As I sat there, watching everyone swarm around me, the huge weight on my chest was getting heavier and heavier. I knew soon I'd have to talk to people. Especially Mark. He is always trying to make me feel better.
From behind me I heard a soft thud as someone sat down next to me in the cheap plastic hospital chairs. Collins, he had a tears running down his cheeks. At least he knew where I was coming from. It had been alittle over a year since Angel's death. I wondered if he felt this way when she died.
"It's going to be alright, Roger." I felt Collin's huge hand on my shoulder. I was trying to be stroong, trying not to cry, not here, not where everyone could see.
Collin pulled me into a deep embrace. Still I pushed back the tears that were surfacing on my eyes. I didn't want the others to think I was weak.
"Cry, Roger. It'll help."
And before I knew the tears started flowing. One by one.I vaguely remember one falling down Collins's jacket; it rolling down the side of his body until reaching the end, then dropping off unto the fithly floor.
While my face was buried deep into Collins shoulders, I heard Mark's voice from somewhere behind me. I couldn't for sure, lift my head up now. Mark was my best friend and savior; no way was he seeing me, bawling into my big gay friend's chest.