Disclaimer: I don't own the genius that is RENT. That's all Jon, baby. :)
Warnings: Mentions of sex and contains foul language. It's RENT, whatcha expect?
Hey, guys! I'm on a roll! Here's chapter three.
I plan on having three chapters after this one. lust, loathing, and sorrow.
If you can think of anymore things relating to Roger that you want to read, TELL ME! I'll write it for you. Cause I love you that much. :)
--
Pride is like helium. It starts out slow, a small high. You almost don't even notice it. But soon, the pride high begins to hit you hard. Your ego begins to soar. Your mind is off on some cloud that doesn't even have a number. All you know is that cloud nine is a small dot in the distance.
Unfortunately, so are the people closest to you. You don't even notice you've lost them until they're gone. You're so high off the ground that the cloud nine feeling you had being with them, shrinks into the small dot the damn cloud became.
You were rude. You were an ass. And you didn't even notice.
I, of course, have experience with this dangerous 'helium'.
I'm Roger Davis. And I was a pride addict.
I was a rock star. I was the crème of the crop. I was the guy every girl and sometimes guys, wanted to sleep with. I was the guy every other guy wanted to be. They wanted to be the rock god in the skin tight jeans, having hot, screaming women fall all other them.
I mean, who wouldn't want that, right?
I flew on the high of pride, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I was sucked in the minute I pushed my lips to the cold metal of a microphone; the first time I breathing in the blissfully smoky air of the cheap bar. It was amazing, euphoric, and I was addicted.
So many people loved me. I had so many fans that pride melded into my very being.
I met Mark, Collins, and Benny. I met the bouncy brunette, Maureen. They all become my roommates, friends, and confidantes. I loved them.
But, not as much as I loved the high of my drugs, girls, and pride. I was hooked. I went out to my gigs, sober. I came back, a drunk, snappy, high off my ass, stuck to the lips of some girl, mess. The girl, drugs, and alcohol all melded together to make me something I wish I had never become.
I was losing the people I loved most. They were disappointed in me. I was oblivious.
Then, I met April. She not only filled me with pride about my music, but about being with her. She loved me, and I loved her.
She was my angel.
--
"Hey baby?" Her voice was soft, just like the fingers she was running along my chest. God, why was she so perfect?
I kissed the top of her head. "Yes, April?" I was chipper. We both were. Withdrawal from our earlier hit hadn't gotten to us yet. We were cuddling on the old, loft couch.
She smiled at the kiss on her head. "Are you happy with me?" Her green gaze drifted up to mine. She seemed so innocent. No one else would have known. She was a badass and an angel. People usually only saw the badass.
I got the angel. I didn't mind.
I ran my not as soft fingers along her jaw line. I felt her shudder. I smirked. Her eyes sparkled. "Yes. The happiest I've ever been in my life. I love you." I kissed her lips. She shuddered again.
The pride welled up in me. I loved making her shudder; made me feel like I was doing something right.
She licked her lips lightly. "I love you too." She paused. I knew there was something else she wanted to say. She cleared her throat and looked in my eyes. I could see tears in hers. My heart wrenched.
I pulled her closer. "Baby, what's wrong? Don't cry." She fell into my chest and sobbed.
I wanted to make it better. If only she would tell me what was wrong. I could only rub her back and whisper in her ear that it would be okay.
But what would be okay?
She sniffled and pulled away from me. I wiped her tears away with my shirt. I kiss her fingers. "Baby, what's the matter?"
She smiled and ran her thumb over my fingers. My heart melted. "Nothing's the matter, love. I just, love you so much. Don't leave, okay?"
I nodded and pulled her close again. I kissed her temple as she clung to my shirt. We fell asleep a few minutes later.
My angel, April; nothing would take her away.
--
She killed herself the next week. I was devastated.
I kept my promise to her for almost a half a year afterwards. All through my withdrawal, I didn't even look at another girl.
Mark tried to make me feel better. I thought I'd lost him. I had no idea why he even stuck around after the way I treated him. Benny had already moved out and Maureen met Joanne. I wasn't even around after his break-up to help him.
I was such a prick.
But, he tried to help me feel that euphoric pride again. He tried.
--
He sat down next to me on the couch. I was staring at nothing on the far wall of the loft. My withdrawal was over for the most part. I still felt it every once and a while.
He shifted his weight so I would know he was there.
I knew. I just didn't want to notice. I was down. My pride was sucked dry along with the last remnants of April and my heroin.
He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up on his nose. I didn't turn. So he just spoke, hoping I would listen. I did, to make up for the way I treated him in the past.
"Rog, you're an amazing musician. Please don't bottle yourself up like this. Dust off your guitar. It'll make you feel better." He paused and I felt the smooth wood of my acoustic slid under my hands. I turned to face him, my green eyes warming ever so slowly.
He cared so much. He knew how much I needed this. My music was my art, my passion, my addiction.
He smiled weakly, but he was happy he was getting through to me. "Roger," he set his hand on my forearm, "you are one of the most talented singers and musicians I know. The world deserves to have you out there again." He took a breath and smirked at me. I chuckled lightly and he beamed.
My voice was rough from such a long silence. "Thank you. Thank you, Mark."
"Remember, you're a great artist. Don't let losing her get you down. Please." He let go of my arm and got off the couch.
His words echoed in my ears and my heart swelled. I laced my fingers around the neck of my guitar. My fingers landed on the cool strings. I plucked one of them. A sour note came out and I tuned it.
I played Musetta's Waltz for the first time in months. It sounded good.
I sang. I heard Mark walk to the doorway and listen. An audience just like at the bars. But, it was better.
April was gone, but Mark was there. He made me feel like I meant something.
He clapped for me. We talked, joked, and I told him how I was going to start gigs again. I told him how amazing I was going to be.
"Sure Rog. Of course you are." He was being sarcastic, but I knew he was proud of me. He was there for me.
"I am. I'm amazing and you know it."
He just laughed.
Human pride.
--
And, done! Well, there's chapter three. I hope you liked it.
I'd really like it if you'd review it. It'd mean the world. ;)
More chapters coming!
Te amo.
saygnight