Disclaimer: ...I own a trumpet, not enough money to be worth talking about, a stuffed hippo, a temperamental laptop, tons of CDs, an old iPod, and a large assortment of textbooks. Do you see RENT on that list? You do? You need glasses. Oh! I forgot! I own a pair of glasses, too!
Although he did not seem it, Tom Collins was a religious man. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. Okay, so he had had a fairly religious upbringing. In any case, he was pretty sure that Jesus Christ had preached love and tolerance at some point. And knew that he had heard the phrase, "Love the sinner, hate the sin," before. And was fairly certain that Jesus had traveled with prostitutes. Fine; he only knew the last one because Maureen had dragged him to "Jesus Christ Superstar" once, but it still counted.
He was not positive, however, that religious leaders, or at least, all religious leaders, had heard of basic human decency. It should be some sort of test, he thought, before you are allowed to work for God in any way, you have to prove that you are capable of being civil. Especially at memorials.
But that was not exactly fair, was it? Pastors, or preachers, or priests, or whatever fucking p-word that man was, were human too. And he knew that humans were stupid and small-minded, that he could never be universally accepted, that he would never walk down the street holding Angel's hand without being glared at by someone. And now he definitely would never, now that...now that...now that he...
It was a still a shitty thing to say at a goddamn memorial though. And pretty fucking unChristian too. And damn it, he just could not take it, not alone.
Why did people feel the need to drag him down at all, let alone when he was at his lowest? What was so offensive about him, about love that he had to be cursed at after his lover's memorial? Why did...
"Hey, forget about him. People like that aren't worth thinking about," said the man who was once, and maybe still was, one of his closest friends.
Collins attempted a shaky smile. He wanted to say, Thank you. He wanted to say, You're a good man, better than you think you are. He wanted to say, I'm scared. He wanted to say, I love you. He wanted to say so many things. Instead, he said, "Well, man, I guess you're not the worst person in the world. Yet."
Benny smiled softly, chuckled a little. He understood. "That's all I ask for."
A/N: Okay, so I don't usually do this type of fic (the, "DIE, HOMOPHOBE, DIE!!" type), but I'm so pissed right now...one of my best friends, Dan, just called me all frantic and hysterical because he'd just come out to his very conservative parents, and...it did not turn out so well. His mother started crying, screamed about how his brother never caused this kind of trouble (if she only knew), and threatened to disown him; his father decided that that was going a little bit far and that Dan could still be part of the family as long as he a, never mentions his "perversion" again, b, never brings the LOVE of his FUCKING LIFE Kevin, whom, by the way, he's planning on MARRYING in Massachusetts in a few months, anywhere near his parents or parents' house, and c, doesn't start acting all "faggish". I so want to call those two, or, better yet, go to their house and give them a huge piece of my mind, but Dan doesn't want me to because he doesn't want Kevin finding out about any of this and he wants to see if they'll come around. They're not worth the money in phone bills or train tickets anyway. Sorry for the rant, but I seriously can't hold it in...I'm working out my anger, sort of, by writing this, however not brilliant it is (and also by helping to plan the wedding, but...this is more angry, so...yeah). Wow, I think that this might be longer than the story.
So, review!