Chapter 48: Meet the Bohemians.
The door to the loft opened and a blonde man with glasses similar to Collins's stood in front of them. He held a large, ancient black video camera in his free hand. Angel looked at the outfit he was wearing, trying his best to not show an expression of dislike. A thick, plaid coat covered what looked to be a small, thin body. Baggy jeans hung off his legs, covering his shoes and wrinkling at the bottom. His hair a bit of a mess; but, Angel noticed, he had nice, natural red highlights. "Definitely straight," Angel thought to himself.
"Mark, this is Angel Dumott-Schunard," Collins said, with a say- anything-to-him-and-I'll-beat-the-crap-out-of-you tone to his voice. "Angel, this is Mark Cohen."
"Hi," Mark said, cheerfully. He extended his hand to Angel. "Nice to meet you."
Smiling at him, Angel tried his best to give a nice, firm "man" handshake, but only managed to give a gentle squeeze. Past Mark, Angel noticed another man who looked even worse off than Mark did. Tight plaid pants hugged his too-skinny legs and a baggy green sweater draped over his body. His dirty blonde hair was a knotted nest of waves sticking out in every direction. DEFINITELY straight. He turned around to face the others, piercing green eyes staring them down.
"Angel, this is Roger," Collins introduced, pointing to the man still sitting on the table. Roger merely grunted in reply. "Roger, this is Angel, a new friend of mine."
Bravely, Angel walked over to him, extending his hand for a shake. Roger's expression was a bit unreadable; Angel couldn't tell whether he was happy, sad, angry, amused, or all of the above. After refusing to touch Angel, Roger got up off the table and passed him by, barely even acknowledging the drag queen in front of him. "Isn't this, like, the fifth guy named Angel that you've brought home and called 'your special friend'? " Roger questioned, a sarcastic snap to his deep voice.
"No," Collins mumbled angrily under his breath.
"They're all the same. Jim, Ted, Brian, George, Greg, Bobby, Mike, Andrew, Max, Jer-" Roger rattled off various names, Collins's expression growing more and more intense with each word.
"So, what brings you back to the good old East Village, Collins?" Mark interjected, breaking Roger's irritating list of all the men Collins had slept with over the past few years.
"Teaching job at NYU," Collins stated proudly, "After my little mishap at MIT, the philosophy department at NYU was more than willing to add me to their faculty. They claimed that I would be suitable for controlling all the radicals around here, or something like that."
"You?" Mark laughed, "Of all people, I think you'd be the one to contribute to the chaos, if anything."
"What did you do?" Angel interrupted, a curious expression on his face.
Collins took hold of his hand again. "We'll discuss it later," he mumbled, obviously not wanting to bring it up.
"So, Angel," Mark said, raising an eyebrow in Collins's direction, only to see his face turn a bright shade of crimson, "what brings you to our humble home?"
"A bunch of starving artists with nothing to eat," Angel replied, handing Mark the shopping bag.
Shuffling through it, Mark immediately found the economy-sized box of cigarettes. "Oh sweet! Marlboros!" he exclaimed as he took a cigarette out, dug through the deep pockets of his coat to find a lighter, and took a drag of the cigarette, his eyes closing as he inhaled the sweet smoke. "Want one, Rog?"
"No thanks," Roger grumbled, turning even farther away from the group in front of him.
Leaning over to Collins, his lips grazing his ear, Angel asked, "What's up with him?" in a low, soft whisper.
"I'll explain later, but remember my friend who I said was positive?" Angel nodded. "That's him."
Everything fell into place as Angel answered an all-knowing, "Oh."
"So, besides my cigarette addiction and the fact that we're so hungry we can barely see straight, what brings you here?" Mark asked Angel, still savoring the taste of his cigarette.
"I've lived here almost my whole life, actually. Well, for the past 6 years, at least. Before that I lived uptown."
"Yeah, what building?" Mark asked, curiously.
"I actually lived here with my friend, Mimi, for a while. Do you know her?" At the mention of Mimi's name, Roger turned sharply around to face the group, nearly knocking his guitar off the table in the process.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, still sitting and facing the group.
Looking at him quizzically, Angel cocked his head a bit to the right. "Do you know her, Roger?"
"We just met," he answered vaguely, turning his back to Angel once again and trying to pluck out a song on his painfully out-of-tune guitar.
Putting out his cigarette, Mark picked up his camera, turned it on and began to film. "Close on Roger," he said softly, attempting to keep himself from being heard by his roommate, "who just got the life back in his eyes for the first time since April. I have a feeling that love is coming his way, and –-."
"Mark, shut that fucking thing off!" Roger barked, throwing the scratched up guitar pick at him.
Turning away from Roger, Mark turned the camera on himself, "Maybe this Mimi will help to control his temper."
"We can only hope," Collins muttered under his breath, slipping an arm around Angel's waist.
"So, what's the deal with the camera?" Angel asked, immediately feeling the warm tingling in his body as Collins touched him.
"I've always been into film making and I decided just a few weeks ago that I was going to make a documentary. I figure I'll film whatever I see and, maybe if I'm lucky, it'll turn into a masterpiece. You never know."
Angel giggled in response.
"By the way, Angel," Mark interjected, stuffing his hand into the box of Cap'n Crunch, "thanks for the provisions."
"Oh, it's no problem, really," Angel chirped, his arm around Collins's neck, fiddling with one of his loose dreadlocks. "Today for you, tomorrow for me, that's what I always say. Anyway, I had quite a bit of cash to spare tonight." Using his spare arm, he reached into the pocket of his fuzzy red coat and pulled out the stack of $50 bills.
Mark gawked openly at the sum of money. "I don't think I have seen that much cash in my entire life. How the hell did you pull that off?"
"I'll make a long story really really short; I met some woman on the street who wanted me to drum in her house to shut this dog up. I shut the dog up and she paid me. I guess that's it."
"Well, that's certainly the most interesting Christmas Eve story I've heard in quite some time," Mark said, laughing. "Well, it's a pleasure to have you here, Angel. It's really nice to meet you."
Reaching into the cupboard, which was almost entirely empty with the exception of a few bottles of Stoli, Collins pulled one out and held it up high in the air. "Here's to having an... eventful Christmas eve."
That elicited laughs, even a slight smile from Roger, still sulking on the table. "I'll drink to that," he mumbled.
Clearing his throat and still gripping tightly onto Angel's waist, Collins continued to hold the bottle in mid-air as he began to sing, "Joy to the world..."
"The Lord is come," a voice answered from the entrance of the door. While Angel was fighting off the incredible urge to jump Collins right on the spot, a familiar figure entered the loft. Angel knew right away who it was; that earring was very distinguishing. Benny.
Roger's face twisted into an even angrier sneer, if that was possible, as he glared in Benny's direction, his fiery green eyes burning holes in his head. "Nice to see ya, Rog," Benny remarked casually as he tried to shake Roger's hand, only to be greeted by his middle finger. "Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too."
Mark picked up the camera and began to film again. "Close on Benjamin Coffin the 3rd, Benny, our ex room mate. Long story short, he bought this building and the lot next door from his new father in law, once he married Allison Gray. His plans of starting a 'cyber studio' with Roger and I fell through once he abandoned us and demanded the rent. Some may wonder where his heart has gone, but I think it's gone right to his --."
"How goes it, Mark?" Benny interrupted, fixing his collar in front of the camera, "Heard about Maureen."
"Thanks for the sympathy, Benny. I'm always pleased to know I'm in your thoughts," Mark answered sarcastically, still filming the scene.
"Collins, my man. Long time no see," Benny greeted, holding his hand out for a shake. Abruptly, Collins snapped his arm down, avoiding any contact with Benny what so ever. He guided Angel over to the chair, previously occupied by Mark and sat him down. A protective arm remained on his shoulder at all times. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel crossed his legs, letting his feet rest for the first time since he'd put on those dreadfully high heels.
He tuned out Benny's drabble about rents, cyber studios, and Range Rovers to take in the scene. Only a few short hours ago, he had been sitting on the side of the street, drumming, and trying to think of ways to score a hot trick at Metropolis. Now, here he was in his old building, meeting new people with a new potential lover. Angel looked up at Collins, who was arguing over some inane business with Benny, and smiled in a way he never had before. For the first time in his entire life, he felt the empty space in his heart beginning to fill. Even when he was with Will, he had never felt like this. No man had ever had the capacity to make Angel feel the way Collins did, even in the short, short amount of time they had known each other. Hoping and praying to a God that he barely even believed existed, he shut his eyes briefly, "God, I know it's been a while since I've asked you for something. In fact, the last time was probably when my mother died. But I'm asking you now, God, please let this man... this Collins... become a part of my life. This feeling can't go away and even though I've only known him about two hours, I know that I'll never love anybody the way that I love him right now. God, I--."
Angel's deep prayer was interrupted by the lifting of his skirt, a sudden draft blowing up his legs. Letting out a very girly, very high-pitched shriek, he looked up to see who had violated him. The silver earring gave it away instantly. He was preparing to slap Benny when Collins stepped in front of him, creating a barrier between them. "Don't touch him," his deep voice boomed. He hadn't even spoken that loudly, but the intensity in his voice was enough to scare of anybody, even someone as cocky and self- absorbed as Benny.
"Whoa there buddy, did I hit a soft spot?" Benny asked, seemingly unfazed by Collins's verbal slap.
"Don't. Touch. Him," Collins stated again, helping Angel up and keeping an arm protectively around him. The two walked over to another chair that was more in the corner of the loft and Collins sat him down, making sure that Benny wouldn't be able to get to him again. "You alright?"
Angel beamed up at him, his eyes glowing with euphoric happiness. "I-I'm fine."
"Good. Sorry about Benny, he can be a real ass sometimes. Just ignore him. He'll be out of here soon enough anyway. Stupid bastard only comes here when he wants something." Collins now had both arms wrapped around Angel's neck, preventing him from moving.
*That's okay with me. I never want to leave your arms again*. "Speaking of what he wants... what, exactly, does he want?" Angel asked, feeling stupid for not being able to follow Benny's proposal.
"That's simple, sweet thing," Benny said, then twirled around to face Angel, his puffy blue jacket billowing out as he did so. He placed a hand gently on Angel's leg, causing the drag queen to flinch involuntarily.
"Hands off," Collins said, softly but firmly.
"Touchy," Benny mumbled, as he stood in front of Angel, his arms now crossed over his chest. "All you have to do," he continued, "is get Maureen to cancel her protest. She's dumb as rocks, she'll listen to whatever you have to say."
Angel could see Mark getting more annoyed by the minute. "She's not dumb as rocks and I'm not getting her to cancel her protest. What she's protesting is legitimate, and what you're proposing is fucking ludicrous! I'm not paying you an entire year's rent when you told Roger and I that we could live here for free."
"I told you, man," Benny said coolly, zipping up his coat as he headed towards the door, "Get her to cancel the protest, and I'll let you stay here for free. Think about it." He winked at them, and then exited.
"I think he could use some Prozac," Angel mumbled, causing Collins to throw back his head and laugh out loud.
"You got that right." His arms dropped from Angel's neck as the drag queen stood up, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly. Walking over to join a very angry Mark, and an even angrier Roger, Collins and Angel sat down on the table next to them.
"Hey, do any of you guys have the time?" Angel asked.
"Yeah, it's about a quarter after 9, why do you ask?" Mark said, looking at his watch. The band was so worn and beat up Angel was worried the watch would fall off and break. Well, we'll just have to get him a new band. This great new line came in at Dancing Queen a couple of weeks ago. Maybe he'd like the tiger print.
"Oh, well Collins and I have somewhere to go." *God, how I love saying 'Collins and I.'*
"Oh yeah, the reminds me. You guys are welcome to join us, if you want."
"I'd love to... wait, where are you headed?"
"Life Support. It's just a group for people coping with... well, life. A good friend of mine runs it. As he always says, the more the merrier!" Angel chirped cheerfully as he clutched onto Collins hand. He felt like he was really starting to form a connection with Mark. Roger, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The man was like a brick wall: unresponsive and hard to break.
"I'd really like to, guys, but I've gotta go help Maureen out. She called me in frantic hysterics looking for someone to help Joanne fix the equipment for tonight. I'll stop by if I finish early, though."
"I hate to be nosy," Angel began *That's a lie*, "but who's Maureen and Joanne?"
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mark pushed his glasses further up on his face and fiddled with the worn scarf draped around his neck. "Maureen is my ex and Joanne is her man."
Angel giggled, but stopped abruptly once he saw how angry Mark was. "I'm really sorry I mentioned it, I don't know you guys, I should have never --."
"No. Oh God, Angel, no it's not your fault. It's just a touchy subject, that's all," Mark explained, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.
"What about you, Roger?" Angel asked, "How would you like to come with us to Life Support?" He kept his hand laced with Collins's as he walked over to cautiously approach the musician.
"I'm not into the whole 'Let's hug each other and pretend that everything's okay' bullshit. Plus, I don't make very good company. I have a tendency to make mean, rude remarks," his eyes got a hint of amusement in them, "I wonder where people get that idea from."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Roger, behave. Besides, you need to get out anyway."
"I don't need to get out. I'm fine!" he snapped, once again retreating into his dark, angry shell.
"That's okay, he can catch up with us later, if he wants." Angel smiled and ruffled Roger's a bit, much to his annoyance. "We better get going."
"Nice meeting you, Angel. You'll both be at the protest, right?" Mark asked, as if he were pleading with them to come.
"Sure, we'll be there," Collins answered, leading Angel to the exit, "I wanna see what Maureen's up to these days anyway."
The couple began to exit as Mark pulled out his video camera. Filming Angel and Collins candidly, he began another soft narrative that nobody but himself could hear. "Close on Collins. This is his first night back in New York and the first day of the rest of his life. Close on Angel, the one who will change everything."
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A/N: GUESS WHO WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!!! This one actually came a lot easier than I thought it would. Hope you enjoy it. I'll Cover You is coming up very VERY soon. Good things are in the works. Review, please =)
The door to the loft opened and a blonde man with glasses similar to Collins's stood in front of them. He held a large, ancient black video camera in his free hand. Angel looked at the outfit he was wearing, trying his best to not show an expression of dislike. A thick, plaid coat covered what looked to be a small, thin body. Baggy jeans hung off his legs, covering his shoes and wrinkling at the bottom. His hair a bit of a mess; but, Angel noticed, he had nice, natural red highlights. "Definitely straight," Angel thought to himself.
"Mark, this is Angel Dumott-Schunard," Collins said, with a say- anything-to-him-and-I'll-beat-the-crap-out-of-you tone to his voice. "Angel, this is Mark Cohen."
"Hi," Mark said, cheerfully. He extended his hand to Angel. "Nice to meet you."
Smiling at him, Angel tried his best to give a nice, firm "man" handshake, but only managed to give a gentle squeeze. Past Mark, Angel noticed another man who looked even worse off than Mark did. Tight plaid pants hugged his too-skinny legs and a baggy green sweater draped over his body. His dirty blonde hair was a knotted nest of waves sticking out in every direction. DEFINITELY straight. He turned around to face the others, piercing green eyes staring them down.
"Angel, this is Roger," Collins introduced, pointing to the man still sitting on the table. Roger merely grunted in reply. "Roger, this is Angel, a new friend of mine."
Bravely, Angel walked over to him, extending his hand for a shake. Roger's expression was a bit unreadable; Angel couldn't tell whether he was happy, sad, angry, amused, or all of the above. After refusing to touch Angel, Roger got up off the table and passed him by, barely even acknowledging the drag queen in front of him. "Isn't this, like, the fifth guy named Angel that you've brought home and called 'your special friend'? " Roger questioned, a sarcastic snap to his deep voice.
"No," Collins mumbled angrily under his breath.
"They're all the same. Jim, Ted, Brian, George, Greg, Bobby, Mike, Andrew, Max, Jer-" Roger rattled off various names, Collins's expression growing more and more intense with each word.
"So, what brings you back to the good old East Village, Collins?" Mark interjected, breaking Roger's irritating list of all the men Collins had slept with over the past few years.
"Teaching job at NYU," Collins stated proudly, "After my little mishap at MIT, the philosophy department at NYU was more than willing to add me to their faculty. They claimed that I would be suitable for controlling all the radicals around here, or something like that."
"You?" Mark laughed, "Of all people, I think you'd be the one to contribute to the chaos, if anything."
"What did you do?" Angel interrupted, a curious expression on his face.
Collins took hold of his hand again. "We'll discuss it later," he mumbled, obviously not wanting to bring it up.
"So, Angel," Mark said, raising an eyebrow in Collins's direction, only to see his face turn a bright shade of crimson, "what brings you to our humble home?"
"A bunch of starving artists with nothing to eat," Angel replied, handing Mark the shopping bag.
Shuffling through it, Mark immediately found the economy-sized box of cigarettes. "Oh sweet! Marlboros!" he exclaimed as he took a cigarette out, dug through the deep pockets of his coat to find a lighter, and took a drag of the cigarette, his eyes closing as he inhaled the sweet smoke. "Want one, Rog?"
"No thanks," Roger grumbled, turning even farther away from the group in front of him.
Leaning over to Collins, his lips grazing his ear, Angel asked, "What's up with him?" in a low, soft whisper.
"I'll explain later, but remember my friend who I said was positive?" Angel nodded. "That's him."
Everything fell into place as Angel answered an all-knowing, "Oh."
"So, besides my cigarette addiction and the fact that we're so hungry we can barely see straight, what brings you here?" Mark asked Angel, still savoring the taste of his cigarette.
"I've lived here almost my whole life, actually. Well, for the past 6 years, at least. Before that I lived uptown."
"Yeah, what building?" Mark asked, curiously.
"I actually lived here with my friend, Mimi, for a while. Do you know her?" At the mention of Mimi's name, Roger turned sharply around to face the group, nearly knocking his guitar off the table in the process.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, still sitting and facing the group.
Looking at him quizzically, Angel cocked his head a bit to the right. "Do you know her, Roger?"
"We just met," he answered vaguely, turning his back to Angel once again and trying to pluck out a song on his painfully out-of-tune guitar.
Putting out his cigarette, Mark picked up his camera, turned it on and began to film. "Close on Roger," he said softly, attempting to keep himself from being heard by his roommate, "who just got the life back in his eyes for the first time since April. I have a feeling that love is coming his way, and –-."
"Mark, shut that fucking thing off!" Roger barked, throwing the scratched up guitar pick at him.
Turning away from Roger, Mark turned the camera on himself, "Maybe this Mimi will help to control his temper."
"We can only hope," Collins muttered under his breath, slipping an arm around Angel's waist.
"So, what's the deal with the camera?" Angel asked, immediately feeling the warm tingling in his body as Collins touched him.
"I've always been into film making and I decided just a few weeks ago that I was going to make a documentary. I figure I'll film whatever I see and, maybe if I'm lucky, it'll turn into a masterpiece. You never know."
Angel giggled in response.
"By the way, Angel," Mark interjected, stuffing his hand into the box of Cap'n Crunch, "thanks for the provisions."
"Oh, it's no problem, really," Angel chirped, his arm around Collins's neck, fiddling with one of his loose dreadlocks. "Today for you, tomorrow for me, that's what I always say. Anyway, I had quite a bit of cash to spare tonight." Using his spare arm, he reached into the pocket of his fuzzy red coat and pulled out the stack of $50 bills.
Mark gawked openly at the sum of money. "I don't think I have seen that much cash in my entire life. How the hell did you pull that off?"
"I'll make a long story really really short; I met some woman on the street who wanted me to drum in her house to shut this dog up. I shut the dog up and she paid me. I guess that's it."
"Well, that's certainly the most interesting Christmas Eve story I've heard in quite some time," Mark said, laughing. "Well, it's a pleasure to have you here, Angel. It's really nice to meet you."
Reaching into the cupboard, which was almost entirely empty with the exception of a few bottles of Stoli, Collins pulled one out and held it up high in the air. "Here's to having an... eventful Christmas eve."
That elicited laughs, even a slight smile from Roger, still sulking on the table. "I'll drink to that," he mumbled.
Clearing his throat and still gripping tightly onto Angel's waist, Collins continued to hold the bottle in mid-air as he began to sing, "Joy to the world..."
"The Lord is come," a voice answered from the entrance of the door. While Angel was fighting off the incredible urge to jump Collins right on the spot, a familiar figure entered the loft. Angel knew right away who it was; that earring was very distinguishing. Benny.
Roger's face twisted into an even angrier sneer, if that was possible, as he glared in Benny's direction, his fiery green eyes burning holes in his head. "Nice to see ya, Rog," Benny remarked casually as he tried to shake Roger's hand, only to be greeted by his middle finger. "Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too."
Mark picked up the camera and began to film again. "Close on Benjamin Coffin the 3rd, Benny, our ex room mate. Long story short, he bought this building and the lot next door from his new father in law, once he married Allison Gray. His plans of starting a 'cyber studio' with Roger and I fell through once he abandoned us and demanded the rent. Some may wonder where his heart has gone, but I think it's gone right to his --."
"How goes it, Mark?" Benny interrupted, fixing his collar in front of the camera, "Heard about Maureen."
"Thanks for the sympathy, Benny. I'm always pleased to know I'm in your thoughts," Mark answered sarcastically, still filming the scene.
"Collins, my man. Long time no see," Benny greeted, holding his hand out for a shake. Abruptly, Collins snapped his arm down, avoiding any contact with Benny what so ever. He guided Angel over to the chair, previously occupied by Mark and sat him down. A protective arm remained on his shoulder at all times. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel crossed his legs, letting his feet rest for the first time since he'd put on those dreadfully high heels.
He tuned out Benny's drabble about rents, cyber studios, and Range Rovers to take in the scene. Only a few short hours ago, he had been sitting on the side of the street, drumming, and trying to think of ways to score a hot trick at Metropolis. Now, here he was in his old building, meeting new people with a new potential lover. Angel looked up at Collins, who was arguing over some inane business with Benny, and smiled in a way he never had before. For the first time in his entire life, he felt the empty space in his heart beginning to fill. Even when he was with Will, he had never felt like this. No man had ever had the capacity to make Angel feel the way Collins did, even in the short, short amount of time they had known each other. Hoping and praying to a God that he barely even believed existed, he shut his eyes briefly, "God, I know it's been a while since I've asked you for something. In fact, the last time was probably when my mother died. But I'm asking you now, God, please let this man... this Collins... become a part of my life. This feeling can't go away and even though I've only known him about two hours, I know that I'll never love anybody the way that I love him right now. God, I--."
Angel's deep prayer was interrupted by the lifting of his skirt, a sudden draft blowing up his legs. Letting out a very girly, very high-pitched shriek, he looked up to see who had violated him. The silver earring gave it away instantly. He was preparing to slap Benny when Collins stepped in front of him, creating a barrier between them. "Don't touch him," his deep voice boomed. He hadn't even spoken that loudly, but the intensity in his voice was enough to scare of anybody, even someone as cocky and self- absorbed as Benny.
"Whoa there buddy, did I hit a soft spot?" Benny asked, seemingly unfazed by Collins's verbal slap.
"Don't. Touch. Him," Collins stated again, helping Angel up and keeping an arm protectively around him. The two walked over to another chair that was more in the corner of the loft and Collins sat him down, making sure that Benny wouldn't be able to get to him again. "You alright?"
Angel beamed up at him, his eyes glowing with euphoric happiness. "I-I'm fine."
"Good. Sorry about Benny, he can be a real ass sometimes. Just ignore him. He'll be out of here soon enough anyway. Stupid bastard only comes here when he wants something." Collins now had both arms wrapped around Angel's neck, preventing him from moving.
*That's okay with me. I never want to leave your arms again*. "Speaking of what he wants... what, exactly, does he want?" Angel asked, feeling stupid for not being able to follow Benny's proposal.
"That's simple, sweet thing," Benny said, then twirled around to face Angel, his puffy blue jacket billowing out as he did so. He placed a hand gently on Angel's leg, causing the drag queen to flinch involuntarily.
"Hands off," Collins said, softly but firmly.
"Touchy," Benny mumbled, as he stood in front of Angel, his arms now crossed over his chest. "All you have to do," he continued, "is get Maureen to cancel her protest. She's dumb as rocks, she'll listen to whatever you have to say."
Angel could see Mark getting more annoyed by the minute. "She's not dumb as rocks and I'm not getting her to cancel her protest. What she's protesting is legitimate, and what you're proposing is fucking ludicrous! I'm not paying you an entire year's rent when you told Roger and I that we could live here for free."
"I told you, man," Benny said coolly, zipping up his coat as he headed towards the door, "Get her to cancel the protest, and I'll let you stay here for free. Think about it." He winked at them, and then exited.
"I think he could use some Prozac," Angel mumbled, causing Collins to throw back his head and laugh out loud.
"You got that right." His arms dropped from Angel's neck as the drag queen stood up, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly. Walking over to join a very angry Mark, and an even angrier Roger, Collins and Angel sat down on the table next to them.
"Hey, do any of you guys have the time?" Angel asked.
"Yeah, it's about a quarter after 9, why do you ask?" Mark said, looking at his watch. The band was so worn and beat up Angel was worried the watch would fall off and break. Well, we'll just have to get him a new band. This great new line came in at Dancing Queen a couple of weeks ago. Maybe he'd like the tiger print.
"Oh, well Collins and I have somewhere to go." *God, how I love saying 'Collins and I.'*
"Oh yeah, the reminds me. You guys are welcome to join us, if you want."
"I'd love to... wait, where are you headed?"
"Life Support. It's just a group for people coping with... well, life. A good friend of mine runs it. As he always says, the more the merrier!" Angel chirped cheerfully as he clutched onto Collins hand. He felt like he was really starting to form a connection with Mark. Roger, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The man was like a brick wall: unresponsive and hard to break.
"I'd really like to, guys, but I've gotta go help Maureen out. She called me in frantic hysterics looking for someone to help Joanne fix the equipment for tonight. I'll stop by if I finish early, though."
"I hate to be nosy," Angel began *That's a lie*, "but who's Maureen and Joanne?"
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mark pushed his glasses further up on his face and fiddled with the worn scarf draped around his neck. "Maureen is my ex and Joanne is her man."
Angel giggled, but stopped abruptly once he saw how angry Mark was. "I'm really sorry I mentioned it, I don't know you guys, I should have never --."
"No. Oh God, Angel, no it's not your fault. It's just a touchy subject, that's all," Mark explained, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.
"What about you, Roger?" Angel asked, "How would you like to come with us to Life Support?" He kept his hand laced with Collins's as he walked over to cautiously approach the musician.
"I'm not into the whole 'Let's hug each other and pretend that everything's okay' bullshit. Plus, I don't make very good company. I have a tendency to make mean, rude remarks," his eyes got a hint of amusement in them, "I wonder where people get that idea from."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Roger, behave. Besides, you need to get out anyway."
"I don't need to get out. I'm fine!" he snapped, once again retreating into his dark, angry shell.
"That's okay, he can catch up with us later, if he wants." Angel smiled and ruffled Roger's a bit, much to his annoyance. "We better get going."
"Nice meeting you, Angel. You'll both be at the protest, right?" Mark asked, as if he were pleading with them to come.
"Sure, we'll be there," Collins answered, leading Angel to the exit, "I wanna see what Maureen's up to these days anyway."
The couple began to exit as Mark pulled out his video camera. Filming Angel and Collins candidly, he began another soft narrative that nobody but himself could hear. "Close on Collins. This is his first night back in New York and the first day of the rest of his life. Close on Angel, the one who will change everything."
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A/N: GUESS WHO WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!!! This one actually came a lot easier than I thought it would. Hope you enjoy it. I'll Cover You is coming up very VERY soon. Good things are in the works. Review, please =)