Disclaimer: RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson.
"Roger, look, you and Mark-- fuck, Roger!" Collins had pulled back the blanket that served as a door to Roger's room. Roger was sprawled on the bed with his hand down his boxers. "I was going to ask you to show some restraint, but…"
Roger sneered. "I can control myself," he said. "And by the way, I liked Mark. Okay?"
Collins' eyes popped open. "You're interested in him, aren't you, Roger? More than just sex?"
"I have friends who I don't fuck," Roger retorted angrily. "Like you, for instance! And anyway, if I did have an interest in Mark-- if I did-- why would that be so bad?"
Other than your inability to keep your dick out of anything on two legs? Collins sighed. "Roger… there's a lot you don't know, okay? And a lot I do know. I know you've chased the dragon, and as long as you're flirting with danger, I want you to stop flirting with him."
Roger tossed his head, laughing. "He's a big boy. How do you even know he likes cock? If Mark's not into me, he'll say no."
"Roger… look, I know you. And for some mysterious reason, I like you. But the reasons I like Mark are a lot clearer. I said I could give him a safe place to stay, so whatever happens to him, I'll feel responsible for. Which means you hurt him, I will kick your ass across three time zones, got it?"
"Jesus." Roger stared up at the ceiling. "Fuck off, Thomas."
"Roger--"
"Look." Roger actually pulled his hand out of his underwear and sat up. He leaned forward, his hands clutching the sheets. "You want to know why I would never do a recreational screw with a roommate?"
I don't have time for the logic of your twisted little brain. "Why, Roger?"
"Because recreational screws are casual sex, okay? Most people don't want relationships involving nothing but sex. Hell, I don't want that. You have casual sex with some girl in a bar, you don't take her home to Mother. People you're going to see again, it gets complicated. People have casual sex for a little fun, no strings attached. See someone again, every day, they want more, you want more, suddenly, all that baggage you don't want is thrust into your lap. So it doesn't make sense for me to do a recreational screw with Mark."
Collins stared at Roger. "Damn," he said. "That's… the most coherent thought I've ever heard from you."
Roger nodded. "Yeah."
"So you have no interest in Mark?"
"I never said that. Mark's pretty. I like him. I won't do him recreationally, but--"
"Roger--"
"I'm in love with him," Roger snapped.
Collins laughed at the sheer absurdity. "Roger," he said. "Other than the comedy of you being in love with anyone but yourself, you've only known him for a couple of weeks!"
"I know that," Roger admitted. The iron was gone from his tone, replaced by sorrow and regret. "But I can't stop feeling like… thinking about him, all the time, he's always there! Thomas… I've never felt this before."
Collins frowned. "Then are you not eating out Candy every night?"
Roger threw a pillow at him. "Fuck off," he snapped, then rolled over and pulled the covers up around his shoulders.
"Hey." Collins looked at his watch. "Rog, look, I gotta get to class, but we'll have a talk about this tonight, okay?" Roger said nothing. Collins recoiled slightly: he had never been flatly ignored, not by Roger. "Roger, come on! You can't go slutting about and get upset when people judge you for it. Roger… we'll talk later." Collins shook his head and left the room.
Roger coughed up a dry sob.
When he arrived home that afternoon, Collins found Mark sprawled on the couch, reading. "Hey." He nudged the couch. "Where's Roger?" Mark shrugged. "You haven't seen him?" Collins asked, surprised. He had almost expected Roger to seduce Mark purely out of spite.
Mark shook his head. "I really haven't seen him since Saturday morning," he admitted.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Collins found Roger exactly where he had left him, on his bed, curled around himself and staring at the wall. "You're going to sulk all day?" he asked.
"No, just until I have to work."
Collins chuckled. "Look," he said, "earlier today was just a joke, okay? I didn't mean to hurt you."
Roger sighed. He pushed back the covers and sat up. "If I can't avoid this conversation, will you at least tell me why everyone thinks I'm some sort of serial rapist?" he demanded. "Because just so you know, I think rapists are lower than murderers. They're the scum of the earth. I have never had sex without my partner's consent, and I never will. That's disgusting and sick and I'd rather have my dick cut off with a rusty scythe."
"Roger, I never said that."
"You keep telling me to stay away from Mark, stay away from Mark. Then he has, what, a beer and a shot of vodka, and he falls asleep in my bed and he fucking latches on to me." Roger stood. As he discussed Mark, he pointed vaguely in the direction of the door. "He begged me not to leave him alone! And when we woke up together in the morning, he acted like I had violated him! What did you tell him, Collins?" Roger asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you say about me? And if that's how you feel, why haven't you kicked me out?" After a moment's silence, Roger shook his head and turned away.
Collins sighed. "That's not how I feel, Roger." He hugged him across the chest and petted his hair. Roger said nothing, but Collins felt him relax. "Okay?" he asked. "I know you're not a bad guy."
Roger shook his head. "I'm sick of being treated like the monster under the bed. I've been in solid relationships before. You know that."
"Yeah," Collins agreed. He released Roger. "And that wasn't your fault, Roger." Roger sighed, but said nothing. "What does casual sex do for you?" Collins asked. "Does it make that any better?"
"It makes me feel good. I feel good with other people who want to feel good." He flopped down on the bed. "It's our underworld." Collins sat beside him, cross-legged, fascinated. He had never heard Roger speak like this before. "We are people who cannot find love. We're scared… or we've been burned. We are sad, lonely people. But then we find each other, for one night, for one minute. We don't have to leave our sorrow. We like it, it's what we know. But for a few minutes there's release. You can be anyone. You can feel good. And then you can go back to feeling like crap, but you know there's a place where you can feel good."
"How long have you been doing this?" Collins asked.
"Umm… about two years."
"And you like it? Don't you want to stop feeling like crap?"
"Sure," Roger said. "That's for the right person. And I really thought…" He shook his head. "There's no such thing as love," Roger concluded.
Collins' jaw dropped. "There's a such thing as love, Roger," he said. "Believe me, I know. Roger, just because… just because of what happened in college, just because Mark has baggage, too… Roger, love exists, but it's not going to change everything. Only you can change yourself."
Roger scoffed. "How do you know?" he asked. "Who are you to shatter my belief that love is magic and will turn my life around?"
"I've loved you for years, but I can't stop you from making yourself unhappy. Don't scoff, jackass. I've loved you since Freshmen seminar."
Roger laughed. "You hated me in Freshmen seminar."
"You were my favorite student."
"You once sent me out in the hall and told me to masturbate."
Collins laughed. He had forgotten about that. "You wouldn't stop talking about sex! And I did not say masturbate, I said 'ease your sexual frustration'."
"Excuse me, we were talking about War and Peace!"
"Which, by the way, is not a gay romance."
"Well, not on the surface." Roger laughed. "I liked your classes," he said.
"Yeah, then listen. Consider this a class: How to Live 803. Mark is not going to save you. He cannot save you, but you can save yourself for him. You gotta do the work, Roger. Ooh, speaking of work--"
"Fuck!"
To be continued!
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