A/n:

Whoa its been a while. Well I've been…. Busy isn't the word. Spread way too thin, and am emotionally and physically drained. I haven't written in forever because :
-She got fired ( read Author note in the preceding chapter) I can't even form coherent sentences about that yet, despite it having been weeks ago.

-Opening night and all the performances of Beauty and the Beast went AMAZING, one of the best moments of.. Ever for me being when Beast and I walked out for bows. Everyone else comes from either side of the stage, taking their bow and moving to stand at a spot further back stage. Naturally, smaller roles such a ensemble come out first and in large groups, and larger roles come out last and on their own with everything in between. Beast and I were the last people to take our bow, and we got to walk down the 'West Wing' stairs ( we're the only ones who get to do so) It was amazing, cause everyone took their bows and looked up, and the music would suddenly change to this majestic... Awesomeness and we would come walking down. EVERYONE in the ENTIRE audience ( sold close to 1,000 tickets over the course of 3 days) stood up and SCREAMED and clapped insanely, and continued when we took our own personal bow before the one with the cast. I signed 10 autographs, took 23 pictures with people I don't know, hugged ¾ of the audience, got 9 bouquets of flowers… and my sisters, who live in South Carolina and NYC ( I'm in upstate NY, about an hour from Albany) were there. And I was the only one on stage that wore a body mic the whole time. Amazing.

-Save the Music Program shit is in full swing, last night over 100 people showed up to the Board of Education meeting. We protested outside, then went inside for the meeting. For about 3 hours after open forum began, we talked about music and music only. Over half the audience spoke. Hell yes. I can't even get into that now though, I may explode. My friend brotherish person ( Beast from the play ) and I have a appointment with the Assistant Superintendent on Monday to speak to him about the Music program. I actually am supposed to be writing what I am to say right now, but I mean how do you try and make someone see, understand? Music is my life. It's like trying to explain why I breath,

- Audience for Annie ( I HATE Annie, it's cliché and stupid and horrible and gross, but I take any and I mean any chance to be in theater) In the community, and got the part of Grace, which is the Leading Lady aside from Annie ( I was told I would have gotten her, but I'm far too old at 14 to be her) And, quite ironically, Beast ( I think it's funny I refer to him as that now) Is daddy Warbucks. Hhhahahahha.

That may be all. It isn't but I doubt you read these due to the their length anyway.

If Only Is not mine, it is from the book holes. I personally love it, for not only are the lyrics amazing, but the song really doesn't have a super specific sound. I mean there are vague suggestions as to the general melody of its original but no one knows for sure. It is open to interpretation. By the way, the song they made on the sound track with it? I hate it, I think it sounds nothing like the original would, and I hate all the verses they added on.

Once again, random tense changes? I don't know why.

Win for whoever can figure out what 5th "Dosent Matter" says and how to read it.

Thank you so much RedBrick for your AMAZIINNNG review!

Oh and this is dedicated to Sarah. Stay strong baby, stay strong.

If Only, If Only.

( 2-3 days after the last chapter)

He hated himself
He hated that he took so damn long to do this
To throw it all away, get it away. Get it goddamn out
To grow at least some fucking balls and do something
Mark had done the same in the past for his sake, and it seemed the only plausible move, even if a bit extreme, at this point.
How did he let it get this bad? When did it even begin?
Why didn't he fucking notice or do shit till now?

Didn't matter

He repeated this to himself again and again

Didn't matter

Didn't matter

Yes it did

Didn't matter

DyIeDsN'T MiAtTdTiEdR

Didn't fucking matter

Didn't make a difference because now it was gone, the last of Mark's stash washing down the drain.

The realization dawned that the apartment now smelled strongly of alcohol, which would be of no assistance to the matter in the least. Almost like waving a baggie of smack and a needle in front of his face on the second day of withdrawal

He shuddered.

( Mark had said Boyfriend about two years preceding the beginning of RENT. Amidst a short interval of time when sex was common and casual with the two ( Mark & Roger), done whenever they felt like and never mentioned later)

Mark used to have a boyfriend. A long time, a little more than semi-serious one, with a large strong build and short black hair that would be curly if it were longer. His name was Josh and he was sweet with blue eyes and an amazing sense of humor. Although he wasn't hanging with the group as often as some would expect, he fit in perfectly when he was. Everyone loved him, he made them laugh, liked to discuss philosophy/physiology, and, being a Bohemian himself, identified well with all. He was a great painter and artist, knew the best clubs and got you in for free. He loved his art, loved to read, loved the outdoors and LOVED Mark.

Roger hated him

No more like loathed

The guy was an ass, he reasoned, with that arrogant son of a bitch smile ( not unlike his own the others argued, but he countered that his was cocky not arrogant) plastered permanently on his face. He hadn't liked the guy the moment that met, although the circumstance hadn't been ideal. More like ironic. Really.

He sighed, reaching the top of the staircase and adjusting his pants once more. His mind numbingly dull bartending job had left him restless, the dirty dancing on the floor having put ideas in his mind, which then wandered to things and people and what he was going to do to them when he got home. He hissed lightly as his arm rubbed against is leather jacket, red and tender from the numerous pinches issued for the last hour of his shift and the walk home. His pants weren't necessarily loose and the small burst of pain assisted in taming him some. But now, hand landing on the latch of the loft door, he didn't bother to try and contain himself. He'd been waiting all night to get at Mark, and was completely prepared to charge in and do something short of molesting him. He pushed at the door, already tearing at his coat and loosening his belt. He throws the leather on the ground hastily and raises feverish eyes to scan the area for Mark.

He suddenly goes rigid.

For there, on the couch is Mark..

And some guy.

And they were going at it

And he fucking meant going at it

Mark was atop the other man, his hands on either sides of the others shoulders bracing himself to hover above. The man was resting with his back on the couch, reaching up to meet Mark's mouth and squirming restlessly. The tongues of both were firmly down one another's throats as far as humanly possible, it seemed and they squirmed/ thrashed widely in ways that would suggest being on fire. Their breathing was so desperate and labored Roger could easily hear it across the room, and whimpers of names, please and incoherent sounds filled the air at short, erotic intervals. The man's hand was fully under and pushing at Mark's shirt, the other alternating from digging into his hair and ass. Mark's hand was firmly down the others pants and seemed to be working something considerably well for the man's reactions. Mark lowered his hips and began to grind against the other, biting at his neck and moaning louder.
He'd never seen Mark dominate before.

Roger, with that goddamn heavy feeling in his stomach that was merely disappointment that he wouldn't get laid tonight, turned to leave, but bumped against Mark's bike on his way out, causing it to clatter to the floor and Mark to snap his head up

" Roger?" He turned his head, yet remained propped up over the man, searching the semi-darkness for the musician.

" Hey, yeah sorry, I was just leaving"
cool. Calm. Casual. Please let it sound that way. Please

"Oh no wait I uh-" He moves off the man awkwardly, who smacks him in the ass playfully and then helps him off slowly. He than looks up and smirks at Roger devilishly.

Don't run. Stay. Stay cool. Don't throw up. Don't get pissed. Stay. Stay.

"Uh, yeah I brought Josh hear to introduce you guys. Uh Josh, this is Roger. I've told you who he is" Josh stands and eyes Roger quietly, that arrogant, slight smile never faltering.

Don't punch him don't punch him don't punch him…

" And Roger, this is Josh, My boyfriend" He says it slightly rushed, as if to get it over with.

" Oh hey"Aloof aloof aloof aloof aloof aloof aloof.

"Hello." He replies somewhere between slyly and friendly before shaking Roger's hand.

Roger doesn't allow time for awkward silence to set in

" Not bad Marky. Hey, nice meeting you. I'll probably being seeing you around a lot huh?" He says suggestively winking at him and Mark "But I really have to go, Nick got a new amp which we need to learn and work with, I just came home to grab this" He grabs his electric where it resides beside the doorframe of his room

" It's 1 A.m." Mark calls as Roger makes his way toward the door. Josh wraps his arms around Mark's waist and Roger suppresses a grimace.

"Yeah well, you know how we like to annoy the shit out of his neighbors"

And shuts the door

Just disappointment. You wanted to get laid. Disappointment

Everyone else loved the guy however, and at a few points Roger himself began to think that maybe he might an okay- ish person.

That is, until Mark start coming home with bruises

Nothing he said. Fell down the stairs he said. Ran into a wall he said. What the fuck ? Where the hell did that come from? He said. Cut himself shaving he said. Got mugged he said. Got hit in the eye by a waitress in the life he said. No the long sleeves don't make me too warm, I'm cold he said. Oh no, the bloody tissues are from a knick while shaving he said. Josh was busy, that's why they never ever saw him any more he said. He always went to Josh's/ Josh never came to the loft cause he wasn't feeling well/ was tried and didn't want to come all the way to alphabet city he said.

And then one Tuesday, Roger and Collins were hanging in the loft and Mark was out with Josh. Roger had just handed Collins another beer before sitting back down and resuming their conversation when the loft door slid slowly open. They didn't notice at first, as was probably hoped by the intruder. But Roger's eyes quickly found Mark as a floor board near the bathroom squeaked.

"Mark?" He narrowed his eyes and quietly scanned the man, who had frozen. " Mark!" He springs from the couch and races forward, grabbing the other's arm before he can make any movement of escaping. He then, holding both of the filmmaker's arms firmly, spins the young man to face him. He winces

"Mark what the fuck happened!?" The right side of Mark's face had turned ugly shades of purple, while the right was splotched with red. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lip cut open, bleeding. Bumps had raised upon his forehead, an indentation from a ring melded into his right check, and blood caked under his nose as it had obviously bled a lot.

HE had done this. Roger knew. Knew that cheesy ring with the swirls on it indented in Mark's skin. Knew the bastard had been doing this for too long. Knew Mark wouldn't admit it.

" Mark, who did this to you!??!?" Mark laughs warily. He really is a good liar. Excellent. He can pull off anything. But he doesn't feel like lying right now

"You'd think after years in the city, I'd be able to get around without being mugged. It's about my tenth time, who wants to throw a party?" and Roger was strangely calm. Strangely and uncharacteristically lacking anger and rage, but asks softly

" Then why is the pattern from Josh's ring imprinted on your cheek?" Mark sighs. He's so good he doesn't even need time to formulate responses. Not that he really feels like trying to right now

" He's not the only one who has the ring Roger"

" Mark" still calm, still eerily soft and gentle " I know it was Josh.. He's been doing this to you for a while now" Mark opens his mouth to protest, but instead sighs and bites his lip.

" He was drunk he didn't know what he was doing . I mean he's just been having a hard time lately and sometimes I'm an ass to him and he's just so tired, and I give him a hard time on top of that.. I shouldn't have asked him grab me the glass of water. He wasn't in the kitchen to be my slave .."

"Collins" Roger interrupts . Too calm. Too collected. " Help me get Mark to bed. Mark" He turns and squeezes the man's arms gently, reassuringly. Marks flinches as if in pain. Roger grits his teeth then softens. " It's not your fault. Please Mark. He is fucking abusing you. He's an asshole. You understand that right?" And honestly, He did. He knew that in the first place. He wasn't weak, he wasn't dumb.

"Yeah.. Yeah I know.. It's just.." Mark is beginning to look afraid and shaken, despite half hearted efforts not too. " He's really fucking muscular and gets so pissed and If I left I don't know what he'd do…." He flinches a little and Roger pulls him toward his bedroom as gently as possible. Mark is quite shaken and the last thing he wants to do is be the one to upset him. He pulls Mark's shoes off, and follows with his shirt.

Oh god.

Bruises, scars, cuts,

His wrists and arms display discolorations shaped as fingers.

And god he's too thin.

Too fucking thin.

Roger finds a clean T-shirt and throws it over Mark's head, trying not to be sick.

Gritting his teeth so hard he fears chipping them.

He reaches for Mark's pants, but Mark pushes him away

"I've got it" He mumbled blankly. He pulled at his jeans and slid on a pair of pajama pants hastily, as if trying to keep Roger from seeing. He still catches the bruises leading up into his boxers.

He clenches his fists at his sides and feels his nails digging into his skin. Moments later he feels blood. His teeth continue to grind and he's pretty sure he feels a hard chip or two on his tongue.

" I'm not going to let him do this to you. Ever a fucking gain. Ever. He isn't going to lay a hand on you" He assures Mark sternly, helping him into bed. " I promise" He removes Mark's glasses and has Collins bring him a warm wash cloth, with which he cleans all access blood from Mark's face. He then bandages the things that need to be, and pushes Mark back against he bed " Sleep" He commands "He's never going to touch you again. I promise"

"… thanks Rog."

" No problem Baby boy" A nickname that had been created from ages ago, when Roger and Mark had been young and in middle school .

" Hey Rog?"

" Yeah?" He turns back from his track to the door to meet Mark's eyes. His swollen bruised eyes, set largely in his swollen bruised face. His finger nails return to his palms, his teeth ready to crack once more

" Don't… Don't go after him. I don't want you to get hurt.. He has weapons and he's a lot fucking bigger and more muscular than you-.. "

"Don't worry" He's trembling with suppressed rage " And I promise, he will never touch you again."

He closes the door gently

And dashes toward the loft door

" Rog!" Collins calls " where the fuck are you going?"

" To fucking murder this fucking bastard I swear to god they are never going to find his goddamn body because it is going to be so fucked up it wouldn't be recognizable anyway"

Collins tries to get to him, to hold him back and calm him down cause, damn, that boy had always had the worst temper he'd ever seen

But he'd never, ever seen him this enraged

Ever

But Roger was gone and Collins was already thinking how he would scrounge up the bail money

Morning rolled around and Roger returned. He sported a few bruises or cuts, but barely anything more. Except for his knuckles, which were swollen and aching and possibly broken, if that was possible.

And he was covered with blood, which wasn't his own.

When asked he simply told Collins he didn't murder the guy, but only because there was nothing to do it with

Needless to say, Josh didn't show up again.

Mark was extremely appreciative

And the next day, as Roger entered Mark, a sensationally familiar feeling indeed

He tried to ignore the bruises

( Forward to the same time as the first section of this chapter)

He doesn't know why it took finding out Mark was whoring himself on the streets to do this

Finding out he doesn't care

But he can't bring himself to regret having done it, having found out in the first place

Even after Mark stormed into the loft to find empty alcohol bottles spread about

He simply stared for a moment, which left Roger holding his breath.

He scanned the room with his eyes slowly, and finally rested them upon the bottles, as if addressing them as opposed to Roger

" Doesn't matter" His eyes, his face, blank. His voice monotone. He's shook his head a few times before shrugging his shoulders casually and turning to Roger " Doesn't fix anything." Roger shivers " Doesn't fix the real problem" and just continued to stare at him, as if he expected Roger to say something. As if he knew what he was about to say anyway. Maybe he did.

" Mark you're an alcoholic. You're whoring yourself on the streets for money!! That's not your only fucking choice! I know its not! You're hands aren't tied. You do have a choice. So why the fuck would you choose that? I don't get it. Just please, just… just stop belittling me and my capability to understand for about five seconds and tell me. Say something. Anything. Tell me something. Thousands of words in the past few months, yet you haven't said a thing. "

"Nice track marks"

He doesn't even look down. He knows they're there. Expression never faltering. Was it possible for ones face to be so permanently blank?

"Nice way of trying to appear aloof"

" Nice way of trying to act like you know better"

" Mark wait.. Fuck. Just … just" He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs helplessly " please. I mean you… fuck… just.. Never again. Please Mark. I'm sorry I haven't been…. I've been with the band so much and.. " He looks back up at Mark, at his cold eyes ringed with something else, something he cant place. At how he looks too fucking young for all this shit. That he is too fucking young.

And they wondered why he didn't believe in fucking god.

And suddenly he's across the room, pulling Mark to his chest and clinging to him for dear life. And stroking his hair and whispering and whatever else, acting as if Mark needed comfort. Hoping he would just fucking break down and cry and scream and sob and get angry or get desperate or something. Anything. Please. please.

He doesn't

"Never again Mark. You'll never have to do that again. You won't. I promise. You won't. Never again" And Mark gives in easily, because it's Roger. And only because it's Roger.

" Alright. I won't. It's Alright. I wont anymore."

Roger simply began to sing something, something Mark didn't recognize, which was odd, because he knew all of Roger's music, and everything Roger listened to as well.

"It's the terror of knowing what the worlds about" Mark eventually figured Roger wasn't about to let him go anytime soon, so, lacking much of a choice, he closed his eyes against he others chest and listened. Listened as the unknown ballet sound morphed into a considerably odd folk sounding melody

"If only, If only the wood pecker sighs

The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies

While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely

He cries to the moon

If only, If only.

If only If only

The moon speaks no reply

Reflecting the sun, and all that's gone by

Be strong weary wolf, turn around boldly

Fly high my baby bird

My angel, my only."