Irhaboggle Pride (2018) 30 Days, 30 Stories

Snowball Fight

"La vie boheme!" The final strains of the wild melody drifted into the snowy night sky as the small pack of rag-tag friends exited Life Café.

"Woo! Hoo! What a wild ride!" Maureen was skipping ahead of the group, even daring to do a few cartwheels despite how cold the ground was.

"Wasn't it? Wasn't it?" Angel agreed. She tried to do a cartwheel as well, but ended up landing on her side instead of her feet.

"Whoa, there! Careful, darling," Tom helped his lover to her feet.

"Oooh, thanks honey," Angel swayed a little as she stood. "I must've had more to drink than I thought."

"That makes two of us," Mimi laughed.

"Three of us," Roger added a moment later. Mimi laughed again. Tonight was easily the happiest any of them had ever had! At least in recent times. First, there was the surprisingly successful protest that Maureen led, strange as it had been. Then, of course, there was the whole La Vie Boheme at Life Café. Even Shy-Guy Mark and Uptight Joanne managed to have fun that night, joining in the song and dance.

"What are we going to do now?" Mimi demanded. "I'm far too hyped to go to bed!"

"Do you just want to have a bit of a walk-around?" Tom suggested.

"In this weather?" Joanne snuggled deeper into her jacket.

"I can keep help you with that, Pookie," Maureen grinned, then she bent over and picked up a handful of snow.

"Oh no, absolutely-!" before Joanne could finish, Maureen chucked the snowball right at her. "MAUREEN JOHNSON!"

While she flinched from the cold, Maureen and everyone else roared with laughter. For a moment, Joanne could only stand there, anger and disbelief etched into her face. Then, she narrowed her eyes.

"So. Is that how you want to play it?" she asked, but too quietly for anyone to hear. Instead, she waited until Maureen had finished laughing.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Pookie," Maureen pretended to look genuinely apologetic, widening her eyes and pushing out her lower lip. She took several steps closer to Joanne and Joanne let her, still wearing that impassive and unreadable expression.

"Promise me you won't give me a cold shoulder?" Maureen asked in that same cooing tone.

"Oooh, honey, no!" Angel pretended to cringe at Maureen's terrible pun. "Even Mark can do better than that!"

"Hey!" Mark pouted at Angel, but Angel only shrugged while Roger, Mimi and Tom all laughed at Mark's expense.

"Puns aside," Joanne interrupted as Maureen continued to step closer to her. "I will not forgive you unless you can prove to me that you really are sorry!" she crossed her arms.

"You really are cold!" Maureen cried, but underneath, she only knew this was Joanne's way of keeping their little game of cat and mouse going. She approached Joanne until they were almost kissing.

"I'm not nearly as cold as you," Joanne replied calmly. Maureen could practically feel the other woman's lips moving because of how close they were to her own. Before Maureen could initiate any kind of kiss, however, a bitter cold bit at her legs.

"Hey!" Maureen jumped back and looked to see that Joanne had kicked some snow onto her while she was too busy focusing on Joanne's soft lips. She looked back up just in time to see a smirking Joanne before her world went very white and very cold.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold!" Joanne declared proudly as Maureen stumbled back.

"Why you little!" Maureen wiped the snow from her face.

"You kind of deserved it," Roger reminded her.

"Shut up, Guitar Hero," Maureen grunted. Roger only shrugged.

"Don't tell me this is going to devolve into an all-out snowball fight!" Mark sighed as he watched his roommate try to provoke his ex.

"Well, that is la vie boheme," Mimi chuckled, resting against Roger as they continued to watch the chaos unfold.

"OUCH!" Mark whipped around as he felt the snow hit the back of his head. Tom and Angel were stifling their laughter.

"It was all Angel!" Tom cried, snickering terribly.

"What? Oh, no you didn't! That was all you, honey!" Angel replied, laughing just hard.

"Alright, enough! Which one of you-?" before Mark could try to get a straight answer (why did he think he could get one of those from a gay man and his drag queen lover?) as to who threw the snowball, another one hit him. This time, it hit the side of his face.

"Roger!" Mark had seen his roommate do the deed out of the corner of his eye.

"It was Mimi," Roger replied.

"What? No it wasn't!" Mimi defended, but then she quickly knelt down, grabbed a handful of snow, and stood up again. "But this was!" she chucked the ball right into Roger's face and he yelped as the cold slid down his shirt.

"You monster!" he cried, still hopping around and reaching down his shirt, trying to clean the snow out of it.

"Ooopsie," Mimi gave him an adorable, evil smile before bursting into laughter.

"This means war!" the young guitarist bellowed, then suddenly he and everyone else was on the ground, scrabbling at the snow and ready to attack.

"La vie boheme!" Maureen bellowed at one point before tackling Mark, which caused him to knock over Mimi.

"I hate you all!" Mark muttered, stuck underneath Maureen.

"Love you too, babe," Maureen teased him. Mark gave her another exasperated sigh as she rolled off him. And then hit him with another snowball.

"Jerk!" he muttered, but even he couldn't stop the smile creeping across his face.

Many passersby stared in disgust and disdain at the rabble, rolling around like idiotic little children, in the dirty snow of the New York streets, but no one said anything. Even if they had, however, it would've been entirely lost on the little band of friends, joined together by a common suffering and kept together by these moments of happiness and freedom that only a Bohemian could find. Sure, they might've looked stupid, rolling around in the cold gutters of the street, but the laughter was enough to keep them warm during the snowball fight.

They were all struggling, with rent, with drugs, with HIV and AIDS, with judgment and discrimination, with loss and grief, with depression and anxiety, with pain, with suffering... with death. But in between those moments of suffering, there were moments of pleasure, and they were what made it all worth it. Moments as small and silly as a late-night snowball fight were what kept the group together and going. This perfect storm of joy, pain, humor, anger, relaxation and grief were what made their lives truly bohemian.

AN: Just a short little fluff fic immediately after "La Vie Boheme". I haven't seen Rent in a long time, so I apologize if this seemed a little OOC or vague in terms of characterization, but I still had to honor it with a fic because, in hindsight, this was such an incredible show.