Still no owning of RENT characters/themes, just the stories I use them in. Sorry this took so long to get up, hope you like how this is progressing. Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, my computer was fried.i'll get the next one up this weekend (i hope)

I walked the crowded rush hour streets aimlessly for a good half an hour before deciding to visit the cemetery where all our friends were buried.

First, I knelt at April's stone, tracing the carved letters with my guitar callused fingertips. I hadn't visited this place in a long time; I'd been so busy and so content. I realized that this had all started with April. We dated, went to shows, lived together, got high together, we got HIV together, and a little bit of me died when she died. I didn't realize I was crying until the cement below me was splotched with tears.

I moved on to Angel. Her plot was evidently tended for by Collins, a bottle of blue nail polish and a fresh bouquet of white roses lay against the headstone. Collins didn't deserve to lose the love of his life, and Angel definitely didn't deserve to die. Neither did Mark for that matter.

Was I thinking about this too hard? Was I punishing myself too much, or not enough? I shook the questions from my head, wondering wasn't going to help anyone.

I saved Mimi's grave for last, because it was the hardest. She had only died two months ago, and I missed her like hell. The smooth black stone was embossed with an angel that she requested in her final days and it suited her perfectly.

I sat crossed legged, staring at my reflection the stone. I could picture her wavy, unruly locks tangling around her bony shoulders in the hospital bed like it was yesterday, her face as pale as I'd ever seen it, clean of her ever present mask of cosmetics. I remember the last day before she fell into a coma from which she would never wake, she tried to say "I love you" but her voice was too weak from coughing. I don't remember what happened after that, or the two weeks that followed the funeral.

I couldn't let that happen to Mark. I needed to be with him every second of everyday from now on. I needed to help him get better. I needed someone to take care of me, but first I had to take care of him. Wiping the last tears from my eyes, I gathered my stuff and made the trek back to the loft.

I slid open the door to find Collins sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. For some reason the fact that he wasn't hovering over Mark made me furious.

"What the hell are you doing?" I nearly growled, stripping off my jacket.

He looked up from the article he was reading.

"Are you high?" he questioned, before answering me.

I shook my head.

"Hell no. I've been clean for more than a year, why would I give that up now? You guys worked way too hard to get me back, I couldn't do that to Mark now. What do you think I am, stupid?" I spat

"Just checkin' man, you don't always have the best judgment, especially when you're emotional." He answered in a true Collins fashion.

"How's he doing?" I asked, almost afraid to know.

Collins got up, put his shoes on and turned back to me.

"He's been asleep since about twenty minutes after you left, right after he told me what happened. He looks a little better now, just keep him quiet for as long as you can." I relaxed a little bit. Mark was okay.

"Thanks." I said, giving Collins a hug.

"No problem. Call me if you guys need anything. And I mean anything okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll call you tomorrow anyway to let you know how he's doing."

He nodded before sliding the door open.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" I asked, voice cracking, as he started to walk out the door. He turned back around to answer.

"I dunno dude, just take care of him."

I just nodded; I don't think I could have spoken.

Collins closed the door behind himself, and I went in to check on Mark.