"Hey, guys, I think it's clearing up," Klara said drowsily, as she looked out the window to see the last rays of the sun illuminate the wet sidewalk. Chris yawned and moved from his place on her shoulder to move over to the window.

Four hours.

Four fucking hours.

It was time to get the fuck out of here.

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As of then, Chris, Klara, and Caleb were the only ones in the Life. They'd fallen asleep curled against one another in a booth, waiting for the rain and wind to stop, and let them get home. Chris yawned again, and leaned across Klara's lap to snuggle into Caleb.

She prodded him. "Don'cha wanna get home? Or we could check out Tripp's showroom, but it's getting late. We don't have rehearsal for a week, but shouldn't we get rest anyway?" He blinked at her and stroked Caleb's hand absentmindedly.

"Why does it feel different?" he asked out of the blue. "I swear, something feels wrong."

Caleb jolted awake at that moment, looking out the window. "Hey, the sun's out. We can go home!"

"Genius, I said that already. Let's get moving. Caleb, make your boyfriend get his flamer ass out of my lap." Klara attempted to move Chris across her lap to Caleb with no success, and was starting to get pissed. Caleb chuckled and lifted him away from Klara, letting her get up and stretch.

"Thanks. Wake him up, I think it's time for a girl's night in," She waggled his eyebrows at him. "I've got a few new chick flicks waiting at home…"

Caleb shook Chris gently, and was struck by the sudden realization that his vision had returned. He blinked rapidly, before scooting out of the booth. Chris groaned, but stood up and followed.

Klara, meanwhile, stood motionless in the center of the deserted (save for the clanging of dishes in the kitchen and the idle snoring of the manager at the front) resteraunt, looking around as if she couldn't remember where she was.

"KK? You okay?" Caleb looked at her curiously. Klara raised a hand to her brow and massaged it.

"Yeah…I'm fine. It just…" She trailed off, letting silence fall before speaking again. "This isn't the way the place was when we fell asleep. I'm sure of it."

"…Klara, babe, what do you mean? It's still the Life Café, and we're still in New York City. You know how things change over here." He walked over to her, with Chris trailing sleepily behind him. She looked at him and widened her eyes.

"It's not that. The menu is different. The Manager is different. The tables are arranged differently. Look, there's even a whole section missing back there! There's just an old door, and there used to be tables. I swear, it's changed." Caleb looked to the door she pointed at. He wasn't at all sure it wasn't there before. Maybe Klara was right? No, she couldn't be.

"Babe, seriously. They shifted the tables while we fell asleep. No bigge. You're probably remembering wrong. C'mon. Let's get home, maybe you're having an attack?" He tugged on her fingers with the hand not intertwined with his lover's, pulling her towards the door. She followed reluctantly.

"But…I know I'm right. I know it changed." She gave in and walked with him outside.

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The three stopped as they stepped onto the streets again. Even Chris, perfectly oblivious, and famous for missing the point couldn't miss the change that happened around them.

The studio was gone. Just like that. The CyberArts studio, it towered above them just two blocks away, they had commented aloud as they went into the life. And now it was gone, replaced by, as far as they could tell, a ratty old building. Looked like it might've been apartments.

"Alphabet city…" Klara whispered. "What the fuck happened…" She let go of Caleb's hand and walked dizzily towards the studio, turning around, and around, trying to figure out where she was. "Were we asleep for so long…?" She wondered.

Chris pulled out his iPod. "No," he said, looking almost scared now. "It's definitely only been four hours, and the clock's still ticking. It feels deserted. Did a bomb go off and we didn't notice?" He stared at the sky apprehensively, as if expecting to see a mushroom cloud.

As if on cue, the streets came alive. With the fading lights of the sun came people popping out of shops and apartments, yelling that the rain had stopped. Klara, Caleb, and Chris stood, occasionally being jostled as the crowd rushed by them. They reached to each other and joined hands by instinct.

They walked in a daze to stand by a fence in a less crowded part of the sidewalk. They looked at each other, confused as to what was going on.

"Maybe we imagined the studio." Chris said, even though he'd been the one to comment on it first.

"No." Klara answered. "We didn't."

Their voices were soft as they spoke to each other. They searched their minds and each other's for explanations. They didn't notice the laughter ringing from a compact Latina woman, who turned to face someone behind her as she walked. She barreled right into Klara, who pulled down Chris and Caleb with her.

"Oh, my god! Sugar, are you okay? I'm so sorry!" The Latina had an odd edge to her clearly feminine voice…it was like someone trying to hard to be a girl. It was the voice Klara heard on her old friend Jonny, when he'd show off his new skirts, and the Revlon makeup he bought at half price.

"Fuuuuck…" She muttered, peeling herself up from the still wet ground. She offered her hand to her companions, uncounciously checking them over for scrapes of bruises. They looked fine, and the bump seemed to wake them all up.

She turned to the woman who was blushing scarlet and apologizing profusely. "Don't worry about it," She said, checking her stinging elbows for cuts. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" She glanced at Chris and Caleb, seemingly stunned at the woman and her friends, who were crowded around. Klara furrowed her brow and looked at her attacker.

She froze, no other way to describe it. Her legs, chest, arms, head, it all became ice. She stood, still slightly hunched over and gaping.

It was Angel.

Angel Dumott Shunard. It had to be. Or it was some sort of sicko who pretended to be him on weekends. Either way, it was a carbon copy of Jonathan Larson's vision. She wore a black bob wig with flowers tucked into it. Her skin was a light brown, and the bulky red jacket she had slung over a green and orange sweater contrasted it perfectly. Her skirt was white with a delicate flower print, and Klara's eyes widened as she noticed the green tights and clunky black heels.

It wasn't Wilson Jermaine Heredia. It was Angel. Pure and simple. Klara seemed to unstick herself and turned to face Chris. She swiveled back and gaped at Angel again.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sugar? Did I stun you that bad?" Angel looked at them worriedly, probably wondering about legal fees if this girl had to go to the hospital.

"By the way, I'm Angel."

Whump. Klara's head hit the ground for the second time that day.

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A/N: Meeheehee! Angel enters the picture! This is where the story is leading, and THIS, is where the crack aspect enters.

I'm enjoying the story a lot more, as of now. I'm finally beginning to get my groove back. I hadn't written anything in a long time since this fic, and I really, well, despise the first few chapters, just for the akwardness of the writing. I think I'm starting to hit a part of the story that is really fun to write, so updates will probably come more frequently now.

Also, I find it amusing that whenever I tried to write for Chris, I always accidently typed 'Jonny'. The original basis for Chris was a friend that goes by that name, but daaaaamn, I don't think it fits anymore. Jonny's to fierce for a sweet little boy like Chris :D

Anyway, I adore reviews, and I try to respond to them all, so please, press that button. Tell me how I did.

Loves-TKAD.