Disclaimer: RENT is not mine. It is Jonathon Larson's ::bows::
Summary: He promised his love, his protection… and a thousand sweet kisses.
"All Gods angels come to us disguised" – James Russell Lowell
A Thousand Sweet Kisses
"Hey baby." Angel danced into the apartment and blew a kiss at Collins.
"What did the doctor say?" he asked, eyes anxious, but shining with a kind of content love.
Shaking his head, the drummer tossed a sheet of paper onto a nearby table. "Nothing important. Just the same old – rest, a healthy diet, "avoidance of bacteria and potential infection"." Laughing, Angel pranced over to him with a gleam in his eyes.
"Y'know, I think I'd make a much better doctor than that guy."
"How so?"
"Because. There's one thing he didn't prescribe that's known to cure any and all disease!"
"Humor me." Collins leaned forward, a grin across his face.
Triumphantly, the drag queen grasped his hands and pulled him up, whirling him around.
"A thousand sweet kisses…!" she said in a singsong voice. "Remember? You promised me – and you're not leaving until I get them!"
With a gentle grin, Collins pressed his lips to her's and silently wondered how his angel had ever managed to leave heaven.
One.
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"And what are you supposed to be?"
"Pussy Galore, Bond! Don't tell me you've already forgotten our adventures together!" Angel pressed a hand to her chest in mock indignation.
"Not at all – I was just wondering what this angel was doing here." Collins winked.
"Shush," Angel chided. "It's New Year's – strange things happen."
"Speaking of miracles…" The two neared their friends. "It seems that a certain bulldog we know has yet to be visited by the ghosts of Christmas."
Angel only smiled in return. "But miracles do happen," she reminded lightly.
"After all, how else could I have met an angel on Earth?" Gently, Collins pulled Angel towards him for a kiss.
Twelve.
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"Guess what day it is!"
Collins smiled indulgently, watching Angel tap his drumsticks against the side of the couch.
"Wednesday?"
"No, silly!" His lover edged closer to him. "It's Valentine's Day!"
"Angel," Collins scolded lightly. "Valentine's Day is only a commercial holiday with the sole purpose of advertising Hallmark and Hershey's."
"But it's still a wonderful holiday where you can openly express your love for others!" Pouting, Angel headed for the door. "I think I'll go express my affection for my chica, who's likely also having this conversation right now!"
Sighing, Collins leaned back in his seat, knowing she'd be back in an hour.
Surely enough, as Angel quietly entered their apartment in a much more subdued manner than usual, Collins was waiting there with a flower and a smile.
Glancing at the heartfelt gift, Angel grinned. "I thought Valentine's Day was a mere commercial holiday."
Chucking quietly, Collins leaned forward to press his lips against her's.
"True – but it's also just another day where I can say I love you."
Sixty-seven.
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Collins looked up and sighed, Angel shaking her head and casting him a sad smile.
"How is she?" the African-American murmured in concern.
"Mimi's a tough girl," Angel said. "And god knows she's been through this whole heartbreak with Roger before."
"The kid's an idiot," Collins said decisively. "But he does love her." With a soft snort, he added, "Too bad he's not too good at showing it."
"The important thing is that he's trying," Angel said, seating herself primly on the couch. "And that's all Mimi's asking for." Casting his lover a gaze, the drummer let out a triumphant smile.
"Now that's love."
Laughing quietly, Collins pulled Angel in for a kiss.
Two hundred and three.
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Roger threw a boisterous arm over Collins shoulder. "Happy Birthday, man!" Surveying him drunkenly, he grinned. "Dude, you're getting old."
Mark rolled his eyes from behind his camera. "Roger, try to behave with some decorum."
Frowning in reply, Roger stumbled over to his Latina girlfriend – who was currently on good terms with him – and gave her a sudden kiss. "Meems!" he said. "I have tons of manners, right?"
Mimi sighed in reply, but pecked him on the cheek. "Yes, babe. You do." She glanced at Angel and rolled her eyes. Angel grinned in response and waltzed over to Collins.
"May 24th, 3 AM," Mark narrated, as his camera panned from Mimi to Collins. "Three hours ago, Collins officially turned 29."
"And of course he's enjoying it," Angel teased, leaning into the camera, before turning to Collins and stretching up to meet his lips with her's.
Three hundred and sixty-five.
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"I don't like this." Collins frowned at Angel from the doorway to their bedroom. The usually vivacious drummer was now lying in bed, looking pale and almost sickly.
"No – I'm fine," he insisted.
"No, you're not." Walking forward, Collins sat on the edge of his bed and sighed heavily. "Angel… Everyone's worried. Mimi stops by nearly every day to ask how you're doing – she and Roger haven't fought in nearly three weeks."
"Good," Angel said. "They shouldn't destroy their relationship like that."
"But they haven't argued because they're too worried about you!"
Angel shrugged, a hint of her usual self sparking in her eyes. "Whatever works. I hate seeing my Meems broken-hearted like that."
"Which is what she will be if you don't-"
"I'll go see the doc again, if you want." Angel sighed, stifling a cough. "But I'm fine," she added rebelliously. "Just you see."
Collins smiled in relief. "That's my girl." And he leaned down to gently kiss her.
Seven hundred and twenty-three.
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"Angel… Oh baby…" Maureen swooped forward to caress Angel's cheek gently.
"Hey." Joanne smiled weakly, a few unshed tears glittering in eyes gaunt from exhaustion.
"Joanne, what's with that face?" Angel demanded softly. "It's just a phase… I'll never leave you guys." As if to contradict that statement, she broke out in a fit of violent coughs again.
"Shh… Please… Don't talk." Mimi gently pressed a cup of water to Angel's lips as she furiously rubbed away a few stray tears.
Collins leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his figure slumped. Clearly visible, were the salty remnants of tears on his cheeks. Every now and then he would shake his head and shudder, as if he were trying to block out the truths that would be heartbreakingly real if he opened his eyes.
Silently, Roger stood and headed for the door, his footsteps deafening in the sterile white room.
"Roger." He turned to gaze at Mimi's face, her eyes dark with emotion. Brusquely, he nodded and partially turned to quietly shut the door behind him.
Eyes still closed, Collins walked towards the bed, the rest of them clearing the way for him. Heavily, he sat and buried his face in his hands.
"I love you." Angel gazed at his lover with sad eyes. Collins nodded in reply, slowly uncovering his face to look down at his angel.
"I'll always love you," he promised quietly, leaning down to seal his vow with a kiss.
Nine hundred and thirty-nine.
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"Honey…" Angel's sickly voice was barely above a whisper. Collins turned and smiled feebly.
"Angel, don't stress yourself. You want to save all that energy for… when you get… better…"
"There's a light," she rasped.
The door opened, and Mimi walked in quietly. "Angel." Her voice trembled, and her eyes were puffy and red.
"Roger?" Collins asked, before Angel could.
"Chica, has that boy hurt you again?" Angel's eyes blazed, before she slumped back down.
"It's nothing, Angel," Mimi assured. She glanced at Collins. "How is she?"
"The light… it's calling." Angel smiled briefly, a tender smile that held traces of their Angel. "I think I'll be okay." The other two turned to each other in relief, until Angel spoke again.
"The pain… I think it's going away…" Letting out a sudden dismal cry of recognition, Mimi flung herself at Angel.
"No, girlfriend… hold on…" Mimi's voice increased in pitch, and tears began to fall from her already sore eyes. "Turn around, Angel! See the life – look at us! Look at me! Look at-"
"Collins."
Shakily, Mimi backed away, her cries suddenly silenced, as Collins stepped forward to take her place.
"You promised." Collins shuddered. "You promised!" His voice cracked and he began to cry openly. "Damnit, I'm not ready to let the angels have you back!" Possessively, he wrapped Angel in his arms. "Tell them you're mine! Tell them we need you – I need you!"
"I'm so lucky." Her voice sounded distant, and even he could see the faraway, fading light in her eyes. "We're so lucky to be friends. Tell them, okay, Collins? Make sure they know that I love them all."
"I love you," Collins said brokenly, as Angel's body began to slump, the life slowly trickling away.
"I'll be your angel from heaven… And I'll love you, when you're old and tired and cranky, because I love you." Choking back a sob, Collins pulled back to stare openly at his lover's face, before leaning in to kiss her.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine.
He could feel Angel smile faintly before becoming completely unresponsive, and yet he stayed there, pressed against her, desperate for a taste of his angel again.
"C-Collins…" Mimi's choked voice hit his ears, and as he heard her begin to sob frantically, he too began to break down. Pulling back, he licked his dry lips, tasting the salt on there, and none of his angel.
"One thousand!" he cried, barely coherent. "I promised you… I promised you… thousand… Angel… No, oh god – one thousand!" He could feel Mimi coming up and wrapping her arms behind him, her tears soaking his shirt as he continued to cry about one thousand something and promises and whyAngeldidyouhavetoleavenow.
Because Collins knew he had just broken a promise.
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The others were leaving. That was fine. He would rather have some time alone with her, anyways.
Collins closed his eyes in agony. If he opened them, he would see roses. Red, long stemmed roses. The same kind of roses he gave Angel for Valentine's Day.
Damn.
Everything led back to her.
Everything reminded him of her smile. Her laugh. Her kisses.
The things he'd never have again.
"Angel Dumott Schunard. 1959-1986." That was what her headstone read. No sweet little inscriptions, no loving memories. Too bad. He'd always remember her.
Always remember her and their kisses.
But they never did get their kisses. He still remembered that agonizing moment, where he found that they had both broken their promises, promises that meant more to themselves than to the other.
He could hear them arguing in the distance. Mimi, Roger, Joanne. He hated this. Wanted to just ignore it all and grieve openly. Angel was the one that usually…If Angel was here.
Collins slowly opened his eyes.
If Angel were here, she'd be breaking them apart, goading them into laughter, and then comforting Mimi and Joanne and Roger later.
If Angel were here…
She'd want us to be happy.
He couldn't laugh, but he could smile. Or at least, turn his lips upwards to resemble a smile. He thinks Angel would be happy with that for now. He's not about to fake anything. Not on this day.
Turning to the sky, Collins gently blew a kiss to the air, and let the autumn breeze carry it to the heavens, to Angel. To his Angel.
One thousand.