A/N: Sorry that took so long!! I've been soooo busy. Tests, papers, martial arts, musical instruments, and...best of all,

I GOT THE PART! I'm Mimi! :D When the teacher read off my name, I was like jumping up and down, screaming for joy. And I'm really lucky, the guy who plays Roger is my friend. Who is really hot and worthy of playing Roger.

Ohkay, enough of my rambling. It's a bit shorter, but...I'm sorry. I just couldn't make it longer. I present to you, Regret, chapter two!

Disclaimer: I only own the plot concept and Sarah Benson, who I will probably never use again.

Regret

Chapter 2

Scritch, scratch. Scratch, scrabble, scritch, scratch. Roger's pencil made funny little squeaky noises on the paper of his black Moleskin notebook as he scratched out yet another song. He was so tired of this 'can't write' think.

"Roger! Hey, Roger!" called a voice. It sounded like...Mimi?

Roger turned towards the sound, but all he saw was the Santa Fe canyons, canyons of red rocks and dust. Aargh!

This had been happening to him for days. He would see her face in a shop window, but when he blinked, she was gone. Hear her voice calling him, but when he turned, there was no one. He even thought he'd seen Xmas brunch, just the two of us? Mimi scrawled in her handwriting on the dust of someone's car window, but when he looked again, it was just a kid's curly doodles.

Boy, was he tired. Roger couldn't think. He really wanted to sleep, but in the shade. Which was not easy to find, up here on the cliffs and rocks in Santa Fe. (A/N: Like where you see Roger singing on rocks in the film)

So he pushed himself up and headed for a ravine. Clambering down the lightly sloped rock, Roger found a place where rock jutted out over a wide "path" of rock. He spread his jacket on the rock and sat down on it. Then he leaned back and let sleep overcome him.

It was Roger's sixth birthday party. Confetti, chips, and cake littered the backyard floor of the Davis' home. Wrapping paper surrounded a circle of eight or so kids. Roger picked up the last box, from his aunt and uncle. It was wrapped in shiny blue and green paper, but Roger didn't notice. All he did was shred open his last birthday present. It was a GameBoy game! (A/N: I know, Game Boys weren't invented back then.) Roger smiled, and tucked it into his pile of presents. The kids around him oohed.

"COOL!" shouted Maureen.

Tommy (Collins) leaned forwards, craning his neck to get a better look at the box. "What game is it?"

"You always get cool presents, Roger! You're lucky you don't get clothes." This was from Mark.

Roger's mom came into the room. "One more present, Roggey. From me and your daddy. Hope you like it..." She handed Roger a large, longish box, which Roger grabbed and unwrapped in seconds.

He pulled the lid off the box, which was huge- more than half as big as him. Inside was a small acoustic guitar. It was beautiful and shiny, the wood the color of the sand on a beach in Mexico.

Roger picked up the guitar eagerly. Just the sight of the beautiful instrument set something astir in him. He strummed the strings, placing his fingers randomly on the frets and pressing down. It made a pleasant chord.

It was the best birthday present ever.

Roger climbed the stairs to the loft after returning from the pharmacy. He had picked up his AZT, and now he could go home and try to figure out a song. Or sleep. Sleep sounded good. It was the only time he wasn't thinking about April. Except for when April showed up in Roger's dreams.

This all sucked so freaking much. April was dead. Roger had AIDS. He could not write anything. Everything just SUCKED so much.

Roger hadn't felt anything except anger and sadness after April had died. Maybe that was why he couldn't write a song. That made him angry and sad. Then he couldn't write. It was a painful and damn lousy cycle.

Shoving the door to the loft open, Roger threw down the small paper bag with his AZT in it onto the table. He grabbed his guitar and headed outside.

He struck a few chords, but they sounded sour and wrong. Eventually Roger pulled a chair on the balcony and grabbed a notebook, putting his guitar inside. Roger started to scrawl song ideas onto the sheet. He hated all of them.

Frustrated, Roger put his pencil down and looked across the street for a sign, an oracle, a person, any inspiration. But to no avail. The street was empty, just like the well of Roger's songwriting ability.

Suddenly a girl rounded the corner. She wore boots and a miniskirt, and a huge leopard-print coat. Her curly brown hair blew behind her in the wind. She seemed to be dancing along the street.

Roger felt drawn to the girl, who looked to be about seventeen. He watched her as she twirled and danced into his building. When Roger could no longer see her, he felt an odd sadness.

But he was glad she lived in the same building as he did. She seemed so...happy.

Roger stood up and returned into his apartment. He thought of the girl, dancing through the streets, and a strange, swooping, sunny feeling ran through him. It was a feeling Roger hadn't felt since April had died. He finally recognized it as happiness.

Roger was worried. Mimi looked so thin. Every time he saw her, she looked a bit paler, weaker. He decided to go see her before she left for work and ask if she was okay.

She wasn't in her apartment. Roger decided that he'd check on her tomorrow and go to the park today, see if he could get an epiphany.

As Roger passed an alleyway, he saw a familiar, graceful motion and a familiar leopard-print coat. He looked into the alleyway. "Mimi?"

Mimi turned, her expression worried, like a child caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. Then a figure stepped out from behind her.

"Hey! An old customer." Oh, God. It was The Man. "You want some?"

Roger couldn't move. As The Man waved a baggie full of white powder in front of his face, Roger was overcome with a want for some. No matter how long he'd been clean, whenever he saw heroin...it was like an instinct. Get the heroin.

"No!" Roger shouted. Then he grabbed Mimi by the sleeve of her coat and dragged her roughly out of the alley.

"Mimi!" he shouted. "You said you were- you were clean!"

Mimi looked anguished. "I am- really, I just ran into him- I..." she stuttered.

"Don't give me that shit." Roger snapped. He was so angry. Angry that she lied to him, angry that she was into heroin in the first place, and scared that she was slipping back, slipping away. And he had been close to slipping away, too.

"No! Roger, please-"

"No. Save your breath. I'm not listening."

Roger woke up with a start. He was ashamed of how he'd acted towards Mimi. He'd been so selfish, immature, and mean! He had to go home. He had made so many bad choices. Hurting Mimi all the times that he had, getting into drugs, not insisting that Mimi go to rehab.

Roger shook his head. He was so scared though. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. Maybe it would wipe away his worst fear.

Seven-year-old Roger screamed, kicking at the nurse. It had been an extremely bad idea on the nurse's part to announce that Roger was getting tetanus and chicken pox shots today. "NO! I don't want a shot. I won't! Needles are stupid! They hurt! I DON'T WANT A SHOT! Leave me ALONE!"

Ten-year-old Roger ran through the woods behind Scarsdale Middle School. He jumped a bush, and burst out on Elm Street, a block down from his house. Maybe he was safe for now. Then the bullies appeared. "Hey you little wimp. Come fight!" Roger didn't want to fight. He ran, screaming, "Go away! Leave me alone!" He would fight, but he was afraid he would lose. Then he would have bodily injuries, and an injured pride.

Sixteen-year-old Roger pushed Sarah Benson away. The empty halls of Scarsdale High echoed Sarah's sobs as she gave Roger a glare, and hurried away. Roger wouldn't have minded kissing her, but he knew then that would lead to a relationship. And eventually they would break up, and that would hurt a lot.

It was a childish fear. The reason why Roger was also scared to die. Roger's worst fear was a fear of pain, of hurt.

Roger woke again from his fitful doze. "Aaagh!"

The images pulsed through his mind, to the repeating, meaningless mantra of his life: coward pain your eyes Mimi one song glory afraid running away Angel dying coward pain your eyes Mimi one song glory afraid running away Angel dying...

"Stop it!" Roger commanded himself. He was not thinking like that.

But he couldn't help himself. The mantra kept going.

And Roger realized the only way he could stop the mantra was to go back to New York City. He had to face his fears.

Roger got up and grabbed his jacket and guitar. Then, trekking back up to his car, Roger headed for the motel. He sold his car to the rental company. Then he checked out of the motel.

Two hours later, as the Greyhound bus pulled up to the stop, Roger grabbed his bags and flew up onto the bus. As he settled himself in his seat, Roger thought, Mimi, here I come.

Then an idea exploded into Roger's brain like a grenade. He grabbed his Moleskin and began to write.

A/N: You know what comes next. I was going to work in a line from Maya Angelou's poem Life Doesn't Frighten Me At All, since there's a reference to it in La Vie Boheme made by Mimi, and it seemed to fit at the beginning, but I couldn't make it fit.

That concludes Regret, my first RENT fanfiction. Thank you to Broadwaybaby4205 and Little Fish In A Big Pond for reviewing! XD that isn't very much...

Whatever. And anyone who has read to this point gets virtual cookies AND a kiss from a fanfic Roger of their choice. Angsty Roger kisses you in the rain and tells you that you remind him of his dead girlfriend, and that he dedicated a new angsty song to you. Romantic Roger takes you to the coast, where he kisses you on the beach under the moon and stars. Sexy Roger kisses you in the loft, when no one's home, when he's only wearing his boxers XD. And Mischievous Roger kisses you in the Life Cafe...in front of your ex, who looks like a bulldog. cough BENNY IN OVER THE MOON cough

Thank you so so so much for reading! Keep looking out for my work! And wish me luck in our production!