A/N: YAY! April AND ROGER GET TO "CATCH UP" THIS CHAPTER! Well, I'm excited! This chapter, we get to hear what happened since April's "death", which will probably explain a lot. I'm diverging a little bit from the actual plot of RENT (I KNOW THAT APRIL SLITS HER WRISTS IN RENT THANKYOUVERYMUCH!) so it makes sense in the story. Work with it please.

This is my last update before SUMMER! I have finals today, tommorow, and the next day. I won't be able to get on until my sisters are sent to camp and I can, in turn, use the computer.

Well, that was a slightly (You: SLIGHTLY?! (Me: all right, VERY!)) insane author's note. Thank you for your patience.

THIMBLES, and on with the fic!

Saran VD

Slitting Her Wrists in the Bathroom?

In the Eyes of the Beholder

I arrived at the loft at three, hoping it was an okay time. Apparently, it was. Roger was alone in the loft, sitting on the decrepit couch, reading. Reading? My mind exploded due to shock.

"Hey, April," he said, without looking up. My mind re-exploded.

"What are you reading?" I asked, plopping down next to him on the couch. Right after the question came out, I realized what he was reading. It was one of my old notebooks that I must've left behind. "Where did you find that?"

"You left it," he said.

"I realize that, but where exactly did you find it?"

"By the windowsill."

I flipped the cover up so that I could see which notebook it was. I had assumed that it was a story that I had put on hiatus, never to work on it again. Instead, it was a rough draft of a novel I was working on still. "I have a newer draft of that in my apartment. It doesn't suck nearly as much as the old one."

"Shut up and let me read!" he spat.

I almost fainted. "It's that good?"

"Yes."

He finished remarkably quickly, closed the notebook, and turned to face me. "You left it with a cliffhanger," he growled.

"Sorry!"

He handed it to me. "Write more," he urged.

"I told you, I have a copy of it in a notebook at my apartment."

"Oh yeah…"

I laughed. "What have you been up to, Roger Davis? And how did you end up with Mimi?"

"Honestly, it was really weird."

"All the more reason for me to know what it is."

"Well, the power went out, and she came up here and asked me to light her candle, so I did."

I tried to picture it, but I just ended up laughing.

"Yeah, it was pretty funny, but cute. She kept blowing it out and bending over and… man, she looked hot."

"Roger!" I scolded.

"She did! Still does…"

"Alright, enough about your amazing sex life."

"Sorry." He glanced at me, taking in how my style had changed over the last five years. I had gone from wearing feminine, flattering dresses to simple, well-worn jeans and t-shirts. "And what about you?"

"Well," I told him, "you remember the note?"

He nodded. "'Dear Roger,'" he recited, "'I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I can't take any more of this shit that keeps happening to us. I messed up my life so badly, with drugs and HIV, that I can't stand to live it anymore. I've messed up your life in the same way, and it hurts me to know this. I have to end this pain. All my love forever, April Ericsson."

"You memorized it?"

He nodded.

"Well, anyway, I went over to the bridge, and let a shoe fall into the water. I put on my other pair of shoes and grabbed a taxi to my parents' house."

"So they knew the whole time."

"Will you let me finish? Anyway, my parents wouldn't let me leave home again until they were sure that I could fend for myself. That meant getting over the bohemian lifestyle, getting off of heroin, and being able to make my own living. Unfortunately, I never completely did one of the three.

"So Mom had me just stop using, getting rid of all the syringes and needles in the house. I don't think I've ever felt worse in my life. All my muscles were cramped, I had a fever, and I couldn't sleep. About a day after I stopped, my fever got so high that Mom and Dad had to take me to a hospital. I came really close to dying, which would've been a relief. Unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Shut up, Roger," I said with a laugh, shoving him playfully.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I'm telling a story! Anyways, Mom decided that I would need more help, so she signed me up for rehab. I did ok, I guess. Actually, no, I failed completely. I started using again as soon as I got out of there. So Mom put me in rehab again… and again… and again. I failed every time. I had completely lost my will to succeed at anything.

"Mom tried to cure me by giving me responsibility. She gave me a kitten."

"A kitten?" Roger snorted.

"Don't be mean! Elsie's the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

Roger laughed again.

I rolled my eyes. "It worked, though. She was a little orphan kitten, and I had to bottle-feed her. It was like taking care of a human baby. Once I could leave Elsie alone without her yowling at the door for me, I went back to rehab, stuck with it, and finally quit.

"It took me two years to get rid of one of my vices, and according to my parents, I still had two more: my unemployment and my bohemian spirit. I solved my unemployment by working part-time at McDonald's. Most of my time was spent in the family kitchen, reading our old family recipes, and adding subtle changes: a squirt of lemon juice; a pinch of garlic; a half-cup of mozzarella cheese. Some of the stuff I tried was awful, but most of it was delicious. I wanted to write, so I simply took my recipes, organized them, added little characters that helped give instructions, and sent it to a publisher.

"I was lucky. I struck gold for the first time ever. They loved it, thought it was really unique, and I got my first- and only- book published. I don't quite know why all of New York thinks I've written more than one, unless there's a black-market of my old notebooks floating around."

"Well, maybe that's where I got this one," Roger said with a sly smile.

"Psh, yeah right," I snorted.

"So, anyway, is that all? Don't you have one vice left?" he asked.

"Remember, I still haven't cured myself of one of them." I sighed. "So, what's been going on with you guys?"

"Not much, we all have AIDS, 'No day but today,' me being angsty and unable to write songs. The usual."

"Why am I not surprised?"

The power went out. It was a cloudy day, so the room was dark. "Dammit," Roger growled.

"Oooh, is Roger afraid of the dark?" I teased.

"No!" he snapped, but his voice quavered. Tough-guy-rock-star-Roger was afraid of the dark!

"What, Roger, are you afraid that something might sneak up on you?" My fingers tiptoed up his arm to his shoulder.

"No!"

"Yes you are, don't lie. I've always been able to tell when you're lying."

"All right, fine. I don't like the dark. Got any candles?"

"Mimi would."

"True."

"But I'm not Mimi."

"And that's why I like you," he said. We fell silent. The pause lasted for what seemed like an eternmity. "I shouldn't have said that." Roger stood up and bustled around, searching for a non-electrical light source.

"Rog," I said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Yes?"

I pulled my keychain out of my russet leather Coach purse. "I have a mini flashlight." I pressed the on button, and a little beam of light shone on his face. He looked ashamed.

"You know I didn't… I mean… Mimi…" stumbled Roger.

"We're different," I finished, and he nodded meekly. I hadn't seen Roger fall apart like this in so long. It had only happened once before, and that was at the hospital.

I gave him a friendly squeeze. "When's the wedding?" I asked, not letting go right away.

"Three months," he said, brightening a little bit.

I pulled away and shone the light right into his eyes. "Do I get to come?"

"Of course!" He squinted to see through the light. "April!"

"What?"

"Get that damn light out of my eyes!"

I grinned, but lowered it. "Better?"

"Much."

"Got everything planned?"

"Outfits aren't going so well, since Joanne won't wear a dress and Angel doesn't want to wear a tux."

I laughed.

"It's not funny!"

"Oh, Roger," I said, patting him on the shoulder.

He grabbed my arm, twisted it, and pinned me to the couch.

"Mercy!" I yelled with a laugh, and I had barely started to sit up when the door opened quite unexpectedly. My flashlight automatically went to the doorway.

Standing there, frowning slightly, were Angel, Mimi, and Mark. I began to wonder how long they had been out there.

"Out," snapped Mimi, moving quickly beside Roger and placing a hand firmly around his waist.

Angel and Mark said nothing.

"And you weren't invited!" snapped Mimi.

I hung my head and left like a dog, with my tail between my legs. "See you, Roger."

"Bye," he said, and as I closed the door, I heard a slap and Roger retort, "What did I do?"

Note to self, I thought, Mimi is extremely jealous. Avoid crossing her in Roger's presence.