one look at the musician, then back at her Latina friend.

"¿Miel, algo sucedió ayer por la noche?" a sly smile spread over the drag queen's face. Honey, did something happen last night?

Roger had no idea what the two ladies were talking about. Neither did Collins, so he took a seat next to the guitarist and pondered over the Spanish dubbed scene they were watching.

"Si," Mimi giggled, jumping slightly on the tiptoppy points of her feet.

"Felicitaciones, bebé!" Angel hugged her friend and sat down beside Collins.

Mimi sat down beside Roger in giddy bounces. The two boys were still stunned.

"I think I'm going to try and find a better job today," Mimi said, changing the subject and pretending that their trip to Spain hadn't happened.

Angel clapped her hands in glee. "Good for you, Meems."

"I think I'll go with you, and bring my guitar," Roger said, forgetting about the Spanish that clouded his head.

Collins looked at Roger with a disbelieving look. "Rog, are you sick? Are you drunk?"

Collins lifted his hand up to Roger's head to feel for a fever, but his temperature was normal. He sniffed at Roger's clothes for traces of beer or drugs, but Roger's shirt was flowery fresh.

"So a woman is what gets you out of bed and out of this loft?" Collins teased, slapping Roger on the face.

"Not just any woman," Roger answered, causing Mimi to blush.

Then, the blonde newly bathed film maker stepped out of the bathroom.

"Aw, I thought it was the plumber," Mark mumbled rudely, caring no less that he was only wearing a towel around his waist.

Without a hello to Collins or Angel, he stormed into his room and banged the door behind him, stating that he didn't want to talk to anyone just yet. Fortunately, the couples understood.

"Now what?" Angel murmured reproachfully.

"Well we were doing something when you so rudely interrupted," Roger fumed, still mildly irritated that they had ruined his moment with Mimi.

Mimi, seeing this, rubbed his knee affectionately and telepathically said: its okay, Rog, later. Roger calmed down and laid his hand on top of his girlfriend's hand as a sign of okay

"How's about we go out to the fire escape, Gelly?" Collins suggested, seeing the young couple's wishes. "It's mighty stuffy in here."

"Si, mi amor. Let's go," Angel winked.

And with that, the Mimi and Roger were officially left alone in inside the loft, while Angel and Collins enjoyed the view from the fire escape.

"So…" Mimi started; running her hands in Roger's clean, newly cut locks.

"Where were we?" Roger asked playfully, already a centimeter away from Mimi's lips.

But just before their lips could touch again, another loud booming sound interrupted.

"Mother fucker!" Roger swore, meandering to the loft door.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?" he hissed, even before it slid open.

"Uh, plumber sir," a chubby man of 40 raised his reamers and pipe vises.

Roger pointed a trembling finger toward the bathroom, already unable to translate his anger into words. When the man had inched past in terror, Roger immediately ran to Mimi and sat down beside her.

"Hurry, before someone knocks again."

Streets of Alphabet City: 1:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time

"Do you want me to carry you?" Roger offered, stopping to appraise his girlfriend.

"No," Mimi laughed. "It's okay, Rog, I'm used to walking a lot."

"Oh yeah? Prove it," Roger sneered playfully.

"Shopping."

"Right."

"Besides, you can't manage me and your guitar," Mimi sang, walking ahead.

Roger gaped at her in shock. "Oh I think I can."

"No you can't," Mimi teased, turning around to face him and walking mockingly backwards.

"Oh yeah?" Roger challenged.

"You can't. You can nev…"

Mimi gave a small yelp as Roger scooped her up in his arms, proving in fact, that he could. Smartly, Roger hid the strap, which really held his guitar, underneath his black leather jacket. What Mimi didn't know couldn't hurt her, right? And if it could score him some points, well…

"See?" Roger said in his usual pompous manner, grinning widely.

"Okay, tough guy, you win," Mimi said. "Now put me down."

People had begun to stare at the young couple, and tourists could be heard muttering, "psscchh, New Yorkers." Roger didn't mind, and continued to carry Mimi along down the sidewalk, his guitar swinging behind him. Lucky for him, Mimi didn't notice.

"Where are you taking me, Roger Davis?" Mimi demanded, though in truth, she didn't mind being cradled like a baby in Roger's arms.

"The Life's just around the corner, baby. I think we should stop by and have some lunch first," Roger said, dodging a teenager on a skateboard. "Don't you think?"

Mimi smiled up at Roger at gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Okay."

What a sight that was for the people having lunch in the Life, to see a mid-20's man hurtling through the door with a young Latina in his arms. New York just couldn't get any weirder.

"Were sorry about the noise, there are some band auditions going on. Table for two?" a man with tousled jet black hair and glasses acknowledged the couple as they entered.

"Yes, please," Roger said absentmindedly, laying Mimi down. "Did you say band auditions?"

"Yes, they've booked half the café today. It's a pain to the ears I must say, they haven't gotten anyone decent yet," the man complained. "This way."

"Rog, this is your shot!" Mimi exclaimed, brushing some snowflakes from Roger's shoulders.

"I'm not sure…" Roger hesitated, tugging at his guitar strap nervously.

"What? Roger Davis is getting butterflies?" Mimi teased, smiling.

"I haven't practiced, or gotten anything good out of my head for months! You know that," Roger put on a disconcerted look.

"Nothing at all?" Mimi raised an eyebrow.

"Well… no. Except for…" Roger's voice trailed off.

"Except for what?"

"There's this song that suddenly popped in my head last night. You know, right at the moment we," Roger cleared his throat. "Kissed."

Mimi laughed and griped her boyfriend's arm tightly. "Is that why you ran off so quickly?"

"Yeah, I was afraid to lose it," Roger smirked. "And, I was kind of embarrassed for what I did."

Mimi laughed and Roger suddenly felt this whole new courage blossoming inside him. When he looked into Mimi's eyes, it was like there was nothing he couldn't do.

"So, are you up for it?" Mimi asked, biting her lip.

"As long as I get a good luck kiss first," Roger grinned.

Mimi gave him his wish and pushed him forward, removing his leather jacket. She gasped jokingly when she saw his guitar strap.

"You liar!" she accused good naturedly.

Roger just laughed.

"NEXT!"

The man who was holding the megaphone was, assumingly, the manager of the band. He was dressed in an expensive gray suit, possibly Armani, and though he was indoors, found it indispensable to keep his shades on. Sitting beside him were 3 Pre-Madonnas, suiting punk rock outfits complete with nose and ear piercing. One of them had a huge cobra tattooed on his right upper arm.

Roger and Mimi took seats on a nearby table and watched as a dork dressed in a tweed suit and jumpers walked up the small stage of the Life. He adjusted the microphone to his height (which was somewhat shorter than the height that a full grown man should be).

Already, the manager and band members were making disgusted faces. And more so did their faces scrunch up in abhorrence when the man began to play his electric guitar, which was too heavy for him.

"Uh, thank you," the manager said, after 1 minute.

"NEXT!"

Seeing that no one else came up the stage, Roger decided that it was time to go.

"NEXT! Are there anymore people?"

Mimi rubbed Roger's arm comfortingly before the musician stood up and walked over to the platform. He, also, adjusted the microphone, for he was way taller than the stumpy nerd before him.

"Hello?" Roger said into the microphone, shielding his eyes from the bright spotlight.

"Name please," the manager said, yawning.

"Roger," Roger began. "Roger Davis."

"Position played in the band?"

"Lead guitar," Roger cleared his throat. "Or vocals. Either or both."

Mimi saw the manager and the band members exchange impressed looks.

"Okay, Mr. Davis," the manager scribbled something down. "Show us what you got."

For a moment, Roger found his throat dry, and his fingers shaking. He couldn't seem to remember any words, chords, notes, anything. The four "judges" waited impatiently as Roger became deathly pale. He looked towards the one person whom he knew would calm him. Mimi's smile sent everything in his body back to shape.

As long as you focus on her, Roger, you'll do great.

And so, that's what Roger did for his entire song. He adjusted his guitar and got ready to play. The judges put on finally looks.

"Sorry, this song's not done yet, I wrote it last night," he apologized in advance.

"This one's for you, Mimi," Roger said.

Your eyes
As we said our goodbyes
Can't get them out of my mind
And I find I can't hide
From your eyes
The ones that took me by surprise
The night you came into my life
Where there's moonlight I see your eyes
I can't wait to live each day
When I'm longing so to hold you
Now I'd like to go back a day
'Cause there's something
I should have told you
Yes there's something
I should have told you
When I looked into your eyes
The ones I never want to cry
You were the song all along
And before this song dies
I should tell you I should tell you
I will always love you
You can see it in my eyes

It was like Roger could do no flaws when he played that song for Mimi. He looked longingly into her eyes and sang each word from the heart, dedicating it to her.

As Roger plucked the last notes with twinkling eyes, Mimi found herself tearing, but wiped them away when the whole café broke into applause.

Roger stepped back and out of his parallel world, where only Mimi existed, startled by the sudden applause. He nodded his head demurely toward the crowd, thanking them silently for their applause.

"BRAVA!" the manager stood up, clapping like mad.

"BRAVO!" the band members followed, jumping up and clapping widely as well.

Roger stepped down from the stage, and was immediately bombarded by the four judges.

"You're in! IN IN IN," the manager poked him on the chest.

"Well?"

Roger was speechless. "Okay…"

"Perfecto!" The manager eyed Roger's outfit with a tiny hint of contempt but his eyes riveted on Roger's classical guitar, hanging from his shoulder.

He frowned. "This will not do," he took the handle of the guitar and let it fall as if it were a smelly old sock. "Andrew, fetch the spare guitar, will you?"

"Right away sir!" the manager's possy declared, rushing out of the café.

"How long did it take you to write that song, man?" the guy with a huge cobra tattoo asked Roger.

"I don't know, it just came to me last night when I…"

"Mimi," Roger muttered, suddenly remembering.

He pushed past the three rockers, and came face to face with Mimi, who had nothing to show except pride and glee. Roger swung his guitar to his back and opened his arms to her. She quickly ran into them without hesitation.

"Roger! My God, that song… Did you really just write that in one night?" she blabbered on, nuzzling Roger's chest every now and then.

Roger put a finger to her lips to silence her. "I wrote it for you."

She bit her lower lip shyly before jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Roger twirled her around and around in sheer bliss.

"Can I have my congratulations kiss now?" Roger asked furtively.

"Ah – duh!" Mimi cried, almost surprised he even asked.

"Davis!" the manager called.

Mimi's smile turned upside down and Roger groaned. He put Mimi down with apologizing eyes and gave her a fast peck on the cheek. He walked over to his new manager with a certain swagger to his stride.

"What?" he muttered almost crossly.

"Why don't you try this on for size," his manager took no notice of his rudeness.

Instead, he handed Roger a metallic blue electric guitar, which caused his eyes to come out of their sockets. Without thinking twice, the musician grabbed the guitar.

"Mine?" he asked, eyeing the guitar.

"Yours," the manager smiled. "Welcome to the band."

Mark and Roger's loft: 4 pm, Eastern Standard Time

"I was sick! Sorry!" Mark lied, phone up to his ear.

"Couldn't you have called or something?" his boss, Alexi, scolded.

"It slipped my mind," Mark lied again. In truth, he wanted others to suffer just as much as he was suffering. People tend to do that when they're lonely or depressed.

And like Mark was doing, they also tend to sit around all day in their boxers, eating mounds of junk and gallons of chocolate ice cream.

"Well, I have half a mind of firing you Mark Cohen. We have a whole 30 minutes to worry about filling in the show tonight because of YOU!" Alexi screamed through the phone.

Mark licked a slop of ice cream from his spoon. "So fire me," he dared.

"What?" Alexi's voice was threatening.

"Fire me," Mark repeated, not minding that globs of ice cream were sliding down his shirt.

"Don't try to make me feel like we need you, Mark Cohen."

"So fire me," Mark repeated for the third time.

Alexi gave an exasperated sigh of offense and screamed, "FINE! YOU'RE FIRED!"

"Good riddance," Mark mumbled, throwing the phone across the room.

And he went back to finishing his third container of chocolate ice cream. He looked around at all the junk he had devoured over the day – ice cream, potato chips, pizza – he had spent all his remaining money on trying to gorge himself to death.

Knock knock.

"It's open!" Mark called, a mound of ice cream in his mouth.

Knock knock.

"IT'S OPEN!" he yelled again.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Mark got up and let the now empty container of chocolate ice cream fall to the floor. He didn't even bother to throw on a cleaner shirt, or wipe his mouth.

"What?" he snarled, letting the sliding door bang to the side.

"Mark! What happened to you?" Maureen cried, pushing Mark inside his apartment.

"Nothing," Mark grumbled. "I was just eating."

Maureen couldn't speak when she saw the junk that Mark had been eating. She threw an empty pizza box off the couch and sat down. Mark did the same, wiping his mouth with his forehand.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I couldn't find you last night. I thought…" Maureen's voice trailed off.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to be found?" Mark replied coldly.

"No… I mean," Maureen sighed. "I'm sorry, Marky."

"You didn't do anything," Mark bent his head. It was impossible for him to stay mad at Maureen.

She put her hand comfortingly on his knee. "I still love you."

Mark's heart sank. He loved her too, but probably not in the same friendly way she meant.

"I love you too, Maureen," he choked. And she kissed him on the cheek.

BANG.

Both their heads turned toward the reverberating sound. Roger entered the loft, and though two guitars were hanging loosely from his neck, he carried Mimi in without difficulty. They seemed to be having a lot of fun, Roger kissing Mimi's neck as they entered.

Mark looked on in jealousy.

"Oh hey," Roger said, stopping suddenly when he saw his two friends.

"Hey guys," Mimi said between laughs, not being able to analyze the scene.

Roger put her down gently and then she realized what was going on. Both of them stood there in awkwardness for interrupting.

"How was the job hunting?" Mark tried to sound casual.

"I got in a band," Roger mumbled.

"And I'm officially a waitress at the Life," Mimi answered as well, squirming fitfully.

"We'll leave for a while," Roger said, reading his best friend's mind.

"No, no! I was just leaving," Maureen said with a grin.

She got up, with a pinch at Mark's cheek, and walked to the couple.

"Are you two…?"

"Wow," was all Maureen could say.

"Pretty much," Mimi answered, twirling her hair on her index finger.

"I think I'll go too, Rog," Mimi coughed.

"Okay, I'll visit you later babe," Roger said, leaning in to kiss her.

"Bye."

The two girls walked out of the apartment with conserved waves. And Mark and Roger were left in silence. Mark took off his stained chemise, revealing his muscle shirt. He then saw Roger's brand new electric guitar.

"You stole a guitar?" Mark asked condescendingly, pretending that Maureen hadn't been in the loft two minutes before.

"No," Roger scoffed, taking off both his guitars from his shoulder.

"My new band gave it to me."

"Oh," Mark snapped.

"I lost my job today, so you better bring in lots from that band," Mark said the word as if it didn't exist in his vocabulary.

Roger shook his head and went into his room.

"AND YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THE TOILET!"

A/N: Should I keep Maureen and Joanne together? Or Mark and Maureen? Say it through reviews! XD Don't you guys just love Mimi and Roger? I'm falling in love. Haha. Hey, REVIEW! XD