1Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, From First To Last, and such.

Thank you Sarah for betaing this :3

Rock n' Roll Life

By Donna

Chapter Eight: Populace in Two (From First to Last)

Mark walked into the studio, his face pale as a ghost.

Roger and Angel, who were waiting for him on a couch, looked up, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Well... I just finished a phone call with my mother. She wants us to have dinner at her house tonight," Mark announced, slapping his hands at his sides as he walked closer to the couch.

An "Oh" was heard from the back of the room. Everyone turned their head to see Collins. Collins sat next to Angel and absentmindedly traced her collarbone. "Okay. Sounds good."

"Does she know..." Angel started, looking at Collins.

"She knows everything," Mark explained, "She even knows Roger does some stuff... but she has a habit of asking these really exploitive questions... like, Angie, you won't be safe. End of story."

"They aren't that bad, Mark..." Roger said.

"It's rude!" Mark argued.

"I'm okay with it," Angel said, laying back on the couch. "I mean, it's not everyday you see someone like me. Don't worry, Mark!"

Mark looked at her, slightly shocked by her opinion. "You sure?"

"Yeah! Really. I just need to find a nice outfit."

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"So... when did you know you were gay, Angel?"

Angel blushed, dropping her fork. She looked at Mark's mother and tried to form words. "W-well... uhm... I think I was... erm... Eleven." She coughed nervously.

"So young! What about the crossdressing thing?"

Angel cleared her throat. It was sore all day, but she knew that if she didn't confront Mark's mother today, she would only persist on becoming part of Angel's life. "W-well... I think I was four or five. My parents thought it was a phase... but... it wasn't." She smiled weakly. Ever since she became friends with Mark, Roger, and Collins, she had a tendency of forgetting she was a "young gay man." They made her feel like the cool girl that always hung out with the big boys.

"May I ask why you do it?"

Angel's eyes widened and her smile fell. "I don't... know."

Roger came in to save the day. "She's a woman with a penis!"

Angel fell back on her chair, embarrassed. She swallowed down a cough and tried to think. She didn't have a reason, really... not one that she could think of at least. She somehow, over the years, became synonymous with the female clothing style and the female, well, kind. She looked at Collins for help. He grabbed her hand and whispered, "Don't worry about it."

But she couldn't help it. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why did she dress like this? What was she doing this for? Why was she this way? This reminded her of when she was with Collins the first night and she asked him who she was. She felt a chill crawl down her spine. If only she could be comfortable like Mark, Roger, and Collins. She coughed. She'd never be like them. Collins rubbed her back, trying to ease her frustration. He pulled her close and whispered, "After this, you're sleeping at my place, alright? I'll make you something and we'll just hang out and relax, okay?" Collins did not catch on that she was sick, but he knew she was in distress, and he knew a night alone with her would help.

Angel nodded. She kissed his cheek and looked at the food on her plate. She pushed it around and put her fork down. The food was great, but her throat and body just couldn't take it. She hadn't been feeling good all day, but now she could honestly say she felt sick.

"Angel-honey, are you okay?" Mark's mother asked, "You look a little pale."

Angel mumbled, "I just feel a little sick..."

"I'll take you home," Collins said, "We can't have you catch something bad. We're almost done with that album, you know!"

"Good idea," Mark's mother said. She cleaned their plates. "I'll get you a water bottle, okay? You want anything else?"

"No... I'm good."

"I'm sorry, Angel."

"No... I should be."

Collins helped her get on a jacket and they left relatively quietly.

"What happened there?" Roger asked, "She really did look sick."

"It seems like a mix of teen angst, identity crisis, and the sudden need to vomit," Mark concluded. "She might even have a fever. She'll be okay."

"I must've scared the poor girl," Mark's mother murmured.

"Yeah, Mom," Mark said, "She's still really confused about that stuff... don't ask her those things just yet."

"I'm going to make her some soup... poor dear..."

Roger shook his head. "Better she gets sick now than later, I guess..."

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"Uhmm... take out the thermometer, please," Collins said, tugging at the plastic in Angel's mouth.

Angel groaned, slowly opening her mouth and allowing Collins to check. "Uh huh. Fever. Anything hurt? You need a bag?"

Angel fell back on the bed. "Maybe."

"You really are sick..."

"Yeah... Sucks, right?"

Collins laughed until Angel gagged.

"Oh God... Lemme get the bag..." Collins said.

"No... I'll go to the bathroom," Angel said, trying to get up. Collins scooped her and propped her by the toilet. He leaned against the tub. "Do you always blank?"

"When?" Angel asked, removing her wig.

"When people ask you about... your... erm... dressing."

"Yeah, I mean... no... no one really asks me..."

"Is there anything you're not telling me?" Collins asked, grabbing her wig, "Or any of us? You've got a habit of being open and once anyone gets close to you, you hide. It's frustrating. I love you, Angel, but if you..."

He stopped, hearing Angel sniffle. Angel gagged and turned to the toilet. Collins flinched at the sound of vomit hitting the toilet and, in an echoed voice, Angel mumbled, "I'm sorry... you're right... I... I..." She vomited again and pulled back.

"Lemme clean your face," Collins said, pulling a towel from his closet. "Maybe we should talk about some stuff."

Angel took the towel and put it against her mouth. She wiped her face clean and said, into the towel, "I know when I started drag. My sister and I were really close back when we were little." Her voice sounded like it was about to flicker out. "And... and she'd always make me play her little games... dolls... dress-up..." She shrugged. "I liked it. I'm not gonna lie. When she got outfits that were too-big, she'd give them to me. I loved them... and... heh... no one else did."

"People really fucked you up, didn't they?"

"Collins, of course people fucked me up. There's no shock there."

Collins laughed nervously. "Would it hurt if I ask what happened?"

"It wouldn't hurt as much as my head right now."

"Oh God! I'm sorry! When you get better, we'll have a nice, long talk. All of us. But you gotta get better first, alright?"

Angel nodded, rubbing her nose. "Yeah, yeah... okay."

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"Please don't do this..." Angel mumbled.

"Oh, shut up!" Collins said, laughing. He pulled the key to Angel's apartment out of his pocket and he unlocked the door, juggling Angel and the key. He swung it open and saw Mimi sitting at a table.

"Well, well, well, look who's back!" Mimi said, a big grin on her face.. "Thank you, Doctor Collins! She's good as new!"

Angel kissed Collins and smiled. After spending three nights at Collins' she was better. It was a stomach virus defeated by TLC, antibiotics, and a nice, warm, bed.

"Put me down!" Angel whispered.

Collins put her down. "Get a shower! You stink!" He smacked Angel's butt. Angel squealed, running away.

Mimi smiled. "Marry her already!"

Collins blushed. The shower went on and he leaned on the frame of the doorway. "Uhm... Mimi?"

"Yeah?"

"You've known Angel for awhile, right?"

"Yep."

"Can you answer me something?"

"What?"

"Did she ever get... beaten up?"

Mimi nodded. "Of course she did. We met that way. Someone was giving her shit and I saved her ass."

"Do you know what they did to her?"

"We didn't really talk about it... but she said once they beat her up in the broom closet in school. Most of it was verbal, though. Ask her. Maybe she'll tell you. She loves you."

"...I can try," Collins said, "We're going to Roger's tonight. I'm hoping we all can throw some skeletons out of the closet. We need to, or we'll all go insane."

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Roger threw his needles and other paraphernalia in a shoebox. He continuously cursed under his breath as he tried to hide it.

April raised her head from the couch, staring at his lithe body squirm along the floor, picking up anything he deemed inappropriate. "I don't see the big deal... everyone knows..."

"Help me!" Roger yelped, in clear distress. Roger, believe it or not, felt shame for his actions. His relationship with Mark was never the same after he admitted to Mark about the fact he did do heroin. And Angel... Angel was still a kid. She was one of the few innocent kids in the world, and he didn't want to ruin it. Although he mentally questioned himself why he allowed her into the world of rock n' roll. If anything ever happened to her...

April crawled on the ground, grabbing an empty baggie. "So... the album's almost done?"

"Yep. Angel's all better so we're just doing finishing touches. We're gonna make our date!" Roger cheered.

"That's always good," April said, shoving his box under the couch. She groaned, sitting on the carpet.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked.

"Oh... I dunno. It's just... you... you seem to talk more about Angel and your band than me. And... and you're going to go on tour and I miss you now, and..."

"April, I love you. You were fully aware when we started going out, I was going to be busy. I promise you I refuse to do anything to Angel, or Mark, or anyone that has to do with the band. So don't even start."

April looked down, dejected. "I'm sorry I even cared."

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Aaaand... the chapter is done! Comments, questions, concerns, and such will be taken and luffed.