A/N: This one's for Gala, who went over the moon last night and got a cafeteria full of people who have never seen RENT to moo back. Oh, and I tried using more paragraphs. Lemme know if the format's better.

Roger hadn't left his room since April died. Mark and I were doing everything we could to keep Roger away from drugs.

Mark had bruises all over his body from Roger beating the hell out of him in an attempt to get to his beloved drugs. He never left Roger's side for more than five minutes. His camera lay abandoned on our bedroom floor for a new obsession.

Getting Roger clean.

It rained on the day of April's funeral. I skipped out on paying the rent so that we could give April a decent funeral.

Collins sent some money in an attempt to make up for not being able to leave MIT.

April didn't have any family. She had run away when she was sixteen and hadn't seen her parents since.

Only three people went to the funeral. I was there, Benny was there, to make sure we were going to pay the rent as soon as possible, and Joanne was there.

She really was a great friend. I could tell her anything. And I did. We would spend every Wednesday night together. Sometimes we would go out to a club and get drunk, other times we would walk around Central Park, just talking and laughing about everything.

But my favorite thing to do with Joanne was curl up on her couch together and watch a movie.

It was never anything sexual. I just like hanging out with her. It wasn't until two months after April was gone that I realized that I felt something more.

I had a crush on her. I had a crush on Joanne Jefferson. Me, Maureen Johnson, who had never thought about being with a woman, had a crush on the beautiful Joanne Jefferson.

We were sitting on her couch one Wednesday night, watching a movie curled up under a blanket. I wasn't really paying attention to the movie. I was watching Joanne.

I couldn't believe how close we had gotten over the past few months. I knew that I could always trust her.

Something funny must have happened on the television, because Joanne started laughing and I couldn't help but laugh with her. I loved her laugh. She was beautiful. I started to wonder what it would be like to snuggle with her, hold her hand, wake up in her arms, kiss her...

When I left her apartment that night I went directly to a bar, got completely trashed, and went home with the first guy that hit on me. I didn't get back to the loft until around four that morning. Mark was pacing across the livingroom, his hands on his hips.

"Where the hell have you been?" I was shocked.

I had barely seen Mark since April died. He was always with Roger. I understood that Roger needed Mark and I was trying hard not to be jealous. But I was.

Mark was supposed to love me. I needed him too. I wish he would have talked to me. I knew that wasn't going to happen, Mark didn't talk, he taped. But I still loved him. He was my Marky.

"I was out with Jo. We went to a jazz club. The music was horrible, but the booze, excellent." I walked to him and threw my arms around his neck.

"It's four in the morning." His hands were on my hips now.

I cringed inwardly. I couldn't believe what I had just done. What I was about to do.

"How's Roger doing?" I pushed Mark back to the couch and straddled him.

"He's finally asleep. This is the first he's really slept since April died." Hi slid his hands up the back of my shirt.

I hesitated for a moment. I hated talking about April. Instead of breaking down like I wanted to, I smiled flirtatiously and leaned down close to his ear.

"I miss you." That much was true. I did miss him. I felt his breath quicken. It made me feel in complete control and sick at the same time.

We had sex on the couch. It was rough and hurried and hushed and nothing like what I remembered it to be.

"I'm gonna go check on Roger." Mark pulled his pants on and walked off to Roger's bedroom.

I watched him walk away and I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I barely made it to the bathroom before I got sick. After brushing my teeth I went to my room and changed for bed.

The next two months passed the same way, with me falling more in love with Joanne each day and growing to hate Roger and Mark. I was cheating on Mark at least once a week, finding a new man each week to help me forget Joanne. When that didn't work I would run to her, sobbing drunk and let her hold me like I would never let Mark.

And then I would feel guilty about being in love with another woman and the cycle would start all over again.

Roger was getting better. He was on AZT and seemed to be taking it regularly. He would even venture out of his room now. He would sit by the window with his guitar playing "Musetta's Waltz" over and over and over.

Mark was never without his camera. Roger never left the loft. I can only imagine Mark felt that he had to film the world for Roger.

I woke up one morning and Mark was standing over me, filming me in my sleep.

"What the fuck, Mark! That's really creepy." I complained sleepily, pulling the covers over my head. He walked out, mumbling something about his drama queen girlfriend.

I wasn't sure what Mark was to me anymore. We never broke up, just stopped sleeping together. I was confused. Everything was a mess. I felt trapped in the loft. I was never home anymore, always either working, out sleeping around, or with Joanne.

She made me feel safe. I could be vulnerable around Joanne and it was okay.

I hated that I couldn't leave Mark. Mark was familiar. Running around behind his back was easier than leaving.

I was being selfish, I know I was. But Mark never asked questions and I never felt like I had to explain myself. When I would come home in the early hours of the morning Mark would always be going through his film, so I could shower and slip into bed unnoticed by him.

But Roger noticed that I would come home later and later and sometimes not at all. He would never ask questions either, just glare at me from the window seat or the couch, playing his guitar.

I knew he was telling Mark what was going on. Maybe I thought one day Mark would get sick of me and kick my ass out. I hoped that he would catch me cheating and that he would tell me to just get the fuck out of the loft. I knew he wouldn't.

The only good thing that happened in those months was Benny. He wasn't the jackass everyone thought he was. Since he married Allyson, he was running our building now. He gave us a break, promising a year free of rent. It really helped.

I couldn't keep living my life the way I was. Something had to break. I was about ready to explode every second I was in the loft. I thought I was losing my mind.

It wasn't long before everything really went to hell.