speed_rent // April's Fool
Title: April's Fool
Author: Sarah
Rating: PG13
Words: 653
Pairing: Roger/April
Summary: Roger wasn't just anyone's fool. [or April has bad timing]
Notes: Even though it's a day late for the holiday, it still works for the time setting of the fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
“Baby, we need to talk.” April stood in the doorway of the bedroom her voice cold as she addressed her boyfriend.
“No we don’t.” Roger tossed a rubber band, a needle, and a bag of smack onto the bed. Flopping down onto the bed, he laid his arm out. “We need this.”
“No, baby, we can’t do that anymore.” She walked in, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She reached over to his arm, her finger gently tracing the scars and track marks that vandalized his arms.
“What?” he looked at her quizzically. “Why not?”
“That’s why we need to talk,” she replied.
“We’re talking now.”
“We’re sick, baby.” She looked away. “Because of this.”
“Hahaha!” Roger let out a hearty laugh. “You’re funny, babe.”
Her face wrinkled in confusion, tears stinging her eyes. “What? What’s so funny?”
“You thought I’d believe you?” He shook his head. “Now come on.” He gestured at the smack lying between them.
“But… but Roger, we’re sick. We’re dying.”
“You can’t fool me today, April.”
Fool. April. Fuck, she thought. April Fools Day. Her least favorite holiday. The one she was ridiculed for during school because of her name. She didn’t know why her mother decided to call her April; she was born in December. She hadn't even considered the date when she told him. To her it was just another day. After all, the news was a little distracting. Oh fuck it, she decided at last. Laughing nervously, she forced a smile. “Yeah, babe. You caught me. Just kidding.” Her smile faded as the picked up the needle, preparing it for Roger’s ready arm. What did it matter? They were going to die soon anyway.
***
When Roger woke up the next morning, April’s lean body wasn’t beside him. Her side of the bed was empty and cold; she must have woken up hours ago.
“Babyyyyyy!” he sang, climbing out of bed and leaving his bedroom. “April, honey, where are you?” He walked over to the bathroom door, leaning his ear against the thin wood. He could hear the dripping of water, like someone hadn’t turned the sink or shower off all the way. “Baby, is that you in there?” It must have been since no one replied. Mark or Maureen would have informed him if it were them. “I’m coming in to surprise you now!” Roger pushed open the door, a smug smile still on his face. “Babyyyyy!”
He stopped short upon entering. The first signal that something was wrong was the tiny puddle of dark red next to the bathtub. The next clue was the bloody arm hanging over the side. He didn’t see the little piece of paper, stained red on the edges, that had fallen out of the hand attached to the bloody arm.
“B-Baby?” He whispered, slowly stepping forward. Peering over the edge of the tub, he saw April helplessly lying there. Her bright red hair was wet, matted against her face. The faucet was turned on slightly; a gentle stream had filled the tub partially. When Roger leaned over to turn it off, he bit his lip and fought back his own gentle stream of tears. Moving his foot closer to get a better look at April, he felt a cold, wet liquid touch his foot and the crinkle of paper under his foot. He shuddered, retracting his foot and finally seeing the paper scrap next to the puddle. Roger reached down, picking up the paper.
We’ve got AIDS.
Roger’s legs went weak, his arm reaching for the sink for support. No, no, no, he told himself. No, she was just kidding when she said they were sick. It was just an April Fools joke. Wiping his eyes, he remembered the date. April second. Just another day, a regular day. The paper crumbled in his fingers as the message sunk in. He was a fool. April’s fool.
-Fin
Author: Sarah
Rating: PG13
Words: 653
Pairing: Roger/April
Summary: Roger wasn't just anyone's fool. [or April has bad timing]
Notes: Even though it's a day late for the holiday, it still works for the time setting of the fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
“Baby, we need to talk.” April stood in the doorway of the bedroom her voice cold as she addressed her boyfriend.
“No we don’t.” Roger tossed a rubber band, a needle, and a bag of smack onto the bed. Flopping down onto the bed, he laid his arm out. “We need this.”
“No, baby, we can’t do that anymore.” She walked in, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She reached over to his arm, her finger gently tracing the scars and track marks that vandalized his arms.
“What?” he looked at her quizzically. “Why not?”
“That’s why we need to talk,” she replied.
“We’re talking now.”
“We’re sick, baby.” She looked away. “Because of this.”
“Hahaha!” Roger let out a hearty laugh. “You’re funny, babe.”
Her face wrinkled in confusion, tears stinging her eyes. “What? What’s so funny?”
“You thought I’d believe you?” He shook his head. “Now come on.” He gestured at the smack lying between them.
“But… but Roger, we’re sick. We’re dying.”
“You can’t fool me today, April.”
Fool. April. Fuck, she thought. April Fools Day. Her least favorite holiday. The one she was ridiculed for during school because of her name. She didn’t know why her mother decided to call her April; she was born in December. She hadn't even considered the date when she told him. To her it was just another day. After all, the news was a little distracting. Oh fuck it, she decided at last. Laughing nervously, she forced a smile. “Yeah, babe. You caught me. Just kidding.” Her smile faded as the picked up the needle, preparing it for Roger’s ready arm. What did it matter? They were going to die soon anyway.
***
When Roger woke up the next morning, April’s lean body wasn’t beside him. Her side of the bed was empty and cold; she must have woken up hours ago.
“Babyyyyyy!” he sang, climbing out of bed and leaving his bedroom. “April, honey, where are you?” He walked over to the bathroom door, leaning his ear against the thin wood. He could hear the dripping of water, like someone hadn’t turned the sink or shower off all the way. “Baby, is that you in there?” It must have been since no one replied. Mark or Maureen would have informed him if it were them. “I’m coming in to surprise you now!” Roger pushed open the door, a smug smile still on his face. “Babyyyyy!”
He stopped short upon entering. The first signal that something was wrong was the tiny puddle of dark red next to the bathtub. The next clue was the bloody arm hanging over the side. He didn’t see the little piece of paper, stained red on the edges, that had fallen out of the hand attached to the bloody arm.
“B-Baby?” He whispered, slowly stepping forward. Peering over the edge of the tub, he saw April helplessly lying there. Her bright red hair was wet, matted against her face. The faucet was turned on slightly; a gentle stream had filled the tub partially. When Roger leaned over to turn it off, he bit his lip and fought back his own gentle stream of tears. Moving his foot closer to get a better look at April, he felt a cold, wet liquid touch his foot and the crinkle of paper under his foot. He shuddered, retracting his foot and finally seeing the paper scrap next to the puddle. Roger reached down, picking up the paper.
We’ve got AIDS.
Roger’s legs went weak, his arm reaching for the sink for support. No, no, no, he told himself. No, she was just kidding when she said they were sick. It was just an April Fools joke. Wiping his eyes, he remembered the date. April second. Just another day, a regular day. The paper crumbled in his fingers as the message sunk in. He was a fool. April’s fool.
-Fin