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Goodbye Until Tomorrow- The Last Five Years

Title: Goodbye Until Tomorrow
Author: Sarah
Feedback: Love it, please leave it. . .positive or negative
Pairing: Collins and well. . .his thoughts. . .no really, his thoughts.
Word Count: 678
Rating: PG-13; a little swearing
Genre: Angst
Summary: Collins is back and almost ready to face his pain.
Notes: I know, I know, this subject has been done to death (no pun intended) and by better writers than me, but I'm calling this an exercise, not only in writing, but to get my feelings away from me. Also, the last two lines have been stuck in my head regarding these two for weeks. I'm not sure I used them to their best advantage, I'll have to let you be the judge of that.
Special Thanks: To scotsinkilts, as usual, for being super-cool and offering her opinions.
Spoilers: Angel's dead. Ha! Now I ruined the ending for you!
Warnings: None, just the aforementioned swearing.
Disclaimer: I couldn't own anything nearly as cool as Collins. I don't think anyone can (sorry Larsons). Or the Last Five Years.

Anyone looking at him would see just another man. A man who smiled, laughed, went through the motions of his life. Only his friends knew better. They knew what he'd been through in the past eighteen months. How he'd gone from a man alone, beginning to be a little bitter about his prospects in life and love, to a man so deeply in love that it physically hurt him to be apart from his lover, then finally to a shell of himself when that lover abruptly left him. 'Tis better to have loved and lost . . . Collins thought to himself. But sometimes he doubted even that truth. Would he have been better off without her? Sometimes the thought did cross his mind, but he couldn't muse on it for long before the answer came: No! Absolutely not! He reached his destination at last and ran his fingers over the cold inscription.
Angel Dumott-Schunard
1974-1995
He could not bring himself to read the rest of the text. The pain was still too fresh and though he had chosen the passage which perfectly described his feelings at the time, even after six months he wasn't yet ready to face the words. He crouched down, only allowing himself to focus on those top two lines, and spoke to her.
"Hey baby. I miss you." His eyes began to well with tears again. "I-I'm back; I couldn't stay away from you, even though I wanted to. I guess we meant it when we said 'forever,' huh? Shit, Ang, you were so fucking young, why the hell wasn't it me first? God, baby, no, I didn't mean that. I don't want you to be here without me, feeling this way. I just thought . . . I thought we had a little more time, you know? I knew we didn't have much, but we should have had more . . . I'm not thinking straight, sweetie. You always said for a guy who thinks for a living, I had the snarliest thoughts you ever heard . . ." He broke down in tears again. Once he'd cried it out, he felt he could continue. "I just wish . . . I don't know what I wish, honey. I wish you were here with me, we all do. It's nearly spring again. The daffodils are blooming. I remember when you picked that whole bouquet of daffodils when we went out to Scarsdale with Mark, remember that? You refused to wear tights because it was warm out and you got poison oak all over your legs, remember? I had to rub Calamine all over you and practically had to hold your hands constantly to keep you from itching. You bitched me out about it, and about how we had to ruin your manicure cutting your nails. Mark wanted to just put gloves on you, but I think you liked my holding your hands, didn't you? I liked it, even though you acted pissed. I always liked being close to you. It infuriates me that I'll never touch your skin again, never hold your hand or kiss your lips. You were more full of life than millions of people who are technically still alive and yet . . . You wouldn't have traded a single one of their lives for yours, would you? Not even for me. That's what I loved about you, Ang. You lived. Not everyone can say that. And you taught me to do the same. To live and love and carry on. And I plan to do just that, baby. I won't leave you again." He kissed the first two fingers on his right hand and touched them to the stone. Placing the daffodil he had picked in the park (it was starting to wilt a little by now, but Angel wouldn't have minded) on the lip of the stone, he allowed himself to finally read all four engraved lines:
Angel Dumott-Schunard
1974-1995
No matter how I tried,
All I could do was love you hard and let you go.