RENT: Contrast
Jun. 17th, 2006 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
find_rightbrainTitle: Contrast
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Benny/Mark/Roger, Benny/Roger, Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 1587
Rating: PG
Summary: It's the contrast between loving and being loved.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starletfallen, because... she asked. Also written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 prompt #42.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
I hate watching them now that everything's changed, now that I'm suddenly on the outside. I hate watching them together, hate seeing the warmth and love and... God, everything that I've lost, that I gave up. It's not so bad when it's one or the other — that I can deal with — but together, it's impossible not to remember.
It was me and Benny at first, just us, and it was so perfect, so right. My first friend after I left Scarsdale, really, the first one to show any interest in me at all. He didn't have to be my friend — he was just my roommate, after all — but all it ever took from him was one of those bright, open smiles and I was his. All it ever took from him was a kiss and he could have done anything he wanted with me. And he stayed my roommate, through all four years — again, he didn't have to be. At the beginning of junior year, despite our housing request, whoever was in charge of assigning that sort of thing stuck Benny and I in different dorms with different people. Benny gave the kid who was supposed to be my roommate a hundred bucks to trade places with him.
We moved into the loft straight out of college-- it was the only place we could afford to live, so we pretended we wouldn't have wanted to live anywhere else anyway. I was going to make films, he was going to produce them, and we'd be rich and famous (which of course we didn't care about at all, but never mind that). It made sense. We made sense.
And then Roger moved in, and that made sense too. And it also made sense when, one night in the middle of winter, Roger crawled into bed with us, murmuring that it was too cold to sleep alone, and neither of us questioned it, just shifted over to make room for him.
So it was the three of us. My charming, brilliant Benny, my cocky, amazing Roger, and... me. I don't know what I was to them, never asked, but I know I was theirs, wholly and completely. And that was it, we'd be us forever, we'd make it and do what we wanted and never be apart ever again. I mean, there were the fights and arguments, the nights when Roger would (literally) kick one or the other of us out of bed, the times when we'd decide we couldn't fucking stand each other another minute longer and so spent the day in separate corners of the loft not speaking to each other, but that usually lasted only a day or two, usually less, and we'd be back to us again. We'd never needed any other label, just... us.
It was my fault that that ended, my fault that it all went wrong, and what's more, I knew it would. Not that it would destroy everything, but I knew there would be trouble. I had the chance for a film internship. In California. For six months. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Benny and Roger, when I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go.
"Don't you fucking dare," Roger said, with one of his characteristic "I mean it" glares. "Half a year? You can't leave us for that long. It's like... a lifetime."
"It's half a year," I told him quietly. "Not forever."
"It is a long time for you to be gone," Benny said after a moment. "And it's all the way across the country. I mean, if you want to I'm not going to stop you, but..."
"We'll have to find another roommate," Roger muttered, not really serious as far as I could tell, but clearly unhappy at the prospect of me leaving.
"Look, I'm not even sure I'm going to go, okay? I'm just... thinking about it."
I went, of course, because what else could I do? I had to go. Didn't tell the other two, though, not until I'd gotten off the plane and was on the other coast. I knew if I told them beforehand they'd stop me. On the other hand, if I didn't tell them, they'd both be pissed at me, but I decided to take the chance anyway. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Benny picked up the phone when I called. "Hello?"
"Benny! It's me."
There was silence on the end of the line, so long that I started to wonder for a minute if he was still there, and finally he asked, "Where the hell are you?" Not the response I'd been hoping for. Expecting it, maybe, but that was another matter. I didn't answer for a couple seconds.
"I'm... um. I'm in LA. I decided to go."
In the background, I heard Roger mutter, "I told you."
And then Benny's disgusted, disappointed sigh. "I thought so. You didn't think to tell us before you left?"
"I—" I shut up when I heard Roger again.
"You didn't even fucking say goodbye."
I couldn't find anything else to say to that.
Roger didn't speak to me for three months after that, and Benny only did when he had to, and only then when I called him. For a while I wasn't even sure I'd have a home to come back to, at the end of the six months. Before a week went by, I was certain I'd made the worst mistake of my life, was certain I'd thrown away everything that mattered.
So when I met Her, I couldn't do a thing to stop her. She wanted me, God knows why, and I just wanted someone. No, needed someone. She talked herself into my room the day I met her, though it really didn't take all that much convincing, and she never really left. I hadn't planned to tell Benny and Roger about her, but...
The phone rang, and she got to it before I did. "Hello?" A pause. "This is Maureen. Who're you?" Another pause, and then she held the phone out to me. "It's for you."
I took it hesitantly. "Hello?"
Benny's voice was cold and had a little of an edge to it. It was the first time he'd called me since I left. "Who was that?"
"It... uh... Maureen. She's... my..." I realized I didn't know what to call her. We'd never needed a word for our relationship, just us, and I knew that if I actually said the word, it would definitively destroy my other us, my Benny-and-Roger-and-me us, whatever part of it hadn't been destroyed already. I said it anyway. "Girlfriend."
"Oh." Benny didn't say anything more on the subject, just went on to talk about whatever it was he'd called me about in the first place, but I could hear all he ever needed to say in that one word. That was it, it was over, we were over, and suddenly I was there dangling, a stray thread in the cloth that used to be Mark-and-Benny-and-Roger, and now was just Benny-and-Roger. That one word hurt more than anything else, any accusation or angry retort could have.
When I finally came home to New York, Maureen came with me. And we moved into the loft with Roger and Benny, but it seemed a colder, darker place than I left it. Maybe it was just the contrast between home and the California sunshine and bright beaches I'd just left behind... I don't think so. It was the contrast with what I'd left behind, but it was a leaving further back.
It was the contrast between spending the night with a wild girl I'd always known was more than I could handle, and spending the night pressed between two warm bodies, curled against the two people who knew me better than I knew myself. It was the difference between listening to Roger's music from the other room, hearing bits and pieces of it here and there, and having him sit me down on the couch to listen to him play the song he'd written that day, just for me. It was the difference between watching Benny work toward his dream, and being an integral part of that dream.
It was the difference between loving, and being loved.
So I can't watch them now. I can't watch the smiles, the laughter, the quick glances that pass between them, conveying messages no one else is supposed to see or understand (but I always do). I can't watch the light, gentle touches, or the proprietary, possessive way they'll rest their hands on each other's shoulders or waists. I can't watch the way their eyes will soften just a little when they look at each other, the look that says Yes, you are mine, you belong to me and I am never letting go — the look they used to give me, but don't anymore. I can't watch the kisses, light and quick and teasing or fierce and rough and passionate, completely shameless no matter who's around.
I can't watch... and yet I can't help but see.
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Benny/Mark/Roger, Benny/Roger, Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 1587
Rating: PG
Summary: It's the contrast between loving and being loved.
Notes: Written for
starletfallen, because... she asked. Also written for fanfic100 prompt #42.Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
I hate watching them now that everything's changed, now that I'm suddenly on the outside. I hate watching them together, hate seeing the warmth and love and... God, everything that I've lost, that I gave up. It's not so bad when it's one or the other — that I can deal with — but together, it's impossible not to remember.
It was me and Benny at first, just us, and it was so perfect, so right. My first friend after I left Scarsdale, really, the first one to show any interest in me at all. He didn't have to be my friend — he was just my roommate, after all — but all it ever took from him was one of those bright, open smiles and I was his. All it ever took from him was a kiss and he could have done anything he wanted with me. And he stayed my roommate, through all four years — again, he didn't have to be. At the beginning of junior year, despite our housing request, whoever was in charge of assigning that sort of thing stuck Benny and I in different dorms with different people. Benny gave the kid who was supposed to be my roommate a hundred bucks to trade places with him.
We moved into the loft straight out of college-- it was the only place we could afford to live, so we pretended we wouldn't have wanted to live anywhere else anyway. I was going to make films, he was going to produce them, and we'd be rich and famous (which of course we didn't care about at all, but never mind that). It made sense. We made sense.
And then Roger moved in, and that made sense too. And it also made sense when, one night in the middle of winter, Roger crawled into bed with us, murmuring that it was too cold to sleep alone, and neither of us questioned it, just shifted over to make room for him.
So it was the three of us. My charming, brilliant Benny, my cocky, amazing Roger, and... me. I don't know what I was to them, never asked, but I know I was theirs, wholly and completely. And that was it, we'd be us forever, we'd make it and do what we wanted and never be apart ever again. I mean, there were the fights and arguments, the nights when Roger would (literally) kick one or the other of us out of bed, the times when we'd decide we couldn't fucking stand each other another minute longer and so spent the day in separate corners of the loft not speaking to each other, but that usually lasted only a day or two, usually less, and we'd be back to us again. We'd never needed any other label, just... us.
It was my fault that that ended, my fault that it all went wrong, and what's more, I knew it would. Not that it would destroy everything, but I knew there would be trouble. I had the chance for a film internship. In California. For six months. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Benny and Roger, when I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go.
"Don't you fucking dare," Roger said, with one of his characteristic "I mean it" glares. "Half a year? You can't leave us for that long. It's like... a lifetime."
"It's half a year," I told him quietly. "Not forever."
"It is a long time for you to be gone," Benny said after a moment. "And it's all the way across the country. I mean, if you want to I'm not going to stop you, but..."
"We'll have to find another roommate," Roger muttered, not really serious as far as I could tell, but clearly unhappy at the prospect of me leaving.
"Look, I'm not even sure I'm going to go, okay? I'm just... thinking about it."
I went, of course, because what else could I do? I had to go. Didn't tell the other two, though, not until I'd gotten off the plane and was on the other coast. I knew if I told them beforehand they'd stop me. On the other hand, if I didn't tell them, they'd both be pissed at me, but I decided to take the chance anyway. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Benny picked up the phone when I called. "Hello?"
"Benny! It's me."
There was silence on the end of the line, so long that I started to wonder for a minute if he was still there, and finally he asked, "Where the hell are you?" Not the response I'd been hoping for. Expecting it, maybe, but that was another matter. I didn't answer for a couple seconds.
"I'm... um. I'm in LA. I decided to go."
In the background, I heard Roger mutter, "I told you."
And then Benny's disgusted, disappointed sigh. "I thought so. You didn't think to tell us before you left?"
"I—" I shut up when I heard Roger again.
"You didn't even fucking say goodbye."
I couldn't find anything else to say to that.
Roger didn't speak to me for three months after that, and Benny only did when he had to, and only then when I called him. For a while I wasn't even sure I'd have a home to come back to, at the end of the six months. Before a week went by, I was certain I'd made the worst mistake of my life, was certain I'd thrown away everything that mattered.
So when I met Her, I couldn't do a thing to stop her. She wanted me, God knows why, and I just wanted someone. No, needed someone. She talked herself into my room the day I met her, though it really didn't take all that much convincing, and she never really left. I hadn't planned to tell Benny and Roger about her, but...
The phone rang, and she got to it before I did. "Hello?" A pause. "This is Maureen. Who're you?" Another pause, and then she held the phone out to me. "It's for you."
I took it hesitantly. "Hello?"
Benny's voice was cold and had a little of an edge to it. It was the first time he'd called me since I left. "Who was that?"
"It... uh... Maureen. She's... my..." I realized I didn't know what to call her. We'd never needed a word for our relationship, just us, and I knew that if I actually said the word, it would definitively destroy my other us, my Benny-and-Roger-and-me us, whatever part of it hadn't been destroyed already. I said it anyway. "Girlfriend."
"Oh." Benny didn't say anything more on the subject, just went on to talk about whatever it was he'd called me about in the first place, but I could hear all he ever needed to say in that one word. That was it, it was over, we were over, and suddenly I was there dangling, a stray thread in the cloth that used to be Mark-and-Benny-and-Roger, and now was just Benny-and-Roger. That one word hurt more than anything else, any accusation or angry retort could have.
When I finally came home to New York, Maureen came with me. And we moved into the loft with Roger and Benny, but it seemed a colder, darker place than I left it. Maybe it was just the contrast between home and the California sunshine and bright beaches I'd just left behind... I don't think so. It was the contrast with what I'd left behind, but it was a leaving further back.
It was the contrast between spending the night with a wild girl I'd always known was more than I could handle, and spending the night pressed between two warm bodies, curled against the two people who knew me better than I knew myself. It was the difference between listening to Roger's music from the other room, hearing bits and pieces of it here and there, and having him sit me down on the couch to listen to him play the song he'd written that day, just for me. It was the difference between watching Benny work toward his dream, and being an integral part of that dream.
It was the difference between loving, and being loved.
So I can't watch them now. I can't watch the smiles, the laughter, the quick glances that pass between them, conveying messages no one else is supposed to see or understand (but I always do). I can't watch the light, gentle touches, or the proprietary, possessive way they'll rest their hands on each other's shoulders or waists. I can't watch the way their eyes will soften just a little when they look at each other, the look that says Yes, you are mine, you belong to me and I am never letting go — the look they used to give me, but don't anymore. I can't watch the kisses, light and quick and teasing or fierce and rough and passionate, completely shameless no matter who's around.
I can't watch... and yet I can't help but see.