Chapter 33: Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome
A drive down a few blocks in New York City had never taken so long. Although there was little to no traffic this late at night, sitting in the '84 Toyota Corolla with a shaken up and scared Angel was a heart-wrenching experience. Sitting in between Queenie and Will, Angel sat, hands shaking, clinging onto Will, who stroked his hair reassuringly. Queenie held Angel's other hand, staring straight and not saying a word. The silence was beginning to make them al a little uncomfortable. Luckily, Tiff pulled into the hospital parking lot, before the silence got too awkward to bear.
"Here we are," Tiff said, as she turned off the car. She opened the doors for both Queenie and Will. Walking into the lobby, Will held Angel in his arms, not letting him stand on his own.
"Can I help you?" the young receptionist asked with a strong southern accent.
"We have an STD test set up. Where do we go?" Tiff asked, her deep baritone voice revealing right away that she was a he.
With a look of disgust, the receptionist answered Tiff. "Second floor."
"Thank you sweetie, have a nice night," Queenie responded. The group, consisting of three drag queens, and one preppy gay boy, walked away.
"Will," Angel said, softly and weakly, "You can put me down now, I'm okay."
Will obeyed, placing him down on the floor, letting his arm linger around Angel's waist for a bit. Angel, stumbling once his weakened legs had to hold his own body weight, leaned against the wall of the elevator. Noticing Angel's inability to stand, Will's heart broke as he picked him up again. "It's alright," he said as he held Angel protectively once again. Angel leaned his head on his shoulder, whispering, "Thank you," softly into his ear.
The elevator made a dinging noise as they stepped out to be greeted by an older receptionist, this time a black man with graying salt and pepper hair.
"Hi, we're here for an STD test," Tiff said, her deep voice ringing through the empty waiting room. The doctor pointed down an empty corridor, without saying a word.
Proceeding down the hall, the three of them walked somberly, Angel still limp in Will's arms. There was a small desk at the back with a sign that had an arrow pointing to room C22. They walked in to find a doctor standing behind the table. He turned around when he heard the parade of high heels clicking against the floor, with a look of concern on his face as he saw Angel. Approaching the group, he introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Steele," he stated, holding his hand out to Queenie for a handshake.
"I'm Queenie Chan, and this is Angel," she said, pointing to him.
"Hello Angel," Dr. Steele stated clearly, looking him in the eye.
Angel smiled weakly, not ever attempting to hold out his hand.
"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave while I speak with Angel alone."
Will's look of terror and concern could not be masked as Dr. Steele continued, "You don't have to worry. I understand how traumatizing an event like this can be, but I need to ask some questions to find out what we need to test for. It's mostly just procedural stuff, but it's better if Angel and I are alone." Will felt better immediately, and appreciated the fact that Dr. Steele kept using Angel's name.
"We'll just be waiting outside, then," Queenie said, as she and Tiff left the room. Will placed Angel on top of the sterile white bed, making sure that he was stable enough to sit up on his own. Kissing him gently on the top of his head, Will followed Queenie and Tiff, shutting the door behind him.
Dr. Steele and Angel were alone in the room now, as Angel took the time to examine the doctor. He had thin, wispy blonde hair and a large bald patch in the middle of his head. He looked to be middle aged, probably married with children. He had kind, tired grey eyes, and the fine wrinkles on face revealed that he had been in his profession for quite some time.
"Angel, tell me what happened. You can tell me as much or as little as you want about the actual event, but I need to know as much as possible about the rapist. This is so I can see what potential damage might have occurred." Angel looked relatively calm as the doctor spoke, his legs hanging off the end of the bed, his blood-soaked back facing the wall.
"Well," he began, "Will and I had broken up three months ago because of his drugs. I had most of my clothes at the apartment we used to share, and I went over tonight to get these jeans that I wanted. On the way, though, I saw Will, and he was being held up by this guy with two bodyguards, or something. I guess he owed them money because the guy who, you know, did stuff to me, kept asking Will if he had it yet. I wouldn't leave until I knew Will would be okay, because I still love him and care about him. They both told me to leave, but them the other guy, Chad, I think his name was, said I could stay. Then he told Will that if he didn't have the money, then I'd pay for him. And that's when it happened. He - you know - and then the two bodyguards held Will up but he kept trying to help me, so they beat him up and that's the last thing I remember. I guess I was unconscious because when I woke up, Will was holding me and crying and kept saying how sorry he was." He barely stopped to take a breath the entire time he spoke; figuring that the quicker he said it, the quicker the vivid memories from the horrible night would flee his mind.
"Thank you for sharing with me, Angel. I know how hard this can be, and I appreciate how open and honest you've been. If you can, tell me a bit about Chad," he said, his calm and soothing voice keeping Angel relaxed. He seemed like more of a psychologist than a blood doctor.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know very much. I'm assuming that, just from what I've heard, Chad was the dealer that Will worked for. I told you, he sold drugs for a while, and that's why we broke up in the first place." Angel's heart broke when he thought about his bitter breakup with Will.
"So then, it would be safe to assume that both Chad and Will did, or are still doing, drugs?"
"Yes, I think so. I know Will does, but he doesn't share needles. Queenie asked him if he did, after our breakup, and he swears on everything that he didn't. Just because he's a junkie, doesn't mean he's stupid," Angel stated, getting rather defensive.
"I'm not accusing him of sharing needles, but Will is not the one that I'm concerned about. Do you know if Chad has?" Dr. Steele asked, his voice still calm and quiet.
"I have no idea. I don't know anything about him, really."
"That isn't good. You are at high risk for contracting STD's, but what I'm most concerned about is your risk for contracting HIV. As of right now, if you did come in contact with infected fluids, it wouldn't show up on a test. The infections usually take about a month to show up on the tests. So," he continued, placing his hand gently on Angel's shoulder. Surprisingly, Angel didn't flinch when he touched him. "here's what we're gonna do. I'll give you a standard STD test, and then I'll schedule you for an HIV test in a month."
"Okay," Angel responded, his voice shaky as he was unable to mask the fear inside of him. He could feel that something wasn't right, and, whatever it was, it scared him.
"You're going to be okay, Angel, no matter what the outcome of the test is," De. Steele said softly as he pricked his arm with a needle and drew blood.
"I hope so," Angel whispered back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it was the longest month of his life. Will had been coming over every day to check up on him, making sure that he had everything he needed. Angel was surprised with his attentiveness. He hadn't seen any new marks on Will's arm since the rape, but he also hadn't seen him without long sleeves on, so he didn't know if Will was still using or not. He assumed that, if he was, he was staying far away from Chad. Assuming that, Angel was more than willing to let his ex-lover redeem himself. Will had brought over all of Angel's belongings from the apartment, washing and ironing his clothes for him.
The day finally came when it was time for Angel to take the HIV test. To say that he was nervous would be an extreme understatement. He was terrified. Will volunteered to take him to the testing center, reassuring Angel, just as Dr. Steele had done, that everything would be fine. He wouldn't be HIV positive, and it would just be one big scare. He didn't get any STD's from Chad, so he probably didn't get HIV from him either. To calm Angel's nerves even more, Will said he'd get an HIV test too, just to make sure that they were both safe. Gratefully, Angel accepted Will's offer and they went to the hospital together, hand in hand.
The receptionist on the second floor didn't remember Will or Angel from that horrible night one month ago. He merely pointed them back to the same room, just as he had on that evening.
"I'm scared," Angel whispered, as he gripped Will's hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white.
"Everything will be fine," Will said, letting Angel's hand go as he wrapped his arms protectively around Angel's waist, holding him tightly in a reassuring hug. "You'll see, Ang, you'll have nothing to worry about."
Leaning onto Will, Angel began to feel better. They let go of one another, but went back to holding hands as they entered the room where they would be taking the tests. Everything would be fine; Angel knew it.
"Hello again, Angel," Dr. Steele said, extending his hand for a shake.
His heart racing, Angel replied, "Hi," and shook his hand.
"I'm going to walk you through this process, Angel, step by step," Dr. Steele explained. Angel felt reassured; he liked how Dr. Steele always told him exactly what he was going to do. "First, I'm going to take a small ample of your blood, just like I did for the STD test. Would you like to do this alone, or would you like - Will, is it? - in here with you?"
"I'd like him to stay, if that's all right."
"That's fine. I don't know if we've formally met, but I'm Dr. Steele," he said, extending his hand once again.
"Will Dumott," he replied, shaking his hand, firmly. "I'd actually like to get an HIV test as well, if that's not too much of a problem."
"No, not at all."
"We just thought it would be a good precaution to take, you know," Will explained.
"I think it's a very necessary precaution, and I'm thrilled that you're willing to be so supportive."
Smiling, Will nodded, not really knowing what to say.
"Angel, why don't you sit in this char right here, while I take the blood sample," he directed. Pulling out a needle, he pricked Angel's thin arm, drawing a vial of vibrant red blood. Angel hated needles, which was evident when he turned his head away from Dr. Steele and the needle, shutting his eyes. "All set," he said, letting Angel up out of the chair.
Will replaced him in the worn vinyl chair, rolling up his sleeve to have the blood drawn. Angel noticed the marks from the heroin fresh on his arm. Closing his eyes and looking away, he felt a pang of hurt go through his body. He really thought Will had given up the habit.
"I have your phone number on file, and I'll call you in two days and let you know the results," Dr. Steele said, interrupting Angel's thoughts. Anxiety flooded back into his big, amber eyes at the anticipation of waiting two days in suspense.
"It isn't that long, I promise," Dr. Steele continued, reading Angel's expression. "And since you didn't get any STD's, there's a reasonable chance that you don't have HIV. If the tests to do come up positive, there are a lot of ways to prolong the evolution of the virus. We'll talk more once the results are back." Angel nodded, still anxious. "Everything will be fine," the doctor said again, as Angel and Will exited the room.
For some reason, Angel had a tough time believing him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel's bedroom was quiet and peaceful. Sitting on a stool at his dresser, he examined his face in the mirror, carefully applying glowing, pink glitter lipstick. Will lay on the couch, flipping through an old issue of The Advocate. The phone ringing startled them both, as Will got up from the couch to pick it up.
"Ang, it's for you."
Wondering who the hell would be calling at three in the afternoon on a Thursday, he picked up the phone, and began the conversation.
"Yes. oh, hi. umm." Angel paused for a very long time, his body as still as a statue. He didn't blink. "I know where I can get some of that. Yes, I'll try and come by in a few days. Thanks, bye."
The phone fell right out of his slender fingers as he stared straight ahead at the empty wall in front of him, not even moving. It was a good few minutes before Will, plagued with concern, walked over to him.
"Angel, are you alright?"
Rainbow rivers of eye shadow ran down his cheeks, as he turned to face Will. "I'm not, but you are."
"What are you -," Will began, not even needing to finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Angel was referring to. Will was HIV negative. Angel was HIV positive.
Without saying another word, Angel walked solemnly to the couch, laying down stiffly. He buried his head into the pillow and began to sob. Crying harder than he ever had in his life, Angel thought of everything he'd been through: the beatings from his father, getting kicked out of the house by his parents, his mother's death, Will's drug habits, Will's abusiveness, getting raped: nothing even compared to knowing that his days were officially numbered. He was now a part of a statistic, no longer an individual person. He was no longer Angel Dumott-Schunard, the vivacious drag queen who was young and full of life, he was just another HIV victim, with a doomed fate.
Will was stunned. Angel had never been once to hide his emotions, and he'd seen him cry before, but it was nothing like this. Screams and shouts came out of his mouth, his small body convulsing every time he took a breath. He watched him for what seemed like forever. The tears kept coming. Not even knowing what to do, or what to say, he rubbed Angel's back to calm him down. It worked, as Angel sat up almost immediately.
"I'm gonna die," he whispered. Will took him in his arms, and held him closely to his chest, as if, maybe if he held him long enough, the HIV would disappear. "I'm gonna die," Angel whispered again. There were no tears left inside of him: he had cried all of them out.
"There's a lot of things you can do, I mean, there's AZT and a lot of other drugs that the doctors can give you," Will tried to reassure him.
"It's not gonna cure me!" he shouted, looking up at Will's concerned eyes. "Do you hear me? I'm gonna die! I'm not gonna live to be old, have kids, fall in love. I'm never gonna have any of that! I'm only 20 years old!"
"It'll make you live longer," Will said, knowing that anything he said wouldn't help the situation.
"You don't understand," he said quietly, pushing himself away from Will.
Sighing, he replied, "You're right. I don't understand. You're the best person in this world, Ang, and all I want is to help you through this."
"You can't help me through it. All you ever do is shoot up," Angel said, immediately regretting the words escaping his mouth.
Will looked initially hurt, but then spoke again. "That's true. But I'm gonna quit, Ang. I'm going to rehab, and I'm gonna come back and be clean. I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I can't be here and help you when I'm in need of help, myself. I'm always here for you, though, you know that."
For some reason, his words were so comforting to Angel. He inched back over to Will and held his hand. "I know," he said. No other words were needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Queenie and Fred sat in the kitchen, upset and lost. Blaring horns and bright light stand out in the darkness of the city illuminated the room. They didn't know what to do with Angel, how to react, or how to treat him. Fred had given him a pill of AZT to take for tonight, and promised that he'd go with Angel to the doctor tomorrow to get his own prescription.
Distraught, Queenie mindlessly held Fred's hand, and stirred her coffee with the other. Tears streamed down her face as she stared straight ahead in silence. She had given Angel one of Fred's AZT pills to take. Watching Angel hold the pill in his hand broke her heart. Both her partner and her son were infected with the ultimately fatal HIV. There wouldn't be another day that would go by where she wouldn't have to hear a beeper going off to remind them to take the medicine that would prolong their lives.
Angel looked at the pill in his hand with disgust as he sulked into the bathroom. Glaring at the round, white object in his small, slender hand, he stood in front of the toilet. "You aren't going to cure me," he whispered as a flush was heard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I fixed the ending of this because I felt like the new ending fit better. I hope you enjoy it!
A drive down a few blocks in New York City had never taken so long. Although there was little to no traffic this late at night, sitting in the '84 Toyota Corolla with a shaken up and scared Angel was a heart-wrenching experience. Sitting in between Queenie and Will, Angel sat, hands shaking, clinging onto Will, who stroked his hair reassuringly. Queenie held Angel's other hand, staring straight and not saying a word. The silence was beginning to make them al a little uncomfortable. Luckily, Tiff pulled into the hospital parking lot, before the silence got too awkward to bear.
"Here we are," Tiff said, as she turned off the car. She opened the doors for both Queenie and Will. Walking into the lobby, Will held Angel in his arms, not letting him stand on his own.
"Can I help you?" the young receptionist asked with a strong southern accent.
"We have an STD test set up. Where do we go?" Tiff asked, her deep baritone voice revealing right away that she was a he.
With a look of disgust, the receptionist answered Tiff. "Second floor."
"Thank you sweetie, have a nice night," Queenie responded. The group, consisting of three drag queens, and one preppy gay boy, walked away.
"Will," Angel said, softly and weakly, "You can put me down now, I'm okay."
Will obeyed, placing him down on the floor, letting his arm linger around Angel's waist for a bit. Angel, stumbling once his weakened legs had to hold his own body weight, leaned against the wall of the elevator. Noticing Angel's inability to stand, Will's heart broke as he picked him up again. "It's alright," he said as he held Angel protectively once again. Angel leaned his head on his shoulder, whispering, "Thank you," softly into his ear.
The elevator made a dinging noise as they stepped out to be greeted by an older receptionist, this time a black man with graying salt and pepper hair.
"Hi, we're here for an STD test," Tiff said, her deep voice ringing through the empty waiting room. The doctor pointed down an empty corridor, without saying a word.
Proceeding down the hall, the three of them walked somberly, Angel still limp in Will's arms. There was a small desk at the back with a sign that had an arrow pointing to room C22. They walked in to find a doctor standing behind the table. He turned around when he heard the parade of high heels clicking against the floor, with a look of concern on his face as he saw Angel. Approaching the group, he introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Steele," he stated, holding his hand out to Queenie for a handshake.
"I'm Queenie Chan, and this is Angel," she said, pointing to him.
"Hello Angel," Dr. Steele stated clearly, looking him in the eye.
Angel smiled weakly, not ever attempting to hold out his hand.
"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave while I speak with Angel alone."
Will's look of terror and concern could not be masked as Dr. Steele continued, "You don't have to worry. I understand how traumatizing an event like this can be, but I need to ask some questions to find out what we need to test for. It's mostly just procedural stuff, but it's better if Angel and I are alone." Will felt better immediately, and appreciated the fact that Dr. Steele kept using Angel's name.
"We'll just be waiting outside, then," Queenie said, as she and Tiff left the room. Will placed Angel on top of the sterile white bed, making sure that he was stable enough to sit up on his own. Kissing him gently on the top of his head, Will followed Queenie and Tiff, shutting the door behind him.
Dr. Steele and Angel were alone in the room now, as Angel took the time to examine the doctor. He had thin, wispy blonde hair and a large bald patch in the middle of his head. He looked to be middle aged, probably married with children. He had kind, tired grey eyes, and the fine wrinkles on face revealed that he had been in his profession for quite some time.
"Angel, tell me what happened. You can tell me as much or as little as you want about the actual event, but I need to know as much as possible about the rapist. This is so I can see what potential damage might have occurred." Angel looked relatively calm as the doctor spoke, his legs hanging off the end of the bed, his blood-soaked back facing the wall.
"Well," he began, "Will and I had broken up three months ago because of his drugs. I had most of my clothes at the apartment we used to share, and I went over tonight to get these jeans that I wanted. On the way, though, I saw Will, and he was being held up by this guy with two bodyguards, or something. I guess he owed them money because the guy who, you know, did stuff to me, kept asking Will if he had it yet. I wouldn't leave until I knew Will would be okay, because I still love him and care about him. They both told me to leave, but them the other guy, Chad, I think his name was, said I could stay. Then he told Will that if he didn't have the money, then I'd pay for him. And that's when it happened. He - you know - and then the two bodyguards held Will up but he kept trying to help me, so they beat him up and that's the last thing I remember. I guess I was unconscious because when I woke up, Will was holding me and crying and kept saying how sorry he was." He barely stopped to take a breath the entire time he spoke; figuring that the quicker he said it, the quicker the vivid memories from the horrible night would flee his mind.
"Thank you for sharing with me, Angel. I know how hard this can be, and I appreciate how open and honest you've been. If you can, tell me a bit about Chad," he said, his calm and soothing voice keeping Angel relaxed. He seemed like more of a psychologist than a blood doctor.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know very much. I'm assuming that, just from what I've heard, Chad was the dealer that Will worked for. I told you, he sold drugs for a while, and that's why we broke up in the first place." Angel's heart broke when he thought about his bitter breakup with Will.
"So then, it would be safe to assume that both Chad and Will did, or are still doing, drugs?"
"Yes, I think so. I know Will does, but he doesn't share needles. Queenie asked him if he did, after our breakup, and he swears on everything that he didn't. Just because he's a junkie, doesn't mean he's stupid," Angel stated, getting rather defensive.
"I'm not accusing him of sharing needles, but Will is not the one that I'm concerned about. Do you know if Chad has?" Dr. Steele asked, his voice still calm and quiet.
"I have no idea. I don't know anything about him, really."
"That isn't good. You are at high risk for contracting STD's, but what I'm most concerned about is your risk for contracting HIV. As of right now, if you did come in contact with infected fluids, it wouldn't show up on a test. The infections usually take about a month to show up on the tests. So," he continued, placing his hand gently on Angel's shoulder. Surprisingly, Angel didn't flinch when he touched him. "here's what we're gonna do. I'll give you a standard STD test, and then I'll schedule you for an HIV test in a month."
"Okay," Angel responded, his voice shaky as he was unable to mask the fear inside of him. He could feel that something wasn't right, and, whatever it was, it scared him.
"You're going to be okay, Angel, no matter what the outcome of the test is," De. Steele said softly as he pricked his arm with a needle and drew blood.
"I hope so," Angel whispered back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it was the longest month of his life. Will had been coming over every day to check up on him, making sure that he had everything he needed. Angel was surprised with his attentiveness. He hadn't seen any new marks on Will's arm since the rape, but he also hadn't seen him without long sleeves on, so he didn't know if Will was still using or not. He assumed that, if he was, he was staying far away from Chad. Assuming that, Angel was more than willing to let his ex-lover redeem himself. Will had brought over all of Angel's belongings from the apartment, washing and ironing his clothes for him.
The day finally came when it was time for Angel to take the HIV test. To say that he was nervous would be an extreme understatement. He was terrified. Will volunteered to take him to the testing center, reassuring Angel, just as Dr. Steele had done, that everything would be fine. He wouldn't be HIV positive, and it would just be one big scare. He didn't get any STD's from Chad, so he probably didn't get HIV from him either. To calm Angel's nerves even more, Will said he'd get an HIV test too, just to make sure that they were both safe. Gratefully, Angel accepted Will's offer and they went to the hospital together, hand in hand.
The receptionist on the second floor didn't remember Will or Angel from that horrible night one month ago. He merely pointed them back to the same room, just as he had on that evening.
"I'm scared," Angel whispered, as he gripped Will's hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white.
"Everything will be fine," Will said, letting Angel's hand go as he wrapped his arms protectively around Angel's waist, holding him tightly in a reassuring hug. "You'll see, Ang, you'll have nothing to worry about."
Leaning onto Will, Angel began to feel better. They let go of one another, but went back to holding hands as they entered the room where they would be taking the tests. Everything would be fine; Angel knew it.
"Hello again, Angel," Dr. Steele said, extending his hand for a shake.
His heart racing, Angel replied, "Hi," and shook his hand.
"I'm going to walk you through this process, Angel, step by step," Dr. Steele explained. Angel felt reassured; he liked how Dr. Steele always told him exactly what he was going to do. "First, I'm going to take a small ample of your blood, just like I did for the STD test. Would you like to do this alone, or would you like - Will, is it? - in here with you?"
"I'd like him to stay, if that's all right."
"That's fine. I don't know if we've formally met, but I'm Dr. Steele," he said, extending his hand once again.
"Will Dumott," he replied, shaking his hand, firmly. "I'd actually like to get an HIV test as well, if that's not too much of a problem."
"No, not at all."
"We just thought it would be a good precaution to take, you know," Will explained.
"I think it's a very necessary precaution, and I'm thrilled that you're willing to be so supportive."
Smiling, Will nodded, not really knowing what to say.
"Angel, why don't you sit in this char right here, while I take the blood sample," he directed. Pulling out a needle, he pricked Angel's thin arm, drawing a vial of vibrant red blood. Angel hated needles, which was evident when he turned his head away from Dr. Steele and the needle, shutting his eyes. "All set," he said, letting Angel up out of the chair.
Will replaced him in the worn vinyl chair, rolling up his sleeve to have the blood drawn. Angel noticed the marks from the heroin fresh on his arm. Closing his eyes and looking away, he felt a pang of hurt go through his body. He really thought Will had given up the habit.
"I have your phone number on file, and I'll call you in two days and let you know the results," Dr. Steele said, interrupting Angel's thoughts. Anxiety flooded back into his big, amber eyes at the anticipation of waiting two days in suspense.
"It isn't that long, I promise," Dr. Steele continued, reading Angel's expression. "And since you didn't get any STD's, there's a reasonable chance that you don't have HIV. If the tests to do come up positive, there are a lot of ways to prolong the evolution of the virus. We'll talk more once the results are back." Angel nodded, still anxious. "Everything will be fine," the doctor said again, as Angel and Will exited the room.
For some reason, Angel had a tough time believing him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel's bedroom was quiet and peaceful. Sitting on a stool at his dresser, he examined his face in the mirror, carefully applying glowing, pink glitter lipstick. Will lay on the couch, flipping through an old issue of The Advocate. The phone ringing startled them both, as Will got up from the couch to pick it up.
"Ang, it's for you."
Wondering who the hell would be calling at three in the afternoon on a Thursday, he picked up the phone, and began the conversation.
"Yes. oh, hi. umm." Angel paused for a very long time, his body as still as a statue. He didn't blink. "I know where I can get some of that. Yes, I'll try and come by in a few days. Thanks, bye."
The phone fell right out of his slender fingers as he stared straight ahead at the empty wall in front of him, not even moving. It was a good few minutes before Will, plagued with concern, walked over to him.
"Angel, are you alright?"
Rainbow rivers of eye shadow ran down his cheeks, as he turned to face Will. "I'm not, but you are."
"What are you -," Will began, not even needing to finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Angel was referring to. Will was HIV negative. Angel was HIV positive.
Without saying another word, Angel walked solemnly to the couch, laying down stiffly. He buried his head into the pillow and began to sob. Crying harder than he ever had in his life, Angel thought of everything he'd been through: the beatings from his father, getting kicked out of the house by his parents, his mother's death, Will's drug habits, Will's abusiveness, getting raped: nothing even compared to knowing that his days were officially numbered. He was now a part of a statistic, no longer an individual person. He was no longer Angel Dumott-Schunard, the vivacious drag queen who was young and full of life, he was just another HIV victim, with a doomed fate.
Will was stunned. Angel had never been once to hide his emotions, and he'd seen him cry before, but it was nothing like this. Screams and shouts came out of his mouth, his small body convulsing every time he took a breath. He watched him for what seemed like forever. The tears kept coming. Not even knowing what to do, or what to say, he rubbed Angel's back to calm him down. It worked, as Angel sat up almost immediately.
"I'm gonna die," he whispered. Will took him in his arms, and held him closely to his chest, as if, maybe if he held him long enough, the HIV would disappear. "I'm gonna die," Angel whispered again. There were no tears left inside of him: he had cried all of them out.
"There's a lot of things you can do, I mean, there's AZT and a lot of other drugs that the doctors can give you," Will tried to reassure him.
"It's not gonna cure me!" he shouted, looking up at Will's concerned eyes. "Do you hear me? I'm gonna die! I'm not gonna live to be old, have kids, fall in love. I'm never gonna have any of that! I'm only 20 years old!"
"It'll make you live longer," Will said, knowing that anything he said wouldn't help the situation.
"You don't understand," he said quietly, pushing himself away from Will.
Sighing, he replied, "You're right. I don't understand. You're the best person in this world, Ang, and all I want is to help you through this."
"You can't help me through it. All you ever do is shoot up," Angel said, immediately regretting the words escaping his mouth.
Will looked initially hurt, but then spoke again. "That's true. But I'm gonna quit, Ang. I'm going to rehab, and I'm gonna come back and be clean. I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I can't be here and help you when I'm in need of help, myself. I'm always here for you, though, you know that."
For some reason, his words were so comforting to Angel. He inched back over to Will and held his hand. "I know," he said. No other words were needed.
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Queenie and Fred sat in the kitchen, upset and lost. Blaring horns and bright light stand out in the darkness of the city illuminated the room. They didn't know what to do with Angel, how to react, or how to treat him. Fred had given him a pill of AZT to take for tonight, and promised that he'd go with Angel to the doctor tomorrow to get his own prescription.
Distraught, Queenie mindlessly held Fred's hand, and stirred her coffee with the other. Tears streamed down her face as she stared straight ahead in silence. She had given Angel one of Fred's AZT pills to take. Watching Angel hold the pill in his hand broke her heart. Both her partner and her son were infected with the ultimately fatal HIV. There wouldn't be another day that would go by where she wouldn't have to hear a beeper going off to remind them to take the medicine that would prolong their lives.
Angel looked at the pill in his hand with disgust as he sulked into the bathroom. Glaring at the round, white object in his small, slender hand, he stood in front of the toilet. "You aren't going to cure me," he whispered as a flush was heard.
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A/N: I fixed the ending of this because I felt like the new ending fit better. I hope you enjoy it!