Author's Notes: I'm finally back! It took me awhile to develop a story that I really liked and I think this one fits the bill. I tried to do something a bit different than normal, so please tell me what you think so far. The rating is purely for language, so far. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this so far and please review! This story should be longer than my last big one, so I hope you'll all sit down for the ride! Thanks for reading! Disclaimer: Rent belongs to Jonathan Larson, I just use them for fun. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – Flag Day & Fort Roger

Roger and I had our secrets – secrets that no one else knew about and that we hardly ever discussed. Some of them were little things that we'd do, little quirks that we shared, habits we formed, or other rituals we had become accustomed to doing together. Occasionally Collins or Mimi would catch us in the act and give us funny looks, almost as if we were in a totally different world and they were foreigners watching from a far. I guess that's what made our friendship special.

I guess I never really considered them all until I was going through some random canisters of film. Roger's birthday was coming up and I decided to make him a short film of stupid stuff we had done together. The more I found footage to put on his present, the more I realized that no one besides us would understand this film at all. I continued, allowing each of the memories to take a hold of me.

One of my favorite secrets we shared was our annual Flag Day party. I should probably clarify as well that by party, we mean getting fucked up beyond recognition and regretting it the next morning every time. I know it sounds a bit absurd and for that reason alone it's one of our secrets. I suppose it all began our first summer in the loft…

"Damn, I don't think it's possible to be any warmer in this fucking loft," Roger screamed as he slammed the door to his room.

"No kidding," I call out from the bathroom, where I've managed to dunk my head in the sink to cool down my rising body heat. After I bring my head back up, I swear the sweat dripping from my frame is more than the water that remains on the fore of my brow.

I dunk my head back in the sink again, trying to get some of the cool liquid on the back of my neck. Through the water, I hear Roger mumble something, and pick my head up out of the water to hear him say more clearly, "What on Earth are you doing?"

"I'm hot," I reply.

"No shit, I'm hot too. But you don't see me dunking my head into the sink," Roger snaps back.

"Well, any other suggestions, oh wise one?"

"I don't know. Just don't do that, it looks stupid," he responds as he moves back into the living area of the loft. I follow him out and join him as he flops down on the couch.

I glance around the loft and realize that we're the only ones currently basking in the heat of the loft. "Where's Collins and Benny?"

Roger shrugs his shoulders and replies with, "Fuck if I know, I saw Collins leave this morning with some guy, and Benny mentioned something yesterday about spending the weekend with some woman. It sounds like they're out having a roaring good time, while leaving us both to die, together, in our new oven, the loft."

"Rog, don't be a drama queen," I mutter to his antics.

"Isn't today one of those stupid holidays that the government made up but no one gives a damn about?" he casually asks as he flips through a magazine lying on the table.

"Uh… maybe? The only holiday I actually care to remember is St. Patrick's Day," I respond, racking my brain, trying to answer his somewhat silly question.

"Don't we have a calendar around here somewhere?" he asks, throwing papers around, and finally standing up to storm about the apartment in search of a calendar. A calendar was one of those things you could never find when you really needed one, but always seemed to be there when you didn't need it. I saw Roger storm in and out of each room until I finally heard him should 'Victory!' and bring his findings back out into the living room.

"Found one. Benny had one just lying on his bed for some reason," he commented as he flipped through the months to June.

"So, do we have ourselves a winner?" I ask him as he looks dumfounded at the paper in front of him.

"Flag day?" he questions, his voice squeaking near the end.

"Seriously?" I reply, stunned.

"Flag fucking day. That's not even a holiday. Most holidays are supposed to be fun, joyous occasions, where the opportunity to get completely plastered exists," he rants as he throws the calendar on top of the mess of magazines habiting our coffee table.

"Well, why not we change that? Get totally trashed in honor of Flag Day?" I smirk, proud of my ingenious idea.

"Why Mark, I think that might be an honorable idea! Celebrate the flag the good ole way!" Roger says, bouncing up from the couch and scanning the cupboards for anything we might be able to consume in our celebrating.

"And maybe we can find some way to cool down while we're at it," I add as I assist him in the search for supplies for our 'Flag Day celebration'.

We've managed to scour the entire apartment and find 5 bottles of various liquors that were all approximately half full, several empty bottles that we grunted at upon finding them, and luckily, one full bottle of wine left over from someone's birthday… we disagreed for about ten minutes on who's birthday it was, but gave up when we realized that it was full.

We both end up lying on the couch, stripped down to tank tops and shorts, admiring our plans and the collection of beverages that we've managed to find in our messy loft. I can remember countless times when we've torn the loft into pieces in search for something and never find it. But today we've managed to be victorious.

"It's like 2 in the afternoon and we're already going to start drinking?" I ask him, curious as to how the rest of our evening would unfold.

"Why not?" he asks, grabbing the nearest bottle he can reach without having to move from his sprawled out position on the couch.

"Alright, well if you're gonna start, I guess I'll have to join you…"

Fast forward to four hours later. Roger and I after consuming over half of our alcohol collection came up with the excellent idea to fill the entire bathtub with cold water and go for a swim. The fact that we'd barely fit together in the bathtub didn't phase us one bit, the hope to find a solution to our heat problem was all that mattered.

So here we are, both scrunched inside the freezing cold tub in soaking wet clothes (I guess we didn't think to take off our clothes) and finally finding relief from the hell like heat that New York is experiencing on the magical holiday of Flag Day.

"Mark, you're pushing onto my side," Roger says angrily.

"Rog, the tub isn't that big. You really don't have a 'side'," I snap back. I start splashing him with the water and he retaliates and soon enough, we're in the middle of an all our war in our bathtub.

"Roger! You're getting water on the alcohol!" I exclaim and he stops in horror. I take that as my chance to dunk his head underneath the seemingly decreasing water line. He's flailing his arms and kicking his legs at me and I finally release him as I can't contain my laughter any longer.

"Marky, that wasn't funny, you tricked me!" he whined. Roger when he's drunk can take on multiple personalities, one of them is childlike Roger, who tends to whine and do idiotic, childlike things.

"Sorry Roger," I mutter and grab for the bottle lying next to the tub, downing the large sip remaining and placing the empty bottle on the floor.

"S'okay, Marky," he softly replied as he sunk farther down into the tub, pushing his wet body closer to mine. I could only imagine the looks we'd get from Collins if he was here right now. He'd make some crack about us being the true 'couple' of the loft.

It was at this moment I realized I was the sober one of the pair of us and by no means was I sober. I hopped out of the tub and pulled Roger out with me. We dragged our wet bodies back on the couch and it seemed as if the water evaporated quickly into thin air. Roger went and grabbed for another bottle, while I went and grabbed my camera.

I zoomed in on Roger and began my sloppy narration, "Roger and I have decided to celebrate in order of Flag Day!" I pan my camera to show the empty and full bottles, our wet clothes, and the puddles that show our path from the bathroom. "It's so fucking hot as well, so we decided to go for a swim in the bathtub."

Roger took another swig and I sat down beside him, pulling the bottle away from his face, "Roger, save some for me, you're a lot drunker than I am right now, and it's only six, we've got hours of potential left!"

I manage to grab a hold of the bottle and take a large swig of the beverage, its contents burning my entire mouth. I shake my head in response and continue my filming. "Observe the empty bottles and those who will be empty soon enough if Roger continues the way he's been going."

"Marky, let me have the bottle back, or I'll tell everyone about you stalking that girl that works at the Life Café," he smirks and I hand him back the bottle quickly.

"I'm not stalking her, I'm just learning more about her," I inform him and blush significantly.

"Marky's in love…." Roger sings in a little song and I smack him over the head.

Fast forward four more hours. Empty bottles lie at our feet and we're barely conscious, the two of us somehow migrated at one point to the roof of the loft, and I often wonder how we managed to get up there without killing ourselves. The night air is humid, yet refreshing and we're lying down, staring up at the hazy night sky.

"Mark," Roger's intoxicated voice mumbles at my feet.

"Hm," I mumble, noticing how wonderful the blackness of the sky often really is.

"Don't feel so good," he states, scooting so that he's lying directly beside me.

"Me neither," I inform him and the nauseating feeling I'm currently experiencing isn't the greatest one.

"Flag Day sucks," he mumbles and my head turns to the right to look at his face.

"Yeah, it kinda does," I add and stare back up at the magical night sky.

That was Flag Day celebration number one. Every Flag Day since we've ended up doing something as ridiculous as the bathtub incident, as it thus has been named. We drink to the memories and add new ones. We ended up hating the holiday by the end of the night, especially when we're forced to spend quality time hovering over the toilet. Every time has been special, each of them different than the last.

I threw down the canister of film I had just finished watching and picked up the next one. The more I watched these films the more I realized how many secrets we kept behind our loft door. I glance down at the next canister beside me, yearning to find the perfect combination of our memories, often our secret memories, to complete my present for Roger. Let's dive in and find out what this one has to offer…

When Roger was going through withdrawal his behavior was stranger than normal at times. Of course, I'd never say that to his face, but it's the truth. One day I had came back from lunch with Maureen and saw his door closed again. So, I placed down my camera and bag and gently opened the door to try and see how he was doing. However… what I saw I still laugh about to this day.

Roger had taken all his blankets and built himself a fort in his room. Forts like you would make when you were a little kid with chairs and sheets and other things as such. However, Roger really outdid himself. This was a fine piece of blanket fort craftsmanship. I covered my hand with my mouth to mutter the laughter I was trying so hard not to vocalize. I wouldn't want to upset Roger because God knows what kind of mood he's in.

"Uh, Roger?" I asked, cautiously.

I heard some scuffling on the floor and saw Roger's head pop out near my feet. "Yes, Mark?"

"Nice… fort," I comment and I notice a small smile peer across his face.

"Uh, thanks," he replies and I'm suddenly relieved this was a good day. Roger had good days and bad days and the bad days outnumbered the good ones far too often. I don't know how many more bad days I could physically handle. I walked back to where I had set down my camera and brought it back into Roger's room.

"Today Roger has gotten creative and built a rather elaborate fort in his room," I begin narrating as I scan around his room.

"Fort Roger," he declares.

I choke back another laugh and zoom in on him, "And apparently Roger has also turned into a 12 year old."

"Oh, Mark, fuck off," he says, retreating back into his fort. I stop filming him, noticing his rather quick attitude change. Oh well, at least he was happy for a little while.

Roger stayed in his fort for three straight days. I honestly couldn't tell you why or what motivated him to build such a fort. I'd given up on trying to analyze Roger's behavior a long time ago. I'd leave him some food by the door and continue on with my life per usual.

I had returned back to the loft after some random filming to find Roger lying on the couch. My eyes couldn't believe the sight before me and it took me a second to realize that Roger was honestly out of his room.

"Hey Roger," I said, trying not to act too cheery.

I didn't get a real reply, just a grunt and mumble or two. I find my way over to the couch, where I sit down beside my roommate. I say nothing, hoping that he'd make an attempt at some form of conversation, but realized that it wasn't going to happen any time soon. I started to get up, but felt Roger's hand grab my wrist.

"What?" I slightly snapped at him, considering how tight he had grabbed a hold of me.

"Stay," was his only response. I sighed and sat back down on the couch.

"Well, if I'm going to stay, you're going to at least talk to me," I inform him. Two could play at this game.

"Fine," he says.

"Can I ask what made you build the fort and stay in it for three days?" I cautiously ask him.

He glanced away from me for a moment, before turning back to face me. "It was stupid."

"I thought it was pretty funny, actually."

"Really? I don't know," he replies, pausing before he finally confesses, in a quiet voice. "I got scared and… I don't know, wanted somewhere to hide? I feel better now."

"That's good," I respond. This was how a lot of our conversations went, so I was used to trying to comfort him.

"Promise you won't tell anyone; that it'll be our secret?" he asks hesitantly and in all honesty, I was a bit surprised by the request.

"Of course," I respond.

It so it had stayed that way. I still had that small clip of Roger in his fort and knew it had to go on the film. It was one of our 'serious secrets', but I think it still played a role in the reality of our relationship. I think that was the turning point in Roger's recovery because he finally started getting out of his room.

I stepped back from my projector and rubbed my tired eyes. I scanned to see that it was already 2am and I probably should get some sleep. I organized my mess and found my way to my bed. Tomorrow I'll continue my project…