Destroyed… rebuilt?
SUMMARY: An adulterous affair destroyed him. It broke his lover. He flees New York. His lover is left to pick up the pieces and move on. Time passes. Love doesn't. He must return, and face the one he dreads to face, the one who he had betrayed. Old feelings, old resentments, old chances are revisited and the decision comes to pass… what is a destroyed lover supposed to do?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from RENT; they belonged to Mr. Jonathan Larson and passed onto his estate upon his death. In other words, they aren't mine.
He stared deep into what he thought was an abyss. A never ending darkness that seemed to swallow everything it touched, and now nothingness surrounded his heart; his mind; his soul… it wasn't fair. His love had been so deep and pure, that he thought it could never be matched, and only reciprocated by the one person he saw as his equal and his only one. But apparently, nothing ever is as it seems – and nothing is ever as deep as it could be, not when there is so much injustice and difference in what makes an imperfect world. Still. It had been good while it lasted. Breathtakingly amazing in fact. And now it was gone.
But the abyss what he thought was actually looking into was nothing more than the refrigerator as he stood there, deciding what to drink out of the few contents that remained. His eyes were empty… dead. No life remained in what once was such a lively and happy being, and that's what was the most disturbing of all, because he was no longer the same person. Time seemed to stop and actually tick backwards, for there was no sound but the constant ticking of the clock on the wall, with each tick digging a deeper hole in his heart.
It was warm Sunday night, in what was turning out to be a moderately warm May, and for the past month life just seemed to disappear before him, including his own. Now, what remained was the remnants of a broken heart; a shredded soul; a destroyed man – just a body, without breath; a spirit with no sense of direction, as if it were standing in nothing but purgatory and being sentenced to an eternity of nothingness. He was too innocent for hell, yet too damaged for heaven, and now he lingered in limbo forever because the one person who he believed was destined to share their lives intertwined with, had decided that he no longer wanted what was once so special. No matter what, nothing was the same.
"SHIT!" he cried, as his fingers caught in the door after he pulled the jug of milk. The pain shot through his body faster than a bullet, and he dropped the glass jug, which shattered into pieces upon sudden impact with the cold floor. In a metaphoric nutshell, it was the final nail in the coffin – his heart shattered against the cold, hard reality of everything.
He burst into tears and fell against the fridge door, sliding to the floor and pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs, sobbing. A new wave of emotion suddenly overcame him, which happened periodically. Sometimes he would be okay, sometimes he would be like stone, and other times he would just be a total car wreck, mangled beyond recognition. For his friends, he was not the same person he once was and that scared them more than everything.
"FUCKING HELL!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face that seemed to have aged ten years overnight as each night passed. Carelessly, he slammed his already sore hand into the floor, sending even worse pain through him but he seemed not to notice very much. For him, the emotional pain would be forever greater and forever present – would he be able to forgive the betrayal, the deception? That was not a question he was prepared to answer now, or at anytime in the near future. As much as his lover had apologized, begged, and pleaded; cried, fell to his knees, or screamed for forgiveness, showing so much remorse – he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had given his lover everything, and then suddenly the trust was broken – no honesty, no trust… the love was still there, but that was not enough anymore.
Sobbing openly in the small, empty apartment, his pain echoed around him and reverberated the coldness of his environment that was seemingly uncaring to the agony that had befallen him.
Knock, knock
Shit… he thought upon realization that someone was knocking at the door. Go away… whoever it is. He didn't move at all and just remained in his curled up spot in front of the refrigerator, in a puddle of milk and broken glass.
Knock, knock
He still didn't move, and squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for whoever it was to just fuck off and leave him alone to die in his own grief.
"Go away, go away, go away, go away…" he muttered under his breath.
Knock, knock, knock
Still, he did not move.
BANG, BANG, BANG
He jumped slightly at the sudden intensity that the person erupted in, banging on the door, furiously. He opened his eyes and looked up in the direction of the door, but made no attempts to move… whoever it was could just knock all day if they wanted, he still wasn't going to answer to no one… for fear it would be him, the former lover.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" came a voice, muffled by the locked door. But he knew who it was, immediately recognizing who the voice belonged to. Mimi Marquez.
"FUCK OFF!" he yelled, still not wanting to open it. As much as he loved Mimi, he really wasn't in the mood to see anyone, and didn't care if he hurt their feelings in the process. He just didn't care now. For all that he once cared for was now broken and lying there with him, in that puddle of milk and the shattered glass. In every tear; in every sob… he just didn't care.
"SWEETIE, OPEN UP!" Mimi called back, really worrying about her friend. "COME ON!"
"YEAH, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" came another, deep voice. Roger Davis.
Great, he thought. The whole damn Calvary has arrived.
"I SAID FUCK OFF!" he just yelled back, releasing his grip around his legs and straightening them out in front him. His pants were now soaking in milk, and he could feel the glass underneath him, but yet still could not find the strength; the energy to move. He just wanted to die.
"Leave me alone!"
"Honey!" came a fainter voice. Maureen Johnson. "Please open the door, we're worried!"
"WORRY SOMEWHERE ELSE!" He yelled back – the sorrow was now replaced with a sudden rush of anger.
Then, the door burst open and he jumped in shock as five people came rushing into the apartment, one right after the other. Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne Jefferson, and Mark Cohen (with his camera in tow, as usual).
Roger's eyes quickly scanned the small area, and came to a stop when he saw a huge mess in the kitchen. His eyes widened.
"Oh fuck…" he heard Mark mutter behind him, and Mimi's lip began to quiver as she saw her friend in the terrible state he was in. It brought tears to her eyes when she saw her once astoundingly bright, cheerful friend, was now an empty void. The darkness in his eyes, the dryness of his skin, the puddle of milk he was sitting in.
"Wow…"
"Dear God," Joanne whispered. The apartment was trashed, and it looked like there was a weeks worth of dishes in the sink, and he looked like he hadn't showered in that long too. They all rushed to where he was, and Mimi knelt down next to him and flung her arms around him… he barely responded, and closed his eyes again and silently prayed that they would just leave him alone.
"Oh my God…" she cried. "What's happened to you, Angel?"
MEANWHILE
Collins stared out of the window in his moderately sized office, on the MIT campus, just thinking. It had been three months since Angel had found out about the cheating, and kicked his ass to the curb, and still to this day, he didn't know what possessed him to betray his one true love, and would never forgive himself for any of it. The affair had lasted a month, and Samuel was the one who initiated it– Collins never felt right about it, but he had lost his job with New York University because he wasn't teaching the students the set curriculum, and couldn't bear to tell Angel that they would probably lose their apartment, so he went out a drank. For quite a few nights. Anything beyond that, he couldn't remember… but soon, the sex had become intoxicating, something that could briefly drain all his problems away. But nothing beat the love he made with Angel, but guilt had overtaken him by then… after a month, Angel had gone to look for Collins at a bar that he frequented with Roger on a regular basis, and found his love and a complete stranger having sex in one of the back rooms… and Collins then confessed it all. Understandable, Angel was devastated and kicked Tom Collins out…
A week after Angel kicked his ass out, he was asked back by MIT, and he didn't hesitate in accepting it… he needed to get away from Angel, and although his friends tried to convince him to stay, and as much as he wanted to stay for them, it was just too hard. He could barely live with himself anymore, so it would be just too hard to stay.
Angel would never forgive him that he knew… and he would never forgive himself for what he had done, and despite their protests of him leaving, he knew that none of them would forgive him for what he did to Angel.
Knock, knock
He looked up and shook himself out of his thoughts, trying to regain his composure. "Yeah?" he called.
The door opened, and a young woman walked in, cautiously. Professor Collins had been working there for almost two months now, and he definitely had a way with his students. He was charismatic, charming, very intelligent, and very attentive to all his students. He was already regaining his reputation of never turning away a student when he or she was in need.
"Professor Collins?"
"Julia," he greeted, sighing and standing up, giving her a small smile.
"Is this a bad time?"
"No, not at all. Come in."
She did and closed the door behind her, clutching several heavy-looking books to her chest. He walked around from behind his desk to help her with her books, and she responded with a grateful smile and a soft 'thank you'.
"Not a problem," he replied, and placed the books on the corner of his desk, before gesturing for her to sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Julia Sampson was, without a doubt, one of his brightest students… if not the brightest. He didn't know what it was, but he and she had an instant rapport. In class, she listened to his every word, and was the most participating student, and she always offered to help him out when needed… they had become friends even. The 22-year-old blonde Texan was studying the Arts, and she was an A+ student.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor—" she started to say as she sat down, but he held up his hand to silence her.
"Please. Tom." He insisted. Collins always liked to keep things casual between him and his students, which is perhaps why his students really liked him.
"Okay," she replied. "I just was wondering if you could help me with this paper, I'm not sure which of the philosophers to actually research. Applying modern day accepted theories of social normalcy, comparing and contrasting them with the theories of the philosophers from different eras. I was just wondering—" she paused when she noticed her professor seemed kind of distracted, which was weird because Collins was, as mentioned, usually so attentive to his students.
"Prof—Tom? Are you okay?"
He looked up from what he was staring at, realizing that he had gotten lost in his thoughts and misery of losing his Angel, once more.
"Shit… oh, man I'm sorry, Julia," he sat up straight in his chair.
"Got a lot on your mind?" she asked. "I can come back later."
"No, no, that's ok. Just a bit of stress, that's all. Continue."
She studied him for a few moments, curious as to why he was so distant… not too many other students would've picked up on it, but she knew something was definitely on his mind.
"Wanna tell me about it?"
Collins smiled. "Nothin' you wanna here…"
"You may be surprised," she replied. She looked at the photo frame on his desk that he had been staring at, but wasn't really too surprised to see who was in the frame. She smiled slightly and picked it up, before Collins had any chance to react. Normally, if it were any other professor, she wouldn't have done it, but she and he seemed to connect well enough.
"Is this him?"
Collins heart leaped in his throat, as he was a very private person when it came to separating his professional and personal life. Not too many people would be tolerant of a gay professor, no matter how far society has generally come in terms of tolerance. So he wasn't about to go shouting his sexuality from the rooftop, but he was never ashamed of Angel… when they were together, they weren't afraid of public displays of affection. He tried to grab the photo of Angel (yes, he still had it on his desk), but she held it out of reach.
Trying to remain calm, he cleared his throat.
"Who?"
Julia looked up at him. "Your boyfriend."
Collins' eyes widened, his heart started to race, and he began to sweat, fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Umm, what!"
"Professor, it's totally cool. I'm not gonna judge you. After all I thought you and I were cool. Relax. I mean, it's not like it's not hard to see… I knew you were gay. It's cool."
Her reassurance did calm him down a bit, and he was able to regain control of himself. "Uhh, yeah… Angel. He's umm," the thoughts of his now ex-lover, talking about him… it was too much. But he just couldn't bring himself to get rid of his image.
"He, uh… Julia, shall we get back to your paper?"
Julia could tell that something wasn't right, and decided to help. She and Collins were becoming good friends, despite MIT guidelines strictly forbidding personal relationships between professor and students, and for things to remain professional – but with them two, because of their bright minds and their willingness to learn, they just clicked. And I think there have been many of us who've had that one teacher or professor that we've connected with at one time or anything. She brushed stray strands of hair from her face.
"Tom, you wanna go get some coffee or something? Professor? You look like you need to get some things off your chest."
Collins thought about it… it was tempting. He needed to get out of that stuffy office anyway, so he just sighed and relented, nodding.
"Sure, sure," he replied, dejectedly. "Coffee would be great."
"Cool. I'll shout." She stood up and grabbed her books, with Collins helping her again.
"I can't ask you to do that—" he started.
"Why not?"
"Because you're my student and I'm you're teacher. I couldn't—"
"Professor," she interrupted, respectfully. "Tom… look, it's cool. It's just… you've helped me so much in these past few weeks, I want to. Come on, it may help to talk to a friend. I consider you a friend. Do you consider me one?"
He sighed again. "I do. And you're a bright student, Julia. But I got a procedure to adhere to…"
"It's not like I'm trying to get you into bed, not that it'd work anyway," she joked, getting a chuckle out of her professor.
"Well, I—"
"There are some things I need to ask you about the paper anyway, it may take a while. And I so need caffeine boost right now."
Collins looked out the window, thoughtfully, before looking back at the young student standing in front of him, looking at him expectantly. It might be nice to finally confide in someone other than his New York friends, despite the fact he hadn't talked to anyone since he left, except Joanne who had driven him to Massachusetts.
"Fine," he finally agreed, not wanting to debate with the intelligent woman. He grabbed his wallet and coat and followed her out of the office, stopping at his secretary's desk on the way out to tell her that he'd be out of the office and to patch any incoming calls to the cell phone the university had issued him upon his arrival.
15 MINUTES LATER
They sat in a small café in town. Collins sat silently, idly tapping the rim of his coffee cup with a teaspoon, wondering what to do… a part of him wanted to spill his guts to Julia, or anyone who was willing to listen. But then again, another part of him wanted to just shy away from the whole topic – he wanted to forget Angel, but he couldn't. Julia watched him, carefully, knowing that there was a fine line between him and her and their status' on campus. He didn't want to drag the honors' student into his mess, and he wasn't going to.
"So…" she began. "Wanna tell me about it?"
"No," he chuckled, focusing his eyes on the coffee cup. "Not really. But I supposed I have no choice… otherwise I'm gonna explode."
"Sounds serious."
"It is."
"You don't have to tell me—"
"I just don't want things to get difficult between us. You're my student, I'm your professor."
"I understand," she smiled and breathed in deeply. "But you just look like you wanna talk, that's all."
"I'm sorry if I wasn't paying attention to you," he had to apologize. "I try not to let my personal life get in the way of my professional obligations."
"No problem. So who's Angel?"
Collins cringed upon hearing the name that made his heart both flutter and break at the same time. There was nothing he wanted more than to be forgiven by the vivacious drag queen, to feel him in his arms again… to make love to him as they once used to. At that moment, he didn't know how his ex lover was coping – the last he had seen of him, Angel wasn't doing too well, and Joanne had told him that Angel wasn't coping, that he was falling increasingly depressed, which he tried to hide by remaining positive and as upbeat as he always was… but he couldn't hide it from his friends.
"Angel," Collins couldn't help but smile slightly when he said the name of the person who stole his heart.
"Angel Schunard… he was… my best friend. My lover. My everything." He knew he couldn't tell her the whole story, without giving away that Angel's a drag queen with AIDS, and that he had the illness as well. And that's the last thing he wanted to get out, even though he felt Julia was one of the only people on campus who he could trust.
"Go on…" she pressed, curious, but he shook his head.
"I can't. I'm sorry Julia, I know you care and only want to help… but there are private things… things that I don't think you should know about. It's very complicated. If it got out, I could lose my job."
That last remark peeked her interest for good. Wow, she thought. This must be bad.
"Professor, I totally understand… but just so you know, your secrets are safe with me. I mean, I've confided in you more than my own parents, my own friends. I trust you, and you can trust me. It's cool to finally have someone I can really talk to… and you can talk to me."
"Thank you," he genuinely appreciated her concern. "It's just… there are things about me that you don't know. Disturbing things, if you will. That's why I'm as private as I am, you know? If things about me… about Angel… got out, that could mean the end of my career here."
"Is it that bad?" she asked. He nodded.
"It can be. Massachusetts is a conservative state…"
"I know you're gay, Professor."
"It's not just that," he sighed, and debated whether or not to tell her until the very last second, when he opened his mouth again.
"I have AIDS," he said in a softer tone, and Julia gasped, clamping her hand around her mouth, in shock. Not so much about the AIDS, but the fact that the word meant death to anyone who had it.
"No way!" she gushed, and Collins shushed her to keep her quiet.
"Yes way. So does Angel. And," he drew in a deep breath. "There's also something else to him… he's a drag queen."
"Wow." That hit Julia like a ton of bricks, making her wonder even more what had happened.
"Go on…" she set her books aside, giving him her full attention.
"About three and a half months ago I lost my job at NYU. Angel and I… and our friends… we were, what you'd consider… bohemians. And I had my Actual Reality theories, and labeled a vagabond anarchist… I lived everywhere. But when I met Angel I… I fell in love… he became my world, you know?" he was on a roll now that he couldn't stop. Julia pressed her lips together to form a tight smile, and nodded sympathetically.
"So I stayed. And… we had an apartment… and since I lost the job, our only income… as bohemians, we were obviously all struggling… Angel and I would be evicted and left homeless. So I drank, while trying to figure out what to do."
"Why didn't you just tell him?"
"I loved him – I still do – so much, I didn't want to worry him, you know? So I tried to figure it out on my own, and I met this guy in a bar, and…" he trailed off, embarrassed that he was rolling this all off on one of his students! But Julia understood, and patted his arm, reassuringly.
"Hey, I get it… you had an affair and he found out?"
Collins nodded. "Yeah. Kicked me out, and I've ended up here…"
Julia was dumbfounded at the brief history rundown of her favourite professor, it seemed so, so… dirty.
"Wow," she muttered, finally sipping her previously untouched coffee.
"Yeah. See why I want things quite? If the board found out… I'd have no where to go, honestly. All I have is work now."
"Tom, your secret is totally safe with me," she assured him. "You've been there for me, you care about your students more than any teacher I've known. So if you need someone, I'm here."
"Thanks," he replied, his eyes looking around at the few patrons in the café, and wondered about their secrets. Everyone had secrets, but some were took dark for even the person to admit to themselves, and he hoped that he wouldn't regret revealing his own.
AUTHOR'S NOTE - I hope you all liked it, please leave a review to say if i should continue or not. In the next chapter, Angel and Collins meet again for the first time in months, and a fight breaks out... and Julia meets Mark, with sparks flying. Literally.