A/N: Retirement? What retirement? A slew of good fics have inspired me.
The tone of the prologue is different from the rest of the story (which of
course hasn't been written yet). Ok, go forth and read, review, discuss…
Right now they all belong to Jonathan Larson.
How did I get here?
Prologue
He couldn't believe it. He just stood there with a smile on his face watching her, watching them, watching them all. Maureen was in all her glory. Her audience hung on her every word. And Roger…Roger was out of the house. And he had met someone. He looked over at them, sitting close, but not too close. Collins also had found someone new that night. But he and his new love had already become one, their arms wrapped around each other as if they had always belonged there.
He watched Joanne running from the amplifier to the microphone, barely making it in time to do the backups. He could see the daggers Maureen sent her way, and Joanne pretending not to cower in fear. He pushed away the pangs of jealousy that were rising inside of him.
But who was he jealous of most of all?
It was a strange night, that much he knew. He felt the energy rustling inside him. Nights like these were the reason he moved to New York. Anything could happen and most definitely something would. He found himself mooing along with the crowd at his ex-girlfriends command.
Only one remained silent. He was the only other lone figure amongst the scattered crowd. Mark's former best friend, and now his adversary. It was only a little bit more than a year ago that Mark stood next to Benny in a rented tuxedo while Benny and Alison exchanged their vows. How things had changed, Alison was nowhere to be seen, and Mark and Benny barely exchanged glances.
The night was almost perfect. His friends were all happy, the snow was falling steadily and for once he didn't care that he was alone.
Ten months later he again stood alone, this time at a phone booth. The near perfection of that night plagued him as the days and nights that followed chipped away at the harmony. Helplessly he stood by and watched them betray, hurt, leave and even die. He did everything he knew how to do to keep them together, and yet they unraveled without his permission.
Roger was the first to leave the church and Mark wanted to say a few things to him. He wanted to tell him that running away wouldn't solve anything, and didn't he see they needed him? The musician looked strange to him without his guitar, and Mark clutched his own camera worried that it could leave him too.
The rest flowed out of the church, no longer as a unit, but as individuals. Mimi attacked Roger first and Mark watched the chaos unfold. He tried to stop it, but like usual he was invisible to them all. None of them even glanced his way.
He should have given up then.
A few months later, they began to fix themselves. They didn't need him and he didn't know what to do. Roger came back, Mimi was getting clean, and here he was, holding on. But to what?
He made up some story about a job waiting for him. He was purposely vague about his destination, just told them 'out west'. He lied, told them he would be back as soon as he sold his film. They had thrown him a party and he smiled and laughed and inside he was screaming to escape.
After all, he thought, wouldn't it be better to actually be alone than to feel lonely amongst those he loved?
Right now they all belong to Jonathan Larson.
How did I get here?
Prologue
He couldn't believe it. He just stood there with a smile on his face watching her, watching them, watching them all. Maureen was in all her glory. Her audience hung on her every word. And Roger…Roger was out of the house. And he had met someone. He looked over at them, sitting close, but not too close. Collins also had found someone new that night. But he and his new love had already become one, their arms wrapped around each other as if they had always belonged there.
He watched Joanne running from the amplifier to the microphone, barely making it in time to do the backups. He could see the daggers Maureen sent her way, and Joanne pretending not to cower in fear. He pushed away the pangs of jealousy that were rising inside of him.
But who was he jealous of most of all?
It was a strange night, that much he knew. He felt the energy rustling inside him. Nights like these were the reason he moved to New York. Anything could happen and most definitely something would. He found himself mooing along with the crowd at his ex-girlfriends command.
Only one remained silent. He was the only other lone figure amongst the scattered crowd. Mark's former best friend, and now his adversary. It was only a little bit more than a year ago that Mark stood next to Benny in a rented tuxedo while Benny and Alison exchanged their vows. How things had changed, Alison was nowhere to be seen, and Mark and Benny barely exchanged glances.
The night was almost perfect. His friends were all happy, the snow was falling steadily and for once he didn't care that he was alone.
Ten months later he again stood alone, this time at a phone booth. The near perfection of that night plagued him as the days and nights that followed chipped away at the harmony. Helplessly he stood by and watched them betray, hurt, leave and even die. He did everything he knew how to do to keep them together, and yet they unraveled without his permission.
Roger was the first to leave the church and Mark wanted to say a few things to him. He wanted to tell him that running away wouldn't solve anything, and didn't he see they needed him? The musician looked strange to him without his guitar, and Mark clutched his own camera worried that it could leave him too.
The rest flowed out of the church, no longer as a unit, but as individuals. Mimi attacked Roger first and Mark watched the chaos unfold. He tried to stop it, but like usual he was invisible to them all. None of them even glanced his way.
He should have given up then.
A few months later, they began to fix themselves. They didn't need him and he didn't know what to do. Roger came back, Mimi was getting clean, and here he was, holding on. But to what?
He made up some story about a job waiting for him. He was purposely vague about his destination, just told them 'out west'. He lied, told them he would be back as soon as he sold his film. They had thrown him a party and he smiled and laughed and inside he was screaming to escape.
After all, he thought, wouldn't it be better to actually be alone than to feel lonely amongst those he loved?