RENT: Someone Else's Story (Chapter Seven)
Title: Someone Else's Story
Chapter: Seven
Characters/Pairing: April/Mimi, Mark, Benny, Collins, Joanne, Maureen, mention of Roger
Word Count: 2338
Rating: PG-13
Summary: I could be in someone else's story, in someone else's life, and she could be in mine... April lived. Roger didn't. Mimi still knocks on the door of the loft on Christmas Eve.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. Plus, I kind of half-stole some lines from the show. Half-stole, because most of them I've kind of altered.
<< Previous Chapter
vii. i used to shiver like that
Funny, how quickly you could get used to a person, how soon being pounced on the second you walked through the door with a warm kiss and a hug went from strange and disorienting to right and expected, how soon having someone beside you at night went from nothing more than a distant memory to a perfect, solid reality, and something you couldn't sleep without. Funny how quickly you went from looking forward to nothing at all, to being unable to wait until you got home, just knowing what was waiting for you.
April hummed softly to herself as she walked up the stairs, a tune she was familiar with, knew perfectly, and yet she still couldn't put her finger on what it was or the words, if there were any words at all. It didn't really matter the source or the lyrics anyway, just that she was humming, that she felt good and the tune wouldn't leave her mind, that the simple sound of music didn't pain her, that she'd gone out for no other reason than that she could.
Then again, she thought with a bit of a smile, stripping off one of her gloves so that she could hunt through her pocket for the keys, given that it's freezing outside I just might need a better reason than that from now on.
She stopped on Mimi's floor, and checked the lock - unlocked, as always, and April tucked her keys back into her pocket as she shouldered open the door. "Hey, Mimi..." she called softly, and frowned slightly when she got no answer. "Baby?"
A soft, barely there noise came from the bedroom, just a quick rustle of fabric, and April walked slowly to the bedroom door, footsteps light on the bare floorboards. Nudging open the door, she found Mimi looking at her from her position perched on the edge of the bed with a combination of surprise and guilt and perhaps a bit of a challenge.
She must have hidden the needle, but the tourniquet was still around her bare arm, that familiar look of needwantneed in her eyes. And she didn't say a word, just watched April and waited for her to speak.
April couldn't, for a minute, and finally managed, so softly she wasn't sure Mimi would even hear her, her tone somehow even and deathly cold, "Where is it?"
Mimi sighed and looked down, expertly untying the tourniquet with one hand. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice tight with hunger and desperate, aching need, and perhaps April should have been sympathetic, because she knew that feeling all too well, but all she really felt was relief - she wasn't high, she hadn't shot up yet. April stayed in the doorway, not really trusting herself to come any closer.
"You said you'd quit," she reminded Mimi softly. "You told me-"
"It hurts," Mimi whispered. "April, I can't..."
"You never tried," April snapped. "You think I don't know it hurts? I did the same thing a year ago, and I know. And another thing, you think I wouldn't notice? I can tell when you're high, Mimi, I know what track marks look like, and I'm not stupid. You told me you'd quit."
Mimi slid off the bed and walked up to April slowly, something about her expression making her look simultaneously older and younger than she was, dark eyes wide in a pale, hardened face. And April couldn't listen to a word she said, because she knew Mimi didn't care about a word she said. Because she knew at this point Mimi's only thought would be for the drugs - and it didn't help that a fair bit of her own thoughts were running down that track as well.
"April..."
She reached out to touch April's face, and April stepped back quickly, before Mimi's fingers touched her cheek, and shook her head. "No, don't even... You're going to tell me you'll stop, and you're sorry, and then as soon as I walk away you're going to shoot up. And I can't stop that, but don't lie to me."
"April!" Mimi said, a little more desperately than before, and for an instant April almost thought she might care beyond just not wanting April to be mad at her, but she didn't pause, didn't look back as she turned and walked back to the door, and before Mimi could catch her she was out in the hallway and heading up the stairs. As she had expected, Mimi didn't follow her.
Mark looked up when April slammed the door behind her. It surprised her a little that he didn't jump at the loud crash of the door banging into place, just frowned at her as she pulled off her hat and coat and stalked over to drop them onto the couch. "What happened?" he asked cautiously after a moment, watching as April unwound her scarf from around her neck.
"Mimi," she muttered softly, frowning as her scarf somehow got tangled and nearly choked her. She took a breath, unwound it properly, and tossed it aside, not quite noticing that it landed so it was half-draped over Mark's head. Mark calmly and without remark removed it and set it aside carefully. "I went to see her, she was about to shoot up... I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," Mark said quietly, in a tone April had only ever heard him use with Roger, gentle and calming like he thought she would explode or something if he weren't so careful. "You want me to make you some tea?"
That wasn't her, the person who needed to be calmed and soothed so she wouldn't blow up at someone. Impulsive, yes, but always in reaction to everyone else, and she couldn't keep up this righteous anger for long. With a sigh, she sank onto the couch and glanced over at Mark. "What kind of tea?"
"It's, um, chamomile. I think." He paused, and then added with a bit of a grimace, "I mean, it's supposed to be. It tastes like straw."
April gave a faint, shaky smile, trying not to think about Mimi downstairs, doubtless already high, and nodded a little. "Sure. Just make sure there's lots of sugar." Mark returned her smile and pushed himself off the couch to hunt down the tea bags and a couple of mugs for it. April watched him for a moment before turning her attention to the window, staring out of it distantly and not actually seeing anything outside.
What she saw instead was Mimi's face, with the same look she'd used to see on Roger's face, the same look she'd used to wear herself, desperate and hungry and willing to do anything for the next hit. What she saw was Mimi's bare arm, tourniquet bound tight around her bicep, veins standing out in sharp relief on her forearm. And a needle - she hadn't even seen it, Mimi had tucked it away too quickly, heaven knew where, but it was there in her mind nevertheless, Mimi in the room just downstairs, sliding it into her arm... No, the picture shifted in her mind, and it was the needle in her hand, needle pressing against pale skin with blue, almost green veins visible beneath the skin, the slight resistance of skin and then the way the needle broke through the skin, into the vein, her thumb on the plunger.
April shook her head to clear the image from her mind. It had been so long since any thoughts like that occurred to her, she had to stop and examine them, prod at them like something equal parts foreign and familiar. Since when did she think about smack, since when did she want it? But then, since Roger died she hadn't had it right in front of her, had stayed locked in the house after Mark had made sure to throw out all of her stash and her needles and the rest of it, had stayed in the house where she was away from all the dealers and everything else, every temptation and opportunity. But now... now it was different, now she had every opportunity in the world and the only image in her mind was a needle and white skin and blue veins.
"Here's your tea," Mark said softly, and April started a bit, glancing up at him in surprise - she'd almost forgotten he was there, and certainly forgotten about the tea. She took the mug he offered with a vague smile. Mark watched her with a worried expression she recognized. He knew the smile was as false as they came; she knew he knew it. She couldn't figure out why they bothered pretending, either of them, but she didn't have it in her to ask.
"Thank you," she murmured, and sipped it carefully. Mark was right, it did taste like straw, but he'd put enough sugar in it to almost make up for that. April curled her legs up to her chest, sipped her tea, stared out the window, and tried not to think that she could go downstairs to Mimi, right now, simple as that. Mark stood there for a moment like he wanted to ask her what was wrong, but when she ignored him, he sighed and took a step back, went to sit down over at the table and presumably leave her alone. Neither of them said anything for some time, and a not entirely comfortable silence settled over the loft, while April's tea got cold.
The silence was broken by a tentative knock on the door, some time later. April started, spilling tea over her hand and the front of her shirt - it had cooled enough by then that it didn't burn her at all; it was cold, actually, and she muttered a curse under her breath as she set it aside on the coffee table. Mark frowned at the door, then at April.
"Do you want me to..." He gestured to the door, and April shrugged, standing up and starting to walk to her bedroom.
"Go ahead. I have to change my shirt." She kicked the door of her bedroom shut behind her - not that she minded Mark seeing her without her shirt, not that he hadn't before, but hopefully with the door closed it would be a little less drafty in her room, and not as chilly. Quickly, she stripped off her shirt and tossed it into the hamper in the corner, hunting down a clean one, a turtleneck she pulled quickly over her head. Through the door, she could hear Mark's voice, low and soft, and a moment later... Mimi's voice.
April's heart leapt, and she slowly sat down on her bed, pulling her feet up onto the bed after a moment so that she sat there cross-legged. She had the bizarre idea that if she sat there as silently as possible, didn't move, barely breathed, Mimi would never know she was there, and she wouldn't have to speak to her. Hide under the blankets and be very still, and the bogeyman won't get you, but there's always the temptation to peek out. April wasn't sure whether she was afraid of the smack and yet wanted to see Mimi, or if maybe it was the other way around. But hiding there wouldn't help her - Mimi would know she was there, because there was nowhere else April would have gone. April sat there, silently, trying to listen to Mark and Mimi speaking but unable to make out a single word. She didn't relax until they fell silent and she heard the door shut. Even then, she didn't move off the bed just yet.
She sat there, still silent and unmoving, while silence settled over the loft once more. After almost a minute, someone pushed her bedroom door inward cautiously, and April looked up, expecting to see Mark, expecting him to tell her Mimi wasn't good for her, or express sympathy, or something. It wasn't Mark at all, though. Mimi stood there instead, looking tiny and delicate there in the doorway, head lowered so that she wasn't looking at April straight on, but in a sidelong fashion, out of the corner of her eye.
"What did you..." April began, but stopped quickly. Mimi understood the question anyway.
"Mark said he would leave us alone to talk for a while. He thought it was important."
"I don't want to-" she began, but this time Mimi cut her off with a shake of her head.
"Please, just listen to me." She looked up to meet April's eyes, walked over to the bed and sat down in front of her with a faintly pleading look. "I just want to explain... I wanted to tell you..." She sighed and took a breath, seemingly to collect her thoughts. April, wordless, gave her that time, in part because she couldn't think of what she might possibly say.
"I know I said I would quit," Mimi said at last, reaching forward cautiously to take April's hand. "And I know it bothers you that I'm using, and I'm sorry, but-"
"Do you have any more?" April asked abruptly, not sure herself where the words came from. They seemed to be from someone else, someone not her. They certainly took Mimi by surprise, her eyes widening, her brows drawing together.
"What?" she asked carefully, like she wasn't sure she'd heard the question correctly, and then rubbed her arms a little defensively - they were covered, as always, but April knew there would be the track marks on her arms. "Are you going to try to take it away from me? I'm not a kid, April, I don't need you to keep all the dangerous things out of reach."
"No," April said quietly, "I know. I just..." She shrugged, and resisted the sudden, reflexive urge to rub her own arms.
Chapter: Seven
Characters/Pairing: April/Mimi, Mark, Benny, Collins, Joanne, Maureen, mention of Roger
Word Count: 2338
Rating: PG-13
Summary: I could be in someone else's story, in someone else's life, and she could be in mine... April lived. Roger didn't. Mimi still knocks on the door of the loft on Christmas Eve.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. Plus, I kind of half-stole some lines from the show. Half-stole, because most of them I've kind of altered.
<< Previous Chapter
vii. i used to shiver like that
Funny, how quickly you could get used to a person, how soon being pounced on the second you walked through the door with a warm kiss and a hug went from strange and disorienting to right and expected, how soon having someone beside you at night went from nothing more than a distant memory to a perfect, solid reality, and something you couldn't sleep without. Funny how quickly you went from looking forward to nothing at all, to being unable to wait until you got home, just knowing what was waiting for you.
April hummed softly to herself as she walked up the stairs, a tune she was familiar with, knew perfectly, and yet she still couldn't put her finger on what it was or the words, if there were any words at all. It didn't really matter the source or the lyrics anyway, just that she was humming, that she felt good and the tune wouldn't leave her mind, that the simple sound of music didn't pain her, that she'd gone out for no other reason than that she could.
Then again, she thought with a bit of a smile, stripping off one of her gloves so that she could hunt through her pocket for the keys, given that it's freezing outside I just might need a better reason than that from now on.
She stopped on Mimi's floor, and checked the lock - unlocked, as always, and April tucked her keys back into her pocket as she shouldered open the door. "Hey, Mimi..." she called softly, and frowned slightly when she got no answer. "Baby?"
A soft, barely there noise came from the bedroom, just a quick rustle of fabric, and April walked slowly to the bedroom door, footsteps light on the bare floorboards. Nudging open the door, she found Mimi looking at her from her position perched on the edge of the bed with a combination of surprise and guilt and perhaps a bit of a challenge.
She must have hidden the needle, but the tourniquet was still around her bare arm, that familiar look of needwantneed in her eyes. And she didn't say a word, just watched April and waited for her to speak.
April couldn't, for a minute, and finally managed, so softly she wasn't sure Mimi would even hear her, her tone somehow even and deathly cold, "Where is it?"
Mimi sighed and looked down, expertly untying the tourniquet with one hand. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice tight with hunger and desperate, aching need, and perhaps April should have been sympathetic, because she knew that feeling all too well, but all she really felt was relief - she wasn't high, she hadn't shot up yet. April stayed in the doorway, not really trusting herself to come any closer.
"You said you'd quit," she reminded Mimi softly. "You told me-"
"It hurts," Mimi whispered. "April, I can't..."
"You never tried," April snapped. "You think I don't know it hurts? I did the same thing a year ago, and I know. And another thing, you think I wouldn't notice? I can tell when you're high, Mimi, I know what track marks look like, and I'm not stupid. You told me you'd quit."
Mimi slid off the bed and walked up to April slowly, something about her expression making her look simultaneously older and younger than she was, dark eyes wide in a pale, hardened face. And April couldn't listen to a word she said, because she knew Mimi didn't care about a word she said. Because she knew at this point Mimi's only thought would be for the drugs - and it didn't help that a fair bit of her own thoughts were running down that track as well.
"April..."
She reached out to touch April's face, and April stepped back quickly, before Mimi's fingers touched her cheek, and shook her head. "No, don't even... You're going to tell me you'll stop, and you're sorry, and then as soon as I walk away you're going to shoot up. And I can't stop that, but don't lie to me."
"April!" Mimi said, a little more desperately than before, and for an instant April almost thought she might care beyond just not wanting April to be mad at her, but she didn't pause, didn't look back as she turned and walked back to the door, and before Mimi could catch her she was out in the hallway and heading up the stairs. As she had expected, Mimi didn't follow her.
Mark looked up when April slammed the door behind her. It surprised her a little that he didn't jump at the loud crash of the door banging into place, just frowned at her as she pulled off her hat and coat and stalked over to drop them onto the couch. "What happened?" he asked cautiously after a moment, watching as April unwound her scarf from around her neck.
"Mimi," she muttered softly, frowning as her scarf somehow got tangled and nearly choked her. She took a breath, unwound it properly, and tossed it aside, not quite noticing that it landed so it was half-draped over Mark's head. Mark calmly and without remark removed it and set it aside carefully. "I went to see her, she was about to shoot up... I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," Mark said quietly, in a tone April had only ever heard him use with Roger, gentle and calming like he thought she would explode or something if he weren't so careful. "You want me to make you some tea?"
That wasn't her, the person who needed to be calmed and soothed so she wouldn't blow up at someone. Impulsive, yes, but always in reaction to everyone else, and she couldn't keep up this righteous anger for long. With a sigh, she sank onto the couch and glanced over at Mark. "What kind of tea?"
"It's, um, chamomile. I think." He paused, and then added with a bit of a grimace, "I mean, it's supposed to be. It tastes like straw."
April gave a faint, shaky smile, trying not to think about Mimi downstairs, doubtless already high, and nodded a little. "Sure. Just make sure there's lots of sugar." Mark returned her smile and pushed himself off the couch to hunt down the tea bags and a couple of mugs for it. April watched him for a moment before turning her attention to the window, staring out of it distantly and not actually seeing anything outside.
What she saw instead was Mimi's face, with the same look she'd used to see on Roger's face, the same look she'd used to wear herself, desperate and hungry and willing to do anything for the next hit. What she saw was Mimi's bare arm, tourniquet bound tight around her bicep, veins standing out in sharp relief on her forearm. And a needle - she hadn't even seen it, Mimi had tucked it away too quickly, heaven knew where, but it was there in her mind nevertheless, Mimi in the room just downstairs, sliding it into her arm... No, the picture shifted in her mind, and it was the needle in her hand, needle pressing against pale skin with blue, almost green veins visible beneath the skin, the slight resistance of skin and then the way the needle broke through the skin, into the vein, her thumb on the plunger.
April shook her head to clear the image from her mind. It had been so long since any thoughts like that occurred to her, she had to stop and examine them, prod at them like something equal parts foreign and familiar. Since when did she think about smack, since when did she want it? But then, since Roger died she hadn't had it right in front of her, had stayed locked in the house after Mark had made sure to throw out all of her stash and her needles and the rest of it, had stayed in the house where she was away from all the dealers and everything else, every temptation and opportunity. But now... now it was different, now she had every opportunity in the world and the only image in her mind was a needle and white skin and blue veins.
"Here's your tea," Mark said softly, and April started a bit, glancing up at him in surprise - she'd almost forgotten he was there, and certainly forgotten about the tea. She took the mug he offered with a vague smile. Mark watched her with a worried expression she recognized. He knew the smile was as false as they came; she knew he knew it. She couldn't figure out why they bothered pretending, either of them, but she didn't have it in her to ask.
"Thank you," she murmured, and sipped it carefully. Mark was right, it did taste like straw, but he'd put enough sugar in it to almost make up for that. April curled her legs up to her chest, sipped her tea, stared out the window, and tried not to think that she could go downstairs to Mimi, right now, simple as that. Mark stood there for a moment like he wanted to ask her what was wrong, but when she ignored him, he sighed and took a step back, went to sit down over at the table and presumably leave her alone. Neither of them said anything for some time, and a not entirely comfortable silence settled over the loft, while April's tea got cold.
The silence was broken by a tentative knock on the door, some time later. April started, spilling tea over her hand and the front of her shirt - it had cooled enough by then that it didn't burn her at all; it was cold, actually, and she muttered a curse under her breath as she set it aside on the coffee table. Mark frowned at the door, then at April.
"Do you want me to..." He gestured to the door, and April shrugged, standing up and starting to walk to her bedroom.
"Go ahead. I have to change my shirt." She kicked the door of her bedroom shut behind her - not that she minded Mark seeing her without her shirt, not that he hadn't before, but hopefully with the door closed it would be a little less drafty in her room, and not as chilly. Quickly, she stripped off her shirt and tossed it into the hamper in the corner, hunting down a clean one, a turtleneck she pulled quickly over her head. Through the door, she could hear Mark's voice, low and soft, and a moment later... Mimi's voice.
April's heart leapt, and she slowly sat down on her bed, pulling her feet up onto the bed after a moment so that she sat there cross-legged. She had the bizarre idea that if she sat there as silently as possible, didn't move, barely breathed, Mimi would never know she was there, and she wouldn't have to speak to her. Hide under the blankets and be very still, and the bogeyman won't get you, but there's always the temptation to peek out. April wasn't sure whether she was afraid of the smack and yet wanted to see Mimi, or if maybe it was the other way around. But hiding there wouldn't help her - Mimi would know she was there, because there was nowhere else April would have gone. April sat there, silently, trying to listen to Mark and Mimi speaking but unable to make out a single word. She didn't relax until they fell silent and she heard the door shut. Even then, she didn't move off the bed just yet.
She sat there, still silent and unmoving, while silence settled over the loft once more. After almost a minute, someone pushed her bedroom door inward cautiously, and April looked up, expecting to see Mark, expecting him to tell her Mimi wasn't good for her, or express sympathy, or something. It wasn't Mark at all, though. Mimi stood there instead, looking tiny and delicate there in the doorway, head lowered so that she wasn't looking at April straight on, but in a sidelong fashion, out of the corner of her eye.
"What did you..." April began, but stopped quickly. Mimi understood the question anyway.
"Mark said he would leave us alone to talk for a while. He thought it was important."
"I don't want to-" she began, but this time Mimi cut her off with a shake of her head.
"Please, just listen to me." She looked up to meet April's eyes, walked over to the bed and sat down in front of her with a faintly pleading look. "I just want to explain... I wanted to tell you..." She sighed and took a breath, seemingly to collect her thoughts. April, wordless, gave her that time, in part because she couldn't think of what she might possibly say.
"I know I said I would quit," Mimi said at last, reaching forward cautiously to take April's hand. "And I know it bothers you that I'm using, and I'm sorry, but-"
"Do you have any more?" April asked abruptly, not sure herself where the words came from. They seemed to be from someone else, someone not her. They certainly took Mimi by surprise, her eyes widening, her brows drawing together.
"What?" she asked carefully, like she wasn't sure she'd heard the question correctly, and then rubbed her arms a little defensively - they were covered, as always, but April knew there would be the track marks on her arms. "Are you going to try to take it away from me? I'm not a kid, April, I don't need you to keep all the dangerous things out of reach."
"No," April said quietly, "I know. I just..." She shrugged, and resisted the sudden, reflexive urge to rub her own arms.