A/N: I still don't own RENT. Please Read and Review - I appreciate your input!

Book 2: The Anarchist

Chapter 1: The Lecture

Tom Collins is a visionary. He is going to make the world right one day, I know it. When I first met him though, I didn't know that. In fact, I'll be honest - I thought he was like every other angry teenager going against convention.

I was still attending Brown University at the time, and walked in late to one of the lectures I was supposed to attend for my writing class. When I entered the speaker had already begun, so I quickly walked to the back of the room, and grabbed a seat next to a black man, that I hadn't seen on campus before. After a few minutes of Mr. David's talking, I decided this was just like every other lecture - long and pointless. The skeptical man sitting next to me seemed to agree.

"What a bunch of bull," he said under his breath to no one in particular.

"I hear that," I scoffed.

He turned to look at me with a wide grin. "You know, I thought this guy was supposed to be 'riveting' and 'cutting-edge' and all that. Please, this guy. Doesn't even cut it." He extended a large hand to me, "The names Collins. Tom Collins." I fumbled to shift my camera to my left hand, and he gave a deep chuckle.

"Mark. Mark Cohen."

"Nice to meet you, Mark."

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. From that moment forward, I knew he was going to be one of my best friends. It was just another thing that I knew.

As I predicted, over time he did become one of my closest friends. He shed a positive light on life, was a generally fun guy to have around - and was truly a dreamer (he often quoted John Lennon saying, "Mark, you could say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."). Who would have thought that he young anarchist would be a fierce and loyal friend?

Chapter 2: The Theory

"You know, Mark," Collins said to me, as we sat at the Life Café. "I have a theory of actual reality. Quite simple: Act up and fight AIDS!" He took another swig of his beer.

I laughed, I had heard this theory many times before. But I played along.

"What a riveting theory, Collins! Why, they should hire you to be a speaker."

They did too. At least before they heard his theory. Collins wanted to reach out and teach today's youth, so desperately, that I couldn't help but feel awful when he came back from another teaching gig, fired. He always shrugged it off saying "they couldn't handle the genius of me and my theories", but I knew on the inside he was hurt. His theories might be controversial - but there is no denying that his lectures were better than any other speakers I had heard.

"That they should, that they should." He yawned loudly and spreads his arms out, putting one on my shoulders. We sat there contently, for several minutes, before Tom broke the silence.

"Whadya say we go back to the loft and vainly attempt to get Roger to stop sulking?"

"Sounds good."

We put great effort in trying to get Roger to leave the loft and live again, but as we knew it would be, it was in vain. He wouldn't budge. However, Collins did manage to get a chuckle out of Roger, as he tried to literally carry Roger outside. A chuckle coming from Roger during his "Post-April's-death" stage is real progress. Progress, that no matter how desperately I tried, I could not achieve.

Chapter 3: A Growing Friendship

When Roger was going through withdrawal, Collins almost didn't take a job offer at MIT just to stay and help me. He was the biggest of us, and seemed to think it was up to him to make sure Roger didn't knock me out in his desperation to get another hit. Collins had come up to our loft once, to find me on the ground and Roger racing down our steps to look for The Man. Angry, he hoisted Roger over his shoulders, locked him in his bedroom, and checked to make sure I was okay. Ever since then, Collins was (understandably so) very apprehensive about leaving me with Roger for long periods of time.

"We need the money. It's fine. Go show them your theory of actual reality." He reluctantly agreed, but not before leaving me with all the money he had on him, stocking us up on groceries and laughing at me, as he jokingly patted my head, saying "don't you dare hesitate to call if Roger so much as plucks a hair off of your cute, albino head."

Of course, I didn't call when Roger's fist collided with my jaw as he attempted to escape the loft. No need to trouble Collins with the news. Still, it was nice to know that someone wanted me to call.

I really did miss Collins while he was away. I imagined he was causing quite the stir had MIT, though, and I vaguely wondered if he would bring back an angry-at-the-world college kid that Collins took under his wing, for another room mate. He didn't this time around.

"Wassup, bitches?" he greeted us with, when he finally came home.

"Collins!" I ran up to him and he gave me a warm, one-armed hug, wincing as he did so. Before I could ask he said, "Ey! Roger! You're clean!" Turning to me, he gave a large grin, "Nice job."

"Thanks." I had really missed him. I always did.