RENTfic: "Three Stories"
Title: Three Stories
Fandom: RENT
Characters: Roger/April, and Mark.
Prompt: #85: She.
Word Count: 2,402.
Rating: R.
Summary: Roger and April, from beginning to end, seen through the eyes of three different people.
Author's Notes: This was originally written for speed_rent challenge #184. My original inspiration for this came from an episode of House, also titled "Three Stories." The Bitter End is a real club somewhere in New York City. There's mention of drug use and suicide in here. I don't own RENT, or House, for that matter.
It all started with an accident. We always told everyone that we met at a Well Hungarians show, but that’s not how it happened. I was walking down the street, practically running, actually, because I was late for work. I was pissed at myself for oversleeping, and, consequently, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Next thing I knew, I was pressed firmly up against a leather jacket. I jumped back, blushing furiously, and apologizing so profusely that I wasn’t even sure I was using words.
“Don’t worry about it,” the owner of said leather jacket said with a smile. “It’s just as much my fault as yours. I’m Roger,” he added, extending his hand.
“April,” I said with a rather embarrassed grin, taking his hand. I looked him over - tall, bleached blonde hair spiked up, a grin that suggested that he was up to something, and a pair of startling green eyes. He held a beat-up guitar case in one hand. “So, you’re a guitarist?”
He nodded. “I’m the lead singer, lead guitarist, and sometime songwriter of the Well Hungarians.” He looked as if he was ready to burst with pride.
“I’ve heard of you guys,” I said, smiling at him. “You’re supposed to be really good!”
He feigned hurt. “‘Supposed to be?’ We are really good. You should come check us out sometime. We’re playing the Bitter End tonight.”
“I’ll be there after work,” I said with a smile. Realization dawned, and I jumped. “Shit! I’m late for work! I’ll see you tonight, Roger!” I shouted the last bit over my shoulder as I took off down the road.
*****
I always thought that I’d meet the love of my life in a romantic way. Maybe I’d see her while I was on stage, and forget what I was playing because I was so taken with her. Maybe we’d sit down next to each other at a coffee shop, and start a conversation. Something along those lines, at least.
I never thought I would literally stumble into it.
I was on my way home from band practice. I had written a great new melody, and I was trying to come up with lyrics for it. I was staring off into space, thinking, when a redhead came crashing into me. She stumbled backwards, and began mumbling apologies.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s just as much my fault as yours.” Almost as an afterthought, I offered her my hand. “I’m Roger.”
“April.” She took my hand and flashed me an embarrassed grin. She was cute, even more so when she smiled. She was taller than my last girlfriend, with grey eyes hiding beneath her unruly red hair. She raised an eyebrow and gestured to my guitar case. “So, you’re a guitarist?”
I couldn’t hold back a smile. I loved talking about my band. “I’m the lead singer, lead guitarist, and sometime songwriter of the Well Hungarians.”
She smiled, lighting up her whole face. “I’ve heard of you guys! You’re supposed to be really good!”
“‘Supposed to be?’” I hoped she would find my sarcasm funny, and not annoying. “We are really good. You should come check us out sometime. We’re playing the Bitter End tonight.” I winked, hoping she’d realize that I wasn’t only inviting her to hear the band.
“I’ll be there after work.” She started to smile, and her face fell. “Shit! I’m late for work!” She started to jog down the street. “I’ll see you tonight, Roger!” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran.
“Bye, April,” I said, knowing she couldn’t hear me. I was about to continue off home, but I stopped. I knew what my song was going to be about.
*****
I never told Roger or April that I knew the real story of how they met. I was down the block, filming, when I saw Roger come around the corner. I started to head toward him, pausing briefly to grab a little random footage.
When I looked up, there was a woman rushing down the street. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw her plow right into Roger, who was oblivious to everything around him, as usual.
She stepped back and looked up at Roger, wide-eyed. I was too far away to hear what she was saying, but her body language implied that she was apologizing.
I watched their conversation for a few moments, watching how Roger reacted to this girl. I’d never seen her around before, and I spent a lot of time wandering the streets of Alphabet City. Roger’s face lit up as the conversation went on. She gestured to his guitar case, and he wore a face that I knew meant he was bragging about his band.
The girl abruptly took off down the street, calling something over her shoulder as she ran. I could tell by the look on Roger’s face as he stood in her wake that I’d be seeing this girl again.
*****
It was a matter of weeks before I moved in with Roger. We couldn’t get enough of each other, and my lease was up, so it seemed like the logical step to take. I moved in, making it six in the loft. The quarters were kind of cramped, but it felt like home.
There was really only one problem, but I had an idea of how to deal with it. I just hoped that my plan would work.
It was inevitable. I was in the bathroom, and Roger walked in. I wasn’t naked, I wasn’t actually using the bathroom - I was getting a fix. Up to this point, I’d neglected to tell Roger that I used heroin. “Roger, I…”
He cut me off. “You do this shit? How the hell could you do this to yourself? April…” He sighed and shook his head.
I stood up and stroked a finger along his cheek. I smiled seductively. “Don’t you ever wonder what it feels like?” I leaned close and whispered into his ear, so close that my lips were touching his ear. “Having sex when you’re high is the most mind-blowing experience you’ll ever have.” I kissed him softly, and offered him the needle.
He looked into my eyes, as if he was searching my soul for the right answer. He closed his eyes briefly, before sighing and taking the needle.
I tied the tourniquet around his arm, kissed him softly, and injected the heroin into his bloodstream.
Kissing him again, I knew nothing would ever be the same.
*****
It’s not easy staying clean when you’re in a band. It seems that every musician, every club manager, and every groupie has a habit of some kind.
That’s why I was so surprised to find out that April, my sweet, beautiful April, had fallen into the trap that I’d spent so much time avoiding.
I only found out accidentally. I opened the bathroom door to find her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a tourniquet tied around her arm, and a half-empty needle in her hand.
“Roger, I…” she sputtered, clearly not knowing how to react.
My eyes were wide with anger. “You do this shit? How the hell could you do this to yourself?”
She hesitated briefly, before leaning in and whispering in my ear. “Don’t you ever wonder what it feels like? Having sex when you’re high is the most mind-blowing experience you’ll ever have.” She offered me the needle, still half-full with heroin.
I paused, thinking long and hard about this. I’d stayed clean this far; why change it now? But then I looked into her eyes…
She tied the tourniquet around my arm, and injected the drug. My eyes widened, and I gave myself over to the feeling.
*****
I noticed that April seemed to have a lot of moments where she seemed kind of out of it. It wasn’t until I saw her leaning up against an abandoned storefront that I figured out why.
I stood transfixed as I watched her receive a small bag of white powder in exchange for a wad of cash. I didn’t think Roger was using, and I hoped it would stay that way.
I knew the moment it happened. Roger went into the bathroom, and I could hear him shouting. I was on the opposite side of the loft, so I couldn’t make out words, but I could tell from his tone that he was angry.
Ten minutes later, the two of them stumbled out of the bathroom, glassy-eyed and wrapped around each other. They managed to make it into their bedroom, and promptly tumbled into bed. I knew things had changed forever.
*****
It fell apart as abruptly as it started. I went to the clinic to refill my prescription for birth control, and they said that I should get tested for HIV. I let them draw some blood, not thinking much about it.
Two weeks later, I got a message telling me to come back to the clinic. I went back, and heard only one word:
POSITIVE.
I broke down, and wandered the streets for a while before finally going home. I collapsed into bed, allowing Roger to curl up around me, wondering how this happened.
A few days later, I still couldn’t think of anything else. Mark and Roger invited me to go out with them, but I stayed home, pleading illness.
I couldn’t live like this - I just wasn’t strong enough. I loved Roger more than anything, and I couldn’t see him have to deal with this. I only had one way out.
As I lay in the bathtub, blood pouring from my wrists, I couldn’t help but think that they’d never be able to get the red of the blood off of the green floor tiles.
*****
I was disappointed that April didn’t want to come out with us, but she insisted we go on without her. She had been feeling a little under the weather, so the fact that she wanted to stay home didn’t come as a big surprise.
What I found when I came home, however, was the biggest surprise I’ve ever gotten.
It was late, but not too late, when Mark and I left the bar. He went straight home, but I had a stop to make. I found The Man, got what I needed, and had my fix, making sure to save some for April. I was feeling on top of the world when I walked into the loft.
And then my world came crashing down.
I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into the loft. Mark was on the phone, saying, “I need the police and an ambulance at 11th and Avenue B. Right now. It’s an emergency.” His tone was even, almost calm, but his demeanor was frantic. “No, I can’t wait. I need someone here now!”
My eyes went wide, because I couldn’t figure out what the emergency was. Mark was on the phone, so he clearly wasn’t the emergency. I came in after he was on the phone, so it wasn’t me. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. April.
“April? Baby, where are you?” I shouted. She wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. I checked our bedroom, the spare bedroom, even Mark’s bedroom. She wasn’t in any of them. I looked out to see if she was on the fire escape, and then my eyes turned toward the bathroom.
“Roger, you don’t want to go in there…” Mark began.
“Fuck you, Mark, I need to know what’s going on.” I barged into the bathroom before he could stop me. I nearly threw up when I saw her lying there.
April. My sweet, beautiful April. She was lying in the bathtub, splattered with red. Cold, and limp, and lifeless. I walked over to her, and put a hand to her cheek. “April, baby, sweetheart, how could you do this to yourself?” Tears started to fall down my face. “How could you do this to me?! Damn it, I love you. I wanted to marry you! Why the hell did you do this?!” I began to sob even harder.
Mark walked into the bathroom, and pulled me away from her. “Rog,” he said softly, “there’s something you have to see.”
*****
I wasn’t exactly crazy about the fact that Roger was stopping for a hit on the way home from the bar, but I knew that arguing with him would be more trouble than it was worth. So I continued on home.
I walked into the loft, and found it eerily silent. I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. “April?” I called softly. “April, are you okay?” She didn’t respond, and that only reinforced the feeling that something was definitely wrong.
I checked in all of the bedrooms, and didn’t find her. I turned, and the bathroom light caught my eye. I knew she hadn’t been feeling well, and was concerned that she was feeling worse than she had when we left.
I wasn’t at all prepared for what I found.
The instant I opened the bathroom door, I knew that it had been a ruse to get us out of the loft. The dark red puddle on the green tiles told me that. I checked to see if she was still alive, but she was cold. I knew that she was already gone. I looked up, and found her parting words. They literally made me shiver.
I’d always been good in an emergency, and that kicked in the instant I realized there was nothing I could do to help her. I called the police, and was trying to get them to hurry over to the loft when the door slid open.
Fuck.
Roger walked in, clearly high. He heard me mention an emergency, and a look of confusion passed over his face, before he realized what was going on. He called her name, and walked into the bathroom before I could stop him.
I gave him a moment with her, before I pulled him away. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Rog, there’s something you have to see.”
I spun him around, so he was facing the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet. Stuck to the middle of it was a yellow post-it note. A small yellow square that held April’s last words, and Roger’s fate.
“We’ve got AIDS.”
Fandom: RENT
Characters: Roger/April, and Mark.
Prompt: #85: She.
Word Count: 2,402.
Rating: R.
Summary: Roger and April, from beginning to end, seen through the eyes of three different people.
Author's Notes: This was originally written for speed_rent challenge #184. My original inspiration for this came from an episode of House, also titled "Three Stories." The Bitter End is a real club somewhere in New York City. There's mention of drug use and suicide in here. I don't own RENT, or House, for that matter.
It all started with an accident. We always told everyone that we met at a Well Hungarians show, but that’s not how it happened. I was walking down the street, practically running, actually, because I was late for work. I was pissed at myself for oversleeping, and, consequently, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Next thing I knew, I was pressed firmly up against a leather jacket. I jumped back, blushing furiously, and apologizing so profusely that I wasn’t even sure I was using words.
“Don’t worry about it,” the owner of said leather jacket said with a smile. “It’s just as much my fault as yours. I’m Roger,” he added, extending his hand.
“April,” I said with a rather embarrassed grin, taking his hand. I looked him over - tall, bleached blonde hair spiked up, a grin that suggested that he was up to something, and a pair of startling green eyes. He held a beat-up guitar case in one hand. “So, you’re a guitarist?”
He nodded. “I’m the lead singer, lead guitarist, and sometime songwriter of the Well Hungarians.” He looked as if he was ready to burst with pride.
“I’ve heard of you guys,” I said, smiling at him. “You’re supposed to be really good!”
He feigned hurt. “‘Supposed to be?’ We are really good. You should come check us out sometime. We’re playing the Bitter End tonight.”
“I’ll be there after work,” I said with a smile. Realization dawned, and I jumped. “Shit! I’m late for work! I’ll see you tonight, Roger!” I shouted the last bit over my shoulder as I took off down the road.
*****
I always thought that I’d meet the love of my life in a romantic way. Maybe I’d see her while I was on stage, and forget what I was playing because I was so taken with her. Maybe we’d sit down next to each other at a coffee shop, and start a conversation. Something along those lines, at least.
I never thought I would literally stumble into it.
I was on my way home from band practice. I had written a great new melody, and I was trying to come up with lyrics for it. I was staring off into space, thinking, when a redhead came crashing into me. She stumbled backwards, and began mumbling apologies.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s just as much my fault as yours.” Almost as an afterthought, I offered her my hand. “I’m Roger.”
“April.” She took my hand and flashed me an embarrassed grin. She was cute, even more so when she smiled. She was taller than my last girlfriend, with grey eyes hiding beneath her unruly red hair. She raised an eyebrow and gestured to my guitar case. “So, you’re a guitarist?”
I couldn’t hold back a smile. I loved talking about my band. “I’m the lead singer, lead guitarist, and sometime songwriter of the Well Hungarians.”
She smiled, lighting up her whole face. “I’ve heard of you guys! You’re supposed to be really good!”
“‘Supposed to be?’” I hoped she would find my sarcasm funny, and not annoying. “We are really good. You should come check us out sometime. We’re playing the Bitter End tonight.” I winked, hoping she’d realize that I wasn’t only inviting her to hear the band.
“I’ll be there after work.” She started to smile, and her face fell. “Shit! I’m late for work!” She started to jog down the street. “I’ll see you tonight, Roger!” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran.
“Bye, April,” I said, knowing she couldn’t hear me. I was about to continue off home, but I stopped. I knew what my song was going to be about.
*****
I never told Roger or April that I knew the real story of how they met. I was down the block, filming, when I saw Roger come around the corner. I started to head toward him, pausing briefly to grab a little random footage.
When I looked up, there was a woman rushing down the street. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw her plow right into Roger, who was oblivious to everything around him, as usual.
She stepped back and looked up at Roger, wide-eyed. I was too far away to hear what she was saying, but her body language implied that she was apologizing.
I watched their conversation for a few moments, watching how Roger reacted to this girl. I’d never seen her around before, and I spent a lot of time wandering the streets of Alphabet City. Roger’s face lit up as the conversation went on. She gestured to his guitar case, and he wore a face that I knew meant he was bragging about his band.
The girl abruptly took off down the street, calling something over her shoulder as she ran. I could tell by the look on Roger’s face as he stood in her wake that I’d be seeing this girl again.
*****
It was a matter of weeks before I moved in with Roger. We couldn’t get enough of each other, and my lease was up, so it seemed like the logical step to take. I moved in, making it six in the loft. The quarters were kind of cramped, but it felt like home.
There was really only one problem, but I had an idea of how to deal with it. I just hoped that my plan would work.
It was inevitable. I was in the bathroom, and Roger walked in. I wasn’t naked, I wasn’t actually using the bathroom - I was getting a fix. Up to this point, I’d neglected to tell Roger that I used heroin. “Roger, I…”
He cut me off. “You do this shit? How the hell could you do this to yourself? April…” He sighed and shook his head.
I stood up and stroked a finger along his cheek. I smiled seductively. “Don’t you ever wonder what it feels like?” I leaned close and whispered into his ear, so close that my lips were touching his ear. “Having sex when you’re high is the most mind-blowing experience you’ll ever have.” I kissed him softly, and offered him the needle.
He looked into my eyes, as if he was searching my soul for the right answer. He closed his eyes briefly, before sighing and taking the needle.
I tied the tourniquet around his arm, kissed him softly, and injected the heroin into his bloodstream.
Kissing him again, I knew nothing would ever be the same.
*****
It’s not easy staying clean when you’re in a band. It seems that every musician, every club manager, and every groupie has a habit of some kind.
That’s why I was so surprised to find out that April, my sweet, beautiful April, had fallen into the trap that I’d spent so much time avoiding.
I only found out accidentally. I opened the bathroom door to find her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a tourniquet tied around her arm, and a half-empty needle in her hand.
“Roger, I…” she sputtered, clearly not knowing how to react.
My eyes were wide with anger. “You do this shit? How the hell could you do this to yourself?”
She hesitated briefly, before leaning in and whispering in my ear. “Don’t you ever wonder what it feels like? Having sex when you’re high is the most mind-blowing experience you’ll ever have.” She offered me the needle, still half-full with heroin.
I paused, thinking long and hard about this. I’d stayed clean this far; why change it now? But then I looked into her eyes…
She tied the tourniquet around my arm, and injected the drug. My eyes widened, and I gave myself over to the feeling.
*****
I noticed that April seemed to have a lot of moments where she seemed kind of out of it. It wasn’t until I saw her leaning up against an abandoned storefront that I figured out why.
I stood transfixed as I watched her receive a small bag of white powder in exchange for a wad of cash. I didn’t think Roger was using, and I hoped it would stay that way.
I knew the moment it happened. Roger went into the bathroom, and I could hear him shouting. I was on the opposite side of the loft, so I couldn’t make out words, but I could tell from his tone that he was angry.
Ten minutes later, the two of them stumbled out of the bathroom, glassy-eyed and wrapped around each other. They managed to make it into their bedroom, and promptly tumbled into bed. I knew things had changed forever.
*****
It fell apart as abruptly as it started. I went to the clinic to refill my prescription for birth control, and they said that I should get tested for HIV. I let them draw some blood, not thinking much about it.
Two weeks later, I got a message telling me to come back to the clinic. I went back, and heard only one word:
POSITIVE.
I broke down, and wandered the streets for a while before finally going home. I collapsed into bed, allowing Roger to curl up around me, wondering how this happened.
A few days later, I still couldn’t think of anything else. Mark and Roger invited me to go out with them, but I stayed home, pleading illness.
I couldn’t live like this - I just wasn’t strong enough. I loved Roger more than anything, and I couldn’t see him have to deal with this. I only had one way out.
As I lay in the bathtub, blood pouring from my wrists, I couldn’t help but think that they’d never be able to get the red of the blood off of the green floor tiles.
*****
I was disappointed that April didn’t want to come out with us, but she insisted we go on without her. She had been feeling a little under the weather, so the fact that she wanted to stay home didn’t come as a big surprise.
What I found when I came home, however, was the biggest surprise I’ve ever gotten.
It was late, but not too late, when Mark and I left the bar. He went straight home, but I had a stop to make. I found The Man, got what I needed, and had my fix, making sure to save some for April. I was feeling on top of the world when I walked into the loft.
And then my world came crashing down.
I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into the loft. Mark was on the phone, saying, “I need the police and an ambulance at 11th and Avenue B. Right now. It’s an emergency.” His tone was even, almost calm, but his demeanor was frantic. “No, I can’t wait. I need someone here now!”
My eyes went wide, because I couldn’t figure out what the emergency was. Mark was on the phone, so he clearly wasn’t the emergency. I came in after he was on the phone, so it wasn’t me. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. April.
“April? Baby, where are you?” I shouted. She wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. I checked our bedroom, the spare bedroom, even Mark’s bedroom. She wasn’t in any of them. I looked out to see if she was on the fire escape, and then my eyes turned toward the bathroom.
“Roger, you don’t want to go in there…” Mark began.
“Fuck you, Mark, I need to know what’s going on.” I barged into the bathroom before he could stop me. I nearly threw up when I saw her lying there.
April. My sweet, beautiful April. She was lying in the bathtub, splattered with red. Cold, and limp, and lifeless. I walked over to her, and put a hand to her cheek. “April, baby, sweetheart, how could you do this to yourself?” Tears started to fall down my face. “How could you do this to me?! Damn it, I love you. I wanted to marry you! Why the hell did you do this?!” I began to sob even harder.
Mark walked into the bathroom, and pulled me away from her. “Rog,” he said softly, “there’s something you have to see.”
*****
I wasn’t exactly crazy about the fact that Roger was stopping for a hit on the way home from the bar, but I knew that arguing with him would be more trouble than it was worth. So I continued on home.
I walked into the loft, and found it eerily silent. I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. “April?” I called softly. “April, are you okay?” She didn’t respond, and that only reinforced the feeling that something was definitely wrong.
I checked in all of the bedrooms, and didn’t find her. I turned, and the bathroom light caught my eye. I knew she hadn’t been feeling well, and was concerned that she was feeling worse than she had when we left.
I wasn’t at all prepared for what I found.
The instant I opened the bathroom door, I knew that it had been a ruse to get us out of the loft. The dark red puddle on the green tiles told me that. I checked to see if she was still alive, but she was cold. I knew that she was already gone. I looked up, and found her parting words. They literally made me shiver.
I’d always been good in an emergency, and that kicked in the instant I realized there was nothing I could do to help her. I called the police, and was trying to get them to hurry over to the loft when the door slid open.
Fuck.
Roger walked in, clearly high. He heard me mention an emergency, and a look of confusion passed over his face, before he realized what was going on. He called her name, and walked into the bathroom before I could stop him.
I gave him a moment with her, before I pulled him away. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Rog, there’s something you have to see.”
I spun him around, so he was facing the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet. Stuck to the middle of it was a yellow post-it note. A small yellow square that held April’s last words, and Roger’s fate.
“We’ve got AIDS.”