Note: I hope you guys like this as much as I did writing it. (gives tissues in advance) I know that this is gonna be a touchy issue for a lot of people, but I tried to deal with it as realistically as possible. Because no matter what you or I may believe or want in a romantic universe, the world keeps turning. A big shout out to "The Killer in Me" a Buffy episode, which is where this basically comes from.
Collins burst into the loft, out of breath, his hands in fists. His eyes darted around the main room. There was no filmmaker. His ears listened. There was no distant sound of Muzetta's Waltz. "Good," Collins muttered to himself before calmly shutting the door behind him. Then he snapped.
He curled his fingers into tighter fists, short fingernails digging into his palms. With a shot breath, he threw himself into the steel door. First his left shoulder hit, then the right. "No. No. No. NO!" Collins yelled each word getting louder and louder augmenting the smack of his shoulder to the steel. Tears welled up in his eyes, but not from the pain his in shoulders. He dug his fingernails in his skin harder and harder, blood slipping through the surface. That was what he wanted really. There were so many internal bruises, lesions. He needed to have them physically on his skin.
When Collins ran out of breath he simply rested his head on the door and banged his fist against it. 'Just gather up more energy,' He said to himself quietly. 'Then we can try again.'
"Collins?" A weak voice asked.
The philosopher snapped his head back to see a confused Roger, his guitar in hand. The scarf around his neck told Collins that he had just returned from seeing Mimi via the fire escape. His nervous left hand started to rub his right palm along the trickles of blood made by his own nails.
"It seems like since I moved back in with you guys…I can't seem to get a moments peace," Collins said with a hesitant and weak smile. He eyed his friend, seeing that Roger was looking more and more worried by the moment. The rocker must have heard every thud, every scream.
Roger nodded slowly putting down his guitar on the sofa and unwrapping his scarf from his neck. "Yeah…well…if you ever need some alone time…" He said with a weary voice, "Just let us know. I can stay with Mimi, and Mark could stay with the girls."
"Yeah…that might be nice one day," Collins said nodding and putting his throbbing fists in his jean pockets.
"Just say the word," Roger replied in a whisper. Then he crossed his arms and looked around the room. "Did something fall down? I thought I heard something…fall…"
Collins shrugged. "I…I didn't hear anything. Just got in." He tilted his head towards the door as if Roger didn't know how his friend entered the loft. But it also gave Roger a clue.
"What the…what happened to the door?" Roger moved quickly to the entrance of the loft and surveyed the damage. The pulley, which opened and closed the door had snapped. And there was a large dent in the metal even with Roger's eyeline. He carefully raised his hand and put it in the newly dented space. "What happened?" He asked looking back at Collins.
"I think I might have slammed it too hard when I came in," Collins offered pulling himself away towards the kitchen.
Roger watched his friend knowing. "Collins, man, what's going on?"
"Nothing is going on, Roger," Collins sighed while grabbing himself a glass of water. "I came in, I was kinda angry and I slammed the door. I didn't realize it. It's not a big deal." He took a sip of his water and blinked repeatedly.
The rocker raised his hand and pointed, "You're lying."
"Huh?"
"You blink when you lie," Roger supplied while slowly inching towards Collins. "I haven't lived with you for years and not paid attention."
Collins closed his eyes and then shook his head. Then, he plastered a smile on his face. "Yeah I guess so. All these years I thought you were in lala land and really you were being all detectivey noticing our mannerisms. Impressive really. How's Meems?" It was a desperate attempt to change the subject. But Collins was beyond desperate. This was not something that he wanted to talk about. If only Roger understood that.
"What's going on? That was you, wasn't it?" Roger asked pointing towards the door. "And I know you're strong but you're not that strong. At least a simple slam isn't that strong. Why are you so pissed off?"
"Roger…" Collins held up his hand. "Do me a favor? Just drop it. I don't wanna deal with this right now. All I want to do is take a shower and go to bed."
His friend shook his head then he paused noticing the blood on Collins' hand. "No…no way in hell. Not until I know why you were so upset. You're bleeding…and I heard you scream, man. You don't scream when you're ok…especially you." Collins was famous for never letting the big emotions get to him. Even when Angel died, he never truly had an emotional breakdown. At least in front of his friends. He kept those things to himself. Which was one more reason for Roger to worry about him, if hew as actually showing his pain, something was wrong.
"It's not a big deal. I was just…pissed at myself and that's the end of it," Collins said taking another drink of his water as if it was really Stoli. "Bad day. Nothing you can do. It's just a bad day so stop worrying."
Roger wouldn't bite. He crossed his arms and tilted his head towards the door. "What did you do?"
"You know…you aren't my parent. I don't have to answer that."
The rocker shrugged. "Humor me."
Collins let out a deep sigh and then looked towards the door as if he needed a reminder. His aching shoulders were enough of a remembrance. "I was…I was really pissed so I threw my shoulder into it. If we need a new door I can pay for it. No big deal. Ok you happy now? Sheesh. And you think Mark is a mother hen? Who's wearing the feathery bloomers now?"
"Cut the act," Roger whispered harshly. "You can save the witty wordplay for later. Why did you do that? You know that's bordering on self-destruction there…why did you want to hurt yourself?"
The glass of water was now empty, and Collins let it drop into the sink. He turned on the water to wash away all hints of his blood from the glass. "I was pissed off at myself. I wasn't gonna do anything stupid. I was just pissed and wanted…to take it out on my shoulder. Don't worry…I'll realize how stupid it was tomorrow morning when it starts to ache."
Roger let his eyes drop to the floor, but he continued on. "Why were you angry with yourself?"
"No. I don't wanna talk about it," Collins said turning off the water. "I always gave you space when you wanted it. Same with Mark. It's time you give me some space, all right? Just leave it." When he finished speaking his eyes began to fill up with tears. But they refused to leave his lids. He held up his bottom lip, refusing to let it quiver. His hands were back in fists.
"No," Roger murmured. "Collins what happened-"
"Davis, will you get a fuckin clue? I don't wanna pour my heart out to you right now!" Collins shouted at his friend, his whole voice echoing in the apartment.
Roger held his hands out to his sides. "Why not?" He asked showing no real fear of Collins' raised voice.
"Because I'm so disgusted with myself, I don't want you to hate me," Collins snapped back.
"I couldn't hate you-"
"What if I kissed someone?" Collins screamed his voice cracking at the last word.
Then there was silence. Roger froze unsure what to say at first. Ever since Angel's death, Collins had refused to date or even humor the idea of being with someone else. Roger and Mark had given it a try, hoping that he would give in and find someone. But it seemed like a fruitless mission. Collins bypassed all of their encouragement. A part of Roger was glad about Collins' revelation, now his friend could finally be happy again. But the look on Collins' face told the man that nothing was that easy.
"Collins…there is nothing wrong with you kissing someone," Roger whispered gently.
Collins laughed bitterly while running his hand along his mesh cap. "Yes there is, Roger. Do you remember Angel?"
"She's a hard one to forget…Collins…you have to-"
"What move on?" Collins questioned throwing his hands into the air. "Oh yeah…moving on from the love of your life…there is no moving on, only betrayal. Judas Iscariot, whatever level of hell. My soul mate…I can't turn my back on her…him. And I did that today." He raised his arm to his lips and wiped them off as if he was disgusted by them.
Roger wrung his hands for a moment and then slowly approached him. "Collins, you need to be happy-"
"The only way I can be happy is if Angel is back," He said immediately before Roger could finish his thought.
"Is that your head talking or your heart? Who was this person anyway?" Roger asked standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. His green eyes searching for Collins' brown pair. But the man refused to raise his head.
"It doesn't matter." He muttered.
Roger frowned deeply and leaned across the counter to put his hand on his friend's shoulder gently. "Collins…you're not betraying Angel by living your life. Do you think she would want you to lock yourself up in the loft and never come out until the disease took you? Do you think she would want that?"
"She would want to be with me." Collins rotated his shoulder to push off Roger's hand. Then he pushed past Roger and sat in the window seat staring out onto the streets of New York.
"That's not an option."
"Bullshit."
"Hey…don't…I know what you're going through," Roger pointed out when he sat down next to Collins. "You just have to stop pretending like everything is dandy with you cause we all know that you aren't in a good place. We don't expect you to be."
Collins pressed his eyelids close begging for the tears to stay where they were. "But that's it Rog. For a moment I was. My heart fluttered again. And there were fireworks in my head again. But those things…they only belong to Angel. Not to him."
"So you wanna be miserable for the rest of your life?" Roger asked quietly.
His friend opened his eyes finally letting his tears fall down his face. "Hopefully it wouldn't be too long."
"Bite your fucking tongue!" Roger shouted his eyes wide at the notion. He'd had enough of suicide in his life or simply wanting death to come. "I know this is shit on you. Because I know how it feels. Loving someone so deeply and loosing them. Then finding someone else on your door. Someone you didn't want. Hell, after April died I knew I was gonna die without another kiss. I knew. But then Mimi came…"
Collins shook his head. "That's different."
"How?" Roger wrinkled his nose almost offended. "Yeah, maybe April and me didn't have a ride quite like you and Angel did. But we were still in love. You know we were." He said pushing Collins' shoulder gently as if to push him back into the old days. The days when Roger and April were practically attached at the hip, their lips almost always sealed together.
"Yeah…I know," Collins mumbled looking away out onto the streets.
Roger watched his old friend for a moment. He had to say something. Collins and Angel were always saving everyone in the group. Now it was his turn to do something. "Collins…" He started, his words spoken quietly, "I know…I didn't know Angel as well as you did. But I like to believe that I came to know him pretty damn well. And you know what made him so damn happy? You know that deep smile, he had? What would make him smile was watching you. Watching you kid around with Maureen. Tease Mark. Chat up politics with Joanne. Man, he loved just seeing you happy. Seeing you smile. Now…what do you think he just thought of what you just did?" Roger asked pointing towards the door. "Hurting yourself like that? He hated it. If he was alive and standing here right now what do you think he'd do? Collins…you have to live your life now for Angel. Instead of with him. Every fucking thing that he did in this world was to make people happy. And you were number one on his list. He always wanted to make you happy first. So you better live your life and make it a happy one. So that Angel can watch from heaven and be just as happy. No tears in heaven man…you gotta make sure of that."
Collins hung his head as Roger's words sunk into him. He whispered, "But…but if I betray her-"
"How are you betraying her? Collins…Collins he's dead. He's dead. Live for him, don't die for him," Roger replied putting his hand on Collins' shoulder and squeezing it.
Collins raised his eyes revealing his face covered in tears. "This is so messed up," He uttered under his breath.
Roger let out a sole laugh. "I know. But…in the words of some amazing philosopher…life sucks…but not always."
"Never knew about that last part," Collins mumbled letting a small smile spread on his face.
"A new addition," Roger explained squeezing Collins' shoulder again before leaning back with a sigh. He looked out of the window and wondered if any of his words made sense or had any effect. "Are you gonna call him? The guy you kissed?" He asked gently as he hesitantly glanced over at him.
Collins gulped and murmured, "I don't know. But I'll think about it." He looked down at his hands and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket.
Roger took it from him and carefully patted at the small wounds on his palm. "That's all I can ask for."