Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's

"Y…you're… HIV… positive?" Roger managed, his tone forced. "You… you…"

Mark shook his head. "No," he said. "No, Roger, I'm not." And he wasn't… right? "I swear, Roger, I've been tested--"

"Six months," Collins interjected. "That's not long enough--"

Mark turned his head sharply. "I'm clean, Collins," he snapped. "I'm HIV-negative." For a moment he stared, his eyes gone hard, daring Collins to speak further. And then Mark lowered his eyes. He looked at his knees, his hands, as though drawing himself in, his posture screaming an apology.

It struck Roger then, all that he had learned. It had to be real.

"You can yell at me all you want," Collins said, but he said it gently, telling Mark that he had no need to fear an unfair report simply for childish or unkind conduct. "But if you don't tell him the truth, I will."

Roger looked at Mark, who was beginning to tremble. He looked at Collins. Six years, he had known Collins. Nearly seven. In those years Collins had been a good friend. He hadn't lied. He hadn't judged. Hell, he had helped Roger mop the vomit off his face when withdrawal gave him too terrible shakes. He had shown Roger bottles of pills and told him how lucky he was to escape that fate.

Roger bit his lip.

"Collins… Mark told me…"

"Did you?" Collins asked Mark. "Did you tell him everything?" in a tone that made Roger feel like a six-year-old left out on a secret.

Mark raised his eyes to look at Roger. Tear tracks stained his cheeks and his eyes were wet, but he found only halting sympathy in Roger's gaze. Halting, that is, unready, untrusting. "Roger," he whimpered. "Roger, I love you…"

Roger took a step. He shook his head. Clumps of hair dangled before his eyes, obscuring his vision. He knew those words. He had heard them before. He had seem them on a post-it note, scribbled as a last thought after warning him a fate he didn't share.

"Please," Mark insisted, but as Roger backed towards the door, Mark didn't rise to chase Roger. He only insisted, "Please," but couldn't influence. It was up to Roger to make a choice.

"Is he going to die, Collins?" The voice that asked was too young. The voice that asked was that of an eighteen-year-old kid, a college sophomore sitting on the bed in his dormitory and rubbing with idle franticness at his bloody arms. She'll be okay, right, Professor? because the EMTs didn't chase him away as they did Roger. And if Collins said it… if the professor who taught his students first to question everything… if he said it…

Collins shook his head. "We all die, Roger, but Mark is nowhere near the front of the line."

Roger nodded. "Good," he said. "Good."

"Mark."

Mark shook his head. "It's all okay, Roger," taking the dominant role for the first time.

"It's not okay!"

When Collins lost his temper, Roger took another step back, a jump, needing the wall. He hated when Collins lost his temper. Collins was omnipotent. The students in Roger's year had called him "Professor God" and asked him why the sky was blue and why good things happened to bad people and if he regretting killing all the firstborn of Egypt.

"Mark, tell him."

"I…"

Though Collins had calmed, Roger stayed back. His fear began, slowly slowly, to melt.

"Roger… I…"

"He lied to you, Roger." Collins meant it when he said, "I'm sorry. I told you to stay away from him, I hoped you would listen… I didn't want to see you get hurt. Roger--"

"Then don't," Roger interrupted.

"What?"

"You don't want to see it, don't. Don't make it happen. Don't make him, don't hurt me." And with one final shake of his head, he strode towards the blanket that was a door to his mattress-and-milkcrates-room. There was no bed in it.

Mark rose then. The sickness remained in his gut, less violent now that Roger had chosen him. "Roger," he began.

Roger shoved him back. "Get away from me. You fucking lied to me, stay away." And though he had no door to slam, the curtain swung shut with a shocking finality.

They were together the next morning, all of them crunching through bowls of Lucky Charms. Collins had a copy of Fear and Trembling open in front of him. Mark snuck glances when he thought Roger wouldn't notice.

It was Roger who broke the monotony of crunching and car horns.

"You were a whore," he demanded bluntly, "weren't you?"

Mark raised his eyes. Roger was watching him, evenly, his eyes painfully devoid of love.

He nodded. "Sometimes," Mark said.

Roger nodded and returned to his cereal.

"Roger?" Mark asked, tentative. Roger raised his eyes in acknowledgement. "A… are we… could we be… again?" he asked. Even as his voice trembled, Mark was hopeful.

Roger shook his head. "I don't know." He looked at the paper. "Collins, could you pass me the paper?" he asked. His voice was raw from all the tears he hadn't cried.

"You mean the comics?" Collins joked without looking up from his book.

When Roger smiled, it about broke Mark's heart that he could never have such a smile again.

To be continued!

One more chapter... will Mark and Roger end up together? You'll see. Wink. Please review?