Dying in America

Rated: PG13 as of now. Might be more later on. Actually, yeah. Probably should be for mature audiences only!
Warning: "Adult" themes, vulgar language, drug use and mature content ahead.

Pairing: Mimi/Roger. (Sorry, I'm not a Mark/Roger fan at all! The thought of it makes me go 2oipdokdfpokwpeofkp, to put it simply.)

Warning II: I spell badly and have poor grammar. Bite me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rent or any of its Rent-goodness. I wish I did though.

R&R PLEASE. I thrive on reviews. More reviews more enthusiasm to write.



7 am.

Dusty light filtered in through the loft's grayed window panes, sprawling across the floor in odd patterns. Brightness rolled over the couch, hitting Roger's sleeping form. The dirty blonde's face twitched, contorting in a sleepy annoyance. His eyes fluttered open, surprised that he wasn't looking toward the loft's ceiling, but Mimi's smiling face as she loomed over him.

"Good morning, babe." Her tan fingers rolled over his face, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear as she leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his lips. Roger smiled and leaned up, staring at the girl, still groggy. "Did Mark let you in?" he half asked, half yawned.

Mimi rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah. He also told me to tell you that he was going to be gone for a little bit…" she said rather awkwardly, eyes darting away.

Roger's smile faded as he glanced toward the door.

"Leaving for a little bit, Mimi? Where too?"

"Would you believe me if I told you he met a girl at the club and was invited to her house for the week?"


"I didn't think so…" Mimi sighed, wringing her sleeve boredly. "Well, babe, that's what he told me. He was going to meet with some girl and get to know her better, and so… we won't see him for a bit."

She sat down, making herself comfortable in Roger's lap.

"That doesn't sound much like him…" Roger murmured, leaning his forehead against Mimi's back. She smiled and turned in his lap to wrap her arms around his neck, her forehead pressing against his. "Collins is still away at Sante Fe for that new teaching job offering, and I heard Maureen and Joanne were having a 'them' day…" she muttered into his ear in the most silky voice she could muster.

"A 'them' day?"

"You're dense this morning," Mimi groaned, pushing Roger's shoulders back and sliding off him. He stared quietly after her, eyebrows raising. "You made coffee," he noticed.

Mimi sighed, pouring herself a cup.

"Want some? It's cold out… It's going to hit the 'teens tonight." She turned, offering him her mug.

Roger frowned and shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Your cheeks and nose are red. You're cold – don't deny it. Get something warm to drink before you get sick."

"You certainly have the place to talk, don't you?" Roger asked sarcastically as he stood up, narrowing his eyes at her. Mimi's mouth popped open, eyebrows furling down.

"You're being a bastard," she muttered, feeling his remark had hit a weak nerve.

"You know I've been going without smack—I've been doing WELL and you bring up shit—"

"Calm down! I didn't mean it!"

She immediately quieted upon his yell. But she didn't seem fearful.. No, her face was filled with rage. "Don't you dare tell me to calm down, you—you--!"


Mimi finally snapped in two. She dropped the mug on the counter, coffee sploshing out the sides. "I try to be nice and this is what I get. I'm leaving."

"…Bye, Mimi."


The dancer stormed out of the room, sliding the door shut with a loud slam. Roger massaged his temples and stood up, wobbling toward the counter. He leaned heavily against it and picked up the cup, taking a sip.

Not bad.

…Not bad at all.


12 am.

Roger pulled the final string of the guitar before letting it fall to the seat cushion, his body rising up to stand. Mimi hadn't shown her face, and he was beginning to worry.

It was time to apologize.

He exited the room and begun down the stairs, heading for Mimi's apartment. He blinked at her door, which was already ajar. His stomach clenched.

Why would she leave her door open?

"Mimi?" he asked, his tone riddled with concern. He stepped inside, but the room was empty. Taking a stride forward, he soon found a crunch beneath his foot.

Freezing, he peered down at a paper bag below his shoe.

An eyebrow raised.

"…Don't tell me," he thought miserably. "You've got drugs stashed in here after all."

He bent down and picked up the bag, opening the top to view its contents. However, when he opened it, there was only a note inside, and a small package of—crackers?

Curious, he unfolded the note, and begun to read.


If you find this, I'm already at CatScratch. My manager wanted me in early for some private business. Hell only knows what this means. I hope you came in to apologize. If you did, then you're forgiven.

Oh and, you better eat the crackers. You WILL get sick.

-Love xoxoxo


Roger glanced at the baggie of crushed crackers. Shrugging, he tore it open and pulled out a few crumbs, dropping them into his mouth.

Now what was he supposed to do?

Mark and Collins were gone. Maureen and Joanne were having that 'them day', and not even in hell would he be caught spending time with Benny. And Mimi…

He screwed up with her again.

At least he didn't feel the guilt of not intentionally coming to her apartment to apologize. Glancing out the window, he crunched the half-empty bag in his hand and strode to the trashcan, throwing it away. He gave the note a final look, then smiled softly upon reading it again.

Even if she was angry, she still loved him enough to write him this.

And he had pissed her off, too…

It was about time he did something for her.


Mkay, guys. I'm done for now! At this point, no one but myself knows where this is going. It'll become MUCH more dramatic and fun later on. What could Mimi be doing at CatScratch, and whats Roger planning for her?

Will those plans even wind up mattering? Whooo knows.

'Til Chapter 2, r3birth – signing off!