Disclaimer: RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson.
"Can't we all just pay a third of the rent?"
Roger laughed. "Where'd you find this kid, Thomas?"
The three were gathered at the table, Roger and Mark watching a page of scratched-over math that Collins had been working on. Mark sat back and squinted; Roger was leaning on his forearms on the table, his head so close to the paper Collins pushed him away every few minutes out of sheer annoyance.
"Roger…" Collins was not in the mood to put up with his aggravating roommate.
"Collins, why--"
Roger turned to Mark. "Because," he said, "what you make in a month, Collins makes in a week. Don't advocate for what only appears fair, especially since you will be the one getting screwed over." It was a snippet from one of Collins' lectures, with a Rogerism stapled on at the end.
"You make less than he does," Collins observed.
Roger scoffed. "By, like, thirty dollars, and that's without tips and gigs!"
"How is that possible?" Mark asked. Much as he hated to say it, Mark couldn't see how anyone could actually make less money than he did.
"Roger works fifteen hours a week," Collins explained, throwing Roger a dirty look.
"Don't hate," Roger quipped, and ducked, laughing, as Collins swatted at his head. He smacked the table. "Ow." Roger thumped into his seat, rubbing his brow. "Hey, you guys wanna have a party on Friday?"
"Why would we--" Mark began.
"There's a why? Fuck, Mark, there's no why. Because you'll've finished your first week of work, how about that? I'll buy some pizza, some beer, bring it home after work, we'll party. Come on. Come on, Collins! Mark's in, aren't you, Mark?"
Roger looked to Mark, who glanced at Collins, unsure. "Oh," Roger cooed. "Come on Collins… please? I'll clean my room and do all my homework!" Roger shook his head and cackled, amused at his antics.
Collins rolled his eyes. "Fine. But buy some decent beer--"
"Guinness Stout," Roger retorted firmly, and that was that.
Monday morning, Mark swallowed his cereal while Roger sat opposite him reading the Village Voice. "Roger?" Mark asked, tentative. He couldn't stop his eyes roving across the short hairs carpeting Roger's chest.
"Mmhmm?" Roger answered, scanning the page. He reached for his coffee cup. His fingers latched firmly around the rim and he drank. "Nice," he complimented himself, since he had made the coffee. He had also woken Mark with a gentle kick and a warm mug.
"Roger… are you naked?" Mark asked.
Roger snorted. Coffee dribbled out from his nose. He swiped it away, laughing. "Oh, Mark! You don't just… oh, Mark! Jesus. No, I am not naked." He paused. His hysterical tone faded, replaced by a sultry murmured. "Do you want me to be?" he asked, leaning close across the table.
"Bad Roger!" Collins, leaving his room for the first time that morning, swiped the Voice and rolled it up. "What have I told you about humping roommates?" he asked playfully, threatening with the newspaper. Roger growled, barked, and bit down on the Village Voice. Collins dropped the paper and laughed. Roger retrieved it from his mouth, unfurled it and began to read.
Mark asked, "I-is there a rule about, um, dating?"
Roger laughed, but didn't look up. "There aren't really rules, Mark," Collins said. "Shouldn't you be leaving soon?"
"Yeah. Um, it's just a couple blocks away so I can walk there pretty quickly."
Collins nodded. "It's quarter-til."
"Already? Shit!" Mark shot up and dashed for the door, calling apologies over his shoulder.
"Is it?" Roger asked.
Collins shook his head. "Nah, half-past. But I don't want him to be late."
"Half past six." Roger shook his head. No wonder his head felt like battered candy floss. He knew that the seven-to-three shift would never be filled by the likes of him. He pushed himself up and headed for his room.
"Going back to sleep?" Collins called.
"At least until the Messiah comes!" Roger called back. He pushed over the blanket and Collins heard the springs groan as Roger flopped onto the mattress.
To be continued!
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