I own nothing related to RENT :( and thanks for the positive feedback, and the one negative :( this character isn't a mary sue. I know there are a lot of those out there, but if you give the story a chance and not judge early on maybe you'll realize that cough cough anyways.. on with the show!
fo sho
Cold. Amy was cold, and laying on something that made a crunching noise when she rolled over on her side. She reached her hand down to her leg, and grabbed a cushion with duct tape wrapped around it. She held the duct tape and attempted to pull herself up. She couldn't move, she was too heavy. Her eyes wouldn't open, she was too tired. Someone was saying something to her, but she didn't hear it. Someone was calling for her, asking if she was ok. Someone was asking if she was awake, if she could get up, but she didn't hear it.
The small blonde stared down at the young woman who was whimpering on he and his roommate's sofa. She kept rolling around almost to the point of falling off, but would always catch herself. Her breath was coming in short gasps and he was getting more and more troubled for this stranger that was his new neighbor.
"Roger, do you think she should go to the clinic?" He said, throwing a quick glance to his roommate sitting by the window staring out at the cold November night.
No response.
Roger hadn't spoken to him for almosta monthnow, and he would attempt to make conversation, but always ended up finishing them with himself. This was another one of those times.
"No, she'll probably be fine when she finally wakes up."
Another quick glance to Roger.
"She's lost a lot of blood," He said to himself, as he looked at her foot that was caked with brown, dry blood. Whatever had hurt her wasn't in her foot, he had checked when he took her sock off.
The girl made a loud groaning noise and began groping at her leg, trying to reach out to someone, or something. She managed to grab the sofa and try to pull herself up, but collapsed.
"Maybe she'll be fine…"
Amy slowly opened one eye, and then the other. Her vision was blurred, and saw something hovering in front of her. It was bobbing and weaving, back and forth. Some sort of blob trying to make her sick.
And it worked.
Amy rolled over and vomited all over the floor.
Her vision was clearing now, she saw the wooden floor she had just vomited on. It was more worn, her's wasn't this worn. She felt the couch she was laying on. She didn't have a couch.
This wasn't her apartment.
"Miss? Are-are you ok? I mean- are you alright?"
Amy pulled herself back on the sofa.
"Who are you and why… why am I not in my apartment?" She said as she let her eyes wander around the apartment that was considerably larger than her's.
Her eyes danced across the "living room" where she was now sitting on the couch. On the coffee table was a newspaper turned to the comic section, and a bowl of cereal and an old cup of coffee. Sitting on the other end of the couch was a man with light blonde hair and glasses, studying her.
"Well my roommate, Roger, heard you calling for help," he said tossing his hand to a man sitting by the window Amy hadn't noticed. Roger didn't even acknowledge that his own roommate was talking about him.
"And well, brought you up here. I've been waiting for you to wake up to see if you needed to go to the clinic or something. I didn't know if you were going to be- I mean if you were going to wake up."
"Uh huh…" Amy said nodding her head. "But who are you?"
"Oh sorry, my name is Mark Cohen." He said as he brought his hand behind his head and scratched his neck, as he offered her a nervous smile.
"Oh." Amy said bluntly as she studied Roger sitting by the window, not even glancing at the two sitting on the couch.
His shaggy blonde hair hid his face, and his strong shoulders hunched his body over as he traced his index finger over the glass of the window.
He was spelling something.
"What's your name?" Mark suddenly said, ripping Amy from her thoughts.
"Amy, Amy Bernard." She offered a smile to her neighbor, and he returned a genuine one as well.
"Would you like something to eat?" Mark said as he rose from the couch to go to the kitchen area to try to find something edible for their guest.
"Well, actually, maybe something to drink? I'm not sure if we have any food- I mean we haven't gone to the store in awhile, because my check- I'm sorry. Is coffee ok?" He said giving her another nervous smile.
"Coffee sounds good," she said looking back to the man sitting by the window.
She looked to where he had been writing on the window, his backtightenedas ifhe sensed her looking. He quickly rubbed his writing away and got up to leave.
Amy almost gasped as she got her first glimpse at the side of his face.
He was pale, his cheekbones were sticking out from his face. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. His green eyes looked hollow, far away, as if he wasn't even in the room, but miles away.
"Roger would you like some coffee?" Mark quickly asked, noticing his roommate's brisk exit.
He kept walking, not giving hisfriend the time of day, and shut the door to his room.
"Is he ok?" Amy asked as Mark walked back to the sitting area to offer Amy a cup of coffee.
"No, he's not ok. Almost a month now, and he hasn't said a word to me or anyone else. He barely eats..." He chuckled darkly, "as if we even have anything to eat anyway." Mark took a sip of coffee and waited for Amy to say something.
But she didn't say anything.
She drank her coffee in silence, every now and then glancing back to the window, she was thinking about Roger. What had made him so distant? Why didn't he talk or eat? She wanted to ask, but felt it wasn't her place, she had just met her new neighbors, and didn't want to come off as nosy.
Mark cleared his throat.
"So what happened to your foot?"
Amy snapped back to reality. "Oh, a nail."
"A nail went in your foot?" Mark asked, growing concerned.
"Yeah, it hurt pretty bad." She said looking down at her white skin stained with dried blood.
"Tetnis shot." Mark said.
"What?"
"You need a tetnis shot, or it could get infected."
"Oh, yeah... I guess I should go get one--"
"As soon as possible." Mark said.
"Yes," Amy said smiling, "as soon as possible."
They finished their coffee in silence.
"It's a good thing Roger heard you." Mark said, giving her a quick look over his glasses.
"Yes, I'm surprised someone came. Everything was going dark, I knew I was going to pass out and I had lost a lot of blood. I just hoped anyone had heard me." Her mind flashed back to before she blacked out.
"What is it?" Mark asked.
"Mimi..." she said to herself.
"What did you say?" He asked her, scooting closer to her.
"He called me Mimi. Well, it was more like 'Mimi?', asking if that was my name or something." She said tracing the lip of her chipped cup with her finger.
"He-- he talked to you?" He said in disbelief.
"Well... Yes, but then I blacked out."
"He talked." Mark said as he took off his glasses and attempted to clean them on his sweater. "He said something. He hasn't talked to anyone, not even me since... Nevermind, it's not really my place to talk to you about it." He said nervously as he attempted to adjust his glasses back on his nose.
"Mimi?" She said.
Mark looked at her again, not believing she kept repeating the name that was causing so much pain to his best friend.
"It has to do with Mimi, whoever she is. Something happened to her, right?" Amy asked.
Mark nodded.
"He loved her, didn't he?" She questioned, getting more and more into this.
Mark nodded again.
"Yes, but what happen--" Amy caught herself. She was getting nosy. This wasn't her place, she didn't need to get into these people's lives.
Mark gave her a knowing look before replying, "You want to know what happened?"
She nodded.
"Well, Mimi-- She was-- Roger and her were in love..." Mark told the story of Roger and Mimi, their troubles, addictions and death. "She got the flu, and didn't get better. Roger was with her throughout the entire thing, even though he could've gotten sick also. He stayed by her side. Then about a month ago, Mimi gave up. He begged her to keep trying, to keep going, but she couldn't take the pain. She died on a a night like this. Roger hasn't talked since then." Mark looked up at her for the first time since he had started the story over an hour ago, tears were stained on her cheeks.
"Well, let me correct that, he talked to you tonight." He added.
Amy wiped her face on her sleeve and sniffed. "I had no idea." She went to stand, forgetting all about her foot.
Mark lunged for her and grabbed her hand before she stood.
"Oh thanks," Amy said, as he walked her to the door, and meant to take her downstairs to her apartment.
But Roger's door opened. He had thought they had left when he heard the loft door slide open.
Of course he had heard everything they had said, talking about him like he wasn't there. He had taken out his guitar and decided to go back up on the roof in the cold until he was so numb from the cold be couldn't feel. Roger stepped out of his room making his way to the window to climb onto the roof when he noticed Mark and the girl standing by the door.
Mark let go of her arm, and she fell, crying out in pain.
Roger made a move to help, but Mark was already apologzing and helping her to her feet.
Roger gave him a look of disgust and walked to the window, throwing it open and rushing up the fire escape.
"Sorry for letting go of you, and you fell and sorry..." He said as he helped her to her bed.
"Don't worry about it." Amy said as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.
"Do you want me to take you to the clinic tomorrow? Since you're new to town, and you probably don't know where it is." Mark said while he rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted a pillow under her foot.
"Would you really?" She asked, not quite believing a man she had just met had done so much for her already.
"It's what friends do to help each other out. Tomorrow around 9:00?"
Amy looked at the clock, it was almost 2:00 AM.
"Uh, let's make it 11:00." She said with a yawn.
"Ok, 11:00 then." He shuffled his feet, "I'll just... see myself out then."
"Goodnight!" Amy called from her bed.
"Goodnight then." Mark said from the door.
Amy was out as soon as her head hit the pillow, but her dreams were filled with the guitarist above her.
'reviews are good for the soul.'-- Ghandi
well actually, ghandi didn't say that.. i just made it up. but let's pretend he did, so i sound smart that way mmmk? MMMK:)
