Oh God... what to say... well, this is my first REAL fanfic. I wrote one a bajillion years ago, but it was rubbish, so we'll just ignore it. First RENTfic at all, so... yeah.

I don't own a bloody thing. Especially RENT.

Reviews would be neat, and concrit is always appreciated!

December twenty-third. Unseasonably warm. Perhaps that was why he couldn't sleep. So, he walked around the park, hands in his pockets, remembering.

Remembering last year. If he could go back in time, just one year, in a few hours time, he'd be meeting the love of his life. Angel had been every bit his name that night. The memory brought a smile to Collins' face. But...

Then he began to think of what happened after. The pain, at the very end. It took the man to his knees. He was so lonely, and it wasn't going to ever get any better. Sure, he could tell himself that he'd see her again in the afterlife, but deep down, he didn't believe in one. Logically, what kind of intelligent person could? But he wanted to believe it... so badly.

Thomas Collins curled up into a ball on a bench in Tompkins Square Park, and cried himself to sleep.

He was roused early in the morning by an angry homeless person, who claimed his place had been taken. Sheepishly, Collins rolled off of the bench and straightened to a standing position. He had bits of dirt stuck to his face in the pattern of his half-dried tears. Wiping them off, he headed towards Mark and Roger's. He didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve.

Then his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the groceries had run out two days ago. He found a fiver sticking out of a pile of mushy snow, and thought he'd at least buy a box of Christmas Captain Crunch to share with the boys, as a gift. There was a Food Emporium on the way, so he stopped by.

The grocery store was almost empty. A cluster of punks could be seen at the very back, chucking packets of taco seasoning at each other, giggling moronically. The lone cashier made his way to them, cursing and brandishing a broom. The largest boy grabbed the broom from the man, and began waving it about. Collins thought about going back to help the man, but suspected that this was a regular occurrence; the man knew each ruffian by name. Nothing really harmful was happening, so he left them be, and went to grab his intended purchase from its shelf. Then, he saw it.

The ATM, sitting unguarded in a corner, semi-blocked from view by a large magazine rack. He heard a whisper in his ear: "Mi caro, you know you need it. They need it. The men at the bank don't. I need you to thrive. It's okay." And he walked over to the machine, and went to work.

In about three and a half minutes, it was done. Collins had always been a savvy worker. He punched in the code with a grin on his face, received his "pay", and quickly left.

He didn't go straight to the loft. First, he went to go pay a visit to his advisor. He was at her grave most of the day, just talking to her. No, her headstone, he thought, but then he thought, who whispered in my ear? Cheered by this notion, he finally finished the voyage he began that morning.

By the time he got there, it was dark. At least ten o'clock, he assumed. He heard voices on the other side of the door. "...maybe a little bird told her."

"Or an Angel," Collins said quietly as he entered, musing to himself. And maybe, he'd see his Angel again, someday. But for now, he had his friends, and they would tide him over.

*winces* So, how was that? Anything? Anyone? Pretty please??