I still don't own Rent and I don't own the song "Brave old world". It belongs to the band 'Betty'.


Collins sulked around the busy New York sidewalk. It had been four months since Angel died and Collins was still grieving. When he was around the gang, he was happy go lucky, putting on a show for them all, making them believe he was okay. But, Collins was far from being okay. Everything he did reminded him of Angel. Every song. Every word. Every tear drop. Everything.

After attempting to clear his mind, he decided to head back to his apartment. Once he reached his apartment, he shed off his jacket (the one Angel bought for him at the park) and walked to his bedroom. He walked over to his bed and sat down, staring at the picture of his lost that was sitting on his night stand. A rose from her funeral layed by the picture along with her drumsticks and a white candle sat between it all. Tears started to form in the professors eyes as he lit a match and lighted the candle. He stared at the picture and watched the flame dance in the reflection of the glass. His tears freely fell down is unshaven cheeks.

I wipe the ashes from the soles of my shoes.
I step off the sidewalk, thinking of you.
I light the candles in my makeshift shrine.
The wind brushes in and dries the tears from my eyes...

He couldn't take his eyes of the picture. He couldn't help but wonder if she was watching over him. Collins grinned when he thought about Angel infact being an Angel and being in the room with him right now. Watching him. Watching him cry over her...She wouldn't approve of him crying over her..

How I wonder..
Do you wonder where you are?
To keep your thoughts...
I think your thoughts..
You're not here...

Collins began to cough hard. His health was rapidly decreasing; the virus was finally getting to him. After Angel died, nothing seemed to matter anymore. He'd go a few days without taking his AZT. He'd fall asleep at night praying not to wake up, and if he did, he wanted to wake up with Angel...wherever she was. Even though he was slowly dying, he was still going on, living life. Maybe not to the fullest, but he was still living, doing every day things like going to the Life with the gang or going to Life Support. Life wasn't slowing down or stopping for him, and he figured that out the hard way..

Everything left when I lost you.
Everything keeps keeping on..
It's a brave old world.
Even though you're gone.
Even though you're gone...

He sat up on the bed, pausing for a moment, wiping his face, before he stood up and walked over to the window. It was slightly snowing outside. Instantly, he thought of the time him and Angel played in the snow. Throwing snowballs at one another, building a snowman, making snow angels. A small smile tugged on his lips as he thought about this. He breathed on the cold glass and brought his right hand up and wrote "Angel" on the window. He watched as it slowly faded away...Just like Angel really done.

I breathe my warm breath on the windowpane,
I scratch at the glass and leave the script of your name...

With a small sigh he turned away from the window and ventured to his closet and pulled out a long, baggy shirt and a pair of sweat pants. It was getting dark out and the professor needed sleep for class tomorrow. He quickly changed and crawled into bed. He snuggled up under the blanket and reached his left hand out and rubbed the pillow that Angel used. He rolled over to Angel's side of the bed and burried his face into the pillow, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

I sleep with shadows and I search for your scent,
They lay where you lay but can't replace what you meant.

It's a brave old world,
Even though you're gone...