Ready For You

By The Versatile Scarf


A/N: Well, seeing as Visits is through with and my fluff muse has thus departed, it's time to get started on this. I don't own RENT, nor the Hoobastank song. In fact, it's not even being used in here.. It just gave my inspiration. Thank-you inspiration. Yee-haw.


It was.. fitting, that today was the first day of Fall. Or so the calendars and news stations all said, amidst stories of crimes and full moons and scattered holidays that meant little to anyone in America anyway. To him, every bad day felt like Fall, no matter how scorching hot or absolutely beautiful any one moment was. If something was wrong within his world of music and friends, it had the air of the cooler months, but not the ones that froze him to the bone. Even those were full of beauty and warmth. Angel, Mimi, Collins.. So full of love.. they'd all come to him in Winter and filled his heart with a joy that was unmeasurable. A joy so -great- and so -powerful- that he nearly had to scream from the power of it.

But then there was Fall. There were those indecisive months during which one day could be as cold and the coldest day in Winter and the next could be a pleasant Spring climate. Fall, when Angel had first left them. The next Fall, when Mimi had finally lost the battle with her disease and gone out smiling, her petite fingers wrapped tightly around his hand, her smile brilliant but pained. She was lucid until the very end, and even the lesions surrounding her gorgeous eyes did nothing to dull her beauty. And now.. two years after the day he'd left for Sante Fe, almost to the date. Halloween was in four days. The day Angel died would be tomorrow. Mimi had passed two weeks ago, last year.

Now, another of them was leaving.

And it infuriated him.

He sat upon the windowsill, forehead pressed against the glass, gaze panning over what he could see of the city of New York, hating the horizon. The sun sets in the West. Was the other following the sun? Would he catch it? Would he -find- what he was looking for?

The musician scoffed, a portion of his lips coming detached and pulling upward, revealing teeth, sneering at the grey city. The day was absolutely humid, only adding to the suffocation his droughty mouth was offering. Each breath was rattling, reminding him of an asthmatic person in the middle of an attack. He'd lived around his roommate long enough to know what one sounded like, anyway.

His roommate. His fucking roommate.

"... what do you mean you're leaving

"Just what I said. I have to leave."

"... I won't be here when you come back."

It had been more of a threat than a promise, but the implications of the statement hung in the silence until the door slid shut with a resounding clank, leaving one of them alone with his thoughts while the other escaped, escaped from whatever was chasing him. He'd had the look of a hunted animal, but his best friend hadn't noticed. Hadn't noticed until today, when he caught the flash in ice blue eyes when he questioned just -why- the suitcase was being packed.

"I won't be here, Mark. ... I won't."

And Fall enveloped Roger Davis in a blanket of mock comfort, tendrils of diminished hope running lightly through his hair in the guise of his fingers, and he wished for nothing more than to be able to throw everything away and start over.


A/N: It's short, but it needed to be put up.