I am so sorry it has taken me almost two frickin' years to get this damn chapter up. I have excuses; I'm not going to bore you with them. And this is the last chapter, so I feel as if this is kinda anti-climatic, but oh well. I hope you enjoyed my little RENT fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, but I kinda own Mark's movie, cause I came up with it.
Thanks to all of my reviewers who have reviewed. You guys are awesome.
Warning: Slash.
After Rent: Our Story
Epilogue: The Memories and Moving On
MARK'S POV
It feels weird walking down the red carpet without Roger attached to my arm. Everything for the last year has felt weird without Roger. Sleeping, eating, walking through the park, filming (which I don't do a lot anymore-there's no one to film), everything. But I did invite Maureen and Joanna to this gala opening night thing. At the moment they're happily signing autographs for screaming fans. I'm just trying to smile and live through the night.
Maureen joins my side and smiles at me. I roll my eyes and she laughs as camera lights flash from all around us. Pictures, pictures and more pictures. People calling our names and interviewers shoving microphones into our faces for us to answer a few questions. Maureen is loving it, of course, answering every question, smiling. The camera loves her.
It's the same at every movie opening I've ever been to: the fans, the cameras, the stars. Even my own isn't different. Only there's no Roger to help me get through it all.
"Come on, Mark. Let's go sit down." I nod and allow Maureen and Joanna to pull me into the theater where the movie is being premiered. My second documentary. The last documentary about the RENT crew that will ever be made. There's only four of us left, three that keep in contact. What's the point?
The theater quickly fills with fans and stars. Roger's band smiles at me from up front of the theater and I smile back. We keep in touch; they're looking for a new singer but none of us know how they'll find someone to replace Roger. Finally the lights dim and the previews start. I watch half-heartedly until it starts.
"Our Lives After RENT" appears and Maureen squeezes my hand, tears filling in my eyes. I breath shakily, but I can't tear my eyes away as pictures of Mimi appear, of Collins, and of Roger.
It's not very long, shorter than the first one by fifteen minutes or so, but it's better every time I watch it. There's not much on it but the premier of "RENT: Our Story", with all of us but Angel there; the band's first award ever; Mimi's funeral; Collin's funeral; Roger's. Besides, it's the ending that counts. My memorial to those who've left us.
Mimi is first. It says her name, when she was born to when she died and then there's my favorite pictures and sequences with her. There are a lot of her dancing and a few good ones with Angel.
Then it's Collins. It's the same for him. Most of his sequences are with Angel, but there are a few good ones with me. The very few of me in the movie. I even have him singing a little bit. Singing was Collins's secret passion.
And then there's Roger's memorial. My breathing quickens and Maureen squeezes my hand again. The pictures with Roger are wonderful. A few of him playing guitar, some of him and Mimi, some of him and Maureen fighting. And then there's the last six sequences. Me and him. There's one of us dancing together, kissing, him trying to teach me the guitar (which I'm horrible at), us snuggled on the couch together. I close my eyes as the memories flood over me.
"God, I miss him," I whisper as the last very last screen comes up. "Dedicated to the memory of Roger Davis, my best-friend, my lover and the best man I ever knew. I miss you and I love you, Roger." And then the credits begin and everyone is clapping. I stand up and smile as they turn towards me where we're sitting in the very back of the theater. I see a lot of women wiping their eyes and I take off my glasses and wipe my own eyes before replacing them.
"Great job, Mark," Joanna whispers, hugging me.
"Thank you." Maureen kisses my cheek. And the clapping continues.
THREE WEEKS LATER
"Thank you so much, Mr. Cohen." I wave the two bye and sigh as they skip merrily away. I haven't been merry in I don't know how goddamn long. And I hate being called Mr. Cohen. It makes me sound like my father. Urgh. I flip through today's paper until I get to the entertainment section.
The movie is still big at the movies. Which is good, because that means it's making money, which means more money for HIV/AIDS research. I want as little people to lose loved ones as possible. This is the first movie I've done where I'm making no profit.
"Excuse me?" I look up from the paper and meet gazes with a pair of gorgeous green eyes. I look from the eyes to the rest of the man in front of me. He has a nice, even tan, not real dark but very pleasant. His hair is a dark-brown, shaggy in length and style. His clothes are very rock-like. Jeans with a chain, jean jacket, red shirt, double-pierced earlobes, leather boots. And his body isn't bad.
"Yes?" I ask, remembering that he talked to me. Then I'm ashamed of myself. How can I even look at anyone else?
And then that voice that seems to be my alter-ego, the "Roger" voice says, 'Because I said I didn't want you to be alone.'
"Are you Mark Cohen?"
"Yes." He smiles and I smile back. I take his hand that he held out and shake it, our eyes never breaking contact.
"My name is Hunter Watkins. I'm a very big fan."
"Glad to hear it." He looks down and then back up at me.
"I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry for your loss of Roger. He was a great musician. I was a fan of his as well."
"That's very kind. Thanks." He nods again and takes a deep breathe. And it reminds me of myself when I try to keep the tears from coming out.
"It moved me. I lost my lover to AIDS three years ago and I understand your pain." My mouth drops open and I remember my manners.
"Would you like to sit?" I ask and he looks surprised.
"Are you sure?" I nod.
"Yes. I don't get to talk to random strangers anymore. Most are too intimidated to even approach me." He laughs and nods, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.
"Thank you."
"No problem. Go on." He smiles and he tells me about his lover, Matt. Matt was a painter, got HIV from an ex-lover who cheated on him. Met Hunter and they were together for ten years before Matt died.
"I'm so sorry," I say, rubbing his arm and he smiles at me, wiping his eyes.
"Yeah. It still hurts." He looks at me seriously. "I'm proud of you, Mark." I smile inside. 'He called me Mark.'
"I read that you're giving all the money this movie makes to HIV/AIDS research," he continues and I nod happily.
"Yeah."
"That is awesome."
"I don't want people to go through what we did." He nods and we smile sadly.
"I should go." I nod and I know I can't let this guy go. "It was very nice meeting you, Mark," he says, holding out his hand and I shake it, eyes meeting again.
"Would you like to have dinner sometime?" we ask at the same time and then laugh.
"That sounds great," I answer and he smiles, his eyes twinkling.
"Great." We exchange numbers and I watch him walk away. He looks over his shoulder at me, waves and then crosses the street.
I sit back in my chair and smile to myself. I actually feel happy, a pleasant buzz in my stomach. Roger was right. I have to go on with my life; take my own advice for once. But I'll never forget him. Or the rest of the RENT gang.
And it's over! I wanted Mark to be happy in the end and I think he'll be happy with Hunter. Review and thank you for sticking by me through this very long process. Again, I'm sorry it took so long.
