The Dream
(Author's note: Get's a little gruesome...just a tad...may be a bit disturbing as my beta-reader found it...actually, compared to most of my fic, it's relatively gore-free.)
It was snowing where Collins stood on the strangely deserted New York street. The small white flakes fluttered around him, speckling his coat in little pale spots. All around him was silence, silence so thick you could slice it with a knife.
Somehow, he wasn't bewildered at the lack of people surrounding the area. Slowly he walked, brown eyes gazing at the powdered buildings and empty cars.
"Collins!"
A light voice yelled out his name, and in an instant Angel had flung his arms about the teacher. Warm rushes of chills sped up and down his spine as he fastened his own arms around Angel. The youth's head buried itself in the elder man's shirt, lovingly nuzzling the dark neck, flooding it's nerves with shivers as the puffs of heated breath caressed skin.
"Angel."
"I missed you. Oh God, I missed you."
"I missed you too baby."
Collins was at a loss for words as he held Angel fast, letting his head drop into the dark hair and inhaling deeply the inviting scent of cinnamon and roses that flew to his brain, fogging over his mind with blissful intoxication. Angel murmured something inaudiably, pressing closer.
"Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom...." Angel repeated over and over again, hands reaching up to the familiar face, tracing the curves, his own face still buried in the soft fabric.
"Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel...." Collins repeated, smiling into the top of Angel's head. His entire being was filled with warmth, with happiness, with a contented fulfillment that he hadn't felt in a long time. Everything else in the world was forgotten as they stood there together, wrapped in a loving embrace.
It was Angel's loss of grip that pulled Collins back to reality, as the drag queen began sliding weakly down Tom's frame. Anxiously he supported him, hugging the boy close.
"Angel, what's-"
"Collins, please, don't..."
"Angel?"
Collins tried to meet the boy's eyes, but it seemed as though he was gripping a rag doll. Limply, Angel tottered on his feet, the only thing keeping him upright being Collins' support of his limbs. Amber eyes previously filled with affection had blanked as his head lolled on the back of his neck.
With shivering hands, he shook Angel's limp form gently, then harder. The only movement was the flamboyant jolting of the transvestite's arms and head.
Dead. Lifeless. Deceased. Perished.
Gone.
"Angel. Angel-Angel, come on. Angel please. Angel-" The voice cracked as he clutched the inanimate body to his chest. A sob escaped his lips, followed by another. Collins was faintly aware of tears streaming down his cheeks, but he could not bring his hands away from Angel to wipe them away.
The salty liquid slid down his face, and landed onto Angel's pale cheeks, where they began to stroll down his skin as naturally as if they were his own tears. As each drop fell to Angel's countenance, he paled, until he was as frail as a china doll. It was then that the wind came...
Angel had begun evaporating, until he was nothing but a shadow. Just then, a gust of wind tore through, and Collins felt a searing pain erupt from his chest as the shade was pulled from his fastened arms. The drag queen's eyes fell on him sadly, and thin arms reached out to Collins. Vainly he ran after the shadow, but it faded before he was able to reach it.
"Angel!..."
It was too late.
Sobs took over his entire form as his back racked and he tore at his shirt. Why? Why did they have to take Angel?
/HOOONNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!/
Collins' head whipped to the side and he saw the looming form of a large, dark car. It sped towards him. Moving to run, he found his feet chained to the cement. Collins could not move.
The honking became louder, and blared in his ears. Everything around him began to fill up. Crowds of people surrounding him, closing in on him....
Suddenly, Collins saw Angel press on him, push him over onto the concrete, sheilding him as best as the spirit could. Pain ripped through him as the car made contact with his body, and he felt equally the warmth of Angel's mouth meshed against his own, soothing, loving, easing the pain.
"Hang on Tom..."
The pain became too much as Angel's body all of a sudden became chained, and he was ripped up away from Collins again. Unable to move, unable to reach his deceased lover, Tom frantically tried to yell out his name.
"Angel..."
No sound escaped his mouth as Angel's beautiful form was ripped in peices, red blood falling from the wounds onto Collins' own, mixing with his blood, darkening his blood. He screamed.
------------------------
Collins awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily from his dream. It had been so terrible...so frightening...
One hand reached up, and slowly, hypnotically stroked his guardian angel pendant. Soothing. Calming. Evenly his heart began to beat at a regular rythmn. The teacher took deep breaths, and finally allowed himself to lay back down all the way on the soft pillows.
Angel.
It had all seemed so real.
Collins remained awake for the next several hours, stroking his pendant, assauging the aching, burning pain that resided in his chest.
Finally, sleep claimed his reluctant mind, and he drifted off again. A familiar shade could been seen sitting, barely, on the corner of his bed, stroking Collins' fevered head lovingly.
Tom's guardian angel.
Tom's Angel.
(Author's note: Get's a little gruesome...just a tad...may be a bit disturbing as my beta-reader found it...actually, compared to most of my fic, it's relatively gore-free.)
It was snowing where Collins stood on the strangely deserted New York street. The small white flakes fluttered around him, speckling his coat in little pale spots. All around him was silence, silence so thick you could slice it with a knife.
Somehow, he wasn't bewildered at the lack of people surrounding the area. Slowly he walked, brown eyes gazing at the powdered buildings and empty cars.
"Collins!"
A light voice yelled out his name, and in an instant Angel had flung his arms about the teacher. Warm rushes of chills sped up and down his spine as he fastened his own arms around Angel. The youth's head buried itself in the elder man's shirt, lovingly nuzzling the dark neck, flooding it's nerves with shivers as the puffs of heated breath caressed skin.
"Angel."
"I missed you. Oh God, I missed you."
"I missed you too baby."
Collins was at a loss for words as he held Angel fast, letting his head drop into the dark hair and inhaling deeply the inviting scent of cinnamon and roses that flew to his brain, fogging over his mind with blissful intoxication. Angel murmured something inaudiably, pressing closer.
"Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom...." Angel repeated over and over again, hands reaching up to the familiar face, tracing the curves, his own face still buried in the soft fabric.
"Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel...." Collins repeated, smiling into the top of Angel's head. His entire being was filled with warmth, with happiness, with a contented fulfillment that he hadn't felt in a long time. Everything else in the world was forgotten as they stood there together, wrapped in a loving embrace.
It was Angel's loss of grip that pulled Collins back to reality, as the drag queen began sliding weakly down Tom's frame. Anxiously he supported him, hugging the boy close.
"Angel, what's-"
"Collins, please, don't..."
"Angel?"
Collins tried to meet the boy's eyes, but it seemed as though he was gripping a rag doll. Limply, Angel tottered on his feet, the only thing keeping him upright being Collins' support of his limbs. Amber eyes previously filled with affection had blanked as his head lolled on the back of his neck.
With shivering hands, he shook Angel's limp form gently, then harder. The only movement was the flamboyant jolting of the transvestite's arms and head.
Dead. Lifeless. Deceased. Perished.
Gone.
"Angel. Angel-Angel, come on. Angel please. Angel-" The voice cracked as he clutched the inanimate body to his chest. A sob escaped his lips, followed by another. Collins was faintly aware of tears streaming down his cheeks, but he could not bring his hands away from Angel to wipe them away.
The salty liquid slid down his face, and landed onto Angel's pale cheeks, where they began to stroll down his skin as naturally as if they were his own tears. As each drop fell to Angel's countenance, he paled, until he was as frail as a china doll. It was then that the wind came...
Angel had begun evaporating, until he was nothing but a shadow. Just then, a gust of wind tore through, and Collins felt a searing pain erupt from his chest as the shade was pulled from his fastened arms. The drag queen's eyes fell on him sadly, and thin arms reached out to Collins. Vainly he ran after the shadow, but it faded before he was able to reach it.
"Angel!..."
It was too late.
Sobs took over his entire form as his back racked and he tore at his shirt. Why? Why did they have to take Angel?
/HOOONNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!/
Collins' head whipped to the side and he saw the looming form of a large, dark car. It sped towards him. Moving to run, he found his feet chained to the cement. Collins could not move.
The honking became louder, and blared in his ears. Everything around him began to fill up. Crowds of people surrounding him, closing in on him....
Suddenly, Collins saw Angel press on him, push him over onto the concrete, sheilding him as best as the spirit could. Pain ripped through him as the car made contact with his body, and he felt equally the warmth of Angel's mouth meshed against his own, soothing, loving, easing the pain.
"Hang on Tom..."
The pain became too much as Angel's body all of a sudden became chained, and he was ripped up away from Collins again. Unable to move, unable to reach his deceased lover, Tom frantically tried to yell out his name.
"Angel..."
No sound escaped his mouth as Angel's beautiful form was ripped in peices, red blood falling from the wounds onto Collins' own, mixing with his blood, darkening his blood. He screamed.
------------------------
Collins awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily from his dream. It had been so terrible...so frightening...
One hand reached up, and slowly, hypnotically stroked his guardian angel pendant. Soothing. Calming. Evenly his heart began to beat at a regular rythmn. The teacher took deep breaths, and finally allowed himself to lay back down all the way on the soft pillows.
Angel.
It had all seemed so real.
Collins remained awake for the next several hours, stroking his pendant, assauging the aching, burning pain that resided in his chest.
Finally, sleep claimed his reluctant mind, and he drifted off again. A familiar shade could been seen sitting, barely, on the corner of his bed, stroking Collins' fevered head lovingly.
Tom's guardian angel.
Tom's Angel.