"Joy In Repetition"
author: Lady Maeve
disclaimer: Rent belongs to Jonathan Larson. I just wanna keep Angel.
Warning: a bit of implied togetherness of Angel/Collins' part but if you've seen the play, nothing should EVER bother you again.
The middle part is a song called "joy in repetition" which belongs to The Purple Highness, Prince. It's not my song...words...it just goes with the story as a paragraph on it's own.
Collins leaned over Angel with a slightly occupied look on his face. They were currently in a suite at the plaza and Collins stared at Angel with suspicion. He then lay back down next to his lover and frowned. Not five seconds passed by when he leaned over Angel again to stare at the drag queen's face, his eyebrows furrowed and his braids sweeping across Angel's cheek.
"What is it, love?" Angel asked, more amused at Collins' peculiarities than anything else. Her voice was soft and feminine, especially after their romantic night on the town. Collins looked at Angel very seriously for a long minute, then lowered himself to lay down on his back again. He was about to move to lean over his lover once more when Angel grabbed Collins' wrists. "Love, if you do that one more time, I will start to think there's something wrong with me," Angel said laughingly.
"Angel-" Collins paused. He would of loved to explain to Angel what he was thinking. But in order to explain it to someone else, one would need to explain it to one's self first in a way that one themselves understands it. Angel burrowed deeper into the blanket that covered the both of them and pressed herself against Collins' chest.
"You can tell me," Angel confided as she looked up at her lover with those trusting, endearing eyes. A small smile played on her lips, and she knew that whatever it was Collins needed to say, nothing could take away what they shared. It was almost comical to see Collins flustered.
"I was recently thinking about my past and recovered a memory which I cannot get out of my head."
"Is it a bad memory?" Angel asked softly and her world fell into a hush awaiting his answer. The sweet silence of shared secrets wrapped around them and the heat of faithful love warmed both bodies as they lay tangled amidst a sea of white cotton sheets.
"No. Not at all. Let me tell you a story."
I loved to frequent this club down on 36th, the pimps and thangs liked to hang outside and cuss for kicks...They'd talk to no one in particular, they'd say "the baddest I am tonight." Four letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite. All the poets and the part time singers always hang inside. Live music from a band played called "soul psychodelicide". The song was a year old and had to have been playing for four months when I walked into the place. No one seemed to care, an introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces. Up on the mic repeating two words over and over again was this man I've never noticed before I lost myself in the articulated manner in which he said them. These two words, a little behind the beat. I mean, just enough to turn me on for every time he said the words, another one of my doubts were gone.
Should I of tried to rap him? Should I stand and stare? No one else was watching him and he didn't seem to care. So over and over again, he said the words until I could take no more. I dragged him from the stage and together we ran through the back door.
In the alley over by the curb, I said tell me what's your name. He only said the words again and it started to rain. Two words falling between the drops and moans of my condition. Holding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition. He said; love me, love me. Why don't you just love me, love me. Love me, love me.
Collins finally looked down at Angel's face and saw her eyes closed, a tiny angelic smile upon her lips. "I remember that night," Angel said with sweet reminiscence in her voice. Collin's heart pounded.
"What?" Angel finally opened her eyes and the abysmal chocolate depths spoke of heat and a rainy night long ago. Collin's eyes widened as Angel began to hum that summer song of passion and midnight rain. "That was you?" Angel slanted over Collins' body and searched for that summer memory in his eyes. Her voice took on a distantly-familiar quality as she breathed out those two words, still behind the beat.
"Love me...love me."
Collins reached his hand up to trace his finger over Angel's lips, nose, eyes. He leaned up and delicately, almost fearfully pressed his lips against the solace he found in Angel's mouth. His whole body was shaking as Angel kissed back with innocence, with faith. Perfect. He had found his perfect.
"Love me..."
He had found his angel.
author: Lady Maeve
disclaimer: Rent belongs to Jonathan Larson. I just wanna keep Angel.
Warning: a bit of implied togetherness of Angel/Collins' part but if you've seen the play, nothing should EVER bother you again.
The middle part is a song called "joy in repetition" which belongs to The Purple Highness, Prince. It's not my song...words...it just goes with the story as a paragraph on it's own.
Collins leaned over Angel with a slightly occupied look on his face. They were currently in a suite at the plaza and Collins stared at Angel with suspicion. He then lay back down next to his lover and frowned. Not five seconds passed by when he leaned over Angel again to stare at the drag queen's face, his eyebrows furrowed and his braids sweeping across Angel's cheek.
"What is it, love?" Angel asked, more amused at Collins' peculiarities than anything else. Her voice was soft and feminine, especially after their romantic night on the town. Collins looked at Angel very seriously for a long minute, then lowered himself to lay down on his back again. He was about to move to lean over his lover once more when Angel grabbed Collins' wrists. "Love, if you do that one more time, I will start to think there's something wrong with me," Angel said laughingly.
"Angel-" Collins paused. He would of loved to explain to Angel what he was thinking. But in order to explain it to someone else, one would need to explain it to one's self first in a way that one themselves understands it. Angel burrowed deeper into the blanket that covered the both of them and pressed herself against Collins' chest.
"You can tell me," Angel confided as she looked up at her lover with those trusting, endearing eyes. A small smile played on her lips, and she knew that whatever it was Collins needed to say, nothing could take away what they shared. It was almost comical to see Collins flustered.
"I was recently thinking about my past and recovered a memory which I cannot get out of my head."
"Is it a bad memory?" Angel asked softly and her world fell into a hush awaiting his answer. The sweet silence of shared secrets wrapped around them and the heat of faithful love warmed both bodies as they lay tangled amidst a sea of white cotton sheets.
"No. Not at all. Let me tell you a story."
I loved to frequent this club down on 36th, the pimps and thangs liked to hang outside and cuss for kicks...They'd talk to no one in particular, they'd say "the baddest I am tonight." Four letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite. All the poets and the part time singers always hang inside. Live music from a band played called "soul psychodelicide". The song was a year old and had to have been playing for four months when I walked into the place. No one seemed to care, an introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces. Up on the mic repeating two words over and over again was this man I've never noticed before I lost myself in the articulated manner in which he said them. These two words, a little behind the beat. I mean, just enough to turn me on for every time he said the words, another one of my doubts were gone.
Should I of tried to rap him? Should I stand and stare? No one else was watching him and he didn't seem to care. So over and over again, he said the words until I could take no more. I dragged him from the stage and together we ran through the back door.
In the alley over by the curb, I said tell me what's your name. He only said the words again and it started to rain. Two words falling between the drops and moans of my condition. Holding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition. He said; love me, love me. Why don't you just love me, love me. Love me, love me.
Collins finally looked down at Angel's face and saw her eyes closed, a tiny angelic smile upon her lips. "I remember that night," Angel said with sweet reminiscence in her voice. Collin's heart pounded.
"What?" Angel finally opened her eyes and the abysmal chocolate depths spoke of heat and a rainy night long ago. Collin's eyes widened as Angel began to hum that summer song of passion and midnight rain. "That was you?" Angel slanted over Collins' body and searched for that summer memory in his eyes. Her voice took on a distantly-familiar quality as she breathed out those two words, still behind the beat.
"Love me...love me."
Collins reached his hand up to trace his finger over Angel's lips, nose, eyes. He leaned up and delicately, almost fearfully pressed his lips against the solace he found in Angel's mouth. His whole body was shaking as Angel kissed back with innocence, with faith. Perfect. He had found his perfect.
"Love me..."
He had found his angel.