I'm back to typing this silly little thing… So without further ado – here is part 3.
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Rent. Boohoo…
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6 PM
Time to go…
Roger exited the loft in silence. His old shoes barely fit him, now. They had to be at least the same pair he'd been using for the past four years. Fortunately, his feet were almost contained in those sneakers, in a way. They kept them from growing all too much… thus, the shoes remained, as tattered, unpleasantly appearing, and dirty as they were.
However, he couldn't help but feel tonight, of all nights, those shoes growing tight. A painful weak spot on his heel began to grow a blister, and every step turned to a flinch.
This would be a long walk…
Upon stepping outside, he was hit by a faint ray of moonlight. The sun had set, its withering colors hidden behind distant skyscrapers. Clouds dotted the sky, sporting a thick, grey color. The air was cold, and the wind chill made it all the more freezing.
He sighed, his breath puffing out and trailing behind him as he strode forward, his wretched shoes crunching in old, muddy sidewalk snow.
Soon enough, he found himself passing a dreadful alleyway. Knowing this all-too-well as a hotspot for drug selling, he gave it a mirthless glance, his step freezing and eyes widening upon noticing a silhouette handing a package to another down at the end of the way.
"Mimi…" he whispered, eyebrows furrowing, turning toward the alley.
The silhouettes seemed to lock in place, than one – the taller and larger one – turned toward Roger. It began to walk in his direction, and Roger instinctively moved back. The undeniable face of Mimi's old drug dealer became clear to Roger, and a scowl whipped across his face.
"Having fun ruining people's lives with smack?" he asked, his tone nothing short of a growl.
A wicked grin wrapped around the drug-dealer's face. "Curious to whom I'm selling to, Roger? Scared your girls been cheating on her little withdrawal and sneaking a few—"
"SHUT UP!"
Roger's arm lashed out, whipping the man across the cheek. He stumbled back, than glared viciously at the ex-junkie. "…Damn you, Davis."
"Mimi isn't buying any shit from you. I know she isn't."
And with that, Roger dismissed himself, ignoring the fact he was lucky Gordon hadn't fought back.
The dealer stood against a building, his 'customer' sliding up from behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Some ass bothering you, baby?" the black-lipped blonde asked, turning her highly make-up'd face toward him.
"Nah…" The dealer smiled down at the sleaze-like woman, trailing his hand down her back and to her (tiny, plastic, and hardly fitting) skirt, leaving it there. The woman giggled and rolled her lips against his neck, pressing her chest to his.
"Everything's just fine…"
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Recuperating from his recent livid outburst, Roger arrived at the doors of the Cat Scratch Club. He noticed a young teenager who'd attempted to sneak into the club being pulled off into a police vehicle to his left. The boy was swinging his fists, grunting drunkenly, and giving the officers and all-out difficult time.
Rolling his eyes, he stepped to the doors, his hand reaching to the knob… than pausing. Why? It was cold out, he didn't have decent layers of clothing on, and he was getting sick—
But he couldn't help but regret coming in here. There was no denying he felt overtaken by a swell of heat and attraction when he saw Mimi dressed in that dancing outfit, but—
He shook his head, and willed away the thoughts. He stepped inside the club, eyes having to adjust to the poor lightning. Mimi had already begun her dance, and was currently on the stage, rocking her pelvis toward the men in the front row and throwing her arms back, looking as erotic as she could.
And to think she wanted help with enthusiasm…
Striding through the smoky upper-part of the club, he stepped down to the stage tables, sitting in a (surprisingly) empty one toward the back. Resting his head in his hand, he watched the rest of her performance with a bland expression.
His girlfriend was dancing like some stripper… and he wasn't even smiling?
His eyes closed after a while, the scenes of the club fading out, his arm sliding out from under his head which then fell to his hand.
He was asleep.
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11 PM.
No one bothered to move him, figuring he'd been drunk and passed out. Only when Mimi was finished, and eyeing men had departed from the stage tables, did the girl rush to Roger.
Mimi grabbed his shoulder, shaking it, her face filled with concern.
"Rog, are you okay? Anyone in there?" she asked, flicking her fist against the top of his head a few, very gentle times.
Roger's eyes blinked open wearily. He stared up at Mimi, and then leaned back in the chair, seeming suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry… Mimi, I—"
"You had a few too many drinks?" she finished, sitting down beside him. Roger shook his head no. "I… just… dozed off."
Her eyebrows rose. "Just dozed off, huh? After that long nap today, even?" she asked, tilting her head, black curls falling over her face in a bubbly manner. As though the bounce of her hair was the only thing that had registered in Roger's mind, a goofy smile grew across his face and he leaned forward, wrapping his lips to hers in a kiss.
Mimi's eyes widened at the sudden act of passion, her hands snaking up to his chest to softly move him away.
Roger blinked. "Something wrong?"
"Babe, not here—" she murmured, giving a glance toward some men who were bitterly watching Roger for kissing the woman they'd only just fantasized about.
"Let's get back home, okay?" she asked, rubbing his arm and giving him a full smile. Roger nodded, and they stood up to leave.
When they walked out, it was snowing. Mimi clung to Roger, her face buried against his shoulder, still grinning. "I'm so glad you came," she murmured.
"……"
"But you're awfully quiet, babe…" She turned her face to look at his, quizzical. "Is something wrong?"
"… Nope. I'm fine."
Mimi blinked. "You sure about that, Mr. Davis?" she asked in the most doctor-like voice she could use.
Roger rolled his eyes, than smiled down at her. "Yes, Dr. Marquez. I believe your patient is clear of all diseases, illnesses, sickness, or ailments you might be thinking of…"
"Oh really…" Mimi giggled, stepping in front of her boyfriend. She grabbed the edges of his jacket and yanked them together. Then, she put a finger to his chest, tracing a circle on it lightly. "In that case, I suppose there will be no… 'check-up' tonight." She winked up at Roger and then shrugged, turning around and walking back for the loft, grinning widely.
One of Roger's eyebrows rose slowly. He than faked a cough, which soon evoked a real cough which came deep from his chest. It was the kind that scraped your throat and made it sting…
The unpleasant cough.
Mimi quit smiling and looked back at him.
"You ARE sick," she stated.
Roger lowered his head then walked past her like a dog with its tail between its legs.
"It's just a cold…" he murmured thoughtlessly.
"But Roger—"
"I'll be FINE." Roger stopped and snapped his head back toward Mimi, who recoiled in fear.
Realizing his mistake, Roger frowned and stepped forward, pulling the girl into an embrace.
"Come on," he sighed, kissing her forehead. "Let's get inside…"
Mimi nodded, forcing her smile back on all the way to the loft.
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Roger shed his wet jacket (due to the snow) and fell down onto his bed, stretching out and looking horribly sore. Mimi walked in from the bathroom, dressed in only an oversized T-shirt and some children's Christmas socks which had penguins with little hats on them. She crawled onto the bed beside Roger and then straddled herself atop him, smirking down at his fatigued figure.
"Since you do in fact have that cold… Are you up for that 'check-up' now?" she asked slyly, leaning down to plant a deep, long kiss with her boyfriend.
Roger never even had to answer.
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Okay, this chapter ended on a fluffy note. Rejoice, for its not always going to be like this. What's going to happen in the next chapter… well you'll just have to wait. No hints this time.
KEEP R&R'ing, PLEASE!
R3birth signing off once again.