Another chapter and so far this has been my favorite to write. Mark comes to a lot of conclusions and I just really like this chapter.

Thanks to my reviewers! I love seeing review messages in my mailbox. And yes, I am evil The Wishmasters.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not RENT, not Captain Crunch, not Mark or Roger.

Warning: Slash. Mark really starts to think about Roger. And Roger is happy, really happy.

After RENT: Our Story

Chapter Five: All This Time

MARK'S POV

I wish Mimi had never told me. It would have made this so much easier. I want to kiss his tears away, instead of wiping them. I know he wants a smaller bed, but I'd happily fill that empty space next to him.

I groan and punch my pillow. Ever since the funeral, when Roger walked around in the rain, I knew. I knew there was something about Roger, something that made me worry like I've never worried before. As I sat in my room, wondering why I was worrying, it hit me.

Mimi made me think about Roger in a new light. I...I don't know what happened. But I started to really notice Roger. The way he smiles at me, the way his eyes look at me, how graceful his fingers are when they strum chords on his guitar, how truly beautiful he is. His naturally messy blonde hair, his blue eyes that shine like the moon, his muscular body. His presence sparked something in me. I don't even remember when I started feeling like this. How much I realized Roger was a god. And I started to love Roger right back.

I do remember when I realized that I loved him. Collins was coming over and Roger started crying. I cheered him up and he opened his mouth and I knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell me that he loved me, and I waited desperately, wanting to hear those words. But then Collins called, needing a key. I was so disappointed! So then I had to wonder why I was disappointed that Roger wasn't able to tell me. I could only figure the answer because of how my thoughts were going.

Every time I see Roger, I feel strange. Like I did when I dated Maureen. Like a low burning fire spreads from my heart to every part of my body. I want to touch Roger, to hold him. My fingers itch to wipe his tears and I gladly hug him whenever I can. I do it to comfort him, as much as I do to fill my want, my need for physical contact that is never enough.

I need to stop thinking this way. We promised, but he's already broken it, I can right? No, I can't. I don't break promises, especially not to Roger. I rise my head up to glare at the clock. After a few moments, I can just barely make out the fuzzy numbers without my glasses. Two thirty in the morning. Damn Roger! I can't even sleep now! So I think, the way I get to sleep when it won't come. But what to think about?

I could think of what to think, but then I'll come up with an idea, so that won't last long. An idea pops into my head. Try to remember when I first began to really see Roger.

Let's see, events over the past month. Mimi told me he loved me, but I didn't believe her. She kept getting sicker, I was there for him, like a best-friend should be there. He looked so handsome at the funeral, in his formal clothes. He never dresses up and he looks good in a suit. Really, really good. I'm afraid I'm going to start drooling just thinking about it. I remember his eyes were red from crying so much. I wanted to hold then, at the funeral.

Go before the funeral...think, Mark, think. Then I realize. I started to feel this way for Roger the day Mimi died. It was like, now that she was gone, I could love him and not feel guilty. I was at the loft when I got the call.

"She's gone, Mark. She died earlier, about half an hour ago." He was hard to understand, the emotion choking his words. But I knew he wanted me there. So I ran to the hospital and he ran into my arms the second he saw me. I started to cry when he started, the emotion overwhelming. I could feel the pain and sorrow pouring from his body. I held him and I knew I wanted it all to go away. In that hospital, I hated Mimi, even if it was just for the brief moments I held him.

'How dare she hurt my Roger!' I thought and that's when I figured it out. He wasn't just Roger Davis, he wasn't Mimi's Roger. He was my Roger. I sit up in bed, relieved I remembered and that I have things figured out, sorta.

I sigh happily. I love Roger, I know that now. I love Roger, my best- friend. My handsome, sarcastic, guitar-playing, loved by thousands of woman (but he only loves me) best-friend. I've never been this happy before in my whole life.

I dream of him once I finally sleep. I dream that we started dating soon after we met. He never met April or Mimi. He stayed clean of drugs and AIDS. We lived together for years, happy and in love. I saw the day we went out to the day we died, old and side by side, played in my sleeping mind.

When I wake up, I feel happy, refreshed. I step out of my room and see Roger sitting at the table and my heart swan dives into my stomach. Strange what one night's realizations can do.

He's sitting at the table, shirtless. It should be illegal, he's so perfect. He's only wearing long plaid pajamas pants. Since he became famous, he's been working out and it's evident. His arms are well toned, and he has a flat stomach, a broad, smooth chest.

I swallow heavily, resisting the urge to run into my room. But I go make myself a bowl of Captain Crunch and sit by him at the table. Even with all of our money we've made, we still eat Captain Crunch and we still live in our industrial loft.

"Mornin', Mark."

"Morning." He's making me nervous. I quietly eat my cereal, trying to ignore his naked torso; it's not working. Roger's been a lot better in the last week. Mimi's been gone for a month now. Three weeks of daily cries, hourly hugs and talks. Ever since Roger's gotten over-no. Learned to remember Mimi, but not to grief, he hasn't needed to cry as often, hasn't needed my hugs. I miss it.

"Hello! Earth to Mr. Cohen!" He says, waving his hand in front of my face.

"What?" I snap out of my thoughts and look at him. He smiles goofily.

"You've been staring at your cereal for a while without eating any of it."

"Weird dreams." I tell him, knowing he was hinting that he wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me.

"What kinds?"

"You're talkative." I try to change the subject. 'Please let it work.'

"Yeah, got a lot of sleep." 'Yes! It worked!' "Wanna go to the Life Café for lunch? Eat some bohemian food?" His energy is getting contagious.

"Of course!"

"Great! I'll go play my guitar for a while, you film...whatever it is that you film when I'm not around and then we'll go have lunch!" He smiles at me and my heart melts. I'm happy he's happy, but I wonder what's up. I hear chords pour from his room and the smile that crept onto my face, unknowingly, widens. Roger is an influence I can not resist. And I just fell more in love with him.

OOHH! Whose going to crack first? Mark or Roger? Hope you liked this chapter as much as I did writing it!