If You Were Gay

by ursomalevolent

PreRent. Collins wasn't always so open about his sexuality to his friends. In which Collins reads LotR, Roger throws beer cans, and revelations are made. Based on the Avenue Q song of the same title.

If You Were Gay- In which Collins reads LotR, Roger throws beer cans, and revelations are made. Based on the Avenue Q song of the same title.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rent or Avenue Q. They own me. I don't own Lord of the Rings either, in fact, I've never even read it, but someone at camp was going on about it last year, so the stuff I said about it is coming from him.

Set Pre-Rent, pre-April, pre-Mark and Benny, pre-drugs for Roger, pre-AIDS for everyone.

After a long, cathartic day of classes and cramming for finals, Collins finally found a few spare moments for himself.

Scheduled free time.

Above all, the loft was empty. Completely devoid of Roger and Maureen. Not that he disliked his room mates, quite the opposite, but it was still nice to have some quiet time. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to Roger and Maureen's collective commotion either; they'd grown up in the same neighborhood when they had decided to follow Collins to New York, he'd known what he was getting himself in to. He curled up in the corner of the duct taped couch (a dumpster-diving discovery of Roger's) with his well worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Although it wasn't really academically relevant, he tried to make a point of reading it at least once a year. It had been a childhood favorite since he'd first read it when he was eight, but he hadn't really noticed or understood the political and societal statements until he was about nine or ten.

"Finally, a quiet moment to read my favorite book and drink my coffee," he said to the empty loft, enjoying the sound of his deep voice reverberating off the high ceiling.

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shi-

As though Collins' statement of pleasure at the idea of having the loft to himself were an invitation to the fates, no sooner had he begun to read, than the peace was disturbed. He heard the steady galumph, galumph, galumph of boots climbing the creaky staircase that lead to their place, and his stomach sank. Roger. "Damnit kid," he muttered under his breath, "Shouldn't you be playing your guitar on the sidewalk for quarters or something?"

Roger slid open the metal utility door and set his battered guitar case lovingly against the wall. "Good day Mr. Collins," he said in a falsely sophisticated accent. "I come bearing gifts of day-old bread and doughnuts. I cashed in the change I got from playing in the park and the bakery was practically giving this away." He smiled proudly, laying them out on the small metal table like a banquet.

"Very good, Roger, tonight we feast like kings," he said, sarcastically. "So, a real red letter day for playing Stones covers along with bits of opera music?"

Tossing an empty beer can in the general direction of Collins' head, Roger said, "Hey, lay off my La Bohéme. I don't make fun of you for reading about Munchkins. Besides, I only know Musetta's Waltz."

"They aren't Munchkins," Collins said, in a mock-defensive tone, "I'll have you know that they are Hobbits, and there's a big difference. So if you'll excuse me-" He raised the paperback to his face and continued reading, blocking out the considerable noise Roger was causing in the kitchen.

"Oh, hey guess what!" Roger blurted, excitedly.

Collins groaned deeply, pressing the pages of his book on his nose and inhaling the slightly musty odor. This was the same thing Roger did all through junior high and high school when they'd be trying to do homework. Even Collins, who had been two grades ahead of him and Maureen, was often prevented from concentrating on an assignment because of Roger's ever-running mouth.

All those years had also taught him that Roger didn't like being ignored, and the best way to get him to shut up was to indulge whatever kick he was on. Without removing the pages from his face, he simply asked, "What?"

His room mate grinned at the acknowledgement and began, "Well I was playing in that one spot in the park today, right?"

Only half listening, Collins asked, "Playing in the park? What like, on the monkey bars?"

Rolling eyes, Roger chucked another empty beer can, this one making contact with the binding of the book obscuring Collins' face and bouncing off behind the couch. "Playing my guitar, dummy. Would you at least pretend to listen?"

"Sorry, I'm listening," he said, apologetically, lowering the book from his nose, "But come on Roger, I'm trying to read about these Munch-its. I mean Hobb-kins. Hobbits! Damnit, see what you've done?"

Laughing, Roger said, "Fine, just let me tell my story, then I'll let you get back to your Munch-its. So I'm playing in the park, right, and this guy dropped a five, a five, in my case, and sort of hung around to listen for a while. The whole time I'm playing, he's all smiling and stuff. Then when I was taking a break, he sat down on a bench with me and started talkin' to me. He was trying to be all charming and shit," he paused for a minute as though expecting some sort of addition from Collins. When he received none, he continued, "Dude, he was totally hitting on me! I think he thought I was gay or something."

Or something.

Collins' heart skipped a beat within his chest. Was Roger getting at something? Because of some baseless anxiety, Collins had not yet told his two oldest friends and room mates that he was gay. He wasn't sure why he was worried, or what it was he thought they would say, but he'd never been able to articulate it to them. As far as he knew, neither Roger, nor Maureen had particularly strong feelings for or against homosexuality; it just didn't come up very often between them. Through high school, he'd publicly dated girls and had even taken their homecoming queen to senior prom; he'd felt affection toward those girls, but it simply wasn't the same. Being the small, conservative area that their home town was, Collins had met very few other guys who shared his orientation, so his dating life with other males had been somewhat limited. That was until now. Now, in college, in the city, he'd encountered a number of guys he'd been attracted to and were attracted to him in return. And still, with these new developments, he remained cagey about his personal life around his friends, and continued to bring girls around them merely to keep up the façade. Not that there weren't guys. Oh yes, there were guys, even if he chose not to bring them back to the loft.

Keeping a casual tone, he said, "Well, it must be the eye liner. What can I say, you attract them." He knew it was bull, but if he kept the conversation one-sided, Roger couldn't suspect anything.

Seeing that there were no more cans on the counter to throw, Roger resorted to sampling sticking his tongue out, "If Keith Richards can do it, so can I. I am fairly irresistible though," pretending to check his reflection in the broken toaster. "But still," he said, growing slightly more serious and leaning down on the table, "don't you think it's at least the slightest bit interesting?"

The slightest bit. But you don't need to know that.

"Roger, what the hell do I care about some gay guy you met in the park?" he said, annoyed. "I'm just trying to read my damn book. Did you find anything for lunch? Mo left you some Chinese from last night."

Roger plunked down sideways in the second – or fifth- hand Lay-Z-Boy, "Don't get defensive man-"

"I'm not getting defensive!" Collins interjected, fiercely.

Putting up his hands calmingly, he said, "Fine, fine, jeez. Calm down Collins. It's not like I was implying anything. Sorry, I didn't know we couldn't say 'gay' around you."

Putting the book back in front of his face, Collins gruffly said, "Whatever. If your story is over, I'd like to read."

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was silence for a few minutes in which Collins' heart rate returned to normal. Roger had returned to his room and Wild Horses began floating through the loft. Before Collins could have too much time to appreciate the semi-quiet however, the door of Roger's bedroom opened and he crept out as though he thought he would go unnoticed. Ignoring his room mate, Collins kept his eyes trained on his page and remained dead still.

"Hey, Collins?" Roger asked, standing right behind him.

Collins jumped a foot in the air and threw his book down on the couch beside him. "What is it now Roger?!? Meet another gay guy in your room that you'd like to tell me about?"

Smirking mischievously, Roger said, "No, if there was a gay guy in my room—never mind. I just want to let you know something." He paused for a moment, pulling the neck strap of his guitar over his head. "In song."

"Roger, seriously, you're gonna find that guitar up your ass in about a minute," he growled. He lowered his head to his hand, and suppressed a laugh when he realized that the statement didn't do much to support the 'I'm not gay' defense.

He took a dramatic step back and struck a random chord on the strings. "You can sodomize me with a musical instrument when I'm done with my song."

"Fine," he gave up on reading and closed his book.

Roger took the opportunity to hit a chord on his guitar that Collins wasn't sure had been planned or not. "If you were gay," he sang, putting a foot up on the large empty spool serving as a coffee table. "That'd be okay, I mean 'cause hey, I'd like you anyway! Because you see, if it were me, I would feel free to say that I was gay! But I'm not gay!"

"Oh god," Collins groaned, covering his face. This was unimaginable. Never, in a million years, would he have thought that his best friend would be standing there, playing a song he'd written about him being gay; a fact he'd been ever so careful to conceal for years.

But Roger was by no means done with his song.

"If you were queer," he went on, "I'd still be-" Collins leapt from his seat on the couch and started after Roger who continued to sing and play his Fender. "I'd still be here, year after year, because you're dear to me!" Roger skipped through the loft, cradling his guitar as Collins kept hot on his heels.

"Roger!" Collins howled, tripping over a magazine. He didn't know why he was bothering, but he couldn't just sit on the couch and listen to Roger trying to out him.

"And I know that yoou would accept me too-"

"Would I?"

"Yup. If I told you today: Hey guess what, I'm gay! But I'm not gay," he sang. He was clearly enjoying his upper hand far too much. When Collins made another attempt to catch him, he sprung up on to the table, careful of his bread and doughnuts. "I'm happy being with you. So what should it matter to me what you do in bed with guys!?!" He accented the last five words by shaking his butt in Collins' face after each one.

Collins found he was actually having a lot of trouble staying mad about the situation. He felt he should be, but part of him saw how absurd it all was and really just wanted to laugh with his friend, jump up on the table, and fly a pride flag with him. "Roger, that's gross!" he stormed, doing his best to sound aggravated.

"No it's not!" Roger hooted. "If you were gay, I'd shout hurray! And here I'd stay, but I wouldn't get in your way. You can count on me to always be beside you every day to tell you it's okay. You were just born that way, and as they say, it's in your DNA. You're gay!"

"I'm not gay!" Collins insisted. He rescued on of the thrown beer cans from the couch and tossed it at Roger, making contact with his forehead.

Roger hopped down from the table and stood in front of his friend, drawing himself up to his full height, which amounted to somewhere around Collins' chest. "What is your problem?"

"You're my problem! I keep telling you that I'm not gay, over and over, but you come out here with a song composed about my sexuality," he ranted, pushing Roger an arms length away.

"Fine. I just think it's stupid for someone to hide who they are. That's what the song was about: people in general, not just you specifically. A little narcissistic aren't we?" Roger said, taking the guitar off his shoulder strap and holding it by the neck. "What? Are you worried someone you've never met and will never see again will call you a fag or something?"

Collins threw his arms out to his sides. "I am not a fag, Roger!"

"So I've heard," Roger said, fuming. He turned away and carried his guitar back toward his room. Before he could go in however, he paused at the door and added, "But I'd rather be a faggot than afraid," just loud enough for Collins to hear and to drop like a lead weight in the open loft after the bedroom door shut.

He stood there, in the empty loft for several moments, not moving. Finally, he returned to his seat on the couch and picked up his book about Munch-its or Hobb-kins or whatever they were. Would it be so terrible? he wondered. Roger obviously wouldn't have a problem with it. He opened the worn paperback and begin to read again, this time without the random bars of Rolling Stones songs meeting his ears. By the time the time came for Frodo and Sam to depart from the Shire to meet Gandalf, he'd closed the book again and left it on the couch, making his way to the closed bedroom door, no longer afraid of who Roger had guessed he was.

So…Yeah…there it is. If you were totally lost, I recommend that you go listen to "If You Were Gay" from Avenue Q.

Reviews would rock my world. Virtual generic candy coated chocolates for whoever can say where Roger's line at the end came from.