A/N: Thank you, Jonathan Larson.

"Oh."

That's how it started. This... this feeling of spirit crushing, vision-blurring emptiness. This... this.

I should've seen it coming.

We met on New Years Eve, 1986, in Times Square. I still had my old camera. I traded in the Chrysler my parents bought me for graduation for that camera. She was stoned. She broke it. I fell in love.

I should've seen it coming.

Her hair was a little too messy. Her shirt was a little too tight. She was a little too loud. I was a little too drunk. We were a little too horny.

I should've seen it coming.

We fucked in a van in an alley off 42nd Street. I didn't know her name. She didn't ask mine. I stumbled my way back to Alphabet City. She followed me home. I took her upstairs. She stayed for three years.

I should've seen it coming.

She became one of us. One of the guys. She made sure Collins took his AZT. She cried when Roger brought his home. She straightened Benny's tie on his first day of job interviews. She wished Collins luck at MIT. She screamed at Benny for abandoning us as he packed his stuff. She sang in the shower. She loved me.

I should've seen it coming.

"Listen, pookie, we need to talk," she said and I looked up from my breakfast. I swallowed.

"Oh."

"Now, don't say anything. I... I just... it's all worked out in my head, baby, and if you interupt me, I'm going to forget what I want to say to you. So just... let me talk."

"You always talk, baby," I replied, but fell silent and nodded at her scowl.

"Okay. I've met someone else."

She paused. I stayed silent. She looked at me expectantly. I stayed silent.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well... well?"

"Were you finished?"

"Yes, I was finished! God, Mark, it's like you don't get me at all anymore!" she sighed, then pushed herself away from the table and stood up, placing her hands on her hips.

"I... what do you want me to say, Maureen?"

"Something! For Christ's sake, Mark, don't you care?"

I fell silent once more.

"This is why I'm moving in with Joanne," Maureen said after a moment, throwing her arms in the air in defeat and stomping off into our shared bedroom.

I stood, slowly, and followed. She was sitting on the bed, her back to the door.

"...Joanne?"

"Yes," she said. "Joanne."

"Oh."

I stood in the doorway and looked at my shoes.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said after a minute, and the sound of her words seemed to get caught in her throat. I sighed and walked into the room, crossing to the bed. She didn't react to my weight on the mattress as I crawled across it until I was behind her. I set my hands on her shoulders, brushing her hair away from them. I leaned a little closer to her. She smelled like cinnamon, from the french toast she'd eaten for breakfast. I slid my arms around her, somewhat tightly. I leaned my head close to her ear.

"I... I love you, Maureen," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else. She relaxed into my grip, her back pressed against my chest. She set her hands on mine.

"I know."

I pressed my lips to her temple. She turned in my arms and slid her arms around my neck. Her kiss was hot, persistent. She pushed me back onto the mattress. I let her.

Later, she drew circle across my chest with her fingertips, her head nestled on my shoulder.

"I'm still leaving, Mark."

I swallowed and looked away. "I know."

She left the next morning. I helped her get her stuff into a cab, and paid for it. Roger watched from the fire escape, disapproving.

She didn't say goodbye.

When the cab turned the corner, my stomach lurched and I gagged, resisting the urge to vomit into the storm drain.

The year went by fast. Collins came back. He met Angel. Roger met Mimi. Evita met an untimely end. I met Joanne. I didn't hate her.

Maureen and Joanne fought.

Angel died. Roger left. Mimi disappeared. Roger came back. Joanne found Mimi in the park. Joanne was Roger's hero.

I hated her.

I quit my job. I finished my film. Roger moved downstairs to take care of Mimi. I was alone.

I sat in the windowsill and watched the street through the frost. The door slid open. I turned my head.

"Hey..."

"Hey," I said, and she chewed on her lip. I watched her, not breathing.

"Mark... I... I broke up with Joanne. I want to come home. I... I love you, Mark."

I got to my feet and crossed the apartment in three long strides. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her fiercely. Her fingers gripped my shoulders tightly. She moaned against my mouth.

I pulled back abruptly.

"Goodbye, Maureen."

She stared at me, her mouth gaping. Her eyes started to well up. So did mine.

"But... Mark... I... I love you."

I swallowed, hard. "Goodbye, Maureen."

Her lip quivered, and she backed out of the apartment, stumbling slightly. I slid the door closed on her and fell against it heavily, letting out a shuddering sigh.

She should've seen that coming.