Title: The Essence of Love - RENT drabbles
Author: Triskell (ferngully_at )
Fandom/Pairing: RENT, Mark/Roger (slash)
Rating: PG-15 (slight allusions to death, sex)
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to Jonathan Larson.
Author's Notes: Easter Pressie for my RENTfriends.

THE ESSENCE OF LOVE - RENT drabbles
(c) Triskell, 18 April 2003

(Mark)

~ Memories ~

Your guitar lies heavy and alien in my hand. Unlike your body, it does not melt into my grasp, does not mould itself to the curve of my palm. It is strange, still, and unresponsive. It does not sigh like you, hoarsely, gasping, voice rough and velvety in my ear. The sounds it makes are soothing, strangling, spiritless.

Wood. Not quite cool to the touch. Nothing like the warmth of your skin. Sometimes, I wrap myself in your leather jacket, hoping to be surrounded by your scent. You cannot warm me any longer. I miss you, Roger. Very much.

(100 words including title)

(Roger)

~ Morning ~

It is early. I smile; your hair is tickling my neck. You have curled around me in sleep - I could not get away without waking you. Which is good. My brain tells me to run. Far away. Mimi died yesterday. Now you are in my bed, my arms. I am not sorry. Mimi smiled at me last night before she fell asleep. Forever. I could not smile back, I was crying, your hand on my shoulder. I leaned back against you, held onto her. I am greedy. Needy. Or maybe both. Life is not fair. Or good. But today, it is.

(100 words including title)

(Mark)

~ Knowing ~

I do not like music. Sounds are fleeting, only images have ever remained in my mind. But when you sing, I listen because your words tell me about you. It is the closest I have come to knowing. Knowing what you feel. Knowing who you are. When you were high, you would sometimes sing. It was different to the cultured voice you always use; raw, painful, and honest. No pretense. There were no secrets between us then. I wish that had not changed. I wish you had forgotten the drugs, and kept me. I loved you, then. And now.

(100 words including title)

(Roger)

~ Silence ~

I have been playing on my guitar all night, and I still heard nothing. Because you left - again. You told me to get off the drugs, to let go of April, to live. And I told you to get lost. So you did. There is a bruise on your cheek. I hit you last week. I do not remember it, but I know it was me. I see it in the way you flinch when I move towards you. I am so sorry, Mark. I play another chord. You like silence, I do not. Your silence least of all.

(100 words including title)