Warning: Rated T: for implied suicide and drug abuse.

Disclaimer: Roger, Mark and April - are of course, the incredible creations of Jonathan Larson.

Book 1: The Rise and Fall

Chapter 1: Roger

Before his "downfall" (you'll learn about that later), Roger Davis was a cocky, driven, empowered, talented musician. He was on top of the world when he met April - but I guess every high has a low. Of course, I'm getting ahead of myself. I always do.

Like I said, he was cocky and perhaps a little too confident, but he was also talented. Boy, was he talented. The Well Hungarians were really picking up. Gigs became more and more frequent. He told me once that it was like he was flying - he was on top of the world. Chicks were all over him - as well as a few guys, paying rent wasn't a concern anymore, drinks whenever he pleased, - the boy had it going for him. He was living the rock star dream.

Then, he met April. I am still not sure whether, in the end, that was a gift or a curse.

Chapter 2: April

The moment I saw April, I knew she was trouble. After going to the local bar, Johnny's, to get some film of Roger and his band, I walked up to the bartender to get a drink. On one of the stools, laughing at some joke that I missed, a beautiful, red-headed girl sat. Her pale arms were adorned with thick leather bracelets, multiple black earrings were scattered at random points along her ear and her bright green eyes twinkled mischievously. Her lips were a bright red that matched the color of her wild hair, she had a shot glass in front of her and a cigarette in her left hand - yes, she was definitely trouble. I'm still not sure exactly what about her appearance showed her free-spirit, or warm heart, but it was evident the moment I laid eyes on her. She turned to look at me, and her eyes widened as something dawned upon her.

"Oh! You're Mark, aren't you?" she smiled up at me.

I didn't know who she was yet, so confused, I stuttered back. "Uh, yeah? I am. How- how did you know?"

"Oh Rogers told me all about you." So this must be April - Roger's new girlfriend. "He said if I ever saw you I would know, 'cause a camera would be glued to you." She laughed, as I looked down and realized that I was holding my camera with my right hand, rather possessively.

"Oh, yeah." I laughed somewhat awkwardly. "I'm a filmmaker." I grabbed a seat next to her. "Not that I've ever made any films that anyone would ever put on TV."

She tilted her back, giving a laugh and said, "You wouldn't be stuck in New York if you did."

"No, I suppose not. East Village - home of all starving, failed bohemian artists, right?"

"Exactly." She took a long drag of her cigarette and looked up at Roger, singing on stage.

"Except, that boy there -", she motioned at Roger who looked over and winked at her, "has got some talent. If he plays his cards right, he'll be big. Real big."

"Yeah, he has a gig almost every other night, now." As Roger started singing another rock song (this one being a new song he wrote the other night - about a beautiful redheaded girl), she continued to stare lovingly at him and the conversation fell to comfortable lull. She was obviously head-over-heels for Roger, and though he didn't show it nearly as much, I could tell that he felt the same way for her. Good, I thought, Roger could use a girlfriend. Not that I'm one to talk.

I'm still not sure why I knew that April had good intentions and had such a free and spirited soul - it was just one of those things that was evident right away though.

As Roger started singing a new song, the red-head abruptly turned to me, as if just remembering something important.

"I'm April, by the way. April Ericsson." She smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. Her grins were infectious.

"Roger has told me a lot about you too." He really hadn't told me much - but his eyes showed it all. He loved her. That much was obvious.

That statement put a mischievous grin on her face, "Oh, really?"

"Oh yeah. He likes you a lot, you know." As an after thought I added, "Don't tell him I said that, though." He would pumble me into smithereens. Still, it was true, and why shouldn't she know it?

She gave a short, light laugh. "My lips are sealed." While she went back to admiring Roger on stage, I flagged down the bar tender to get a drink. A few songs later, she turned back to me.

"Sooooooo, what do you film?"

"Mostly documentaries and stuff. You know about every day life in New York - the riots, the rising artists, the homeless. That sorta stuff."

"And is Roger one of your subjects?" The glint in her eye revealed to me that she was just trying to make me tongue-tied.

"No. Well, I mean - I do film him, but I - I was his friend before filming."

"Mhm." She took another drag of her cigarette.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"Me? I'm a waitress by day, occasionally becoming a karaoke singer at night. . . Not nearly as good as Roger, though. Just for kicks."

"You know," she gave me a grin, as if she was about to reveal a big secret. "I think, that he is more nervous about his gig tomorrow then he lets on." Roger was going to meet with Mr. Jefferson, and if all went well - possibly, eventually meet with a man, who could possibly give him a record deal. Roger was definitely trying to appear unconcerned, but I could see he was excited.

"This could be it, Mark!" he had said, after telling me the news. "This could be the big break!"

"That's great, Rog." I grinned up at him. Since then, he tried to keep the nonchalant appearance - but I, and it seemed April, weren't falling for it.

"It could be the big break." I said to her.

"It could be."

Chapter 3: The Fall

When I walked into our bathroom, humming to one of Roger's songs, I stopped dead in my tracks. My friend, Roger's girlfriend, our family, was lying there. She looked broken, just broken.

I surprised myself with my own strength, as I cleaned up our bathroom and the blood without shedding a tear. I had to be strong - for Roger. April had put a note on the sink - a sheet of paper from the clinic that read HIV positive. "We have AIDS." No apology, no last words of love, no reason. That's what hurt the most - April's death was so unlike April.

Several hours later, I sat at the edge of the couch, fighting to keep myself numb, drumming my hands anxiously, waiting for Roger to come home.

I knew, the moment I broke the news to him, that some part of him, buried deep inside, died with April. I wasn't going to be getting that part of him back.

April's death pushed Roger over the brink - both him and his singing career fell to pieces. April had left him addicted to heroin, her death left him unable to eat and depressed, and her needles had given him HIV.

The worst part of it all, is that I have no one to blame. I can't blame anyone. I can't bring myself to hate that beautiful, kind, free-spirited girl. I can't bring myself to blame one of my closest friends for leaving Roger to his destruction. And when you don't have anyone to blame, your own guilt and suffering is even worse.