Author's Note: Like I said yesterday when I finally updated Diabo: I. Hate. Writer's. Block. One would think that, given the fact that today was the last day of the semester and I don't have finals until next Monday/Tuesday, I would have boatloads of ideas but… no. Unfortunately, sometime within the last few weeks, I have gone dry. Lovely, eh? Well, I hope you guys like this chapter (if anyone is reading it). Next chapter will have nice Mush/Blink fluff so at least we have that to look forward to. Woot.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor stake any claim, to any of the original characters shamelessly borrowed from Newsies – they are the property of Disney, © 1992. Any other character, when noted, is property of their respective owner and will be noted in the disclaimer. The core idea to this story – the adaptation of the Broadway musical, RENT, is © 1996 to Jonathan Larson.

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How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray?
Because one can never be sure if such a moment could be the last...

December 13, 2006

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Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care?

--

Despite his certainty that he would not fall asleep, Jack eventually did. In fact, he was sound asleep, snoring a bit, when David woke up the next morning (er, afternoon) and started to make breakfast. There was not much food in the house – just some of the bagels (slightly stale) from Christmas and half of a stick of butter that Blink and Mush had brought – so it did not take long for him to decide to throw one of the plain bagels into the microwave to soften it up before sticking it in the toaster oven to toast it.

After the way he had woken Jack up the morning before, David decided to be considerate and let his roommate sleep. He was not sure what exactly had happened last night – or if it had been a dream – but he remembered waking up sometime after midnight to a real loud slamming noise. When he asked what it was, Jack had answered him in a very snippy tone. That meant two things: one, that Jack was still awake at that time (which he could tell by the light that was on in that part of the loft) and two, that Jack was in a bad mood. He was not about to risk having his head bitten off by waking Jack up.

David sliced the bagel open and tossed it into the microwave, setting the ancient box on low for thirty seconds. The microwave whirred loudly as it softened the bread but, when David looked cautiously over his shoulder to see if the noise bothered Jack. It didn't – he was still snoring, his mouth open wide, his head tilted back on one arm of the lumpy couch.

As quietly as he could, David removed the first half of the soggy bagel from the microwave. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated the heat of the bread and, when he picked it up, it burnt his fingertips.

"Damn it," he cursed as he let go of the bagel. The bagel dropped down onto the kitchen floor as he began to blow on his fingers. "Double damn," he added, still puffing his cheeks and blowing on the minor burns, when he saw that the bagel had fallen face down onto the floor.

David bent low and scooped the bagel half up with his free hand. It was not as hot as it had been when he dropped it; he was able to handle the bread without dropping it again although it was still warm to his touch. After blowing on the bagel, dislodging any of the nastiness that had stuck to it, he slid the bagel into one side of the dented metal toaster, confident that, despite the dirty, unwashed floor, it was safe to eat – five second rule and all that. He then grabbed the second half of the bagel from the microwave. It was nowhere near as hot as the first half; David picked it up and added it to the toaster.

Again, David checked to make sure that Jack was still asleep. He had not been quiet when he burned his fingers or when he dropped the bagel onto the floor but it did not matter. Jack had not even stirred yet.

David shrugged and turned his attention back to the toaster. He fiddled with the knob, setting it to three so that the toast would be crunchy but not burnt, and pressed down on the toaster lever. Once he pressed on it, he released it and turned away from the toaster, looking at the wall clock that hung just above the loft's door.

It was already half-past noon – so maybe it was not really breakfast, since he had slept so late, but he was hungry – and he promised Blink and Mush that he would attend the three o'clock Life Support meeting at the Community Center again. It had been quite the experience when he went with them on Christmas. The photographs he had taken of the group had come out great and he was anxious to take some more.

And, if Jack was still sleeping before he left, that's when he would wake him up. He had somehow promised Blink that he would convince Jack to leave the house for once. He was not sure how he was going to accomplish that but he still had two hours – and David always did think better on a full stomach.

Lifting his nose into the air, he sniffed tentatively. Not only had it been about two minutes since he began the toaster and it had not popped up yet, but he did not smell his bagel cooking at all. Turning around, he groaned. Even though he had pressed the lever down, it did not stay down. Instead of the toaster actually toasting the bagel, it popped it right back up. He had been waiting for nothing.

David stalked back over to the toaster and pushed down on the toaster handle but did not turn around. The bagel popped back up again and he stared mutinously at the toaster. He pressed the handle again, much harder, and dared it not to hold.

As if the toaster was mocking him, the bagel halves stayed down just long enough for David to smile in satisfaction and turn away. As soon as his back was to the contraption, he heard the tell-tale sound of the toaster popping back up.

He exhaled briskly and spun back to face the dented old toaster. He had never had a problem with it before and he could not figure out why it had decided to rebel just when he wanted a bagel. Using the heel of his hand, David pressed down on the lever even harder then he had done. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated his strength. The lever went down but his hand did not stop; it slipped off of the silver lever and continued to head downward until it made contact with the counter.

It hurt, too. "Damn it," he yelled, lifting his hand up and shaking it vigorously as if he could dispel the sudden pain. He was hopping at the same time, moving in a circle, but, when he had gone around enough to face Jack, he paused. Surprisingly, though, that did not wake Jack up either.

Still shaking his hand, though not too concerned with the pain, David tried to figure out how late Jack had been up in order to so out of it this afternoon. He sighed and decided not to worry about it – it's not like he would be able to get his roommate to tell him, anyway, so it was best to leave it alone. He more pressing matters to deal with… like the stupid toaster.

David smirked victoriously when he, cradling his sore wrist, saw that the force he exerted has finally been enough to keep the toaster lever down. He did not want to jinx the appliance by staring at it, so he busied himself with getting a knife out of the sink and grabbing some paper towels to use in lieu of a plate. The butter was already on the counter, melting so that it would be easily spread.

It took a few minutes for the toaster to finish crisping up the bagel – David started to get a little paranoid that he had broken the thing and that he would never get to eat his food – before the toaster popped back up with his now-crispy, not-stale bagel. He was careful not to burn himself as he used the rusted silverware to pry the bagel out of the toaster – he was an adult, after all, and did not worry that he would electrocute himself – and slid the bagel onto the sheet of paper towel he had laid out on the counter.

He let the bread cool for a few seconds before spreading the rich butter across the top of the bagel. It was meticulously done, melted butter coating the entire flat sphere of his snack, before he tossed the spent knife back into the sink. The metal on metal made a distinctive clinking noise that he did not even register. Until…

"Dave? Can't you keep it down? I'm trying to get some shut-eye here, Noisy McLoudPants."

Jack, who had been sleeping on his back for most of the night, rolled over onto his side, his face buried into the back of his couch. His voice was slurring – Jack obviously had spent the evening polishing off another of Blink and Mush's Christmas gifts: the Vodka – as he moaned out his objection to David's din. But, hangover or not, when that one slight noise broke his slumber, it awakened his other senses – including his sense of smell. Despite his nose being pressed up against the old sofa (David did not even want to know what that smelt like), Jack sniffed deeply. "Breakfast?"

David had half a mind to hide the bagel halves behind his back and lie to the other man. But, in a way, he felt bad that, regardless of his great care not to bother Jack until later, he had woken him up. Sighing, he held the food out in front of him. "I made bagels. You interested?"

At the mention of bagels, Jack sat up, scratching his head as he yawned. Even from his distance, David could smell that his breath did reek of alcohol. He shook his head and walked forward, offering Jack one of the bagels. If he really did polish off that bottle of Vodka last night, he would need something in his stomach. "Here."

Jack took the bagel and, with one bite, ate half of it. "Fanks," he said, his mouth full of bread. He chewed for a few seconds and gulped it all down, oblivious to David's wide-eyed stare – not that he should have been surprised given that Jack always ate like that. "I needed that."

"Don't mention it," David said, walking over to the table and taking a seat.

Jack rubbed his eyes and pushed his longish sandy hair out of his face. He yawned a second time and let out a burp. "Yeah, needed that, too," he added as he climbed out of the couch and, grabbing the second half of his bagel, joined David at the table. Disregarding a paper towel – and the dirty look that David gave him – Jack placed it on the table and took the seat next to David.

"Lovely, Jack," David said, a bit snidely, as he took a dainty nibble off his own food.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the tiny bites David was taking before cramming the rest of his bagel into his mouth in defiance. When he had swallowed it, he burped a second time and patted his stomach. "My compliments, Dave. I wasn't expecting to wake up to breakfast."

David sniffed. "Considering the scent of alcohol on you, I'm not sure that you expected to wake up at all."

His words hit a chord with Jack – the mention of the booze was enough to remind Jack just why he had drunken himself into a stupor during the late hours of night. It was an escape, trying to put the subject of women entirely out of his mind. That dream that featured Sarah coupled with the way the stripper had come on to him the night before had rattled him and, before he knew it, he was drowning his sorrows. Not that he would admit that to David though, best friend or not. It was much too fun to pick on David and his trouble with women – he did not want David returning the favor. So, instead, he changed the subject.

"I'm surprised, Dave, that you made bagels. I would have thought you were craving butterscotch or something," he said, offhandedly, as he referenced the nonsense that David had spouted during his sleep the night before.

Whether or not that meant something to David, the confused expression on his face told Jack that he was not admitting to anything. "Huh?"

Jack waved his hand. "Never mind." He snorted. "Just something I thought I heard you say."

"Whatever you say, Jack," David answered, continuing to eat his food. However, when he saw that Jack's brown eyes were staring intently at the half-eaten bagel in his hand, he sighed and held it out. "You want this too?"

"Don't mind if I do," Jack said, a cheeky grin on his face before he shoved that into his mouth as well. "Let me know if there is something I can do for you, Dave."

Bingo. Now, if that was not an opportunity for David to take… He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his Scooby Doo boxer shorts. "Well, now that you mention it…"

"You know, you weren't supposed to take me up on that offer, Dave. It was your cue to say that it was nothing."

David rolled his eyes. As if that was something he would do. He had already used up his generosity quota for the day by giving Jack his breakfast. "Yeah. Anyway, Mush and Blink invited me to go to another one of their Life Support meetings before we head out to see Annie's show and they made me promise that I would drag you along. Now, do you come peacefully or do I pull you by your hair?" Not the way he wanted to convince Jack to leave the apartment but hunger did that to him sometimes.

Jack started to shake his head before David had even finished asking him. "No, Dave. I ain't about to go to one of those woe-is-me-I-have-AIDS parties. I can feel sorry for myself here, thank you very much. I don't need your help or anybody else's. And I definitely don't need to see your ex reciting what she calls 'poetry'."

David crumpled his empty paper towel up into a ball as he rose from the table. When he spoke, his voice was near emotionless. Jack's words hurt almost as much as the hot bagel had. "Whatever. I'll just tell them all that you're being a jackass, as usual. I'm sure they'll understand."

Rising his middle finger up at David's back, Jack scowled. And the morning had started so promising, too. Those bagels were good.

--

"Jack, I'm getting ready to leave," David said, unnecessarily, as he shimmied on his overcoat and grabbed his coat. "If you want to actually… I don't know… live life, I'd really appreciate it if you came with me." He did not need to see Jack's face to see that his words annoyed him – which was precisely why he spoke to him in such a demeaning manner. "If you change your mind, the meeting is down at the Ryder Community Center. Room three."

"Bye, Dave," was his flat response.

David sighed, quite loudly so as to make Jack feel at least a bit remorseful, before sliding the door open. He cast one last glance behind him as he left the apartment before shaking his head and slamming the door closed behind him. He heard the bang that the door made behind him and, for some reason, felt like he had heard that noise recently. David shook his head, again. Given that Jack never left the apartment, and never had visitors, he must have been imagining the noise.

He was not imagining the noise, of course. And, when the sound of the door slamming closed met Jack's ear, he remembered just how he had slammed it shut the night before right after he had kicked Jessica out of the apartment.

Jack groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Not only did he have a minor headache from his hangover – he normally was good at holding his liquor but, shoot, that had been a lot of liquor he imbibed in order to forget that stupid dream – but now he was feeling guilty for treating that girl so harshly. She had no way of knowing his history – she was just being friendly. And what had he done?

There was nothing for it now, though. He was not sure which was her apartment and he knew that, after his attitude from the night before, the girl would never come visit him again.

"Good one, Kelly," he said out loud, chastising himself almost. "For the first time in two years you a cute girl – a stripper, no less – hitting you and you go all Cujo on her. Nice. And then you go and piss off one of the only friends you have. Dave is always there for you and you treat him like shit."

He smacked himself in the head, momentarily forgetting his headache, and groaned when the action only incensed the throbbing in his head. "Damn. You're a genius, too."

Jack stood up from his couch and, rubbing his forehead, began to pace back and forth across the center of the apartment. As he began to sober up, the guilt only intensified: guilt towards blowing off Jessica, guilt towards ignoring Blink and Mush, guilt towards taking out his frustrations on David.

He did not know what to do. He could sit down and work on his writing but he knew that that would be fruitless – anger was a good inspiration, not self-pity.

He could wash the sink full of dishes that had been there for a few days now. He could even, for the first time since Christmas Eve, take a shower and clean himself up. He had been wearing the same underwear since Saturday and the band of the boxers was beginning to chafe.

Or, he thought, hardly believing that he was even considering this option, I could even head down to the community center and humor Dave.

At least, then, one of us would be happy…

--

"Hey guys."

Blink, who had been making nice with Mush's tonsils when David interrupted them, pulled his face back and, smiled widely, the lipstick marks around his lips making him appear clown-like. "Davey, my boy. Where's your second half?"

Mush pulled a tissue out of the top of her blouse and used it to loving wipe the stains from Blink's pale skin. Out of the corner of one her dark eyes, she saw David scowl and adopted a soothing tone. "Don't worry, sugar. From what Blink told me about him, I didn't expect him to come down here. I'm sure it'll do him good but you can't force him if he doesn't want to leave the apartment."

David nodded. "I know. It's just…"

"Don't waste another thought on it. He'll come around when he's ready."

Blink used one of his fingers to trace Mush's jaw line, his one eye focused solely on her. "Listen to my Angel, Dave. She knows what she's talking about – she's a smart one."

David tried not to roll his eyes at the overly lovey-dovey scene before him. He made a mental note never to act so cutesy with his next girlfriend – he was also pretty sure that he had never acted so nauseatingly when he had been with Annie. "I know. I'll worry about it later. As for now, it's nearly three o'clock. Should we go in now?"

Blink looked like he wanted nothing more than to continue his excavation of Mush's mouth but she was nodding so he really had no choice. "Alright. Let's go before all the good seats are taken."

The trio entered into the third room of the community center in time to see that the old man, Kloppman, had already asked the group to grab a chair and make a circle. Blink went ahead of them and grabbed two seats – once for him and one for Mush – and set them in the gap between Kloppman and Tony. David had already decided that, like the time before, he wanted to stand in order to get the best shots possible with his Nikon.

"Welcome," Kloppman greeted them all, his watery blue eyes landing on the young people sitting around him. Just like last time, there were five people counting neither David nor Kloppman): Tony, Skittery, Charlotte, Blink and Mush. Since there were no extra faces, Kloppman quickly began the affirmation.

Once that was complete, Kloppman smiled and opened his hands toward the middle of the group. "So, would anyone would like to share today?"

He speaks so softly but sounds so wise, David thought as he took a profile shot of the meeting leader. And to think he gives up his time to help all these guys. I'm sure he would do good for Jack, too… if that bonehead actually let anyone help him. God knows that he won't let me…

It was quiet for a moment before the only (real) girl in the circle raised her hand shyly. Charlotte's long chestnut hair had fallen forward in her cloudy green eyes but, after she lifted her hand, she brushed her hair back so that her brown skin was visible. "I've been worrying a lot lately, Kloppy."

Kloppman nodded before gesturing for the girl to continue.

She sighed. "I mean, this is the thing… I've been feeling so weak lately, and I've been trying to sleep it off. But, every time I wake up, and remember how my life is… I just get nervous and… I think about the future."

"That's good, Charlie," Kloppman said, shooting a sharp look at Skittery (he had snorted and crossed his arms at Charlotte's admission). "It's good to think of the future, it means that you're not dwelling on the illness and living in the past."

The young girl shook her head. "It's not like that, Kloppy," she said, addressing the man with what David had learned was an affectionate version of his last name. "They're not happy thoughts. I wonder if… you see… will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will this blasted disease rob me of everything I have – my pride, my strength, my sanity – before it robs me of my life?"

The quiet resumed and David, aware that the sound of his camera snapping away would break up such a poignant moment, lowered the Nikon.

However, before Kloppman could respond to her fear, or any other members of the group for that matter, a noise from outside the room drew their attention. Someone was attempting to open the door.

David glanced down at his watch. It was close to quarter after three. Whoever it was, they were late. But, when the door finally open and a hesitant young man poked his head into the room, David understood why.

"Hi. Uh… this is the Life Support thingy, right?"

Jack Kelly, after all, was never on time.