Author's Note: Yes, I'm actually continuing this fic, I just now got around to doing it though...::shudders:: Ah yes, nad I apologize if I make certain characters sound a bit insensitive at some parts. I try to keep people human when I write.
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Tears in Darkness
"Collins-"
Mark's hand hesitated, hovering just over Collins' door. It had been four months since Angel's death, and Collins had been virtually untouchable, cringing away from even a pat on the back or kindly word. As expected, no answer emerged from the room, and Mark let his hand drop back down to his side. Slightly irritated, he talked to the door, knowing full well that Collins could hear him, and hoping he'd listen.
"Collins, we're all gonna watch a couple of movies. Do you want to join us?"
Silence.
"Well, if you change your mind, we'd really like you to come out and watch them with us."
Again, silence.
"Collins, you have to come ou-" Mark began to say, before closing his mouth and bowing his head. "Just, call if you need anything." He finished lamely, before spinning around and joining Roger and the others in the other room.
"Is he going to come out?"
"I don't think so."
Mimi nodded her head, before turning to Maureen.
"So what did you rent?"
Maureen held up a stack of movies.
"Well, I got..." Maureen went off to name all the movies she had rented from the small downtown store. Nods of approval, followed by groans and laughs, came from each title. Roger took a wary glance towards Collins' door, and nodded.
"I'm gonna go see whether I can get him to join us...
--------------------------
Collins sighed, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to think, he didn't want to speak. The pain he bore on his chest prevented him from trying to get up to his feet. A sharp knock on his door seemed to echo through his skull, creating the effect of a loud, beating drum banging in his head.
A beating drum. A beating heart.
Another God damned knock.
"Collins, it's Roger. Mark said you won't come out to watch the movie's with us. Come on, you can't stay in there forever."
/Watch me./ Collins thought silently, before rolling to his side and burying his face into the soft pillow. Inhaling deeply, he sighed as the warm smell of cinnamon and roses invaded his nostrils. The sheets still smelled like Angel, even after all these weeks. Tears stung his eyes, but he clenched the lids shut, squeezing them away.
"Collins, you can't just lock yourself in your room. It's unhealthy." A pause, Collins almost thought he had left, before the voice resumed. "Do you think Angel would have wanted you to shut yourself up from the rest of the fuckin' world? Hm?"
That hurt.
"Come on Tom. Just come out and watch the movies with us. It won't kill you. You might even have a little fun."
/Angel./ Collins thought, screaming inwardly, before climbing laborously to his feet, straightening his clothes, and daring to step over to the door, opening it. He said nothing, but turned his face away from the satisfied smile that seemed to loom over Roger's countenance.
Together, they walked back to the living room slowly, before Collins sat down quietly on teh couch, trying to ignore the triumphant smiles being directed in his direction. Joanne popped in a tape, and for the next two and a half hours, he was left in the dark in the silent room as the glowing screen of the TV took all attention off of him.
Maureen, yawning, stood up to insert the last tape. Mark took a look towards Collins, who sat on the couch, sank in his own melancholy. The man looked fast asleep. With a nod, the drama queen pushed play on the tape.
Background music began playing, and Collins' eyes, unbeknownst to everyone else, flickered open, only to mist over smoothly with salt-filled tears. Script on the screen detailed out the title.
"VICTOR/VICTORIA."
Dark arms moved, so that Collins ended up hugging himself, in a vain attempt at self-comforting. Part of him wanted to scream at the other residents in the room, how could they think that he wouldn't notice, wouldn't care, wouldn't...
A tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, until they were streaming down his cheeks. Damn drag queens, damn friends, damn movie, damn Angel. The movie music played on, scenes ran, people danced, all cloaked under the wash of liquid that danced in front of Collins' eyes.
Mark looked up at the sound of a soft sob, eyes landing reluctantly on Collins. Maureen followed his gaze, before jumping up to hit the stop/eject button. She was stopped by a bass voice.
"No, no, don't let me ruin your fun. I'd hate to be the cause of you guys not watching what you want." Collins' tone was bitter, as he rose to his feet and started for the door. "And thanks so much for being so supportive. I really appreciate it."
"Collins-" But before they could stop him, he had walked swiftly from the loft.
------------------------------
The streetlights cast an eery glow over Avenue A, as Collins sat down on a small corner, next to an abandoned telephone booth. Hands slowly hovered over an imaginary drum, as he closed his eyes, humming softly to himself.
I think they meant it/
When they said you can't buy love/
Now I know you can rent it/
A new lease you are my love/
On life/
Be my life-/
Collins stopped, and thought mournfully.
/Be my life. Angel baby, you were my life. I was so lonely, I was so sad. Then you were there, there to make me happy again, and make me smile. No matter how much I tried to smile before, I was still lonely. Then I had you, and everything was better. Everything was better, before you died./
A cold rush of wind blew past him, making him shiver slightly. Collins had forgotten a coat.
/Mark said that there were two types of people in your life. One type came and stayed forever, to be there whenever you needed them. The other type were people who came for a breif time, to serve some purpose, to help you in some way, and then to vanish from your life just as quickly as they came. You must have been one of those people. No one could ever touch me the way you did. I miss you so much, sometimes I almost-I almost wish I could die, so we'd be together again. Damnit, I'm so tired of living./
There wasn't a breath in the air now, the street still as if listening to his forlorn thoughts.
/And the others! Renting that movie, did they think I wouldn't notice? Did they think I wouldn't care? Every goddamn minute I watched, it reminded me of you. Your voice, your smile, your fashion sense, your everything...Is love supposed to hurt this much?/
It almost seemed as if an answer was breathed in his ear-the cool wind beating against the walls of adjacent buildings.
"Yes..."
-------------------
Tears in Darkness
"Collins-"
Mark's hand hesitated, hovering just over Collins' door. It had been four months since Angel's death, and Collins had been virtually untouchable, cringing away from even a pat on the back or kindly word. As expected, no answer emerged from the room, and Mark let his hand drop back down to his side. Slightly irritated, he talked to the door, knowing full well that Collins could hear him, and hoping he'd listen.
"Collins, we're all gonna watch a couple of movies. Do you want to join us?"
Silence.
"Well, if you change your mind, we'd really like you to come out and watch them with us."
Again, silence.
"Collins, you have to come ou-" Mark began to say, before closing his mouth and bowing his head. "Just, call if you need anything." He finished lamely, before spinning around and joining Roger and the others in the other room.
"Is he going to come out?"
"I don't think so."
Mimi nodded her head, before turning to Maureen.
"So what did you rent?"
Maureen held up a stack of movies.
"Well, I got..." Maureen went off to name all the movies she had rented from the small downtown store. Nods of approval, followed by groans and laughs, came from each title. Roger took a wary glance towards Collins' door, and nodded.
"I'm gonna go see whether I can get him to join us...
--------------------------
Collins sighed, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to think, he didn't want to speak. The pain he bore on his chest prevented him from trying to get up to his feet. A sharp knock on his door seemed to echo through his skull, creating the effect of a loud, beating drum banging in his head.
A beating drum. A beating heart.
Another God damned knock.
"Collins, it's Roger. Mark said you won't come out to watch the movie's with us. Come on, you can't stay in there forever."
/Watch me./ Collins thought silently, before rolling to his side and burying his face into the soft pillow. Inhaling deeply, he sighed as the warm smell of cinnamon and roses invaded his nostrils. The sheets still smelled like Angel, even after all these weeks. Tears stung his eyes, but he clenched the lids shut, squeezing them away.
"Collins, you can't just lock yourself in your room. It's unhealthy." A pause, Collins almost thought he had left, before the voice resumed. "Do you think Angel would have wanted you to shut yourself up from the rest of the fuckin' world? Hm?"
That hurt.
"Come on Tom. Just come out and watch the movies with us. It won't kill you. You might even have a little fun."
/Angel./ Collins thought, screaming inwardly, before climbing laborously to his feet, straightening his clothes, and daring to step over to the door, opening it. He said nothing, but turned his face away from the satisfied smile that seemed to loom over Roger's countenance.
Together, they walked back to the living room slowly, before Collins sat down quietly on teh couch, trying to ignore the triumphant smiles being directed in his direction. Joanne popped in a tape, and for the next two and a half hours, he was left in the dark in the silent room as the glowing screen of the TV took all attention off of him.
Maureen, yawning, stood up to insert the last tape. Mark took a look towards Collins, who sat on the couch, sank in his own melancholy. The man looked fast asleep. With a nod, the drama queen pushed play on the tape.
Background music began playing, and Collins' eyes, unbeknownst to everyone else, flickered open, only to mist over smoothly with salt-filled tears. Script on the screen detailed out the title.
"VICTOR/VICTORIA."
Dark arms moved, so that Collins ended up hugging himself, in a vain attempt at self-comforting. Part of him wanted to scream at the other residents in the room, how could they think that he wouldn't notice, wouldn't care, wouldn't...
A tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, until they were streaming down his cheeks. Damn drag queens, damn friends, damn movie, damn Angel. The movie music played on, scenes ran, people danced, all cloaked under the wash of liquid that danced in front of Collins' eyes.
Mark looked up at the sound of a soft sob, eyes landing reluctantly on Collins. Maureen followed his gaze, before jumping up to hit the stop/eject button. She was stopped by a bass voice.
"No, no, don't let me ruin your fun. I'd hate to be the cause of you guys not watching what you want." Collins' tone was bitter, as he rose to his feet and started for the door. "And thanks so much for being so supportive. I really appreciate it."
"Collins-" But before they could stop him, he had walked swiftly from the loft.
------------------------------
The streetlights cast an eery glow over Avenue A, as Collins sat down on a small corner, next to an abandoned telephone booth. Hands slowly hovered over an imaginary drum, as he closed his eyes, humming softly to himself.
I think they meant it/
When they said you can't buy love/
Now I know you can rent it/
A new lease you are my love/
On life/
Be my life-/
Collins stopped, and thought mournfully.
/Be my life. Angel baby, you were my life. I was so lonely, I was so sad. Then you were there, there to make me happy again, and make me smile. No matter how much I tried to smile before, I was still lonely. Then I had you, and everything was better. Everything was better, before you died./
A cold rush of wind blew past him, making him shiver slightly. Collins had forgotten a coat.
/Mark said that there were two types of people in your life. One type came and stayed forever, to be there whenever you needed them. The other type were people who came for a breif time, to serve some purpose, to help you in some way, and then to vanish from your life just as quickly as they came. You must have been one of those people. No one could ever touch me the way you did. I miss you so much, sometimes I almost-I almost wish I could die, so we'd be together again. Damnit, I'm so tired of living./
There wasn't a breath in the air now, the street still as if listening to his forlorn thoughts.
/And the others! Renting that movie, did they think I wouldn't notice? Did they think I wouldn't care? Every goddamn minute I watched, it reminded me of you. Your voice, your smile, your fashion sense, your everything...Is love supposed to hurt this much?/
It almost seemed as if an answer was breathed in his ear-the cool wind beating against the walls of adjacent buildings.
"Yes..."