Note: Okay this is just going to be a series of unrelated one-shot songfics. I haven't written songfics before and thought I'd try my hand at them. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning my other stories, just wanted to get some experience at songfics. Oh and the song lyrics are in italics.

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, suicide, and character death

Song Featured: The Dance (Garth Brooks)

Disclaimer: RENT is the sole property of Jonathan Larson. Also, the song "The Dance" does not belong to me either, it belongs to its writer (sorry I don't know who that is).

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"I got an idea," April said with a smile.

Roger couldn't do anything but grin and follow her out of the club. They'd just met, but he couldn't manage to tear himself from her. The pair made their way to her car, a beat-up blue clunker that Roger was amazed still ran. She drove for a few minutes in silence, giggling and shaking her head when he asked where they were going. The car turned off the road and screeched to a stop just before the highway. April turned the radio on full blast and jumped out of the car.

Looking back on the memory

Of the dance we shared 'neath the stars above

For a moment, all the world was right

How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye?

"April, come on. This is bullshit!"

"Just try it! For God's sake, Roger, quit acting like such a fucking saint!"

"I can't believe you!"

"I thought you wanted to be a rock star!"

And now I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go…

"You met this chick at a gig?" Maureen asked.

"Yeah and she's not just some chick. She's amazing."

"So amazing and addicted to smack."

"Sometimes you have to take a chance on people."

"Sometimes you have to walk away."

Our lives are better left to chance

"April! We're gonna be late!" Roger yelled, pounding on the door. There was no answer.

He pushed the door open. April lay naked in the bathtub, blood lazily dripping down from her opened wrists.

I could've missed the pain

But I'd have had to miss the dance

Roger sank to his knees, tears exploding from his heart. He crawled across the bathroom to the tub and pulled her lifeless body up into his arms, remembering the first time he'd held her.

Holding you, I held everything

For a moment, wasn't I a king?

Mark found them an hour later. Roger had let go of her. He sat beside the tub, knees drawn to his chest, rocking back and forth. Mark tried to reach out to him but Roger jerked away, pointing a shaky hand at the mirror. Red lipstick streaked across the mirror: "Baby, we got AIDS."

But if I'd only known how the king would fall

Hey, who's to say, you know, I might have changed it all.

He lay on the bed, shaking still. Collins had cleaned him up. He wouldn't let anyone else touch him. Collins already had HIV. He wouldn't get Collins sick. Now Maureen sat at his side, whispering to him and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

And now I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go…

Three weeks passed. Mark took him to the clinic to get the results. They all knew the results were positive. They knew before Roger was even tested. Between the drugs and the sex, there was no way anyone was lucky enough to have not contracted it.

Our lives are better left to chance

Roger lay trembling on the bed. His legs kicked out and the sweat dripped from his forehead. Mark and Collins took turns sitting with him.

"It hurts, Mark. It hurts," he moaned.

"I know, Rog. It'll be okay, though."

I could've missed the pain but I'd have had to miss the dance

"Every time I think about her, every time I hear her name or see her picture…it just hurts," he said softly.

Maureen pulled him into a hug. "I know, sweetie. We all miss her. You just have to think about the good things, the good memories."

Roger jerked away. "Good memories? She ruined my life! I'm gonna die because of her!"

"Don't. Don't do that, Roger. She bought your first hit, she gave you your first hit, but you kept doing it. You kept buying and you kept shooting up and you kept fucking without condoms."

Roger fell to the couch, tears engulfing him. Maureen sat beside him and ran a hand through his hair.

"Honey, you have to think of the good things…"

"Like what?"

"Like what good memories you have of her. And she did introduce us to Mark."

Yes, my life is better left to chance.

Roger sat by the window. It was well past midnight. The moonlight managed to trickle down through the city lights into the loft. Roger sighed. It had been a year. One year since they'd met.

I could've missed the pain but I'd have had to miss the dance.