New bohemia, pt 2.

It comes quickly, the wild applause. She pushes her flyway hair out of her face and gives the audience a small grin, before exiting stage left. The boy winks at her and leaves stage right.

The boy in the skirt slips off his heels backstage and bounces a little on the balls of his feet. "That was Amazing, Klara!" He whispered excitedly. She grinned in response. "Oh, I know. I was so feeling it tonight," She responded, also in hushed tones. "But do you remember that time when they like, didn't clap at all? It was such a dead audience that night! I was so worried it would happen again." The boy rolled his eyes at her and swatted her arm. Before they could exchange any more words, though, a young woman dressed in black dragged the boy away, preparing him for his next cue. "Actors…" she muttered angrily under her breath.

Klara giggled faintly, wandering over to wardrobe for her costume change. She'd need to be on in a few minutes. The whole cast would for 'Will I'. The fist chords rang out of the theater, and she took her place, stage left, waiting for her cue.

By the time her voice joined the throng, the entire room rang with raw emotion. It was always so remarkable how RENT echoed her life. Tears leaked, unnoticed, from her eyes. It always got her, this song. Would she? Would SHE lose her dignity? Would the world forget about Klara Duleana? Would she fade to nothing, a mere speck of humanity?

Maybe she would. But singing about it always made it hurt less.

------------- 3-------------

She bowed enthusiastically, glowing at the roar of applause. It made the tearstained cheeks and sweat soaked hair worth it. Klara watched a few people in the front row break down with emotion, and instinctively grabbed the hand of the boy standing at her side. They shared wide grins, giggling as they slapped their hands together, attempting to clap for the rest of the cast. Finally—one last bow. One more performance finished.

Backstage, the flurry of activity was almost numbing. Techs and actors passed with encouraging words aimed at each other. Klara stopped, standing amid people rushing everywhere, grinning like a maniac. The magic of the Nederlander didn't end with curtain call. This is what she lived for.

"Great job, KK, you were really on tonight—"

"You wanna grab some dinner sweet stuff? Nice job, by the way—"

"Oy! Kuh-lara, fabulous job—"

"Ohmigod, that was like, our best performance EVER—"

"Aaaaaugh! You crazy people! I am very aware of my fabulosity, no need to remind me!" Klara laughed, pressing her hands to her ears. Most of the cast giggled around her, prying her hands away from her head, and poking fun.

She wished it could be like this forever.

------------ 3------------

Klara stopped briefly on the sidewalk, flicking open her lighter and sticking a cigarette in her mouth. Up ahead, the small boy, now out of drag, slipped his hand through the tall black man's arm. He tilted his head up and they shared a chaste kiss. Klara smiled—it was really fitting that their Angel and Collins, better known in the real world as Christopher and Caleb respectively, were in love outside of the production.

"You coming, Kay-kay?" Chris shouted back, where Klara fumbled with her lighter. "Shit." She whispered as she sucked on her newly-burnt thumb. "Yeah, hold your horses, I'm coming." She threw the cigarette on the ground irately and shoved the lighter in her pocket.

They waited for her to catch up. They always did.

-------------- 3--------------

Klara didn't plan on becoming HIV positive. Neither did anyone she knew who had it. The guy who gave it to her, she didn't even know his name. He cornered her as she cut through a back alley, rushing home.

She didn't get home very quickly.

It was so unexpected. Rape was something that happened to other people. Not her. But, it happened. She just had to deal with it. Somehow. Someway.

She tried cutting first. When she stumbled home after midnight that night, her first instinct was to bleed away every single memory the day. So she picked up a knife, drawing it up from her ankles to her knees, completely numb to the pain.

Caleb found her. Klara remembered his arms around her as he moved her into a sitting position on their couch. She might have bled to death if he hadn't woken up and found her. She was lucky in her roommates.

She thought he'd scold her, or freak out. He just silently got out some gauze and bandaged her legs. When he was done, he looked up at her. She couldn't take the silence. The whole story came out in shaky breaths and sobs.

He just listened. Chris hugged her when he found out. He wrapped his arms around her, barely coming up to her chin, and held her shaking form.

It was suicide next. With everything going on, she hadn't thought about the health related consequences. But three weeks later, she went to her yearly HIV test, just to be safe.

It was positive.

Panic was first. What about Caleb, who bandaged her up? What if he'd gotten some blood on his hands, what if it seeped into a blister, or cut? Desperation next. She stopped sobbing. She didn't do anything. Nothing good could ever come, EVER again. Never never never.

Then she broke. She slashed at herself, losing her mind in the blood and tears and pain. Klara wasn't numb this time. She felt ever drop of blood oozing out of her.

C and C, as she called them sometimes, came home to find her passed out on the ground, her test results lying crumpled on the floor next to her. They bound her wound, and paced the floor, and held each other and cried.

Then she woke up. Her eyes flickered open, and reality came crashing through her peaceful dream world, that pleasant abyss between life and death. They gasped, sobbed, and hugged her. Klara decided then she had to live. For their sakes.

For a month or more, she floated in a broken, saddened state. Unwilling to do anything. Sometimes unwilling even to bother with breathing. Caleb and Chris were great. They finger combed her short hair, and told her stories about work, and shared dreams of the future.

Then she found a new way to deal with the pain.

Theater.

--------------- 3---------------

Three months later, Klara was Mimi, Chris was Angel, and Caleb was Collins. Original cast. Broadway revival. RENT. They didn't know the rest of the cast, but they would soon.

A new spring came into Klara's step. She danced down hallways, and found her voice again, singing out every ounce of pain she once carried with her. It helped, it really did. She smiled at her reflection for the first time in months.

Klara Duleana. Ready to take the Nederlander by storm.

A/n: So, a little bit of angst in this little crack fic. Bet you bitches weren't ready for THAT. Anyway, yes, it would be so, so easy to just make this a run of the mill little cracky thing. But I want to build the characters, give them their own conflicts before I bring in the main plot elements. To recap, the year is 2012, it's early fall, and the story is Klara centric. She is an OC. As are Chris and Caleb.

I have some good ideas for the next chapter, so stay tuned!

3