Chapter 47: Never felt this way before.
Through a curtain of perfectly maintained dreadlocks, the man looked up at Angel, deep brown eyes connecting with his own.
"Are you all right?" Angel asked again, as he got up and stuffed the tubs, one stacked inside the other, under his arm.
Clearing his throat, the man answered him, refusing to break eye contact. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Despite his attempts to sound okay and brush off the pain, Angel could hear it in voice.
"You don't look okay. Did you get mugged?" he asked. "Deep breaths, Angel," he told himself, "He's just a guy. A sexy, beautiful, gorgeous guy that you have all to yourself right now, but, still, he's just a guy."
"Yeah. Some gay-bashing asshole. You know the type," he mumbled back, managing a bitter and pained smile.
"More than you know. Did they get any money?"
"They would have, if I had any for them to get." He managed a slight laugh. "Got my coat, though," he said, pulling the remainder (half a sleeve) off his battered arm. "You missed a sleeve, jackass!" he yelled out to the empty night, throwing the piece of clothing onto the ground.
Gingerly, Angel approached him and picked it up. As he got closer, the man got even more beautiful. *Get a grip, Angel. Stop trying to pick him up—he just got mugged!* "I'm Angel," he said, placing his tubs down on the ground only inches in front of the man. He smelled the faint scent of smoke—marijuana or cigarettes, he wasn't sure.
*God, it's hot out here...what am I saying, it's fucking December and I'm not even wearing a coat.* "Angel...indeed," the man answered, smiling at Angel. He wiped a bit of sweat off his brow and held out his other hand. "Collins. Well, actually, it's Tom Collins, but my friends call me Collins." Angel gripped his hand and he immediately tensed. *Wow, he's gorgeous.* Collins swallowed hard, wondering why the hell he was so nervous around this beautiful stranger. *I've never been nervous around a man before—not once.*
Angel felt sparks fly between his hand and the dark, chocolate brown hand that held it. *Chill out!* As if on cue, the Christmas tree in front of Bethany Kingsley's building suddenly illuminated the dim street with its lights.
"N-nice tree," Collins remarked, his deep eyes sparkling under the lights. *Why the fuck am I stuttering? Since when do I stutter? Angel smiled and nodded. He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.* Collins tried to move, but a deep, sharp pain in his leg stopped him. For a second, Angel had made him forget that he had just gotten badly mugged.
His eyes softening, Angel stood up from his tubs and looked Collins square in the eye. Collins was shorter than he had expected—only a few inches taller than he. *If I was to kiss him, all I'd have to do is tilt my head up a little and—stop it! He's not interested in me, anyway. He's probably got like 5,000 different boyfriends lined up, if he's even gay!* "You know, my place is only about a block from here. We'll get you cleaned up and get a Band-Aid for that nasty cut on your knee," Angel said, pointing to the giant gash, coated with deep, crimson blood.
"I-I'm not sure, I mean, I've got some friends who live in that building right over there," he pointed around the corner to Mimi's building. *But I'd rather walk 5,000 miles with you than go there.* "They're expecting me."
"I used to live in that building and there's no elevator." *Oh great, way to sound disgustingly desperate, Angel. Bravo!* "Come on. I'll clean you up, we'll go get something to eat and then..." he paused, taking in a shaky breath. *Shit! I've said too much!*
"And then what?" Collins asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Why don't you come to a Life Support meeting with me?" Angel blurted out. *I know I'm supposed to go the club with Mimi, but I'm not asking this stranger to the club! That's just awkward! And I want him to meet Paul!* "I have AIDS," he said. *If he wasn't completely turned off by me being a fucking nervous wreck, the AIDS definitely did me in. That's it, it's over. I'm gonna go bury myself in a hole and never come out.*
Collins looked away from him, feeling his cheeks burn. *I am NOT blushing. No, no I'm not blushing. Thomas B. Collins doesn't blush.* "So do I."
Angel's eyes lit up the dark street even more than the tree had. *So...so maybe he's not so turned off. Is he blushing?!* "We'll get along fine, then!" Angel squealed, grabbing onto Collins's arm. Immediately, the second they touched, he felt the sparks again. "Why don't we make a night out of it, then?" *I can't believe I just said that. Who says, "Make a night"? I totally just sounded like some old straight guy from the 50's.*
"You know, I'd," he paused again, the breath getting caught in his throat. *Stop stalling! Just talk! I've never had any problems talking before.* "I'd really like to, but, as I told you. I have some friends waiting for me." His cheeks burned again, bringing over him a new wave of embarrassment. *STOP BLUSHING!!!*
Angel smiled, noticing the slight pink on his dark cheeks. "You're cute when you blush." He practically hit himself in the head for being so obvious. *I SUCK at flirting. I used to be good, but I guess I lost my touch. Two years without a boyfriend will do that to you.*
Collins smiled back, shyly. *Since when am I shy? And since when is someone like him interested in someone like me?*
"Come on," Angel encouraged again, still holding onto his arm, trying to pull him closer to the apartment. *He must think I'm one pathetic guy. Why the hell would he want to come back with me anyway?* Abruptly, he let go and looked in Collins's eyes again. *God, I can't believe how beautiful those eyes are. He's so... so much better looking that anyone I've ever seen before.*
Collins stood there for a minute, staring at Angel, dumbfounded. *I can't believe he actually wants me to come back with him. Oh...my...god.*
"Are you coming?" Angel asked, unable to mask the shaky insecurity in his voice. This was the first time in all his years of being an out and proud homosexual that he'd EVER been this nervous around a guy.
A few seconds later, the two were walking together, side-by-side back to the apartment.
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The walk was as awkward and silent as the two had expected. Luckily, Angel's apartment was only 2 blocks from where he had found Collins. Collins stood there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered jeans.
Gripping his tubs even tighter, Angel kept his eyes focused on the sidewalk beneath his feet. A car drove by the two men, breaking the uneasy silence on the cold street.
Angel scratched his leg, coughing as he did so. Collins looked over at him, waiting for him to speak, but saying nothing.
"Here we are!" Angel said, feeling oddly relieved. The two got in the elevator as it took them up to the 6th floor.
The dark, cramped area was even more uncomfortable than the walk to the building. Standing in opposite corners, both Angel and Collins kept their arms crossed and deliberately tried to not stare at each other. Collins closely examined the buttons of the elevator, right in front of his eyes. "This is a...nice elevator," he remarked.
"Yeah," Angel replied, smiling at their pathetic attempt to make conversation.
"Do, uh, do you know when it was built?" Collins asked, yanking on a dreadlock hanging in his face.
"I don't know, it was actually here when I moved in," Angel stated, matter-of-factly. *I can't believe we're sitting here talking about the elevator. We're pathetic. Well, I am, at least.*
The rest of the ride was silent.
Hearing it ding as the doors open, Angel stepped out and Collins followed behind him. The hallway that led to the 3 apartments on each floor was dingy and dark, almost resembling a prison cell. Once Angel put the key into the door and opened up to his place, the prison vibe was gone, immediately replaced with a warm, welcoming light and a small, cozy apartment decorated with everything bright and fuzzy that Angel could find.
"You have a nice place," Collins remarked as he followed the drag queen inside. Taking a seat on the blue fuzzy couch (the one that Angel had slept on all those years at the club), he looked around, observing everything. A dresser littered with pictures sat in the corner next to the door. He wanted to get up and see who was in all the pictures, but he didn't want to invade Angel's privacy. It was nice enough to be invited up; he didn't need to snoop around.
"I can't believe we've barely spoken to each other," Angel said softly, as he took off his red, quilted coat to reveal a skin-tight, black and white spandex shirt with a screen print of the earth on the front.
"Damn, he's skinny," Collins thought to himself as he stared at Angel's body, mesmerized by the way the spandex made the muscles on his stomach stand out. "Yeah, I don't think that walk could have been anymore awkward if we had tried."
Laughing, Angel agreed. "So let's break the ice." *Woohoo! Burst of confidence! Way to go, Angel!* "Tell me about yourself, Collins."
Angel sat on the floor, rolling up Collins's pant leg to reveal the deep, nasty cut. Gingerly, he wrapped gauze behind the knee and back over it a few times to make sure it would stay and the blood wouldn't soak through.
Hearing the boy say his name gave Collins chills. *Nobody has ever made me feel so special just by saying my name.* "My name is Thomas B. Collins and I was born February 29th, 1968." His leg was starting to tingle from Angel touching it. No man's touch has ever felt like this.
*Oh my god, he's so much older than me!* "So that must mean you'll be -."
"Don't remind me. Thirty," he said, shuddering. Angel finished wrapping his leg. Standing up, he brushed himself off and fiddled with the cap on his head.
"Well, you don't look thirty. You could pass for early 20's, easily."
Collins smiled and blushed again. "Thanks..."
"Thomas B. Collins," Angel repeated, "What does the B stand for?"
"I could tell you," Collins stated, casually, "but then I'd have to kill you." He laughed nervously. "Seriously, though, the only people who know what the B stands for are my parents, and that's only because they cursed me with it."
"It must be pretty bad then," Angel remarked, washing his hands and getting a protein bar out from the cupboard. "Want one?"
"No thanks," Collins replied, gazing at Angel, longingly, as his back was turned. His eyes traveled down the slim form. *God, he is so beautiful.*
Returning back to his original position right on front of Collins, Angel smiled at him. "They're really good, are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm not big on those vitamin-enhanced bar things. It just looks like a big block of mush, anyway. I mean, no offense if you're into mush-eating and stuff like that."
Angel started laughing to the point where he almost choked on his bar.
"Hey, be careful," Collins said, patting him on the back until his coughing subsided. "So tell me a little about you."
Swallowing a large bite, Angel looked up into his eyes. "Angel Dumott-Schunard born June 22nd, 1975."
"You're younger than I thought you were," he commented.
Standing up, Angel took a last large bite of the protein bar and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you saying I look...old?" he asked, with a mock-attitude.
"Stuttering, Collins stood up and clasped his hands together, out of nerves. "I-I didn't mean you old, it's just that –-."
Angel interrupted him by laying his hand gently on Collins's arm. "It's okay. I was kidding." They both stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. A honking car horn broke their trance as Angel rapidly took his hand away, stuffing it in the pockets of his jeans. *If he didn't think I was desperate yet, he definitely does now.*
"So, what's this Life Support meeting you invited me to?" Collins asked, relived that he was able to think of something to break the awkward silence.
Obviously relieved as well, Angel sighed and smiled. "Oh, it's a group for people living with AIDS. There are a few people there who aren't positive, but they have family members or friends who are. It's just a group for people to be around others who understand what they're going through. When I first got diagnosed, the group saved my life. It just showed me that I wasn't alone, you know?" He cocked his head to the side as he talked rapidly.
"It sounds great. I used to live around here and I heard of a couple of those groups. My old roommate has HIV too and I was trying to get him to go to one for months. He was a mess when he first got it. I actually haven't seen him since then; he's one of the guys that I was supposed to meet tonight."
"Well, how about we go and meet them? Bring some food and stuff over," Angel suggested.
"That sounds great, only... I don't have any money," Collins admitted, sheepishly.
"It's alright. I got lucky tonight and some lady paid me a thousand dollars to shut this dog up. Bottom line is, now the dog's dead and I have a thousand bucks."
"You killed a dog?" he asked, surprised, "I know I've only known you for about fifteen minutes, but you seem like the last person in the world to kill anything." *I feel like I've known you my entire life. Does that make sense?*
"Yeah, I even surprised myself. But it was a total accident. I just hope that I never have to meet the dog's owner. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." He got up and tossed the protein bar wrapper in the trash. "Well, I should get changed. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll try not to take too long."
"Okay," Collins replied, leaning back on the couch as he watched Angel go into his bedroom and shut the door.
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Huddled in the corner of his bedroom, Angel grabbed his pink cordless phone and dialed Mimi's number immediately.
"Hey, it's Mimi. Leave me a message and I'll call you later. Ciao!"
The phone beeped loudly in his ear as he began to speak. "Oh my god, Chica, you will not believe who's here! Its sexy dreadlocks guy, do you remember him? Honey, I am FLIPPING OUT right now, I can't even begin to tell you! I'm not gonna be able to go to Metropolis with you tonight because I'm going out with him. I'm so so so so sorry, but I will tell you everything word for word tomorrow. Hope you can find someone else to join you. Ciao, baby."
Hanging up the phone, Angel got out of the corner and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and breathing a deep, euphoric sigh. *I cannot believe that the sexiest man alive is in the same house as me. He is in MY living room, sitting on MY couch, looking at MY stuff. OH MY GOD!!!*
In an effort to contain himself, he took another deep breath and changed quickly into his pre-planned outfit that he so affectionately referred to as his "santa drag." The entire outfit was absolutely perfect and he felt like a princess in it. The fuzzy ends of the coat rubbed against his hands and warmed up his body. Under the coat, he felt the spandex sleeves on his arms that looked like a second skin, and the white leotard under the green tank top that was hugging his torso tightly. The fuzzy collar of the shirt in a green leopard print pattern kept his neck warm. The only bit of the outfit he was having trouble with was the tights; they were new and he wasn't used to the way they stretched. Struggling to pull them on, Angel hopped around his room, all the while getting more and more tangled in the stretchy fabric. *I must be the clumsiest drag queen around.* Right after that thought passed through his head, his feet got stuck so badly that he fell to the ground, making a large THUMP.
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Collins was up looking at pictures. He noticed a lot of photographs of Angel with an Asian lady--although, she did have awfully large arms for a girl. He was with a tall, handsome black guy in some of the pictures, too.
There was a couple of Angel, obviously over the course of a few years, with a guy who, it appeared, had a love for khakis and button-down plaid shirts. The guy was hot, though—big muscles, deep blue eyes, sun- streaked blondish-brown hair. It looked like one of Collins's summer flings from a few years back.
There was one picture, however, that stood out among the rest. It was obviously older than the rest, considering that Angel looked like he couldn't have been more than sixteen, and in black and white. Behind the smiling young Angel stood a tall, built man with an intimidating smile on his face. Just looking at the man in the picture made Collins afraid. Next to him was a woman, much shorter than he who looked identical to Angel. Obviously, she was his mother. No other person could resemble a young boy so exactly. If she wasn't wearing women's clothes, he could have sworn that she was Angel, a few years down the road. It was eerie how much the two resembled each other. Stepping back to the blue couch he had been sitting on, Collins wondered to himself why there was only that one picture of Angel and his mother. He wanted desperately to know everything about Angel, but he was afraid to ask. Hanging on the wall directly behind him was another picture of Angel with the Asian lady. This photograph, however, was blown to up to near life-size proportions. Angel was dressed in drag, which surprised Collins. He could tell after only seconds from meeting Angel that he was no macho queer, but the boy didn't strike him as a transvestite either. He stared into the happy amber/hazel eyes. *I can't believe that the hottest man alive is in the same house as me. I'm in HIS house, sitting on HIS couch, looking at HIS pictures. I can't get over the fact that I'm actually here. I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.*
Loud crashing in the other room interrupted his thoughts. Curious, he called out in the direction of the bedroom. "Hey, are you okay in there?"
A muffled laugh followed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just being my usual, clumsy self. I'll be out in about 5 minutes."
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*He must think I'm so pathetic!* "Fuck," Angel whispered as he put his wig and headband on in record speed. He usually spent five minutes perfecting his hair alone... on a good day. Now, he had to spend five minutes on a routine that took him, on average, about 30. He whipped the compact out from his cosmetics box and smudged his foundation on, attempting to cover every slight imperfection. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he came across the makeup he had purchased earlier in the day that he planned to wear with the outfit tonight. *No time to look good like tonight. I'm going to impress the shit out of him.*
Carefully, he brushed the three different colors of glittery eye shadow onto his eyes, over the liquid eyeliner that was still drying. After dusting a coat of iridescent glitter on top of the shadow, he whipped out his red lipstick and glitter gloss, coating his lips in both as fast as he could without it looking messy. Checking his reflection one last time in the mirror, he got a good look at himself.
"I look hot," he said out loud; quiet enough so that Collins couldn't hear him. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it, but took it off only seconds later. *Who am I kidding? Does he really want to see a girly boy in a dress? I should have never invited him up. He probably thinks I'm this ridiculous, high-maintenance queen...that wouldn't be too far from the truth.*
*Stop being a pussy and open the door!* His mind screamed at him, urging him to get some balls and walk out the door. *Just do this! It's not that hard.* He took another deep breath and shut his eyes as he opened the door. *Here goes...*
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His eyes were fixated on the door as it opened. I wonder what took him so long. They remained on the ground as a pair of 5-inch heels came into view. Slowly, like a camera panning across a beautiful landscape, his eyes traveled up Angel, observing the zebra tights that covered his thin, toned legs; to the red, fuzzy coat that look like a Santa suit, keeping his body warm; to the makeup on his face, sparkling; to the wig on his head, shiny and black with flowers placed along the crown. He had never, in all his 29 years, seen anyone look so ravishing.
"Wow," was all he could get out. *Is this even possible? Isn't it a crime for a man to look this good?* "You look amazing."
Angel blushed, fiddling with his wig. "You like it? My friend, Mimi, bought me the coat and I bought the belt today. Do you like the makeup? I work at Mac and I picked it up today at work, because I needed to find something that goes with my outfits, because, you know, makeup can –."
"I love it all. You look great," Collins said, softly, cutting off Angel's ramblings.
Awkwardly, the two stood in silence: Collins, with his hands folded tightly in front of him, and Angel, playing nervously with a stray strand of hair from his wig.
"Well," Angel broke the silence, walking over to the coat rack to grab his gold bag, "Why don't we head out? I wanna pick up some food for your friends and stuff."
"You really don't have to do that. I mean, granted they're starving artists and even a box of cereal at this point would be like gold to them, but I don't want you to go out of your way, or anything," Collins babbled, trying every excuse in the book so that he didn't have to leave Angel's apartment. *I could stay here with you, forever. That doesn't sound too bad.*
"Well if they're starving artists, then we have to bring them something! I'm a starving musician and makeup artist myself, so I know what it's like." Angel giggled, his face suddenly turning much more innocent and insecure than he had been. "Maybe, you know, we can... uh... talk on the way and get to know each other," he proposed in a soft, quiet voice. *I can't even pretend to be confident with this guy. What the hell is wrong with me?!*
"I'd really like that," Collins answered in his signature cool, suave way. *At least I can act like I don't want to spend every waking second with this man.*
Angel left the apartment, followed by Collins, as he turned around. Once he had locked the door behind him, Angel turned around, only to trip over his huge heels and fall—right into Collins.
"I'm sorry!" he squealed as he attempted to get up as quick as possible, "I'm not used to these shoes! I've only worn them twice before tonight. I'm-I'm really sorry."
Helping him up, Collins smiled. "It's okay, don't worry about it. If you're really having trouble walking in those, you can hold on to me—you know, for support." *I'm such an idiot!*
Angel tried his best to hide the excitement in his eyes, to no avail. "Sure," he answered, holding tightly onto Collins's arm, "Thanks."
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"Here we are!" Angel yelped as he and Collins had managed to walk the four blocks to the Food Emporium, with Angel gripping onto Collins's arm the entire way. *Touching another man had never been so special.*
"Hey! I love this place!" Collins exclaimed, as he entered, with Angel trailing behind, "Back when I used to live on the corner of 11th and B, I used to come here with my room mates all the time. I mean that was when we were lucky enough to have the money to go food shopping. They were starving artists then, and they're still starving artists now, from what I hear. Didn't you say you used to live in that building?"
"Yeah, I lived with a good friend of mine, Mimi Marquez. Do you know her?"
"Can't say that I do, but there have been a lot of people in and out of that building during the four and a half years that I lived there. I'm surprised I don't remember you." *If I had known you then, I might not have left in the first place.*
"Well, I remember you," Angel admitted, sheepishly, as he picked up a basket from the stack with his free arm.
"You do?" Collins asked, shocked and confused. *How is it possible that a guy like this lived in the same building as me, and I never noticed?*
"Yeah. I have a confession to make." His cheeks burned with embarrassment, as he was about to admit to Collins that he had been thinking about him ever since he first saw him the day he moved in with Mimi. "When I first moved in, my friend and I noticed you and we both thought you were... well, really cute." *I'm such a loser! He's totally going to be weirded out now! Stupid stupid Angel!!!*
Collins felt his own face flush with compliment. *HE THOUGHT I WAS CUTE!!!!!!* "Well, I'm very flattered. And I'm sure that if I had seen you, I would have talked to you sooner."
"You're not weirded out?" Angel asked, not wanting to look him in the eye.
"Of course not. There's a lot of guys that I've seen here that I thought were cute. No shame in that."
"That's a relief. I was so afraid to tell you!"
"It's okay. You can tell me anything you want," Collins said, immediately regretting it. *I sound like a pathetically desperate middle- aged man. What the hell is wrong with me? Since when have I sucked this much at flirting?*
They walked in silence for a few seconds before they came to the cereal aisle. "Didn't you say they liked cereal?" Angel asked, breaking the silence for millionth time that night.
"Yeah, Mark's a Cap'n Crunch addict," Collins said, picking up a box with the Captain on the front. "I've always hated the stuff. Too sugary for my liking."
"I though I was the only one who absolutely hated sugary cereal!" Angel exclaimed, tossing the box of Cap'n Crunch in the basket. "I'm really into eating healthy, so I have 9-grain cereal with fat-free milk."
"Whole-grain Total?" Collins asked.
"Yes!" Angel exclaimed, as the passed the display for the Total cereal.
"That's my favorite!"
"Me too!" Angel exclaimed, as they both smiled at each other. *I can't believe we just bonded over cereal. Who does that?!*
"Well, now that we both know each other's breakfast diets; tell me something else about you that I don't know yet."
They walked down the can foods aisle, and Angel immediately remembered the night that he tried to get Will to cook dinner for the both of them. *That was a disaster.* He shook his head, stifling a laugh, remembering Will's incapability of putting the canned carrots in the pot, instead of on the counter. "Let's see.... I've always lived in New York. I haven't seen my father since he kicked me out, my mom died when I was sixteen, and now my 'family' consists of an Asian immigrant drag queen and her partner."
"So that's who the Asian person was in those pictures. I was convinced he was a she."
"You know, a lot of people say that when they first meet her, but Queenie is as much of a man as any of us."
"Queenie? Is that her real name?" It's ironic that a drag queen's name is Queenie.
"No, it's some Chinese name that nobody ever uses. As far as I'm concerned, she's just Queenie." Angel picked up a bunch of bananas. "Should we get these too?"
"Yeah, those guys could use some nutrition," Collins answered, laughing. "So why do you call Queenie 'she' if Queenie's a guy?"
Angel stood still for a minute; he had never thought of that before. To him, Queenie had always been "she." "I don't know," he finally answered. "In every way except biology, Queenie's my mother. She took care of me when nobody else did, and she was there for me when nobody else was. I guess, as much as I think of her as a guy, I can't bring myself to call her 'he' because she's my mother."
Next to Angel, Collins stood still as well. "That's really sweet," he remarked, as Angel took hold of his arm once again. Just like every time he had brushed up against him that entire night, Collins felt electric tingling shooting through his body. "So what about her partner? What's he like?"
The two continued to walk as Angel explained his family life. "Freddy. He is a beautiful person, in both senses of the word. I found out right after I moved in with him and Queenie that he was HIV positive. I guess ever since I got diagnosed, he's been like this huge support for me. It was really hard at first, you know? Well, yeah, I guess you'd understand, too, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about it except Fred because he was the only one that knew what it was like. If it wasn't for him, I think I'd be a really different person."
"I'd love to meet him sometime." *I'd love to be a part of your life. Let me in.*
"I think you'd love them. They'd love you too." They stopped walking for a second and smiled at each other again. Awkward silence once again overcame them as they stood, gazing into each other's eyes. "So what about you, Mr. Collins? There's gotta be something interesting about you that I don't know."
*The way he calls me Mr. Collins is SO sexy.* Angel took hold of his arm again as they continued to walk down the aisle, now heading over to the alcohol section. "I'm originally from San Francisco, California. I went to school at Stanford and then I went on a retreat with this group from my college. It was a bunch of radical anarchist type people so we went around the country to some of the major cities to protest the way of the government and today's society."
"So you're an anarchist?" Angel asked. *Oh my god, liberals are so sexy.*
"You could say that. I don't know, I just think that people are able to live on their own. They don't need some 'higher power' dictating their lives to them. I've always thought that people should live by their own credo. Maybe that's why I have been all these years."
"That's really cool. I mean, I've never met anybody who's an anarchist before. Although this one time, I slept with a communist, but..." Angel cut himself off, realizing what he had just said. *Code of gay men everywhere, rule number one: NEVER TALK ABOUT PAST FUCKS! Damnit, I am so stupid.*
"There are more of us than you'd think there'd be," Collins commented, managing once again to save Angel from near-fatal embarrassment. "But I haven't done one of those 'radical anarchist rebellions' in a few months, so I think I'm starting to tone down a bit." They walked in silence for a bit longer, until Angel noticed a display for Bustelo coffee.
"You know, I've heard the best things about this stuff, but I've never tried it."
"It's the number one Cuban coffee, you know. I had a lot of it when I went there a couple years back."
"You've been to Cuba?" Angel asked, shocked. I can't believe how much this man travels. The sheer fact that he was from California and was now in New York already impressed him enough.
"Yeah. It's not nearly as bad as people made it out to be. A friend of mine was convinced that communists and anarchists are the same, so I figured bringing him to a place like Cuba where they're still communists would show him otherwise. He never argued with me again."
Angel laughed so loudly he thought he'd be thrown out of the supermarket for disturbing the peace. "Well it's nice to know that you're not a communist." He threw a box of Bustelo into the shopping basket. Continuing to walk once again, Angel turned the corner to the area of the store where they kept the fruit, tripping on himself and nearly knocking over the display of oranges and grapes.
"Whoa there," Collins laughed as he helped Angel up, grabbing his hand for support. As soon as their skin touched, both men couldn't deny the feeling it had sparked in them. Slowly, their eyes met as Angel began to stand up from the floor, never looking away from Collins. Keeping hold of his hand, Collins met Angel's hazel eyes head-on. They were exactly at eye-level with each other. "So, how about we get them some bananas?" Collins asked, maintaining a tight grip on the drag queen's hand.
"That sounds great," Angel answered, as the two continued to walk, never breaking the touch. "So tell me more about California. What's it like growing up somewhere warm?"
"Lots of hot, shirtless men," Collins pointed out. *None as hot as you. I'd give up all my past sex partners for a glimpse of you with your shirt off.* "And no such thing as a white Christmas. My parents were hard- core hippies and had a severe dislike for any weather that required them to wear more than a peasant top and paper-thin jeans."
They were approaching the register now, both sad knowing that their trip to the supermarket was ending. Collins tucked a stray dreadlock behind his ear and fiddled with the black frame glasses on his face. Angel looked over at him, admiring his uniquely beautiful appearance. *I have never thought that glasses were sexy. Ever. Until now.* "Your parents sound really cool."
"Yeah, they are. I haven't seen them in almost six years by now, but they were great when I was living with them. I think that's where I got a lot of my liberal thinking from. If my parents were straight-laced republicans, I don't know where I'd be."
"Yeah, try a straight-laced Polish immigrant," Angel mumbled under his breath as they both began to unload their meager groceries.
"What?"
"Nothing, just... my father. Well, I don't even think of him as my father. I'm just a product of his sperm. He was a real uptight guy. Really controlling, abusive, manipulative, alcoholic type like the kind you see in the movies. Any stereotype of a drunk and dominant male is probably what my father was like."
"Sounds like you were glad to get out of there," Collins remarked as they finished unloading the groceries onto the counter and looking behind the cashier at the boxes of cigarettes. "Do you mind if we get a box of Marlboros?"
"Oh... you smoke?" Angel asked. *I knew there had to be a catch! I can't live with someone who is going to make my clothes smell like cigarettes and make my house like a giant fog machine. Wait, who said I was going to live with him anyway?!*
"My roommate, Mark, has this horrible addiction to cigarettes. The only thing is, he'll only have Marlboro. When I used to live with him, he'd get these horrible cravings and Roger would offer him a cigarette, but he couldn't stand to smoke it unless it was Marlboro. So every time I'd see a display of Marlboros, I'd buy a box and send them to Mark when I was away. He called me last week and told me he was so grateful I did that, but now he's all out and it's my fault, since I kept supplying him. So I figure it'll be a nice gift for him."
"He sounds like an interesting guy," Angel remarked, not wanting to insult Collins's friends before he met them.
"Oh, trust me," Collins replied, gripping Angel's hand even tighter than before, "he is. They all are. I'm really excited for you to meet them." They walked together, hand in hand, to the checkout counter. A small, young kid with acne covering his face stood behind the register, looking at the couple in an appalling, hateful manner.
"Did you find everything?" he asked.
"Oh yes. I mean, what can't you find at the Food Emporium?" Angel asked, smiling politely at him.
"Paper or plastic?" the kid asked, glaring at them.
"Plastic is good. I can use them as trash bags later," Angel commented to Collins.
"Cash or credit?"
"Cash. I got lucky tonight!" Angel squealed, using his free hand to whip a $50.00 bill out of his pocket.
"Angel, are you sure you don't mind paying for all of this?" Collins asked again, for what had to be at least the fifth time that night. "I really don't want to inconvenience you anymore than I already have."
"It's okay," Angel reassured him, letting go of Collins's hand, only to put his arm around his shoulder, "It's not an inconvenience. As long as we have a good time tonight, you can consider it an even trade." Angel's eyes sparkled with a happiness and love that had long-since died. *I'm sure we'll have a good time tonight. I don't think it's possible to be anything but happy when you're around.*
"$30.75 is your total," the acne-covered kid announced, breaking Angel and Collins's loving stare.
"Here you go, honey," Angel said, handing him the fifty.
The kid rang in their purchases, scowling as he did so. Without saying another word, he handed Angel the change and avoided any possible touch.
"Have a nice night!" Collins said to him.
As they were leaving, they heard the kid mumble, "Fucking queers," under his breath.
"Fucking straight people," Collins whispered in Angel's ear, eliciting a burst of giggles from the drag queen.
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After a few more blocks of walking, talking, and laughing, Angel and Collins arrived at the loft. Being back in Mimi's building sent a wave of memories through Angel's mind. He could almost see himself and his nightly trick walking up the stairs and making out right in front of the apartment. *None of those memories can even compare to what I feel tonight.*
Collins turned to Angel as he stood in front of the door. "I have to warn you again," he said, nervously, "my friends are a bit... interesting. They're real nice guys if you get to know them, but don't expect too much." He let his hand drop from around Angel's waist and clasped his hands together—a nervous gesture that had developed over the years. *I swear to God, if Mark or Roger says ANYTHING about how Angel has to be "the millionth trick I've brought home", or about how I've never had a boyfriend or been in a remotely serious relationship, I won't be responsible for my actions. They will NOT embarrass me like that, god damn it!*
Playing with the trim along the bottom of his coat, Angel sighed, anxiously. *Oh my god, what if his friends hate me? What if they're really homophobic... well, they can't be that homophobic if they're friends with Collins, but what if they don't like me because I'm a queen? What if I'm too flamboyant for them? What if they don't know how to dress? I will not be responsible for my actions if I'm around people who are fashionably retarded.* "If they're your friends, they can't be that bad."
"I bet they'll love you, though." He practically smacked himself in the forehead. *I sound so pathetic. It's okay, Angel, you can run away from me. I'll understand.* He knocked three times on the door and they both heard footsteps coming from behind it. "Here goes..."
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A/N: Sorry it's taken me FOREVER to write this chapter. Lack of inspiration (severe writer's block) has plagued me over the past couple of months. Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter up soon, but given the fact that I STILL have unbelievable writer's block, that might not happen for a while. Stay tuned though. I have NOT given up on this story. I have lots of fun things planned for Collins and Angel =)
Through a curtain of perfectly maintained dreadlocks, the man looked up at Angel, deep brown eyes connecting with his own.
"Are you all right?" Angel asked again, as he got up and stuffed the tubs, one stacked inside the other, under his arm.
Clearing his throat, the man answered him, refusing to break eye contact. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Despite his attempts to sound okay and brush off the pain, Angel could hear it in voice.
"You don't look okay. Did you get mugged?" he asked. "Deep breaths, Angel," he told himself, "He's just a guy. A sexy, beautiful, gorgeous guy that you have all to yourself right now, but, still, he's just a guy."
"Yeah. Some gay-bashing asshole. You know the type," he mumbled back, managing a bitter and pained smile.
"More than you know. Did they get any money?"
"They would have, if I had any for them to get." He managed a slight laugh. "Got my coat, though," he said, pulling the remainder (half a sleeve) off his battered arm. "You missed a sleeve, jackass!" he yelled out to the empty night, throwing the piece of clothing onto the ground.
Gingerly, Angel approached him and picked it up. As he got closer, the man got even more beautiful. *Get a grip, Angel. Stop trying to pick him up—he just got mugged!* "I'm Angel," he said, placing his tubs down on the ground only inches in front of the man. He smelled the faint scent of smoke—marijuana or cigarettes, he wasn't sure.
*God, it's hot out here...what am I saying, it's fucking December and I'm not even wearing a coat.* "Angel...indeed," the man answered, smiling at Angel. He wiped a bit of sweat off his brow and held out his other hand. "Collins. Well, actually, it's Tom Collins, but my friends call me Collins." Angel gripped his hand and he immediately tensed. *Wow, he's gorgeous.* Collins swallowed hard, wondering why the hell he was so nervous around this beautiful stranger. *I've never been nervous around a man before—not once.*
Angel felt sparks fly between his hand and the dark, chocolate brown hand that held it. *Chill out!* As if on cue, the Christmas tree in front of Bethany Kingsley's building suddenly illuminated the dim street with its lights.
"N-nice tree," Collins remarked, his deep eyes sparkling under the lights. *Why the fuck am I stuttering? Since when do I stutter? Angel smiled and nodded. He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.* Collins tried to move, but a deep, sharp pain in his leg stopped him. For a second, Angel had made him forget that he had just gotten badly mugged.
His eyes softening, Angel stood up from his tubs and looked Collins square in the eye. Collins was shorter than he had expected—only a few inches taller than he. *If I was to kiss him, all I'd have to do is tilt my head up a little and—stop it! He's not interested in me, anyway. He's probably got like 5,000 different boyfriends lined up, if he's even gay!* "You know, my place is only about a block from here. We'll get you cleaned up and get a Band-Aid for that nasty cut on your knee," Angel said, pointing to the giant gash, coated with deep, crimson blood.
"I-I'm not sure, I mean, I've got some friends who live in that building right over there," he pointed around the corner to Mimi's building. *But I'd rather walk 5,000 miles with you than go there.* "They're expecting me."
"I used to live in that building and there's no elevator." *Oh great, way to sound disgustingly desperate, Angel. Bravo!* "Come on. I'll clean you up, we'll go get something to eat and then..." he paused, taking in a shaky breath. *Shit! I've said too much!*
"And then what?" Collins asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Why don't you come to a Life Support meeting with me?" Angel blurted out. *I know I'm supposed to go the club with Mimi, but I'm not asking this stranger to the club! That's just awkward! And I want him to meet Paul!* "I have AIDS," he said. *If he wasn't completely turned off by me being a fucking nervous wreck, the AIDS definitely did me in. That's it, it's over. I'm gonna go bury myself in a hole and never come out.*
Collins looked away from him, feeling his cheeks burn. *I am NOT blushing. No, no I'm not blushing. Thomas B. Collins doesn't blush.* "So do I."
Angel's eyes lit up the dark street even more than the tree had. *So...so maybe he's not so turned off. Is he blushing?!* "We'll get along fine, then!" Angel squealed, grabbing onto Collins's arm. Immediately, the second they touched, he felt the sparks again. "Why don't we make a night out of it, then?" *I can't believe I just said that. Who says, "Make a night"? I totally just sounded like some old straight guy from the 50's.*
"You know, I'd," he paused again, the breath getting caught in his throat. *Stop stalling! Just talk! I've never had any problems talking before.* "I'd really like to, but, as I told you. I have some friends waiting for me." His cheeks burned again, bringing over him a new wave of embarrassment. *STOP BLUSHING!!!*
Angel smiled, noticing the slight pink on his dark cheeks. "You're cute when you blush." He practically hit himself in the head for being so obvious. *I SUCK at flirting. I used to be good, but I guess I lost my touch. Two years without a boyfriend will do that to you.*
Collins smiled back, shyly. *Since when am I shy? And since when is someone like him interested in someone like me?*
"Come on," Angel encouraged again, still holding onto his arm, trying to pull him closer to the apartment. *He must think I'm one pathetic guy. Why the hell would he want to come back with me anyway?* Abruptly, he let go and looked in Collins's eyes again. *God, I can't believe how beautiful those eyes are. He's so... so much better looking that anyone I've ever seen before.*
Collins stood there for a minute, staring at Angel, dumbfounded. *I can't believe he actually wants me to come back with him. Oh...my...god.*
"Are you coming?" Angel asked, unable to mask the shaky insecurity in his voice. This was the first time in all his years of being an out and proud homosexual that he'd EVER been this nervous around a guy.
A few seconds later, the two were walking together, side-by-side back to the apartment.
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The walk was as awkward and silent as the two had expected. Luckily, Angel's apartment was only 2 blocks from where he had found Collins. Collins stood there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered jeans.
Gripping his tubs even tighter, Angel kept his eyes focused on the sidewalk beneath his feet. A car drove by the two men, breaking the uneasy silence on the cold street.
Angel scratched his leg, coughing as he did so. Collins looked over at him, waiting for him to speak, but saying nothing.
"Here we are!" Angel said, feeling oddly relieved. The two got in the elevator as it took them up to the 6th floor.
The dark, cramped area was even more uncomfortable than the walk to the building. Standing in opposite corners, both Angel and Collins kept their arms crossed and deliberately tried to not stare at each other. Collins closely examined the buttons of the elevator, right in front of his eyes. "This is a...nice elevator," he remarked.
"Yeah," Angel replied, smiling at their pathetic attempt to make conversation.
"Do, uh, do you know when it was built?" Collins asked, yanking on a dreadlock hanging in his face.
"I don't know, it was actually here when I moved in," Angel stated, matter-of-factly. *I can't believe we're sitting here talking about the elevator. We're pathetic. Well, I am, at least.*
The rest of the ride was silent.
Hearing it ding as the doors open, Angel stepped out and Collins followed behind him. The hallway that led to the 3 apartments on each floor was dingy and dark, almost resembling a prison cell. Once Angel put the key into the door and opened up to his place, the prison vibe was gone, immediately replaced with a warm, welcoming light and a small, cozy apartment decorated with everything bright and fuzzy that Angel could find.
"You have a nice place," Collins remarked as he followed the drag queen inside. Taking a seat on the blue fuzzy couch (the one that Angel had slept on all those years at the club), he looked around, observing everything. A dresser littered with pictures sat in the corner next to the door. He wanted to get up and see who was in all the pictures, but he didn't want to invade Angel's privacy. It was nice enough to be invited up; he didn't need to snoop around.
"I can't believe we've barely spoken to each other," Angel said softly, as he took off his red, quilted coat to reveal a skin-tight, black and white spandex shirt with a screen print of the earth on the front.
"Damn, he's skinny," Collins thought to himself as he stared at Angel's body, mesmerized by the way the spandex made the muscles on his stomach stand out. "Yeah, I don't think that walk could have been anymore awkward if we had tried."
Laughing, Angel agreed. "So let's break the ice." *Woohoo! Burst of confidence! Way to go, Angel!* "Tell me about yourself, Collins."
Angel sat on the floor, rolling up Collins's pant leg to reveal the deep, nasty cut. Gingerly, he wrapped gauze behind the knee and back over it a few times to make sure it would stay and the blood wouldn't soak through.
Hearing the boy say his name gave Collins chills. *Nobody has ever made me feel so special just by saying my name.* "My name is Thomas B. Collins and I was born February 29th, 1968." His leg was starting to tingle from Angel touching it. No man's touch has ever felt like this.
*Oh my god, he's so much older than me!* "So that must mean you'll be -."
"Don't remind me. Thirty," he said, shuddering. Angel finished wrapping his leg. Standing up, he brushed himself off and fiddled with the cap on his head.
"Well, you don't look thirty. You could pass for early 20's, easily."
Collins smiled and blushed again. "Thanks..."
"Thomas B. Collins," Angel repeated, "What does the B stand for?"
"I could tell you," Collins stated, casually, "but then I'd have to kill you." He laughed nervously. "Seriously, though, the only people who know what the B stands for are my parents, and that's only because they cursed me with it."
"It must be pretty bad then," Angel remarked, washing his hands and getting a protein bar out from the cupboard. "Want one?"
"No thanks," Collins replied, gazing at Angel, longingly, as his back was turned. His eyes traveled down the slim form. *God, he is so beautiful.*
Returning back to his original position right on front of Collins, Angel smiled at him. "They're really good, are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm not big on those vitamin-enhanced bar things. It just looks like a big block of mush, anyway. I mean, no offense if you're into mush-eating and stuff like that."
Angel started laughing to the point where he almost choked on his bar.
"Hey, be careful," Collins said, patting him on the back until his coughing subsided. "So tell me a little about you."
Swallowing a large bite, Angel looked up into his eyes. "Angel Dumott-Schunard born June 22nd, 1975."
"You're younger than I thought you were," he commented.
Standing up, Angel took a last large bite of the protein bar and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you saying I look...old?" he asked, with a mock-attitude.
"Stuttering, Collins stood up and clasped his hands together, out of nerves. "I-I didn't mean you old, it's just that –-."
Angel interrupted him by laying his hand gently on Collins's arm. "It's okay. I was kidding." They both stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. A honking car horn broke their trance as Angel rapidly took his hand away, stuffing it in the pockets of his jeans. *If he didn't think I was desperate yet, he definitely does now.*
"So, what's this Life Support meeting you invited me to?" Collins asked, relived that he was able to think of something to break the awkward silence.
Obviously relieved as well, Angel sighed and smiled. "Oh, it's a group for people living with AIDS. There are a few people there who aren't positive, but they have family members or friends who are. It's just a group for people to be around others who understand what they're going through. When I first got diagnosed, the group saved my life. It just showed me that I wasn't alone, you know?" He cocked his head to the side as he talked rapidly.
"It sounds great. I used to live around here and I heard of a couple of those groups. My old roommate has HIV too and I was trying to get him to go to one for months. He was a mess when he first got it. I actually haven't seen him since then; he's one of the guys that I was supposed to meet tonight."
"Well, how about we go and meet them? Bring some food and stuff over," Angel suggested.
"That sounds great, only... I don't have any money," Collins admitted, sheepishly.
"It's alright. I got lucky tonight and some lady paid me a thousand dollars to shut this dog up. Bottom line is, now the dog's dead and I have a thousand bucks."
"You killed a dog?" he asked, surprised, "I know I've only known you for about fifteen minutes, but you seem like the last person in the world to kill anything." *I feel like I've known you my entire life. Does that make sense?*
"Yeah, I even surprised myself. But it was a total accident. I just hope that I never have to meet the dog's owner. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." He got up and tossed the protein bar wrapper in the trash. "Well, I should get changed. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll try not to take too long."
"Okay," Collins replied, leaning back on the couch as he watched Angel go into his bedroom and shut the door.
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Huddled in the corner of his bedroom, Angel grabbed his pink cordless phone and dialed Mimi's number immediately.
"Hey, it's Mimi. Leave me a message and I'll call you later. Ciao!"
The phone beeped loudly in his ear as he began to speak. "Oh my god, Chica, you will not believe who's here! Its sexy dreadlocks guy, do you remember him? Honey, I am FLIPPING OUT right now, I can't even begin to tell you! I'm not gonna be able to go to Metropolis with you tonight because I'm going out with him. I'm so so so so sorry, but I will tell you everything word for word tomorrow. Hope you can find someone else to join you. Ciao, baby."
Hanging up the phone, Angel got out of the corner and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and breathing a deep, euphoric sigh. *I cannot believe that the sexiest man alive is in the same house as me. He is in MY living room, sitting on MY couch, looking at MY stuff. OH MY GOD!!!*
In an effort to contain himself, he took another deep breath and changed quickly into his pre-planned outfit that he so affectionately referred to as his "santa drag." The entire outfit was absolutely perfect and he felt like a princess in it. The fuzzy ends of the coat rubbed against his hands and warmed up his body. Under the coat, he felt the spandex sleeves on his arms that looked like a second skin, and the white leotard under the green tank top that was hugging his torso tightly. The fuzzy collar of the shirt in a green leopard print pattern kept his neck warm. The only bit of the outfit he was having trouble with was the tights; they were new and he wasn't used to the way they stretched. Struggling to pull them on, Angel hopped around his room, all the while getting more and more tangled in the stretchy fabric. *I must be the clumsiest drag queen around.* Right after that thought passed through his head, his feet got stuck so badly that he fell to the ground, making a large THUMP.
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Collins was up looking at pictures. He noticed a lot of photographs of Angel with an Asian lady--although, she did have awfully large arms for a girl. He was with a tall, handsome black guy in some of the pictures, too.
There was a couple of Angel, obviously over the course of a few years, with a guy who, it appeared, had a love for khakis and button-down plaid shirts. The guy was hot, though—big muscles, deep blue eyes, sun- streaked blondish-brown hair. It looked like one of Collins's summer flings from a few years back.
There was one picture, however, that stood out among the rest. It was obviously older than the rest, considering that Angel looked like he couldn't have been more than sixteen, and in black and white. Behind the smiling young Angel stood a tall, built man with an intimidating smile on his face. Just looking at the man in the picture made Collins afraid. Next to him was a woman, much shorter than he who looked identical to Angel. Obviously, she was his mother. No other person could resemble a young boy so exactly. If she wasn't wearing women's clothes, he could have sworn that she was Angel, a few years down the road. It was eerie how much the two resembled each other. Stepping back to the blue couch he had been sitting on, Collins wondered to himself why there was only that one picture of Angel and his mother. He wanted desperately to know everything about Angel, but he was afraid to ask. Hanging on the wall directly behind him was another picture of Angel with the Asian lady. This photograph, however, was blown to up to near life-size proportions. Angel was dressed in drag, which surprised Collins. He could tell after only seconds from meeting Angel that he was no macho queer, but the boy didn't strike him as a transvestite either. He stared into the happy amber/hazel eyes. *I can't believe that the hottest man alive is in the same house as me. I'm in HIS house, sitting on HIS couch, looking at HIS pictures. I can't get over the fact that I'm actually here. I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.*
Loud crashing in the other room interrupted his thoughts. Curious, he called out in the direction of the bedroom. "Hey, are you okay in there?"
A muffled laugh followed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just being my usual, clumsy self. I'll be out in about 5 minutes."
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*He must think I'm so pathetic!* "Fuck," Angel whispered as he put his wig and headband on in record speed. He usually spent five minutes perfecting his hair alone... on a good day. Now, he had to spend five minutes on a routine that took him, on average, about 30. He whipped the compact out from his cosmetics box and smudged his foundation on, attempting to cover every slight imperfection. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he came across the makeup he had purchased earlier in the day that he planned to wear with the outfit tonight. *No time to look good like tonight. I'm going to impress the shit out of him.*
Carefully, he brushed the three different colors of glittery eye shadow onto his eyes, over the liquid eyeliner that was still drying. After dusting a coat of iridescent glitter on top of the shadow, he whipped out his red lipstick and glitter gloss, coating his lips in both as fast as he could without it looking messy. Checking his reflection one last time in the mirror, he got a good look at himself.
"I look hot," he said out loud; quiet enough so that Collins couldn't hear him. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it, but took it off only seconds later. *Who am I kidding? Does he really want to see a girly boy in a dress? I should have never invited him up. He probably thinks I'm this ridiculous, high-maintenance queen...that wouldn't be too far from the truth.*
*Stop being a pussy and open the door!* His mind screamed at him, urging him to get some balls and walk out the door. *Just do this! It's not that hard.* He took another deep breath and shut his eyes as he opened the door. *Here goes...*
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His eyes were fixated on the door as it opened. I wonder what took him so long. They remained on the ground as a pair of 5-inch heels came into view. Slowly, like a camera panning across a beautiful landscape, his eyes traveled up Angel, observing the zebra tights that covered his thin, toned legs; to the red, fuzzy coat that look like a Santa suit, keeping his body warm; to the makeup on his face, sparkling; to the wig on his head, shiny and black with flowers placed along the crown. He had never, in all his 29 years, seen anyone look so ravishing.
"Wow," was all he could get out. *Is this even possible? Isn't it a crime for a man to look this good?* "You look amazing."
Angel blushed, fiddling with his wig. "You like it? My friend, Mimi, bought me the coat and I bought the belt today. Do you like the makeup? I work at Mac and I picked it up today at work, because I needed to find something that goes with my outfits, because, you know, makeup can –."
"I love it all. You look great," Collins said, softly, cutting off Angel's ramblings.
Awkwardly, the two stood in silence: Collins, with his hands folded tightly in front of him, and Angel, playing nervously with a stray strand of hair from his wig.
"Well," Angel broke the silence, walking over to the coat rack to grab his gold bag, "Why don't we head out? I wanna pick up some food for your friends and stuff."
"You really don't have to do that. I mean, granted they're starving artists and even a box of cereal at this point would be like gold to them, but I don't want you to go out of your way, or anything," Collins babbled, trying every excuse in the book so that he didn't have to leave Angel's apartment. *I could stay here with you, forever. That doesn't sound too bad.*
"Well if they're starving artists, then we have to bring them something! I'm a starving musician and makeup artist myself, so I know what it's like." Angel giggled, his face suddenly turning much more innocent and insecure than he had been. "Maybe, you know, we can... uh... talk on the way and get to know each other," he proposed in a soft, quiet voice. *I can't even pretend to be confident with this guy. What the hell is wrong with me?!*
"I'd really like that," Collins answered in his signature cool, suave way. *At least I can act like I don't want to spend every waking second with this man.*
Angel left the apartment, followed by Collins, as he turned around. Once he had locked the door behind him, Angel turned around, only to trip over his huge heels and fall—right into Collins.
"I'm sorry!" he squealed as he attempted to get up as quick as possible, "I'm not used to these shoes! I've only worn them twice before tonight. I'm-I'm really sorry."
Helping him up, Collins smiled. "It's okay, don't worry about it. If you're really having trouble walking in those, you can hold on to me—you know, for support." *I'm such an idiot!*
Angel tried his best to hide the excitement in his eyes, to no avail. "Sure," he answered, holding tightly onto Collins's arm, "Thanks."
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"Here we are!" Angel yelped as he and Collins had managed to walk the four blocks to the Food Emporium, with Angel gripping onto Collins's arm the entire way. *Touching another man had never been so special.*
"Hey! I love this place!" Collins exclaimed, as he entered, with Angel trailing behind, "Back when I used to live on the corner of 11th and B, I used to come here with my room mates all the time. I mean that was when we were lucky enough to have the money to go food shopping. They were starving artists then, and they're still starving artists now, from what I hear. Didn't you say you used to live in that building?"
"Yeah, I lived with a good friend of mine, Mimi Marquez. Do you know her?"
"Can't say that I do, but there have been a lot of people in and out of that building during the four and a half years that I lived there. I'm surprised I don't remember you." *If I had known you then, I might not have left in the first place.*
"Well, I remember you," Angel admitted, sheepishly, as he picked up a basket from the stack with his free arm.
"You do?" Collins asked, shocked and confused. *How is it possible that a guy like this lived in the same building as me, and I never noticed?*
"Yeah. I have a confession to make." His cheeks burned with embarrassment, as he was about to admit to Collins that he had been thinking about him ever since he first saw him the day he moved in with Mimi. "When I first moved in, my friend and I noticed you and we both thought you were... well, really cute." *I'm such a loser! He's totally going to be weirded out now! Stupid stupid Angel!!!*
Collins felt his own face flush with compliment. *HE THOUGHT I WAS CUTE!!!!!!* "Well, I'm very flattered. And I'm sure that if I had seen you, I would have talked to you sooner."
"You're not weirded out?" Angel asked, not wanting to look him in the eye.
"Of course not. There's a lot of guys that I've seen here that I thought were cute. No shame in that."
"That's a relief. I was so afraid to tell you!"
"It's okay. You can tell me anything you want," Collins said, immediately regretting it. *I sound like a pathetically desperate middle- aged man. What the hell is wrong with me? Since when have I sucked this much at flirting?*
They walked in silence for a few seconds before they came to the cereal aisle. "Didn't you say they liked cereal?" Angel asked, breaking the silence for millionth time that night.
"Yeah, Mark's a Cap'n Crunch addict," Collins said, picking up a box with the Captain on the front. "I've always hated the stuff. Too sugary for my liking."
"I though I was the only one who absolutely hated sugary cereal!" Angel exclaimed, tossing the box of Cap'n Crunch in the basket. "I'm really into eating healthy, so I have 9-grain cereal with fat-free milk."
"Whole-grain Total?" Collins asked.
"Yes!" Angel exclaimed, as the passed the display for the Total cereal.
"That's my favorite!"
"Me too!" Angel exclaimed, as they both smiled at each other. *I can't believe we just bonded over cereal. Who does that?!*
"Well, now that we both know each other's breakfast diets; tell me something else about you that I don't know yet."
They walked down the can foods aisle, and Angel immediately remembered the night that he tried to get Will to cook dinner for the both of them. *That was a disaster.* He shook his head, stifling a laugh, remembering Will's incapability of putting the canned carrots in the pot, instead of on the counter. "Let's see.... I've always lived in New York. I haven't seen my father since he kicked me out, my mom died when I was sixteen, and now my 'family' consists of an Asian immigrant drag queen and her partner."
"So that's who the Asian person was in those pictures. I was convinced he was a she."
"You know, a lot of people say that when they first meet her, but Queenie is as much of a man as any of us."
"Queenie? Is that her real name?" It's ironic that a drag queen's name is Queenie.
"No, it's some Chinese name that nobody ever uses. As far as I'm concerned, she's just Queenie." Angel picked up a bunch of bananas. "Should we get these too?"
"Yeah, those guys could use some nutrition," Collins answered, laughing. "So why do you call Queenie 'she' if Queenie's a guy?"
Angel stood still for a minute; he had never thought of that before. To him, Queenie had always been "she." "I don't know," he finally answered. "In every way except biology, Queenie's my mother. She took care of me when nobody else did, and she was there for me when nobody else was. I guess, as much as I think of her as a guy, I can't bring myself to call her 'he' because she's my mother."
Next to Angel, Collins stood still as well. "That's really sweet," he remarked, as Angel took hold of his arm once again. Just like every time he had brushed up against him that entire night, Collins felt electric tingling shooting through his body. "So what about her partner? What's he like?"
The two continued to walk as Angel explained his family life. "Freddy. He is a beautiful person, in both senses of the word. I found out right after I moved in with him and Queenie that he was HIV positive. I guess ever since I got diagnosed, he's been like this huge support for me. It was really hard at first, you know? Well, yeah, I guess you'd understand, too, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about it except Fred because he was the only one that knew what it was like. If it wasn't for him, I think I'd be a really different person."
"I'd love to meet him sometime." *I'd love to be a part of your life. Let me in.*
"I think you'd love them. They'd love you too." They stopped walking for a second and smiled at each other again. Awkward silence once again overcame them as they stood, gazing into each other's eyes. "So what about you, Mr. Collins? There's gotta be something interesting about you that I don't know."
*The way he calls me Mr. Collins is SO sexy.* Angel took hold of his arm again as they continued to walk down the aisle, now heading over to the alcohol section. "I'm originally from San Francisco, California. I went to school at Stanford and then I went on a retreat with this group from my college. It was a bunch of radical anarchist type people so we went around the country to some of the major cities to protest the way of the government and today's society."
"So you're an anarchist?" Angel asked. *Oh my god, liberals are so sexy.*
"You could say that. I don't know, I just think that people are able to live on their own. They don't need some 'higher power' dictating their lives to them. I've always thought that people should live by their own credo. Maybe that's why I have been all these years."
"That's really cool. I mean, I've never met anybody who's an anarchist before. Although this one time, I slept with a communist, but..." Angel cut himself off, realizing what he had just said. *Code of gay men everywhere, rule number one: NEVER TALK ABOUT PAST FUCKS! Damnit, I am so stupid.*
"There are more of us than you'd think there'd be," Collins commented, managing once again to save Angel from near-fatal embarrassment. "But I haven't done one of those 'radical anarchist rebellions' in a few months, so I think I'm starting to tone down a bit." They walked in silence for a bit longer, until Angel noticed a display for Bustelo coffee.
"You know, I've heard the best things about this stuff, but I've never tried it."
"It's the number one Cuban coffee, you know. I had a lot of it when I went there a couple years back."
"You've been to Cuba?" Angel asked, shocked. I can't believe how much this man travels. The sheer fact that he was from California and was now in New York already impressed him enough.
"Yeah. It's not nearly as bad as people made it out to be. A friend of mine was convinced that communists and anarchists are the same, so I figured bringing him to a place like Cuba where they're still communists would show him otherwise. He never argued with me again."
Angel laughed so loudly he thought he'd be thrown out of the supermarket for disturbing the peace. "Well it's nice to know that you're not a communist." He threw a box of Bustelo into the shopping basket. Continuing to walk once again, Angel turned the corner to the area of the store where they kept the fruit, tripping on himself and nearly knocking over the display of oranges and grapes.
"Whoa there," Collins laughed as he helped Angel up, grabbing his hand for support. As soon as their skin touched, both men couldn't deny the feeling it had sparked in them. Slowly, their eyes met as Angel began to stand up from the floor, never looking away from Collins. Keeping hold of his hand, Collins met Angel's hazel eyes head-on. They were exactly at eye-level with each other. "So, how about we get them some bananas?" Collins asked, maintaining a tight grip on the drag queen's hand.
"That sounds great," Angel answered, as the two continued to walk, never breaking the touch. "So tell me more about California. What's it like growing up somewhere warm?"
"Lots of hot, shirtless men," Collins pointed out. *None as hot as you. I'd give up all my past sex partners for a glimpse of you with your shirt off.* "And no such thing as a white Christmas. My parents were hard- core hippies and had a severe dislike for any weather that required them to wear more than a peasant top and paper-thin jeans."
They were approaching the register now, both sad knowing that their trip to the supermarket was ending. Collins tucked a stray dreadlock behind his ear and fiddled with the black frame glasses on his face. Angel looked over at him, admiring his uniquely beautiful appearance. *I have never thought that glasses were sexy. Ever. Until now.* "Your parents sound really cool."
"Yeah, they are. I haven't seen them in almost six years by now, but they were great when I was living with them. I think that's where I got a lot of my liberal thinking from. If my parents were straight-laced republicans, I don't know where I'd be."
"Yeah, try a straight-laced Polish immigrant," Angel mumbled under his breath as they both began to unload their meager groceries.
"What?"
"Nothing, just... my father. Well, I don't even think of him as my father. I'm just a product of his sperm. He was a real uptight guy. Really controlling, abusive, manipulative, alcoholic type like the kind you see in the movies. Any stereotype of a drunk and dominant male is probably what my father was like."
"Sounds like you were glad to get out of there," Collins remarked as they finished unloading the groceries onto the counter and looking behind the cashier at the boxes of cigarettes. "Do you mind if we get a box of Marlboros?"
"Oh... you smoke?" Angel asked. *I knew there had to be a catch! I can't live with someone who is going to make my clothes smell like cigarettes and make my house like a giant fog machine. Wait, who said I was going to live with him anyway?!*
"My roommate, Mark, has this horrible addiction to cigarettes. The only thing is, he'll only have Marlboro. When I used to live with him, he'd get these horrible cravings and Roger would offer him a cigarette, but he couldn't stand to smoke it unless it was Marlboro. So every time I'd see a display of Marlboros, I'd buy a box and send them to Mark when I was away. He called me last week and told me he was so grateful I did that, but now he's all out and it's my fault, since I kept supplying him. So I figure it'll be a nice gift for him."
"He sounds like an interesting guy," Angel remarked, not wanting to insult Collins's friends before he met them.
"Oh, trust me," Collins replied, gripping Angel's hand even tighter than before, "he is. They all are. I'm really excited for you to meet them." They walked together, hand in hand, to the checkout counter. A small, young kid with acne covering his face stood behind the register, looking at the couple in an appalling, hateful manner.
"Did you find everything?" he asked.
"Oh yes. I mean, what can't you find at the Food Emporium?" Angel asked, smiling politely at him.
"Paper or plastic?" the kid asked, glaring at them.
"Plastic is good. I can use them as trash bags later," Angel commented to Collins.
"Cash or credit?"
"Cash. I got lucky tonight!" Angel squealed, using his free hand to whip a $50.00 bill out of his pocket.
"Angel, are you sure you don't mind paying for all of this?" Collins asked again, for what had to be at least the fifth time that night. "I really don't want to inconvenience you anymore than I already have."
"It's okay," Angel reassured him, letting go of Collins's hand, only to put his arm around his shoulder, "It's not an inconvenience. As long as we have a good time tonight, you can consider it an even trade." Angel's eyes sparkled with a happiness and love that had long-since died. *I'm sure we'll have a good time tonight. I don't think it's possible to be anything but happy when you're around.*
"$30.75 is your total," the acne-covered kid announced, breaking Angel and Collins's loving stare.
"Here you go, honey," Angel said, handing him the fifty.
The kid rang in their purchases, scowling as he did so. Without saying another word, he handed Angel the change and avoided any possible touch.
"Have a nice night!" Collins said to him.
As they were leaving, they heard the kid mumble, "Fucking queers," under his breath.
"Fucking straight people," Collins whispered in Angel's ear, eliciting a burst of giggles from the drag queen.
*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*-- *--*--*
After a few more blocks of walking, talking, and laughing, Angel and Collins arrived at the loft. Being back in Mimi's building sent a wave of memories through Angel's mind. He could almost see himself and his nightly trick walking up the stairs and making out right in front of the apartment. *None of those memories can even compare to what I feel tonight.*
Collins turned to Angel as he stood in front of the door. "I have to warn you again," he said, nervously, "my friends are a bit... interesting. They're real nice guys if you get to know them, but don't expect too much." He let his hand drop from around Angel's waist and clasped his hands together—a nervous gesture that had developed over the years. *I swear to God, if Mark or Roger says ANYTHING about how Angel has to be "the millionth trick I've brought home", or about how I've never had a boyfriend or been in a remotely serious relationship, I won't be responsible for my actions. They will NOT embarrass me like that, god damn it!*
Playing with the trim along the bottom of his coat, Angel sighed, anxiously. *Oh my god, what if his friends hate me? What if they're really homophobic... well, they can't be that homophobic if they're friends with Collins, but what if they don't like me because I'm a queen? What if I'm too flamboyant for them? What if they don't know how to dress? I will not be responsible for my actions if I'm around people who are fashionably retarded.* "If they're your friends, they can't be that bad."
"I bet they'll love you, though." He practically smacked himself in the forehead. *I sound so pathetic. It's okay, Angel, you can run away from me. I'll understand.* He knocked three times on the door and they both heard footsteps coming from behind it. "Here goes..."
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A/N: Sorry it's taken me FOREVER to write this chapter. Lack of inspiration (severe writer's block) has plagued me over the past couple of months. Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter up soon, but given the fact that I STILL have unbelievable writer's block, that might not happen for a while. Stay tuned though. I have NOT given up on this story. I have lots of fun things planned for Collins and Angel =)