A story inspired by the Elton John song "the Last Song".

I do not nor will ever have the genius it takes to create RENT; therefore, I obviously don't own it. :)

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"May I help you sir," a nurse with a sad smile asked a man after he had approached the station looking very nervous.

"Um, uh can you tell me what room," he paused for a moment looking as though he may have changed his mind about asking but again faced the nurse with renewed courage. "Can you tell me what room Thomas Collins is in?"

"Let me see," the nurse said pausing to type intelligently on her computer. "Thomas B. Collins, room 295."

"Okay, Thank You," the graying old man said to the nurse as he walked down the hall in search of room 295.

He paused when he finally came upon the door to the room he was looking for and after taking a few deep breaths he knocked on the door slightly. In an instant a small, blond Caucasian boy with glasses opened the door.

"Uh… Hi," the boy who opened the door said his voice thick with exhaustion. "Can I help you?"

"This is Thomas Collins room, right," the old man asked of the blonde.

"Yes that's correct," answered the boy . "Would you like to see him."

"Yes," he paused. "I would."

"Just for curiosity's sake, Might I ask who you are," said the boy before opening the door all of the way.

"I'm his fa-," he choked a bit on the last word. "Father"

"Oh," the boy said kind of surprised. "Well, I'm Mark"

"Nice to meet you Mark," Collins' father said obviously nervous.

Mark nodded and then led him farther into the room which was dimly lit and filled with the sounds of machines beeping.

Collins lay on the bed hooked up to many of the beeping machines, he looked so fragile as he was unnaturally pale had lost much weight and he was shaking slightly with fever.

Mark walked up to Collins who was sleeping and gently shook his hand.

"Collins," he whispered.

As Collins slowly ascended from unconsciousness he moaned in pain as a series of violent coughs shook his fragile frame. When he finally ceased coughing he was out of breath.

"Water, please," he whimpered his voice raspy and softer than a whisper.

Mark nodded and dribbled a few drops of water into his friends mouth with a straw.

Mark rubbed the back of his sick friends hand gently, "Shh, Shh it's okay." he said. " Collins you've got a visitor."

"A visitor?" Collins replied somewhat confused; he couldn't think of anybody who would want to come see him other than his friends who were already here.

As if he knew what he was thinking his father spoke, "hi Son."

"Dad?" Collins said surprised at who stood at his bedside.

"Yeah Son," he said sitting down in the hard chair at his bedside and taking his sons hand. "It's Me."

"We're going to go get some coffee and give you two some privacy to talk to each other," Mark said before departing from the room.

"Why are you here, I thought you hated me?" Collins said his voice still weak but with a hint of acid.

"Son," his father began and then paused. "Thomas, I have never hated you."

Collins, his eyes threatening to close as his body began to give back into sleep, looked at his father questioningly and opened his mouth to speak.

As he did so his father put a finger on his son's lips and stopped him, "Don't speak, save your energy for something more important than me."

Collins was beginning to wonder if he was hallucinating because he had never heard his father say anything that selfless before.

"Okay, well what I'm about to say won't be easy but I want you to understand I mean everything I am going to say," his father closed his eyes and slightly squeezed his son's hand.

"The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. I was so excited to be a father to go out and play catch and to have someone to carry on my family name. When you got older your mother and I realized that you were a little different than the other boys your age because you didn't want to go outside and play catch you would rather stay inside and help your mother bake a cake. Needless to say that I was a little worried that you might be little… un-traditional. Then came that fateful day when you came home from school during your senior year of high school with tears streaming down your face. That was the night that you told us that you were gay.""The night that you kicked me out of your house," Collins bitterly cut in his voice still as weak as ever and weakening with fatigue.

"Yes it was," his father replied sounding genuinely ashamed. "I know now that what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have kicked you out just because you were open with me and told me the truth. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life."

He paused for a moment blinking back some tears that had formed in his eyes, "I regret the fact that I am the reason we have not seen nor spoken to each other in 6 years. You are my son and I love you," He paused again as he took some time to collect his emotions. "I was just wondering if you would be willing to put that all behind us so that we can start fresh, with a clean slate. What do you say son? Do you forgive me?"

The tears that had collected in Collins' eyes were now flowing freely down his sunken face as he nodded as hard as he could manage, which was only a slight movement of his head up and down. "Dad, I love you too and even though I may still be upset about you kicking my out of the house, I forgive you." After finishing his sentence Collins fell into a terrible coughing fit that made him begin to cough up little spurts of blood because of his bone dry throat. After the terrible fit was over and Collins was literally gasping for air, Collins' father quickly replaced the oxygen tube that had become dislodged from Collins' nose during the fit and then grabbed a moist wash cloth off of the nightstand and wiped the blood from the sides of his son's mouth and chin.

As he placed the wash cloth back onto the nightstand he noticed a picture frame that held a photo of his son and another man, a young Latino, who had his arms wrapped around Tom's neck, both of the men were smiling widely and he saw the happy glow on his sons face that he had seen when Tom was a child.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Collins' father asked truly curious.

Collins nodded his head weakly and mumbled, "Angel."

Collins father was somewhat confused. "Oh that's nice. Did he go home or to the cafeteria or something?"

Collins' eyes began to water as he thought about his lover, "No. He. Passed. Away," Collins answered having to breathe after every word as he was still trying to catch his breath.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," his father answered feeling bad about asking.

Collins gave him a look telling him that it was okay, "I'll be with him soon," he said simply.

Collins blinked his eyes slowly trying to keep them open.

"Get some sleep son," his father said placing a cool compress off of the same nightstand and placing it on his sons blazing forehead.

"Are you going to stay?" Collins asked sleepily.

"Do you want me to?" His father asked not wanting to "overstay his welcome."

He nodded another weak nod, "I love you, dad."

His dad smiled, "I love you too son.""Will please get my friends from the hall?"

"Of course," his father said going to door and beckoning Tom's friends to come into the room.

Tom was almost asleep when everybody gathered around his bedside after coming into the room but he opened his eyes and smiled at all of his friends. "I love you guys," Collins mumbled and they all answered back that they loved him as well. Maureen and Mimi sofly grabed his hands and as he drifted out of conscienceness Collins gave their hands a gentle squeeze.

***

Collins was finally reunited with Angel later that night with all of his friends and his father at his bedside, Mimi and Maureen still holding his hands.

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I know this story isn't great but any and all reviews would be truly, greatly appreciated.