Author's Note: Written for challenge # 188 at speedrent on livejournal. Prompts: green, near midnight, and fiery.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of "Rent." This is for recreation only.


There was something about the emerald grass sparkling beneath them. True, it was only Central Park, but it seemed to be enchanted, lit up by the fantasy that proceeded the midnight hour they currently found themselves under. The moon was in rare form that evening, like a rock star glistening on the stage. It graced them with its larger than life presence; it bathed them in silver-white lullaby. Looking up, beyond the moon, they could make out the stars, watching them as diamond eyes from the bruise colored sky. They collectively smiled, finding serenity in it all-the darkness, the light. This was a secret getaway, a brief rendezvous into paradise.

It made perfect sense that the one called Angel was the first to speak. After all, it seemed only fitting that a divine being break their unspoken vows of silence.

"You ever wonder what it's like to be up there?" Her question was innocent, placid. The woman on her left couldn't help but broaden her already wide smile.

"Yeah, all the time." Mimi chuckled warmly, her laughter bringing incendiary delight to an already bright evening. "I used to wish I could fly. My mother used to warn me that if I wasn't careful, and I kept on wishing, I'd get what I'd asked for and I'd be flying with the angels." She was soon muted by the solemnity of the situation. She knew, all too well, that soon enough, she would, indeed, be flying with the angels. Disease would never let her forget that, the forced contract between them.

"Well, technically," the man on the other side of Angel, Collins, nearly whispered. "you're already flying with an angel." His brown skin clasped onto Angel's darkened white, like a strong, sturdy root.

"I don't want to fly with any more." Mimi nearly whispered, trepidation chilling her cooled skin. She shuddered visibly, her body still vulnerable to the idea that she didn't know how much time she actually had left.

"But you are flying with more than one angel, honey." Angel spoke up, her spare hand reaching over and soothing the other girl's exposed one with fluent, lucid motion. "We're all angels, and someday, we'll all be up there."

Mimi was warmed by her words, underlined with years of carefully crafted friendship and love. And it was as if they were kindling, fueling an inferno deep within her, burning what remained of her instability, her frozen fear. She felt like they all shared that invisible fire, as if they were all connected by a string of dancing flames.

"Yeah, and then we'll be remembering all the good times we had down here." She smiled, sated by the heat of companionship around her.

"But it'll be even better, up there." Collins grinned, a wistful sigh parting from his lips to join the melody of the dying night.

"Yeah." Angel agreed, her voice hushed, as though she were bearing witness to some kind of miracle. "Angels don't get sick."

"They aren't poor." Collins added.

"Or rich." Mimi replied, surprising herself and the gentle air around them with the ferocity in her voice, fiery and determined. "Angels don't define themselves with words."

As if in agreement, midnight gracefully arrived, sneaking up upon them all, circling them like a crown, haloing them in a heavenly sort of eloquence. Angels, indeed.