Disclaimer: I do not own RENT or any characters or concepts. All belongs to Jonathan Larson. I'm just playing.

Withdrawal Fic. Contains Mark/Maureen, Benny/Alison and Roger/ April

Random Song note: Adam Pascal's "Book of Endings" is incrediably catchy. I can't get it out of my head.

Mark Cohen, Tom Collins and Benjamin Coffin the Third (or Benny as he was known on good days) sat around the "living room" area of their shared loft in various states of unease. Their other roommate Roger Davis had not returned the night before. An aspiring rock star or "rock god" as he so aptly put it, Roger had had a gig the night before at a small bar with his band The Well Hungarians. Usually on nights with paying gigs, Roger was home considerably early, tired but with a grin on his face and plenty of stories to tell about the various fans he had met or made. That was the old Roger though. He had made a new friend in the month of Friday and Saturday night gigs at that seedy little bar. His new girlfriend April not withstanding, Roger had made friends with heroin. The extreme change in Roger had left its imprints on each of his friends. Before the drugs, no one really worried about Roger. Mark did a little (When did Mark Cohen not worry about everyone he knew and even people he didn't? Collins always said that Mark would worry himself into an ulcer), but not nearly as much as now. But why shouldn't I worry about Roger? Mark had thought when Collins mentioned Mark's mother hen tendencies toward Roger. He's my best friend. We've been through everything together. He's more than a friend. He's part of my family.

Mark and Roger had been friends since junior high. The scrawny misfit and the token "bad boy" made the most unlikely of friends, but after getting to know each other one day in science class while working as lab partners, they became inseparable. Mark and Roger had made the conscious decision together to move to New York City and live to make their dreams come true. After a very short stint at Brown for Mark and an even shorter one at Scarsdale Community College for Roger, both young men packed their things and headed for "The City That Never Sleeps". Bored with studying film theories Mark just wanted to be a filmmaker. He didn't care about the different angles different directors took. He was his own man and in so being, his own director. Roger on the other hand had had enough of 13th grade and longed to devote days on end to his music, which he loved more than just about anything else. They found a flyer advertising for roommates on a telephone pole on a day trip into the city to help pay the rent from a young grad student, Tom Collins. They answered the ad and along with Benny became roommates and friends.

Life in the city was hard. Sometimes (most times) they had to scrape money for food and rent. Winters went by without much heat or hot water. Both Roger and Mark lost weight from lack of proper food, were always frozen but were finally taking that long hard step to fulfilling their dreams. It seemed to Mark that Roger was way ahead of him. He was getting steady jobs at CBGB's and other notable venues across the city. When he auditioned for an up-and-coming band The Well Hungarians and was given the role of lead guitar and vocals, life changed dramatically. Roger had money and was able to help provide for the group. Food was more plentiful as was heat in the winter. His dream seemed to be taking off. Mark on the other hand was struggling with his film making. He had plenty of ideas, but nothing ever seemed to get done. He was constantly scribbling away at notepads. His room was filled with notebooks in his thin, barely legible scrawl, his characters making their way through a scene but unable to finish their actions due to severe writer's block. Most days he'd secure his camera to his bike and go to various spots across the city to film different people and events. He didn't know it at the time, but his random filming would one day win a Noble Prize and an Academy Award for Best Documentary. Mark didn't know what life held for him, and despite his genial outlook on everything he wasn't feeling very positive about his future. He'd never say anything to Roger; he was happy for him and wanted him to continue on his way up. Then the drugs happened. Mark could have easily blamed April and in many ways he did without really acknowledging it. Every time the thought crossed his mind, he'd quickly push it away. Roger was an adult now and he made his own decisions. Mark just wished that his best friend would decide that his friends (who were essentially his family) were more important than the heroin. Roger never made time for anyone but April anymore. It seemed all he had time for was smack and sex. Even music had taken a backseat, the thought which made Mark cringe the most. Mark didn't begrudge Roger happiness, but Mark didn't really think that Roger was all that happy.

The incessant tapping of a pen against a coffee cup drew Mark out of his thoughts. Collins was sitting on the floor at the short squat round table in front of the couch working through a crossword puzzle. Watching him work on those puzzles always amused Mark. He'd even filmed it. Collins would tilt his head as he read the clue, pause and then quickly fill in the blanks, working manically. Crossword puzzles were his favorite thing to do when he wasn't in class, studying or grading papers for the professors he TA'd for. Out of all the roommates, Mark thought that Collins was the most intelligent person he'd ever met. There wasn't a problem Collins couldn't solve. Right away he and Roger had become close friends with Collins. Always ready with a warm smile and a joke, Collins was one person Mark felt he could trust with his life. Roger was the other. At least Roger had been the other.

A sigh from the armchair diverted Mark's gaze. Benny looked mildly harassed. He kept glancing at the watch he always wore on his right wrist. Anger rose up in Mark's chest. Benny had recently gotten a new girlfriend, who was very rich and snooty, in Mark's opinion, and he'd changed. Benny had never really been part of the friendship that existed between Mark, Roger and Collins, but he was still their friend. He helped pull his weight with the rent. He froze and starved with them as well. But it was never really what he wanted; the bohemian lifestyle. He made his displeasure known and there was a lot of tension between him and Roger.

Mark tapped the side of the old camera he held in his hands. The camera that had become his life. The camera that had become his best friend. So deep in thought was he that the sound of the loft door sliding open made him jump. Roger stumbled through and slid it closed with a soft bang. He looked no worse for wear, still wearing the clothes he wore to the bar. His eyes however were lidded and cloudy. A goofy grin spread across his lips and he drunkenly waved at his three roommates.

"Hey guys. What are you doing up so early?" Mark glanced at his watch and frowned.

"It's twenty after one Roger. Where were you?"

"Oh, I was everywhere man. I did my gig and then I met up with April and some friends. I guess time got away from me." Roger stumbled to his bedroom and with some difficulty turned around in the doorway, "I'm going to go and lie down or something. I've been up all night, huh? I better sleep," he giggled and the next sound that was heard was his body hitting the mattress he slept on.

The silence in the common area broke as Benny stood and said, "Well, at least he's still alive. I'm late for lunch with Alison. I gotta go. She's going to be pissed as it is."

And then there were two. Mark's anger continued to rise and he felt his face reddening. The tightness that had been building ever since Roger had gotten involved with smack threatened to cease his breathing. Suddenly Mark was on his feet, his camera on the couch, pacing. Collins cocked an eyebrow.

"You okay, boy?"

Mark turned and his eyes grew wide, "Me? Am I? What the hell…Who does he think…What the fuck…" he sputtered, his strides getting shorter and quicker.

"Chill out man. Sit down." Collins had never seen Mark so worked up. Mark was the relaxed one, more worried about other people than angry at them. Now he watched his normally chill best friend angrier than Collins had ever seen him.

"Chill out!" Mark couldn't stop the shout that erupted from his lips, "How can you possibly be okay with this? He's acting irresponsibly and he's jeopardizing his entire life. There's so many ways he could kill himself! This waiting to make sure he comes back alive is killing me!" Mark's voice cracked. Turning abruptly on his heel, Mark grabbed his coat and his customary blue and white striped scarf. Throwing the coat on, he started to wrap the scarf around his neck. Suddenly he viciously yanked it off and threw it on the couch. Grabbing his camera, Mark looked at Collins, "I'm going out to film. I'll be back later."

"Mark, wait. Just calm down." Collins picked up the scarf and held it out.

"I don't want it right now and I'll calm down when I'm filming. I gotta get out of here." Collins nodded. After Mark had closed the door to the loft, he glanced at the scarf in his hands. Collins didn't know very much about Mark and Roger's past, but he did know the story behind the scarf. Roger had given it to Mark on their first holiday as friends. Roger picked it out one day, shopping for Christmas presents with his mother. He knew that Mark was Jewish, but he didn't know what to get him. Turning to his mom, he asked her about Hanukah. She told him as much as she knew, mentioning that blue and white were the colors associated with the holiday. Roger saw the scarf in passing and insisted that it would be the perfect gift. His mother agreed and two days later Mark unwrapped the scarf. A smile lit up his face as he put his first gift from his best friend around his neck. The scarf from that day on had become a part of Mark. The scarf was a part of Roger that Mark always took with him. The act of leaving the scarf behind was poignant and scared Collins a little. Next to his camera, the blue and white, slightly frayed scarf was the most important material possession Mark owned. And Mark didn't own much. The scarf was as much of an extension of Mark as his camera. Collins gently folded it and set it on the arm of the beaten couch. The sound of a beeper going off shook Collins from his thoughts. AZT break.