A/N: Yay, my first Collins fic! I'm still so happy about my first trip to NY seeing Adam & Anthony in Rent on Aug. 11th. Anthony signed my copy of his book! Anyway, thanks to TMac and ILikeScarves for looking this over. DISCLAIMER: Own nothing!

My God, it's been a year. A whole freakin' year.

I roll over in the tangled mess of white bed sheets, glancing at a picture of her and me from Valentine's Day and wonder how the hell it could possibly be October 25th all over again. Since then I've learned to push any thought of it to the back of my mind, but now that the date has arrived again, I'm not sure how I can possibly cope with it anymore.

She's been dead for a whole year.

I remember it like it was yesterday. October 25th, 1990. The day my Angel slipped away. I shudder and close my eyes again. I'm not ready to get up.

Within the first month after she passed on, I could barely bring myself out of the house. I resentfully remembered how Mark, Maureen and I had made desperate attempts to get Roger to leave the loft after April passed on so long ago. Suddenly I knew how he felt...losing someone who meant everything to you. I was "pulling a Roger" as Mark put it by acting so depressed, but at the time, I hadn't really thought of it that way, and wasn't interested in my friends' pleas to hang out with them. They were worried, and I didn't care.

It was when Mimi had neared death last Christmas that I realized how much Angel still affected each of us. It had been merely two months after her death, and I had put a smile on my face for Mark and Roger at Christmas, just for them, because I knew despite everything going on in their lives that they were still worried about me. When Mimi "died", I'd really thought it was the end. But it wasn't. Sure enough, she woke up. And she told me that Angel saved her life.

I didn't doubt her even for a minute. I knew Angel had something to do with Mimi's revival. I knew it.

And now, here I am, some ten months later, yet another Christmas already approaching in a couple of months. Mimi's as sick as ever, but she's holding strong, as I'd known she would since the day I met her. The girl is a fighter, I'll tell ya. Just like Angel. I can see why they were such good friends.

I let out a sigh and stand up, heading into a bathroom for a shower. The warm water's a little bit comforting, but I can't get the thought of her out of my head. Well, Angel-girl, it's been a year, and I'm still hooked on you. Go figure.

I'm zipping up my jeans and throwing on a navy blue t-shirt when the phone rings. Dammit.

Slipping on some sneakers, I jog into the living space or whatever it was categorized as and pick up the phone. "Hello?" I suddenly realize how quiet and monotone my voice sounds.

"Hey, Collins, it's Mark. How are you doing?" Mark's no fool. He sure as hell knows what day it is. It's nice of him to call but somehow I'm not in the mood.

"Fine. And you?" My tone is cold but initially I'm not fully conscious of it.

Mark can tell I'm not myself and he knows exactly why. "I'm doing okay."

There's silence for a while. "How's Mimi?" I finally ask.

"She's, um...She's..." Mark trails off.

"Yeah," I finish knowingly. I experienced it all with Angel. At first it felt like she would make it. And sure enough, it ended. Just like that.

"Well," Mark finally says, and I can almost hear the sound of his hand reaching up to adjust his rimmed glasses, "I just...wanted to call...you know. You're not the only one who's...thinking about it, you know? It's been a whole year and..."

"Yeah," I say again.

I can hear the sadness in his voice as he says, "Okay, uh...if you need anything, just call or something, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"Okay, Collins, uh...Roger sends his best, too, okay?"

I say nothing in reply. I'm not focused on anything—Mark's voice sounds so distant.

"Uh...bye, Collins." Click.

Taking a shuddering breath, I hang up the phone as well and stiffly make my way into the kitchen, feeling emotionally drained even though the day has barely begun. I open a cupboard and take out a box of Chex cereal along with a glass and a bowl.

I can't stop thinking about her. It's making me physically sick..

Opening the cereal box, I attempt to pour some into the bowl. But my hands are shaking.

Shaking. So bad.

In a matter of seconds, I find myself staring at the floor, which is now covered in spilled Chex mix cereal. I'd dropped the box.

"Shit!" I shout, kicking the box that lay near my feet and running to go get the vacuum cleaner in the closet. Holding onto the handle of the vacuum, I try to lift it out of the closet and bring it into the kitchen.

But now my whole body's shaking. And then I hear myself let out a pain-stricken, ugly cry. It doesn't even sound like me. I feel like I'm someone else, not me, not Thomas Collins.

My back is against the wall now, and I slide down to the ground with a loud thud. My eyes are wide, and I'm looking back and forth nervously, and everything seems dark now.

"Angel," I find myself saying quietly, my voice shaking, "Angel?"

No answer. Why am I expecting for there to be an answer?!

"ANGEL!" My voice rings through my own ears like an unknown note being played on an out-of-tune piano.

And then there's nothing.

'Cuz you know I don't do sadness,
Not even a little bit.
Just don't need it in my life.
Don't want any part of it.
I don't do sadness.
Hey, I've done my time
Lookin' back on it all.
Man, it blows my mind.
I don't do sadness,
So been there.
Don't do sadness,
Just don't care.

—"Don't Do Sadness" - John Gallagher, Jr. (Spring Awakening)