DISCLAIMER: ...has been mentioned previously
AUTHOR’S NOTE: if anyone was wondering, these vignettes aren’t exactly connected. i’m just taking a look at each individual characters’ thoughts at the end of the musical Rent. any background i mention in one holds true for the others, but that’s it. now that you are all completely confused, on with the show!....this is Mark’s POV.

Misconceptions
by kaydee falls

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I think I can honestly say that I’m happy right now. I assume that’s the correct term for my feelings. It’s been so long since I’ve felt pure joy that it’s kind of hard to tell.

Well, no worry. It won’t last long. Better start filming now, though, or I’ll forget the strange sensation.

I capture Roger and Mimi with my camera. Wow. If I’m happy, then they must be positively euphoric. He hasn’t looked this great since he stopped using drugs, and she....well, she is Mimi. Much better looking than only a few minutes ago.

Seeing the two of them, I feel the first pangs of bitterness, envy. Hastily, I pan away. Happy, Mark. Happy, happy, happy.

Collins noticed. He always does. Angel’s death hasn’t dulled his various talents at all. Such as his incredible ability to notice everything. I mean, they call me the observer, but this man misses nothing.

His interpretations, however, aren’t quite so accurate. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the others all believe him, especially regarding me.

Frankly, they all think I’m gay. He saw my jealousy -- “gosh, Mark, couldn’t you even be glad that Mimi’s back, without seeing her as competition?” Because, of course, I’m madly in love with my best friend, Roger.

Of course.

I can’t believe they actually believe that.

But hey, whatever they want is fine by me. Let them think what they want to think. It doesn’t bother me, much. It provides me with a grain of humor, anyway.

Do I love Roger? Sure. He’s my best friend. I practically mothered him for six months, after April died, which isn’t too easy when your girlfriend is as demanding as Maureen. That’s probably where this all started, anyway. The main reason she dumped me was because she fell in love with Joanne. But an underlying part was her opinion that I was far too devoted to Roger. That I was in love with him.

What was I supposed to do, let him self-destruct? He wouldn’t have taken his AZT. He wouldn’t have gone to the rehab. I couldn’t make him leave the loft, but at least I kept him alive. I had to. He was my best friend. Problem is, some people can’t see the difference between “love” and “in love.” Hence, I am apparently in love with Roger.

Stepping back to capture the whole group, I can’t help but notice an absence. Against my will, my eyes prickle with tears. The loft just seems a little emptier without Angel.

Angel. She was the only one who understood me, who knew the truth. I think her death was the single event that convinced me to be an atheist. All it took is one comment that “God has collected his brightest Angel” to do the trick. That’s it. If God existed, he would have to be extremely selfish and cruel. And don’t go telling me about His “mysterious ways;” I don’t want to hear it. Either He’s a royal asshole, or He doesn’t exist, and I’d rather believe the latter. As to Angel sending Mimi back to us, well, I just don’t buy that. But it’s the sort of thing she would do.

Angel had a bizarre sense of intuition. I remember, back at the end of August, the group of us were right here in the loft. It was one of those rare periods in which everyone was speaking to everyone else. We were all just chatting each up, munching on chips, and Roger and Mimi started nuzzling. Not too unusual. I quickly looked away, putting on my blank face. No emotions. That’s when I heard the whisperings.

Maureen had nudged the duo, hissing for them to stop for my sake. My blank face went a lovely shade of pink as all eyes were turned on me.

Ugh.

For one, intense moment, I hated them. All of them. The next murmurs going around were of the poor-Marky-he’s-so-vulnerable-how-could-you-Roger-making-him-jealous variety. I just couldn’t take it, and I quietly went into my bedroom.

Behind me, they started talking in low tones, like I couldn’t hear them. Discussing my love for Roger. It was downright humiliating, but I refused the urge to cry.

After a few minutes, Angel stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Are you all right, Mark?” she asked gently.

I reassembled the blank face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied.

“Look, I know they’re all wrong,” she told me. “I know you’re not gay. What I don’t know is why you’re so touchy on the subject. You act like homosexuality is a bad thing. Personally, I ought to be offended.” She smiled a little.

I sighed. “It’s not bad, I wouldn’t be ashamed of it. It just that I’m not.”

“So just tell them.”

“Sometimes it’s easier when they think I’m in love with Roger,” I whispered.

Angel regarded me in silence for a few long moments. “Oh, I see,” she said suddenly, sadly. “It hits too close for comfort, doesn’t it?”

“You could say that,” I said cautiously, unwilling to carry this conversation forward.

“You’re not jealous of Mimi, are you?” Angel asked. I didn’t respond. “You’re jealous of Roger,” she continued softly.

“I can’t tell them the truth,” I said hoarsely. “He’s my best friend.”

“And how do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with his girlfriend?” she finished my thought. It was a rhetorical question; neither of us could answer it. “I’m sorry,” she said, finally.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing to do with you,” I responded.

Angel grinned wryly. “It is now,” she commented, staring off into space. Dispassionately, “She is beautiful.”

I nodded, voicelessly. Standing, the drag queen put a hand on my shoulder briefly. “It’ll work out somehow,” she said lightly. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Two months later, Angel was dead.

I’ve tried to make it work out, really I have. I kept encouraging Roger with her, convincing him that she loved him, not Benny, forcing him to apologize after the worst fights. Deep down, I couldn’t watch him hurt her. And in my own, personal lows, especially when I was patching up a fight based on Benny, I would irrationally wonder if every guy was fucking her, except me.

I couldn’t help it. I remember when I first saw her, that Christmas Eve. Roger had been talking about her nonstop, but I was barely half listening. I was still sore about Maureen. I even remember him pointing Mimi out to me: “There, that’s her!” And I responded, “Maureen?”

How embarrassing.

“Mimi!” But then I saw her. And even knowing she was a junkie, knowing that she was after Roger and he rather liked her, too, I fell for her. Immediately. “Whoa!”

So I tried to rationalize it away. I made myself film her kiss with Roger. I convinced myself that this sudden infatuation was only to help me get over Maureen, and once I had, I would be able to move on to other women.

Which worked out fine, except I was now stuck on Mimi.

And now here I am, a year later, and I should be ecstatic that she lived. Instead, I am merely happy. And no doubt that will fade once it registers that she is Roger’s not mine.

Why isn’t she mine?

Yeah, I’m jealous. But sorry, Collins, not because I want Roger. I’m in love with Mimi, and I just can’t help it.

Sometimes, I wonder if she even sees me.

I wish I knew why my parents named me Mark. I’m trying to make my mark in this world, on people’s lives, but somehow I always wind up behind the camera. Invisible. Funny, isn’t it, how these things work out sometimes.
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sometimes i read so much m/r slash that my head pops and something like this comes out. don’t get me wrong, i like reading m/r slash, but there’s just so much of it! anyways, i’m going to keep writing these sporadically until i get all the main characters down, but since it’s not exactly a continuing story line, there might be some time between parts. i hope you enjoy!