I'm sorry. I haven't forgotten about this story and I haven't died…physically, I just have no life and no time and usually no energy when I do.

I do not own RENT or any characters therein. I do own my plot and my OCs.

There's a First Time for Everything

Mark wiped the sweat from his face with his apron before tossing it into the bin. Another day, another dollar...well, a little more than a dollar, but not much. He sighed, waving bye to Dennis and Rachel as he walked out of the restaurant. It wasn't a horrible job, but he was still getting used to working every day. It was especially miserable because the diner didn't have air conditioning in the back. There was a small unit in the front that made it comfortable for the customers, but the staff had to fend for themselves (which they mostly did by hiding in the walk-in cooler any chance they got).

Mark was quickly setting himself up a routine. Go to work, go home, take a shower, go to the cafe, and then go to bed. Some nights, he'd get to see Marshall and some others he'd hang out with another one of his new friends or go to a party or something with Reye, and on the weekends he usually spent his off hours at Marshall and Reye's apartment. But work was causing him to mainly just go home, though.

His coworkers were okay. A couple of them talked to him, but most of them just said what was necessary for work. No one was mean though, they just sort of ignored him. He figured it would just take a while to get into the little inner circle they had...although he wasn't really sure if he wanted in yet. As he pedaled home, he tried to remember what Marshall's schedule for the night was. He couldn't remember if he was shooting the bachelorette party tonight or tomorrow, but either way he figured he would head over to the apartment.

He was awfully glad that Marshall wasn't like Reye and had no issues defining his sexuality. Nothing would test a gay man's sexuality more than a roomful of drunk and horny bridesmaids who were twice as desperate and slutty as usual thanks to their depression over not being the bride, once again. Marshall was just too goodlooking to not be in danger of being bombarded by the bridesmaids. Okay, I'm definitely going over to the apartment later...not that I don't trust him, but whether or not he's gay, I do not trust them to not try to rape my man...my man, oh god when did I start thinking like that...

He finally reached the loft, choosing to chain his bike up at the bottom versus carrying it up and then down again. He wasn't planning on staying long anyways. Roger was home and sitting by the window when he came in. "Hey." Mark muttered, acknowledging Roger's half-hearted wave.

He took a shower, revelling in the lukewarm spray as it rinsed away his day of grease and grime. Showers have never felt so good as they have since I started working at 'Cafe Grease'. Walking out of the bathroom in a towel, he stopped to see Roger starring at him, eyes intense.

"What?" He asked, suddenly nervous.

Roger was silent for a moment before making a face. "You use up all the hot water?" he snapped.

Mark rolled his eyes. "We don't even get hot water, and didn't you shower this morning?"

"Thanks for the update, Sr. Stalker. Now why don't you go out and waste money, like usual?" Roger growled, turning from Mark and back to the window.

"Sounds like a grand idea." muttered the filmmaker, going to his room. When he left a half hour later, Roger muttered a goodbye that Mark pointedly ignored.

LINE

It turned out that Marshall wasn't home when he got there, but Mark didn't mind much. He and Reye spent some time describing heinous murders they would commit if Marshall came back with even a hint of perfume on him. Not to Marshall, of course, but Reye didn't think it'd be hard to track down the Super Slutty Bridesmaids, as they dubbed them.

Reye had, as Mark was finding out more and more, a very dark sense of humor and a rather twisted mind, when she felt comfortable enough around someone to expose it. Mark didn't mind, though, as Roger also had a very dark sense of humor and twisted mind, and he'd grown desensitized to casual conversations of mutilation and death years ago. In truth, a lot of it had rubbed off on Mark at some point, and he managed to make Reye shiver with disgust during one particularly vivid description, a feat of which he was very proud.

After a while, though, they got bored of the conversation and moved on to cards.

"Reye...Reye?"

She looked up from her hand. "Yeah?"

"...Your hand is shaking."

She looked down at her hands, and placing the cards down, rubbed them roughly on her legs. "Yeah...I'm a bit wired...drank a bunch of coffee earlier cause I stayed up last night." she responded, continuing to rub her legs.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, and Reye didn't miss the note of concern.

She grinned and Mark couldn't tell whether it was forced or not. "Oh yeah, I'm fine...I know what'd help me relax, though."

Mark shrugged with a small smile. "If you want to, sure, we can chase."

She grinned and immediately got up to get her stuff. Mark put away the cards and then watched her set up the heroin. "You're going to shoot up today?" He asked, a little confused at the sight of the syringe.

She shrugged, sliding a hand into her fading purple hair. "Yeah...but I'll set you up to chase."

He stared at the syringe for a moment, suddenly curious. "Is it much better that way?"

She beamed. "Are you kidding? Its like comparing frozen yogurt to a hot fudge sundae...or coffee at a diner to a caramel cappucino with whipped cream...or-or...or a cassette tape to a live concert. Its ten times better, and faster."

He laughed. "Okay, okay! I get it."

She stared at him for a moment. "You wanna try it? ...You'll like it, I promise. And I'll be real careful, I know just how much to give you."

He bit his lower lip for a moment. If it really is that good…I kinda want to know what its like…just once won't hurt me… He shrugged.. "What the hell, why not?"

She grinned again and began liquefying the heroin. "The needle's clean...we always clean ours at night, so I'll do you first. She filled the syringe then crawled over to Mark. "Hold out your arm...yep, like that...now hold still, I need to tie you off..." she put the syringe in her teeth as she tied his upper arm with an elastic. Patting his forearm for a moment, she seemed to find something she liked because she grinned as she pulled the syringe from her teeth. "Jeez, Marky, you have perfect veins for this!" At his confused stare, she explained: "They're huge and real close to the skin...Now relax, this'll sting a little cause I ain't no doctor and I haven't perfected my technique yet..."

Mark stared, transfixed as she lowered the needle to his skin and then slid it into a vein in the crook of his arm. He winced at the prick, and then again at the sensation of foreign fluid flowing through his bloodstream. He hadn't gotten a shot in years, but doubted it felt just like this. Blood had flowed back up into the syringe, mixing with the remaining heroin and he noted that she had only injected a little less than a third of the liquid into him. Pulling the needle out, she instantly slapped a cloth onto the blood that bubbled from the wound.

"Hold that there for a moment, I don't have any band-aids." she said, and he watched in silence as she quickly tied off her own arm and slid the needle in with much less care than she had his. A sliver of disgust hit him when he realized that along with the heroin, she had just injected herself with his own blood.

And then he felt it. Warmth traveled through his whole body; he could feel it running through his veins. He could feel and hear his heart beating, slowly, so slowly it seemed, in his chest. Although his vision stayed clear, the world hazed in a way, as if he wasn't really there but only dreaming. Everything, every pain and bad feeling and bit of sorrow in his life, lifted from him, pains he hadn't even been aware of feeling. It was only now that he realized just how badly he always felt, because of good he suddenly felt. His body was heavy, his limbs weighed a ton...but he was okay with that. He was okay with everything. He felt as if he were melting into a soft cloud, and nothing could ever hurt him again. The world was dissolving into a warm and wonderful mist, and he couldn't even describe the rush flowing through his body.

He knew, instantly, that he had never been as happy or felt as good as he did, right then. He smiled lazily over at Reye who was obviously riding her own bliss, her eyes shut and empty syringe still in her hand.

Dreamy and content and...happy. Happiness in its purest form, that was his existence. How the fuck did I ever live without feeling like this? This is...wondrous.

"How do you feel?" Reye asked after a minute..or ten...or, hell, maybe thirty...Mark couldn't tell.

"Like someone bottled happiness and you just injected it straight into my blood." he grinned.

"I know, right?" she murmured, sliding back against the floor.

Mark lay next to her, for once content to not do anything, not talk, not move…for once, he was content just to be. He wasn't sure how long they laid there when he heard someone coming down the hall.

Mark looked up at the sound of the key scraping in the lock, watching as Marshall walked in, equipment in tow. He looked exhausted, and there were lipstick smears on his cheeks and forehead. Mark knew he should be feeling intensely jealous at the moment, but instead the sight didn't bother him in the least.

"Marshall!" he greeted, starring up at his boyfriend from the floor.

Marshall didn't smile back, or speak, for a moment, setting his equipment down almost absently as he surveyed the scene. After a moment, he broke the silence.

"You shot up." He observed tonelessly.

Mark nodded. Reye simply stared at the two of them, quiet for a rare moment. Marshall came over and kneeled in front of Mark.

"How much did you give him?" he asked Reye, keeping his eyes on Mark.

"Twenty…maybe a tiny bit more." Reye murmured.

"Units?" Marshall asked. She nodded and he nodded thoughtfully, seemingly satisfied by the answer. Coaxing Mark up into a sitting position, he slid his hands over his forehead and cheeks, then pressing two fingers into the side of his neck as he looked into his eyes. Then, appearing satisfied with his examination, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips and gently untied the tourniquet from Mark's arm that both he and Reye had forgotten about.

"Hey there, babes." He said quietly.

"How was the shoot, loverboy?" Mark asked, sliding a finger across a lipstick stain on Marshall's forehead.

He chuckled. "Horrid. Those putas were almost vicious! I thought I'd never make it out alive."

He continued to talk to Mark as he started preparing another dose. Mark watched passively as Marshall found a vein and shot up, talking the whole while. The image of blood rushing back up into the vial didn't phase him as much this time. He also noted that while Marshall shot up more than he had taken, he didn't do quite as much as Reye had.

Mark felt relaxed into his high. The first few moments had been…indescribable and amazing, but now he simply felt content, dreamy, and more relaxed and at ease than he ever had before.

Marshall rode his rush for a few minutes, and Mark and Reye let him be as they talked quietly. Marshall joined in their conversation after a while, and soon they moved onto the couch. Marshall sitting, Mark half laying on him, and Reye stretched out with her head on Mark's leg.

For once in his life, Mark finally understood.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark sighed as he walked into the loft. He'd meant to wait out his high before going home, but as it was nearly two am, and he was still doped up, he finally just gave up and went home.

Roger was sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar, when he came in.

"Hey." Mark greeted.

Roger looked up at him, made a face, and started walking over to his room without a word.

"Fuck you, too, then." Mark muttered.

Roger froze for a second but didn't turn around. After a moment, he continued on his way to his room and slammed the door.

Mark found he didn't care and wandered to bed where he fell asleep almost instantly.

LINELINELINELINELINE

…its been a long time since I've written for this, so maybe my writing has changed. But what do you guys think?

I think I might have time start jumping now. There' about twenty chapters left…I estimate. I'll try to update sooner but I can't promise anything. I've been working 20-30hrs/week, plus I'm pres of a major campus organization and I'm a fulltime student. I've literally had no time…but I will make more of an effort.

I promise I will not abandon this story!