Chapter 49: A Typical New York Christmas.
Shutting the loft door behind Angel, Collins looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry about them. They can be a little... tough to handle sometimes." Although he should have been fuming at the way Benny treated Angel, he was, more than anything, grateful to be out of the loft.
"Hey, it's okay. Just wait until you meet my friends. Try being around a bunch of catty, middle-aged drag queens. Honey, you don't know 'tough to handle' until you've met my crew." Angel giggled as his hand slipped comfortably into Collins's. The entire night had been this way—holding hands with each other to the point where nothing else felt natural.
"I can't wait," Collins said to him in a low, husky voice. The comment sent shivers down Angel's spine. The man had to do so little to drive Angel crazy. His eyes looked on at the tender face with longing.
"Well, we're headed to Life Support now. I really can't wait for you to meet Paul. He's a great guy. He was really supportive of me when I first got diagnosed." This was the first time since he had received the news that he was HIV positive that Angel had completely forgotten about the disease until the mention of Life Support. He had always felt like he was The HIV positive guy—like there was nobody else in this world who understood his condition. Sure, Mimi and Fred were positive too, but he just never felt like he could be completely normal around anyone when he had something they didn't: something that would eventually kill him.
"If you don't mind me asking," Collins asked as they proceeded down the stairs to the front exit of the building, "when did you get diagnosed?"
"It was a couple of years ago. It was one of those one-time things, you know?" Angel answered, not wanted to taint the evening with a terrifying tale of rape and betrayal.
"Like a one night stand?" Collins asked, his voice hinting as if he'd had more of his share of those.
"Not really. It's kind of a bloody story. I mean, I have no problem telling you, I just don't wanna ruin the conversation."
"Nothing you say would ever ruin our conversation," Collins said, blushing seconds later when he realized he had abandoned his code of "No romance" and said something so sappy.
Angel smiled wide, putting complete trust and faith in the man. "My ex was a junkie. I mean, for the majority of the time that we dated, he was clean, but a lot of things happened at the end of the relationship. So anyway, moral of the story is that we broke up, and then I saw him a few months later and he was in a fight with his dealer because I guess he owed the guy some money. Being the nosy little brat that I am, I had to know what was going on, and I refused to leave until he told me. Big mistake. This dealer guy said that if Will didn't pay up, then he'd use me as his payment instead. I didn't really understand what he meant until he unzipped his... and, well, I think you can figure the rest out." He spoke rapidly, barely pausing to take a breath. It was always hard to talk about the rape with people, but it was a lot easier with Collins. The man had interminable patience and seemed to understand every word that he was saying, devouring it as if he were hungry for every detail in Angel's life.
"I can't believe something like that would happen to you. This ex boyfriend—Will, did you say his name was? —He sounds like a real ass hole," Collins commented, feeling anger rise from the pit of his stomach. The thought of anyone hurting the beautiful creature next to him made him so enraged he could hardly breathe.
"Will? Oh my god, no. He's like my best friend, really."
Collins did a double take, stopping in his tracks and turning to Angel. "Your best friend?" he questioned, assuming he had heard wrong.
"Yeah. I mean, I never thought I'd be able to speak to him after our breakup, but he saved me from the dealer after I got raped and he was supportive when I tested positive. He even went to go get tested with me. I just ran into him a few months ago for the first time in a while and we started talking again. I see him almost every day. He's a good friend of the family, too, even though they didn't always like him."
Amazed, Collins shook his head. "I just don't know if I could ever forgive someone that easily. After the way he treated you, I don't know how you could even stand to be in the same room with him."
"Forgiveness isn't always easy, but it's the best choice, as far as I'm concerned," Angel said, softly.
His words were so simple, yet they held so much meaning. Collins had never thought like that before. "You're right."
Proceeding in silence for the next few minutes, lost in thought, they crossed a couple of streets lit by dim lamps. Breaking the eerie quiet, Angel turned to Collins. "So what about you? I bet you've got some crazy ex-boyfriend stories," Angel prodded, eager to hear about his former lovers.
Collins felt a slight flush come over his face. "There actually aren't any."
Once again, the pair stopped walking. Angel stared at him in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you're still a virgin?"
Collins let out a small chuckle. "A virgin in terms of love, yes. But in terms of sex? I lost that when I was fourteen."
Chewing on his bottom lip nervously, Angel stared deep into the dark eyes. Had he really never been in a relationship before? It certainly sounded as if he'd had enough sex to last a lifetime. "That's kind of young. How many guys were there?"
The slight flush that Collins felt moments ago turned into a full onset of embarrassment as he looked at Angel, sheepishly. "I don't remember. I lost count." His voice was small and quiet as if this was an incredibly difficult thing to admit.
Sensing the tension, Angel gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. I've had my fair share too. But I can't believe you've never been in a relationship before."
"I don't know, when I started having sex with all those guys, it felt nice. I liked being able to do it and go and not have to worry about hurting anyone. I guess I just got so used to feeling empty and doing one, or sometimes two-night stands that I thought that's all I'd ever get, so I didn't even look into the possibility of a relationship. I don't think I've ever really been on a real date before, now that I think about it." He had never admitted any of that to another human being in his life.
There was a slight air of tension that Angel didn't know how to make go away. Luckily, he didn't have to. "We're here!" he exclaimed, tugging on Collins's hand and leading him into the building as he knocked on Paul's door.
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"Hey Angel! Long time no see! I didn't know you were coming tonight!" Paul exclaimed, letting Angel in and watching cautiously as Collins trailed behind.
Dropping Collins's hand for a quick second, Angel gave Paul a warm hug and then resumed his grip on the dark strong hand next to him. "Paul, this is Tom Collins. Collins, this is Paul, the leader of Life Support a really good friend of mine."
"Nice to meet you," Paul greeted, showing a brilliant smile and shaking his free hand.
"You too," Collins said, trying his best to act suave and confident.
"You're just in time. Take a seat both of you, we're about to begin." The couple sat down, next to a beautiful blonde girl and a short, Puerto Rican guy. "Alright gang, we have a new member tonight. So let's start off by introducing ourselves, shall we?"
The Puerto Rican kid next to Collins raised his hand first. "Hey, I'm Steve. I'm positive and I've been coming to Life Support for about three years, but I've had HIV since I was ten."
A large, bony hand went up next, as the man next to Steve looked up from his lap for the first time since they'd begun their meeting. "Gordon," he mumbled, and immediately went back to fiddling with something on the floor.
"Ali," an adorable blonde girl piped in immediately after Gordon. "I'm here supporting my old friend, Pam."
"Hi, I'm Pam," a large black woman said right after Ali, looking at the blonde and smiling. "I'm positive as is my husband. He won't come to these meetings with me, so I drag Ali along."
The Asian girl next to Pam smiled shyly as she introduced herself. "Lisa," she said quietly. "I'm like Steve; I got HIV from a transfusion a while back."
The circle had looped around to Angel who was still holding on tightly to Collins's hand. "Hi, I'm Angel. I've been positive for a few years now and I've been coming to Life Support since I got diagnosed."
Finally, it was Collins's turn. Contrary to his usual suave, cool, calm demeanor, he was a sweating, shaking, nervous wreck. His eyes darted across the circle, looking at each member of the group with trepidation. "Collins. Tom Collins," he managed to get out, "I've had HIV for 7 years."
"Nice of you to join us, Collins," Paul interjected, graciously taking the spotlight off the anxious teacher. "I'm Paul, the leader of Life Support. Most of you have probably heard my speech at least ten times, but why don't you humor me and listen to it one more time. I started the Life Support group when my life partner, Nick, died from AIDS complications. He lived a full, happy life and never regretted a day of his life, even up until his last minutes on earth. His dying wish was for others to realize what he did: that if you busy yourself with regrets, you never have time to truly enjoy what you had. This is a support group for all people—negative and positive—coping with the struggles of the effects of HIV in their lives." He paused for a moment, watching everyone look at him intently. They still looked fascinated with his speech, even after hearing it countless times. "So, why don't we begin our affirmation?"
As if on cue, the front door of his apartment burst open as a stumbling blonde in a plaid coat and striped scarf almost fell into the room. "Oh, uh, sorry," he mumbled, picking up the old camera he had dropped on his fall in.
"That's alright. Welcome to Life Support. I'm Paul," he stuck out his hand, watching the filmmaker push his glasses up his nose and shake hands cautiously. "And you are..."
"Oh, Jesus, sorry. How rude of me. I'm here with them, I mean, I'm a friend of his," he pointed to Collins, "but I don't mean to..." His ramblings were getting out of control. Taking a deep breath, he decided to start over. "Mark Cohen."
Stifling giggles, Paul led Mark over to where Angel and Collins were sitting. Willingly, Steve gave up his seat to the filmmaker, helping to ease the awkwardness of his entrance. "It's nice to meet you, Mark, and thank you for joining us. Have a seat and join us. You're just in time."
Collins looked over at Mark with a very amused expression on his face. Mark's neurosis and quirky behavior never failed to keep him entertained.
"So," Paul continued, now that Mark was comfortably seated, "before I begin my weekly drabble, is there anything of utmost importance that any of you choose to discuss?"
Gordon's hand shot up in the air again. "Yeah, I'm having a bit of a problem with this 'no regrets' bullshit we keep talking about."
Despite his attempt to hide frustration under a brilliant smile, Paul still looked visibly peeved. "It's not bullshit, Gordon, but please go on."
"My T-cell count is low. Are you telling me that I should be grateful for this news? I regret," he put a sickeningly sweet accent on the word, "that, alright?"
In his usual understand fashion, Paul nodded. "Understandable. But, tell me something, Gordon," he continued as he usually did when Gordon pulled a stunt like this, "how are you feeling?"
"Pissed off and horny," he muttered.
A few awkward laughs escaped the mouths of some of the members, but Paul kept a stoic expression and continued. "I mean, health-wise, how are you feeling?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't felt this healthy in a long time," he admitted, reluctantly.
"Then why spend your time dwelling on the fact that your T-cell count is low? I know it's not easy to hear news like that. Hell, it's never easy to know that your health is declining. But what you need to be grateful for is that, yes, while maybe your count is low right now, you feel good. That's what important and that's what all of you need to realize."
"Look, I get the whole 'live in the moment, life is only what you make of it' garbage, but it's not as easy as you make it sound. I've been positive for a long time, and, according to all those wonderful medical statistics that I keep reading about, I was supposed to be dead three years ago. How do you think something like that makes me feel, knowing that I'm living on this borrowed time?"
Sympathetically, he looked at Gordon, trying to process what the man had just told him. "It's completely understandable why you're so upset. It's never easy to hear something like that, especially when you're dealing with these medical facts that the doctors like to shove in our faces. I'd tell you to ignore them and pretend like they don't exist, but the fact is that they do exist, and they always will. What's more important than any medicine or any diagnosis is the way you handle this news. As long as you're taking your AZT and making sure that you stay as healthy as you possibly can, you shouldn't dwell on any of the medical things."
The group smiled at his inspirational words and Collins looked over at Angel, who was completely mesmerized by Paul's speech. Every time he blinked his eyes, the glitter would sparkle and shimmer. He had never been attracted to the effeminate type before; most of the men that he liked were similar to himself: strong, tall, and, most of all, masculine. Angel contradicted all of those. The kid was short, tiny, and about as feminine as he could get without taking hormones. There was something about him, however, that was different than every other man. Somehow, the fact that Angel wore dresses, wigs, and makeup didn't turn him off, rather, it had the opposite effect. However turned on he was, though, he didn't just want to fuck him on the spot. He wanted to more than just have sex with Angel; he wanted to make love to him. He wanted to lie in bed and cuddle with him, hold him, and protect him. For a second, his face fell in disbelief. *I want a relationship with him. Wait a second... relationship? Me? Do... do I actually LOVE him?!*. Love had never been a word familiar to him, but tonight, on December 24th, 1997, Thomas B. Collins was officially introduced to it.
Mesmerized for the rest of the meeting, the encouraging words of Paul simply went in one ear and out the other. Before he knew what was happening, everyone was standing up around him and getting ready to leave.
"Thanks for such a great meeting, gang. Have a great, healthy, happy Christmas Eve and I'll see all of you on the 26th. Go spend time with your families and the people you love." Paul concluded the meeting, standing at the door, arms open to hug each attendee as they left.
"Thanks for letting me sit in, Paul," Mark said, prepared to shake his hand. Instead, the man pulled the filmmaker into a tight, friendly hug.
"It's not a problem, Mark. You're welcome here anytime you like. Every night we meet at 9:30. I'd love to see you again sometime."
Collins trailed behind Mark, prepared to wait outside for Angel. He figured the drag queen would want to talk to his friends, none of whom Collins had met before tonight.
"It was great that you joined us this evening, Tom," Paul said, interrupting Collins in his direct path to the door, "I think it meant a lot to Angel that you came with him."
Slightly confused, Collins smiled back. "I'm glad I came. This is a great group you run here."
"Thanks for the compliment. Feel free to join us again sometime. I'm sure Angel would be more than willing to accompany you, seeing as how he's here at least once a week."
"Will do. Thanks again," Collins replied, hugging him and waiting for Angel just outside the doorway.
Abandoning his position just inside the doorframe, Paul walked casually over to Angel, who was talking to Gordon.
"Believe me, honey, I know what you're going through. I've been there. You just gotta take it one day at a time, and everything will work itself out. Life has a funny way of doing that," the drag queen explained, holding one of Gordon's large hands in both of his own.
"Just when I think everyone here is full of shit, I talk to someone who actually makes some sense," Gordon admitted to Angel, managing a small smile, the first that he'd seen since he met the troubled man.
"Well, it's hard to listen to someone when you feel like they don't understand what you're going through. Hang in there, Gordon, it will get better. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything later."
"Thanks, Ang. Have fun on your date with that guy," Gordon said slyly, catching Angel off guard.
Blushing furiously, he broke eye contact with Gordon and started to chew his lip: a bad nervous habit of his. "Well, it's not really a...uh... date, it's just..."
"I'll see you later," Gordon laughed, hugging him and leaving, nearly knocking Paul over in the process.
"Will you be back tomorrow, Gordon?" Paul questioned, that comforting smile plastered on his face.
"I think so," he answered, hugging Paul as he made his exit.
"So... Angel," Paul began, watching as the drag queen began blushing furiously again, "how come you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend?"
Gasping, Angel laughed awkwardly. "He's not my boyfriend!" he yelped, trying desperately to cover up the fact that, more than anything, he would love to have Collins as his boyfriend. Hell, he'd give up his left arm just for a kiss from the guy. "He's just a guy that I met on the street. He got mugged and I felt bad so I brought him back to my place, and --."
"And the fact that he is completely hot wasn't a factor, I assume?" Paul asked, taking great pleasure in making Angel blush uncontrollably.
"Shh!" he giggled nervously, "He'll hear you!"
"So what if he does? He obviously thinks you're adorable too!" Paul exclaimed, grabbing onto Angel's hand excitedly. "So... have you done it yet?"
Confused, he cocked his head. "Done what?"
Paul's face fell in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Angel; you of all people should know what I'm talking about! Have you had sex with him yet?"
Angel yelped. "NO! I can barely talk to the guy without sounding like a stuttering idiot."
"Something tells me that you didn't need to have an intellectual discussion with all those other guys you've slept with." He had a point.
"That's true, but this one's different. And besides," Angel snapped back, getting that "diva" look on his face, as he often did when he was about to make a snappy comeback, "I thought you didn't like me sleeping around."
"Touché," Paul answered, impressed. "But you said this one's different. Go after him. Show him that he's different."
"You know what?" Angel answered, embracing Paul, "I think I will."
"Merry Christmas, Angel," Paul said, softly, as Angel left the room to go join up with Collins once again.
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Just outside the Life Support room, Collins stood next to Mark, watching Angel hold Gordon's hand, talking to him about something that obviously looked very important. "That was a really neat group," Mark commented, watching Collins stare longingly at the drag queen.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, it was," Collins replied, attempting to focus his attention on Mark, but having a difficult time when Angel was in plain sight.
"What is with you?" Mark asked, grabbing his friend by the arm and turning him so that he had his entire, undivided attention. "You're usually so easy going and laid back. What the hell happened to you at MIT? Did they give you some kind of serum that made you a nervous, bumbling mess?"
Collins laughed nervously. "Really, everything's fine. Couldn't be better." He wasn't lying.
"Well then what the hell is up with you? It's like one second you're—oh my God, it's Angel, isn't it?" Mark practically smacked himself in the head for being so stupid as to not realize the painfully obvious. "Oooh! Collins is in love!" Mark mocked.
"Shut up!" Collins said quickly, hitting him on the arm.
"I can't believe I didn't see it. You've never been like this with a guy before. I don't think I've ever even seen you spend this much time with one guy. Does he know?"
"I don't know," Collins answered quietly, yanking on a long dreadlock.
"I think he likes you too. I mean, he's been holding your hand all night and when he looks at you he has this huge smile on the face. Granted I don't know the guy or anything, and I'm never any good at this relationship stuff—look at me and Maureen, for God's sake—but it's very obvious that he cares about you."
"I'm not getting my hopes up," he said softly, still fiddling with the hair wrapped around his finger.
"What do you mean? You've never had hope before, anyway. You've never wanted or looked for a relationship with any of the other guys. Where's this sudden hope coming from?"
"He's different," Collins answered, simply.
"How is he different, besides the fact that he's the first boy you've brought home that wears wigs, dresses and lipstick?"
"Because he's the one that I can't have."
"What do you mean you can't have him? Uh, you already do. He's here with you, isn't he?"
"No, it's not that. It's... never mind, I guess I can't explain it."
"Try harder," Mark demanded, looking at Collins, expecting a full confession.
Sighing, he looked at the filmmaker, his eyes filled with a vulnerable fear. He wasn't an overly emotional person, but he'd never had a problem expression how he felt before. Now, just the thought of telling Mark that he might possibly love Angel made him shake. "With every other guy, it's like they're always the ones that go after me. I never have to work. With him, I do, because he's like me; the guys come after him, too, and I'm probably no different."
"Collins, if he looks at every guy who comes after him the way he looks at you, then it's a miracle that one hasn't stuck around. You're special to him, I can tell."
"I don't know..."
"Hey boys. Sorry that took so long," Angel chirped cheerfully, standing in front of Mark and Collins with a brilliant smile spread across his face.
"That's alright," Collins answered in his usual deep, sexy, sensual voice, hooking his arm around Angel's waist.
Fighting the incredibly urge to lean over and kiss him passionately, Angel responded to the gesture by inching closer to Collins and wrapping his own arm around his waist. "Where are we headed?" Angel asked, desperately trying to mask the anxiety and insecurity in his voice.
"We should probably head over to the lot. I've gotta stop at St. Mark's place first. Roger's running low on AZT and I told him I'd pick some up."
"Why can't he just get it himself?" asked Angel.
"Roger hasn't left the house in about six months. The chances of him changing his mind tonight aren't very likely."
"What's his deal? I mean, I don't want to be rude, but he's got a bad attitude and he's a recluse. What's up with him?"
"It's probably better if you don't know..." Collins responded, guiding Angel as they strolled down the streets on their way to the shops.
"It's just that... he's been a little bitter since his diagnosis, that's all."
"A little?" Collins asked, skeptically.
"Okay, a lot. Adjusting to something like that takes time. It's never easy."
"You have a point," Angel concurred.
The trio continued, Angel and Collins happily wrapped in each other's arms, and Mark with the camera hanging limp at his side. Out of nowhere, a black Lincoln town car sped down the small side street, nearly knocking them over.
"Honest living, man!" a guy with a squeegee and a bucket yelled after the car. "Feliz Navidad!" He put the squeegee back in the bucket half- full with water. "Bastard."
Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Angel pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Feliz Navidad a ti, hombre," he said softly, handing it over to the man.
"Muchas gracias!" he exclaimed, looking at the crumpled bill in disbelief. "Tú eres una santa, señorita!"
"You are unbelievable," Collins commented, hugging Angel even closer to his body.
Blushing furiously at the compliment, Angel smiled and leaned into Collins.
Sleeping on a rotting park bench was an overweight woman, her body covered in thinning winter coats. An army of three policemen dressed in washed out blue uniforms marched up behind the woman. Immediately, Mark turned on his camera to film the incident. Roughly, the policemen poked the sleeping woman with their nightsticks until she awoke from a fitful slumber.
"Evening, officer," a homeless man mumbled as he strolled by. The cops turned around and found themselves staring into the clear lens of the video camera.
"Smile for the camera, officer..." Mark paused for a second, squinting at the officer's badge, "Martin."
With only a grunt, the policemen proceeded to march off the premises leaving the woman who had just been woken up and another woman who appeared to be a friend of hers, behind. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with dry hands, attempting to rid them from sleep. Groggily, she looked at Mark, bitterness and anger flashing across her dark, dirty face. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Filming me for some goddamn film school documentary, are you? Well, let me tell you something, mister artist, my life is not for you to film."
As usual, Angel was willing to do anything to avoid confrontation. "Take it easy, honey, he was trying to—."
"Angel..." Collins mumbled, wrapping his arms around him, pulling the boy to his chest.
"Just trying to do what, exactly? Use my misery for his success?" She snapped at him, practically lunging at the drag queen. Protectively, Collins hugged Angel to him, subtly glaring at the woman. From now on, nobody would lay a hand on Angel without Collins's approval. "Let's go," the woman continued, motioning for her friend to follow. "This damn street's always full of mother fuckin' artist. Hey, artist?" she barked back in Mark's direction, "You got a dollar?" Her friend shook a coffee can that rattled with a few coins inside.
Shamefully, Mark put the camera down to his side again and looked away from her.
"Yeah, I thought not," she grumbled, walking away.
"Ah, New York," Collins sighed, watching the woman disappear into the darkness. "It's good to be home," he remarked sarcastically.
"It's the center of the universe, you know," Angel piped in, remembering how Queenie would always say that whenever someone would complain about living in the city.
"I've always wanted to get out of here," Mark admitted, turning on his camera, once again, to film the scene. This particular side street that they were on was even more run down and decrepit than the last few blocks they'd explored. Homeless people lined the sidewalks, sleeping under boxes, garbage cans, or whatever they could find to keep themselves moderately warm. Crumbling concrete and building completely defaced with graffiti stood proudly next to one another. Such buildings were seen throughout the area; the East Village would not be complete without them. It was a beautifully raw scene to film.
"Where do you want to go?" Angel asked thinking about how he himself had always wanted to leave.
"I don't know, anywhere but here? I grew up in Scarsdale and then I moved here when I went to film school at NYU. The only place I ever traveled to was Boca Raton in Florida when I was a kid, and that was only to visit my ancient grandmother."
"What about you, Angel?" Collins asked, relishing the warmth he felt as Angel's body leaned against his own. "Have you ever wanted to leave here?"
"I mean, I've thought about it. I went to Peru a few times with my family, but, aside from that, I haven't left. There's a lot of opportunity here, though. Queenie's a Chinese immigrant and whenever anybody complains about living here, she always says that they should be lucky to live in a place like this, because it could be a lot worse. But, yeah, I've always wanted to travel somewhere—maybe for just a visit."
"Uh, who's Queenie?" Mark asked.
"Oh, she's like my mother. Long story, I'll explain later."
"Well, I've always wanted to go to the southwest, especially Santa Fe. I passed through there once with this college radical group I was in. it was so amazing there. I'd love to... I don't know, maybe open up a restaurant or something. Some cool, exotic, vegetarian place that poor people like us would be able to afford."
"You cook?" Angel asked, intrigued. He always thought it was unbelievably sexy when men could cook. Ironic that he was with Will for so long: a man who couldn't even get the food out of the can safely. Angel nearly laughed out loud remembering that fateful night when he and Will decided to cook their own dinner. That was a disaster. A fun disaster, but a disaster nonetheless.
"Are you kidding? Collins is an amazing cook. Whenever we had enough money, he'd get some ingredients and cook these crazy vegetarian dishes for us."
"Wow. You don't strike me as the cooking type."
"Well, I'll have to cook for you sometime and you can see for yourself."
Both of them awkwardly let go of each other, blushing like mad. Mark grinned, the camera filming the uneasy interactions between Angel and Collins. "Well guys, I hate to leave you like this, but I need to get to St. Mark's to pick up Roger's prescription. If I have the time, maybe I'll try and drag him out of the house. It's at the 11th street lot between A and B. See you there!" he called, walking away, only to feel a death grip on his shoulder.
"Mark!" Collins whispered to him, "You can't leave me alone with him."
"It's about time you two got together already, and I know that you won't do it while I'm here."
"Just... don't go!" Collins pleaded. The man rarely acted this way. Normally, he was the one comforting and supporting his friends. Tonight, the roles were reversed, and Mark was quite enjoying it.
"You love him. Tell him that."
In an instant, Mark was gone, a trail of smoke from a Marlboro cigarette following him. He could feel his heart nearly beating its way out of his chest as he turned to face the drag queen, who looked just as nervous.
A small smile crept onto Angel's lips. "Alone at last," he said, softly.
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A/N: Hope enjoyed this one. And it's a LONG one.
Shutting the loft door behind Angel, Collins looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry about them. They can be a little... tough to handle sometimes." Although he should have been fuming at the way Benny treated Angel, he was, more than anything, grateful to be out of the loft.
"Hey, it's okay. Just wait until you meet my friends. Try being around a bunch of catty, middle-aged drag queens. Honey, you don't know 'tough to handle' until you've met my crew." Angel giggled as his hand slipped comfortably into Collins's. The entire night had been this way—holding hands with each other to the point where nothing else felt natural.
"I can't wait," Collins said to him in a low, husky voice. The comment sent shivers down Angel's spine. The man had to do so little to drive Angel crazy. His eyes looked on at the tender face with longing.
"Well, we're headed to Life Support now. I really can't wait for you to meet Paul. He's a great guy. He was really supportive of me when I first got diagnosed." This was the first time since he had received the news that he was HIV positive that Angel had completely forgotten about the disease until the mention of Life Support. He had always felt like he was The HIV positive guy—like there was nobody else in this world who understood his condition. Sure, Mimi and Fred were positive too, but he just never felt like he could be completely normal around anyone when he had something they didn't: something that would eventually kill him.
"If you don't mind me asking," Collins asked as they proceeded down the stairs to the front exit of the building, "when did you get diagnosed?"
"It was a couple of years ago. It was one of those one-time things, you know?" Angel answered, not wanted to taint the evening with a terrifying tale of rape and betrayal.
"Like a one night stand?" Collins asked, his voice hinting as if he'd had more of his share of those.
"Not really. It's kind of a bloody story. I mean, I have no problem telling you, I just don't wanna ruin the conversation."
"Nothing you say would ever ruin our conversation," Collins said, blushing seconds later when he realized he had abandoned his code of "No romance" and said something so sappy.
Angel smiled wide, putting complete trust and faith in the man. "My ex was a junkie. I mean, for the majority of the time that we dated, he was clean, but a lot of things happened at the end of the relationship. So anyway, moral of the story is that we broke up, and then I saw him a few months later and he was in a fight with his dealer because I guess he owed the guy some money. Being the nosy little brat that I am, I had to know what was going on, and I refused to leave until he told me. Big mistake. This dealer guy said that if Will didn't pay up, then he'd use me as his payment instead. I didn't really understand what he meant until he unzipped his... and, well, I think you can figure the rest out." He spoke rapidly, barely pausing to take a breath. It was always hard to talk about the rape with people, but it was a lot easier with Collins. The man had interminable patience and seemed to understand every word that he was saying, devouring it as if he were hungry for every detail in Angel's life.
"I can't believe something like that would happen to you. This ex boyfriend—Will, did you say his name was? —He sounds like a real ass hole," Collins commented, feeling anger rise from the pit of his stomach. The thought of anyone hurting the beautiful creature next to him made him so enraged he could hardly breathe.
"Will? Oh my god, no. He's like my best friend, really."
Collins did a double take, stopping in his tracks and turning to Angel. "Your best friend?" he questioned, assuming he had heard wrong.
"Yeah. I mean, I never thought I'd be able to speak to him after our breakup, but he saved me from the dealer after I got raped and he was supportive when I tested positive. He even went to go get tested with me. I just ran into him a few months ago for the first time in a while and we started talking again. I see him almost every day. He's a good friend of the family, too, even though they didn't always like him."
Amazed, Collins shook his head. "I just don't know if I could ever forgive someone that easily. After the way he treated you, I don't know how you could even stand to be in the same room with him."
"Forgiveness isn't always easy, but it's the best choice, as far as I'm concerned," Angel said, softly.
His words were so simple, yet they held so much meaning. Collins had never thought like that before. "You're right."
Proceeding in silence for the next few minutes, lost in thought, they crossed a couple of streets lit by dim lamps. Breaking the eerie quiet, Angel turned to Collins. "So what about you? I bet you've got some crazy ex-boyfriend stories," Angel prodded, eager to hear about his former lovers.
Collins felt a slight flush come over his face. "There actually aren't any."
Once again, the pair stopped walking. Angel stared at him in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you're still a virgin?"
Collins let out a small chuckle. "A virgin in terms of love, yes. But in terms of sex? I lost that when I was fourteen."
Chewing on his bottom lip nervously, Angel stared deep into the dark eyes. Had he really never been in a relationship before? It certainly sounded as if he'd had enough sex to last a lifetime. "That's kind of young. How many guys were there?"
The slight flush that Collins felt moments ago turned into a full onset of embarrassment as he looked at Angel, sheepishly. "I don't remember. I lost count." His voice was small and quiet as if this was an incredibly difficult thing to admit.
Sensing the tension, Angel gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. I've had my fair share too. But I can't believe you've never been in a relationship before."
"I don't know, when I started having sex with all those guys, it felt nice. I liked being able to do it and go and not have to worry about hurting anyone. I guess I just got so used to feeling empty and doing one, or sometimes two-night stands that I thought that's all I'd ever get, so I didn't even look into the possibility of a relationship. I don't think I've ever really been on a real date before, now that I think about it." He had never admitted any of that to another human being in his life.
There was a slight air of tension that Angel didn't know how to make go away. Luckily, he didn't have to. "We're here!" he exclaimed, tugging on Collins's hand and leading him into the building as he knocked on Paul's door.
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"Hey Angel! Long time no see! I didn't know you were coming tonight!" Paul exclaimed, letting Angel in and watching cautiously as Collins trailed behind.
Dropping Collins's hand for a quick second, Angel gave Paul a warm hug and then resumed his grip on the dark strong hand next to him. "Paul, this is Tom Collins. Collins, this is Paul, the leader of Life Support a really good friend of mine."
"Nice to meet you," Paul greeted, showing a brilliant smile and shaking his free hand.
"You too," Collins said, trying his best to act suave and confident.
"You're just in time. Take a seat both of you, we're about to begin." The couple sat down, next to a beautiful blonde girl and a short, Puerto Rican guy. "Alright gang, we have a new member tonight. So let's start off by introducing ourselves, shall we?"
The Puerto Rican kid next to Collins raised his hand first. "Hey, I'm Steve. I'm positive and I've been coming to Life Support for about three years, but I've had HIV since I was ten."
A large, bony hand went up next, as the man next to Steve looked up from his lap for the first time since they'd begun their meeting. "Gordon," he mumbled, and immediately went back to fiddling with something on the floor.
"Ali," an adorable blonde girl piped in immediately after Gordon. "I'm here supporting my old friend, Pam."
"Hi, I'm Pam," a large black woman said right after Ali, looking at the blonde and smiling. "I'm positive as is my husband. He won't come to these meetings with me, so I drag Ali along."
The Asian girl next to Pam smiled shyly as she introduced herself. "Lisa," she said quietly. "I'm like Steve; I got HIV from a transfusion a while back."
The circle had looped around to Angel who was still holding on tightly to Collins's hand. "Hi, I'm Angel. I've been positive for a few years now and I've been coming to Life Support since I got diagnosed."
Finally, it was Collins's turn. Contrary to his usual suave, cool, calm demeanor, he was a sweating, shaking, nervous wreck. His eyes darted across the circle, looking at each member of the group with trepidation. "Collins. Tom Collins," he managed to get out, "I've had HIV for 7 years."
"Nice of you to join us, Collins," Paul interjected, graciously taking the spotlight off the anxious teacher. "I'm Paul, the leader of Life Support. Most of you have probably heard my speech at least ten times, but why don't you humor me and listen to it one more time. I started the Life Support group when my life partner, Nick, died from AIDS complications. He lived a full, happy life and never regretted a day of his life, even up until his last minutes on earth. His dying wish was for others to realize what he did: that if you busy yourself with regrets, you never have time to truly enjoy what you had. This is a support group for all people—negative and positive—coping with the struggles of the effects of HIV in their lives." He paused for a moment, watching everyone look at him intently. They still looked fascinated with his speech, even after hearing it countless times. "So, why don't we begin our affirmation?"
As if on cue, the front door of his apartment burst open as a stumbling blonde in a plaid coat and striped scarf almost fell into the room. "Oh, uh, sorry," he mumbled, picking up the old camera he had dropped on his fall in.
"That's alright. Welcome to Life Support. I'm Paul," he stuck out his hand, watching the filmmaker push his glasses up his nose and shake hands cautiously. "And you are..."
"Oh, Jesus, sorry. How rude of me. I'm here with them, I mean, I'm a friend of his," he pointed to Collins, "but I don't mean to..." His ramblings were getting out of control. Taking a deep breath, he decided to start over. "Mark Cohen."
Stifling giggles, Paul led Mark over to where Angel and Collins were sitting. Willingly, Steve gave up his seat to the filmmaker, helping to ease the awkwardness of his entrance. "It's nice to meet you, Mark, and thank you for joining us. Have a seat and join us. You're just in time."
Collins looked over at Mark with a very amused expression on his face. Mark's neurosis and quirky behavior never failed to keep him entertained.
"So," Paul continued, now that Mark was comfortably seated, "before I begin my weekly drabble, is there anything of utmost importance that any of you choose to discuss?"
Gordon's hand shot up in the air again. "Yeah, I'm having a bit of a problem with this 'no regrets' bullshit we keep talking about."
Despite his attempt to hide frustration under a brilliant smile, Paul still looked visibly peeved. "It's not bullshit, Gordon, but please go on."
"My T-cell count is low. Are you telling me that I should be grateful for this news? I regret," he put a sickeningly sweet accent on the word, "that, alright?"
In his usual understand fashion, Paul nodded. "Understandable. But, tell me something, Gordon," he continued as he usually did when Gordon pulled a stunt like this, "how are you feeling?"
"Pissed off and horny," he muttered.
A few awkward laughs escaped the mouths of some of the members, but Paul kept a stoic expression and continued. "I mean, health-wise, how are you feeling?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't felt this healthy in a long time," he admitted, reluctantly.
"Then why spend your time dwelling on the fact that your T-cell count is low? I know it's not easy to hear news like that. Hell, it's never easy to know that your health is declining. But what you need to be grateful for is that, yes, while maybe your count is low right now, you feel good. That's what important and that's what all of you need to realize."
"Look, I get the whole 'live in the moment, life is only what you make of it' garbage, but it's not as easy as you make it sound. I've been positive for a long time, and, according to all those wonderful medical statistics that I keep reading about, I was supposed to be dead three years ago. How do you think something like that makes me feel, knowing that I'm living on this borrowed time?"
Sympathetically, he looked at Gordon, trying to process what the man had just told him. "It's completely understandable why you're so upset. It's never easy to hear something like that, especially when you're dealing with these medical facts that the doctors like to shove in our faces. I'd tell you to ignore them and pretend like they don't exist, but the fact is that they do exist, and they always will. What's more important than any medicine or any diagnosis is the way you handle this news. As long as you're taking your AZT and making sure that you stay as healthy as you possibly can, you shouldn't dwell on any of the medical things."
The group smiled at his inspirational words and Collins looked over at Angel, who was completely mesmerized by Paul's speech. Every time he blinked his eyes, the glitter would sparkle and shimmer. He had never been attracted to the effeminate type before; most of the men that he liked were similar to himself: strong, tall, and, most of all, masculine. Angel contradicted all of those. The kid was short, tiny, and about as feminine as he could get without taking hormones. There was something about him, however, that was different than every other man. Somehow, the fact that Angel wore dresses, wigs, and makeup didn't turn him off, rather, it had the opposite effect. However turned on he was, though, he didn't just want to fuck him on the spot. He wanted to more than just have sex with Angel; he wanted to make love to him. He wanted to lie in bed and cuddle with him, hold him, and protect him. For a second, his face fell in disbelief. *I want a relationship with him. Wait a second... relationship? Me? Do... do I actually LOVE him?!*. Love had never been a word familiar to him, but tonight, on December 24th, 1997, Thomas B. Collins was officially introduced to it.
Mesmerized for the rest of the meeting, the encouraging words of Paul simply went in one ear and out the other. Before he knew what was happening, everyone was standing up around him and getting ready to leave.
"Thanks for such a great meeting, gang. Have a great, healthy, happy Christmas Eve and I'll see all of you on the 26th. Go spend time with your families and the people you love." Paul concluded the meeting, standing at the door, arms open to hug each attendee as they left.
"Thanks for letting me sit in, Paul," Mark said, prepared to shake his hand. Instead, the man pulled the filmmaker into a tight, friendly hug.
"It's not a problem, Mark. You're welcome here anytime you like. Every night we meet at 9:30. I'd love to see you again sometime."
Collins trailed behind Mark, prepared to wait outside for Angel. He figured the drag queen would want to talk to his friends, none of whom Collins had met before tonight.
"It was great that you joined us this evening, Tom," Paul said, interrupting Collins in his direct path to the door, "I think it meant a lot to Angel that you came with him."
Slightly confused, Collins smiled back. "I'm glad I came. This is a great group you run here."
"Thanks for the compliment. Feel free to join us again sometime. I'm sure Angel would be more than willing to accompany you, seeing as how he's here at least once a week."
"Will do. Thanks again," Collins replied, hugging him and waiting for Angel just outside the doorway.
Abandoning his position just inside the doorframe, Paul walked casually over to Angel, who was talking to Gordon.
"Believe me, honey, I know what you're going through. I've been there. You just gotta take it one day at a time, and everything will work itself out. Life has a funny way of doing that," the drag queen explained, holding one of Gordon's large hands in both of his own.
"Just when I think everyone here is full of shit, I talk to someone who actually makes some sense," Gordon admitted to Angel, managing a small smile, the first that he'd seen since he met the troubled man.
"Well, it's hard to listen to someone when you feel like they don't understand what you're going through. Hang in there, Gordon, it will get better. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything later."
"Thanks, Ang. Have fun on your date with that guy," Gordon said slyly, catching Angel off guard.
Blushing furiously, he broke eye contact with Gordon and started to chew his lip: a bad nervous habit of his. "Well, it's not really a...uh... date, it's just..."
"I'll see you later," Gordon laughed, hugging him and leaving, nearly knocking Paul over in the process.
"Will you be back tomorrow, Gordon?" Paul questioned, that comforting smile plastered on his face.
"I think so," he answered, hugging Paul as he made his exit.
"So... Angel," Paul began, watching as the drag queen began blushing furiously again, "how come you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend?"
Gasping, Angel laughed awkwardly. "He's not my boyfriend!" he yelped, trying desperately to cover up the fact that, more than anything, he would love to have Collins as his boyfriend. Hell, he'd give up his left arm just for a kiss from the guy. "He's just a guy that I met on the street. He got mugged and I felt bad so I brought him back to my place, and --."
"And the fact that he is completely hot wasn't a factor, I assume?" Paul asked, taking great pleasure in making Angel blush uncontrollably.
"Shh!" he giggled nervously, "He'll hear you!"
"So what if he does? He obviously thinks you're adorable too!" Paul exclaimed, grabbing onto Angel's hand excitedly. "So... have you done it yet?"
Confused, he cocked his head. "Done what?"
Paul's face fell in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Angel; you of all people should know what I'm talking about! Have you had sex with him yet?"
Angel yelped. "NO! I can barely talk to the guy without sounding like a stuttering idiot."
"Something tells me that you didn't need to have an intellectual discussion with all those other guys you've slept with." He had a point.
"That's true, but this one's different. And besides," Angel snapped back, getting that "diva" look on his face, as he often did when he was about to make a snappy comeback, "I thought you didn't like me sleeping around."
"Touché," Paul answered, impressed. "But you said this one's different. Go after him. Show him that he's different."
"You know what?" Angel answered, embracing Paul, "I think I will."
"Merry Christmas, Angel," Paul said, softly, as Angel left the room to go join up with Collins once again.
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Just outside the Life Support room, Collins stood next to Mark, watching Angel hold Gordon's hand, talking to him about something that obviously looked very important. "That was a really neat group," Mark commented, watching Collins stare longingly at the drag queen.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, it was," Collins replied, attempting to focus his attention on Mark, but having a difficult time when Angel was in plain sight.
"What is with you?" Mark asked, grabbing his friend by the arm and turning him so that he had his entire, undivided attention. "You're usually so easy going and laid back. What the hell happened to you at MIT? Did they give you some kind of serum that made you a nervous, bumbling mess?"
Collins laughed nervously. "Really, everything's fine. Couldn't be better." He wasn't lying.
"Well then what the hell is up with you? It's like one second you're—oh my God, it's Angel, isn't it?" Mark practically smacked himself in the head for being so stupid as to not realize the painfully obvious. "Oooh! Collins is in love!" Mark mocked.
"Shut up!" Collins said quickly, hitting him on the arm.
"I can't believe I didn't see it. You've never been like this with a guy before. I don't think I've ever even seen you spend this much time with one guy. Does he know?"
"I don't know," Collins answered quietly, yanking on a long dreadlock.
"I think he likes you too. I mean, he's been holding your hand all night and when he looks at you he has this huge smile on the face. Granted I don't know the guy or anything, and I'm never any good at this relationship stuff—look at me and Maureen, for God's sake—but it's very obvious that he cares about you."
"I'm not getting my hopes up," he said softly, still fiddling with the hair wrapped around his finger.
"What do you mean? You've never had hope before, anyway. You've never wanted or looked for a relationship with any of the other guys. Where's this sudden hope coming from?"
"He's different," Collins answered, simply.
"How is he different, besides the fact that he's the first boy you've brought home that wears wigs, dresses and lipstick?"
"Because he's the one that I can't have."
"What do you mean you can't have him? Uh, you already do. He's here with you, isn't he?"
"No, it's not that. It's... never mind, I guess I can't explain it."
"Try harder," Mark demanded, looking at Collins, expecting a full confession.
Sighing, he looked at the filmmaker, his eyes filled with a vulnerable fear. He wasn't an overly emotional person, but he'd never had a problem expression how he felt before. Now, just the thought of telling Mark that he might possibly love Angel made him shake. "With every other guy, it's like they're always the ones that go after me. I never have to work. With him, I do, because he's like me; the guys come after him, too, and I'm probably no different."
"Collins, if he looks at every guy who comes after him the way he looks at you, then it's a miracle that one hasn't stuck around. You're special to him, I can tell."
"I don't know..."
"Hey boys. Sorry that took so long," Angel chirped cheerfully, standing in front of Mark and Collins with a brilliant smile spread across his face.
"That's alright," Collins answered in his usual deep, sexy, sensual voice, hooking his arm around Angel's waist.
Fighting the incredibly urge to lean over and kiss him passionately, Angel responded to the gesture by inching closer to Collins and wrapping his own arm around his waist. "Where are we headed?" Angel asked, desperately trying to mask the anxiety and insecurity in his voice.
"We should probably head over to the lot. I've gotta stop at St. Mark's place first. Roger's running low on AZT and I told him I'd pick some up."
"Why can't he just get it himself?" asked Angel.
"Roger hasn't left the house in about six months. The chances of him changing his mind tonight aren't very likely."
"What's his deal? I mean, I don't want to be rude, but he's got a bad attitude and he's a recluse. What's up with him?"
"It's probably better if you don't know..." Collins responded, guiding Angel as they strolled down the streets on their way to the shops.
"It's just that... he's been a little bitter since his diagnosis, that's all."
"A little?" Collins asked, skeptically.
"Okay, a lot. Adjusting to something like that takes time. It's never easy."
"You have a point," Angel concurred.
The trio continued, Angel and Collins happily wrapped in each other's arms, and Mark with the camera hanging limp at his side. Out of nowhere, a black Lincoln town car sped down the small side street, nearly knocking them over.
"Honest living, man!" a guy with a squeegee and a bucket yelled after the car. "Feliz Navidad!" He put the squeegee back in the bucket half- full with water. "Bastard."
Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Angel pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Feliz Navidad a ti, hombre," he said softly, handing it over to the man.
"Muchas gracias!" he exclaimed, looking at the crumpled bill in disbelief. "Tú eres una santa, señorita!"
"You are unbelievable," Collins commented, hugging Angel even closer to his body.
Blushing furiously at the compliment, Angel smiled and leaned into Collins.
Sleeping on a rotting park bench was an overweight woman, her body covered in thinning winter coats. An army of three policemen dressed in washed out blue uniforms marched up behind the woman. Immediately, Mark turned on his camera to film the incident. Roughly, the policemen poked the sleeping woman with their nightsticks until she awoke from a fitful slumber.
"Evening, officer," a homeless man mumbled as he strolled by. The cops turned around and found themselves staring into the clear lens of the video camera.
"Smile for the camera, officer..." Mark paused for a second, squinting at the officer's badge, "Martin."
With only a grunt, the policemen proceeded to march off the premises leaving the woman who had just been woken up and another woman who appeared to be a friend of hers, behind. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with dry hands, attempting to rid them from sleep. Groggily, she looked at Mark, bitterness and anger flashing across her dark, dirty face. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Filming me for some goddamn film school documentary, are you? Well, let me tell you something, mister artist, my life is not for you to film."
As usual, Angel was willing to do anything to avoid confrontation. "Take it easy, honey, he was trying to—."
"Angel..." Collins mumbled, wrapping his arms around him, pulling the boy to his chest.
"Just trying to do what, exactly? Use my misery for his success?" She snapped at him, practically lunging at the drag queen. Protectively, Collins hugged Angel to him, subtly glaring at the woman. From now on, nobody would lay a hand on Angel without Collins's approval. "Let's go," the woman continued, motioning for her friend to follow. "This damn street's always full of mother fuckin' artist. Hey, artist?" she barked back in Mark's direction, "You got a dollar?" Her friend shook a coffee can that rattled with a few coins inside.
Shamefully, Mark put the camera down to his side again and looked away from her.
"Yeah, I thought not," she grumbled, walking away.
"Ah, New York," Collins sighed, watching the woman disappear into the darkness. "It's good to be home," he remarked sarcastically.
"It's the center of the universe, you know," Angel piped in, remembering how Queenie would always say that whenever someone would complain about living in the city.
"I've always wanted to get out of here," Mark admitted, turning on his camera, once again, to film the scene. This particular side street that they were on was even more run down and decrepit than the last few blocks they'd explored. Homeless people lined the sidewalks, sleeping under boxes, garbage cans, or whatever they could find to keep themselves moderately warm. Crumbling concrete and building completely defaced with graffiti stood proudly next to one another. Such buildings were seen throughout the area; the East Village would not be complete without them. It was a beautifully raw scene to film.
"Where do you want to go?" Angel asked thinking about how he himself had always wanted to leave.
"I don't know, anywhere but here? I grew up in Scarsdale and then I moved here when I went to film school at NYU. The only place I ever traveled to was Boca Raton in Florida when I was a kid, and that was only to visit my ancient grandmother."
"What about you, Angel?" Collins asked, relishing the warmth he felt as Angel's body leaned against his own. "Have you ever wanted to leave here?"
"I mean, I've thought about it. I went to Peru a few times with my family, but, aside from that, I haven't left. There's a lot of opportunity here, though. Queenie's a Chinese immigrant and whenever anybody complains about living here, she always says that they should be lucky to live in a place like this, because it could be a lot worse. But, yeah, I've always wanted to travel somewhere—maybe for just a visit."
"Uh, who's Queenie?" Mark asked.
"Oh, she's like my mother. Long story, I'll explain later."
"Well, I've always wanted to go to the southwest, especially Santa Fe. I passed through there once with this college radical group I was in. it was so amazing there. I'd love to... I don't know, maybe open up a restaurant or something. Some cool, exotic, vegetarian place that poor people like us would be able to afford."
"You cook?" Angel asked, intrigued. He always thought it was unbelievably sexy when men could cook. Ironic that he was with Will for so long: a man who couldn't even get the food out of the can safely. Angel nearly laughed out loud remembering that fateful night when he and Will decided to cook their own dinner. That was a disaster. A fun disaster, but a disaster nonetheless.
"Are you kidding? Collins is an amazing cook. Whenever we had enough money, he'd get some ingredients and cook these crazy vegetarian dishes for us."
"Wow. You don't strike me as the cooking type."
"Well, I'll have to cook for you sometime and you can see for yourself."
Both of them awkwardly let go of each other, blushing like mad. Mark grinned, the camera filming the uneasy interactions between Angel and Collins. "Well guys, I hate to leave you like this, but I need to get to St. Mark's to pick up Roger's prescription. If I have the time, maybe I'll try and drag him out of the house. It's at the 11th street lot between A and B. See you there!" he called, walking away, only to feel a death grip on his shoulder.
"Mark!" Collins whispered to him, "You can't leave me alone with him."
"It's about time you two got together already, and I know that you won't do it while I'm here."
"Just... don't go!" Collins pleaded. The man rarely acted this way. Normally, he was the one comforting and supporting his friends. Tonight, the roles were reversed, and Mark was quite enjoying it.
"You love him. Tell him that."
In an instant, Mark was gone, a trail of smoke from a Marlboro cigarette following him. He could feel his heart nearly beating its way out of his chest as he turned to face the drag queen, who looked just as nervous.
A small smile crept onto Angel's lips. "Alone at last," he said, softly.
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A/N: Hope enjoyed this one. And it's a LONG one.