"How did I get here?"
"I told you before, Benny Drove us here in his Rang-"
"No, not like that."
"Then like what?"
"Like, how did I come to be like this?"
"I don't know, Angel. I just don't know."
Angel, his Angel, was dying. Dying. There was nothing he could do to save him. For the first time he could not be his knight in shining armor. He could not save his fair maiden from the furious peril that lay inside him. He could only wait and watch and pray while slowly dying with him.
"You'll get though this, my Angel. I swear," he muttered softly in a moment of courage. Perhaps if he said these words over and over again, they would come true.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, baby," was all the reply he received. Angel also silently prayed for some hint of truth in his lovers words, but he knew that words were words and life was life.
"I will always love you, Angel."
"I love you too, Collins."
Minutes passed in complete silence before soft sounds of troubled sleep emanated from the rigid chair in the corner of the room. Angel turned his head slightly and in the miniscule light that peaked though the blinded window the of the tiny hospital room he saw the silhouette of his lover curled into the small chair and sighed into the darkness. He would not sleep this night, or any other night until…No, He wouldn't, no. He couldn't, think of that yet.
The mirror on the wall across from the dingy hospital bed showed Angel what he feared the most. To Angel, it seemed rather cruel to place a mirror across from a hospital bed, for you just couldn't help from look into it, and who wants to watch themselves die?
Since he was a little boy, Angel believed that mirrors lied. He would look into the accursed piece of glass saw the opposite of what he thought was the truth, a little boy, scrawny for his age with dark skin and wide eyes staring back. That's when he began manipulating mirrors. He would dress in heels, skirts, and mascara and was able to twist reality in his own way to make the mirror show him what he wanted to see.
He could not manipulate the large, square mirror across from him and the reality of it all burned him so deeply that he felt as if his soul was being ripped apart:
A young man, usually so bright and chipper was clouded by a haze of despair as the disease slowly at away at his spirit. Around him in the poorly lit room hung monitors, tubes and wires that saved his life by day and slowly killed him at night. The truth those monitors told burned more than the lies in the mirror, because they were real. The young man who was always so strong and defiant lay frail and broken among the array.
Looking away, to spare himself the horror, Angel looked down at his hands. His wrists were bruised and purpled with various tubing and needles taped into them but it wasn't the various IV's that intrigued him. No, it was freshly painted fingernails. Cerulean blue. His favorite.
'I guess I don't need a mirror to manipulate reality', Angel thought with a soft snort as his eyelids grew heavier, 'Just some obsessed friends.'
As Angel caved in and closed his eyes for the final time, his distantly heard the machines grow quiet and a soft sob echo in his head.
Authors Note: Nothing of RENT belong to me, of course. But the storyline does and that's why I would really appreciate any feedback you have for me… if you just say "I liked your story" or "I didn't like your story" that's fine.. but if you could say why.. that would be great. Reviews make the world go round!