This fic just popped into my head when I was listening to a song that my choir is singing. I personally think it's the saddest song in the world of Disney and it reminds me of . . . me. :( I won't bore you with my life story. Just read.
I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.
"Hey, Collins, I know you said you wanna be alone, but do you honestly wanna go there alone?" Mark asked his friend. "I mean, are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Collins had moved back in with Mark and Roger and had been living with them for quite sometime. There had been many times he'd wanted to go back to the apartment he once shared with Angel, but he ignored his desires to. Tonight was different. Tonight was the night he was going to take his first steps into the sea of memories since Angel had been hospitalized.
"No," Collins replied. "If I'm gonna do this . . ." he took a deep breath, "then I'm gonna do it alone."
"You're the strongest person I know." Mark smiled at the anarchist.
"I'm not as strong as you think I am, Mark."
"What do you mean?"
"I've already predicted that I'm gonna see something in that apartment that'll be too much for me to handle and then go into hysterics." Mark's smile faded and there was an uncomfortable silence between the two friends.
"I'll . . . uh . . . walk you outside," Mark finally said. As he did so, neither he nor Collins spoke a word. Once they were outside and about to go their separate ways, Collins pulled Mark into an assuring hug.
"I'll meet up with you later, okay?" Collins said, releasing Mark from the hug. Mark simply nodded and watched as Collins began the walk to his former home.
And in my twisted face
There's not the slightest trace
Of anything that even hints at kindness
Collins walked with his hands in his pockets. His feet weren't moving as slowly as he thought they would. He was actually walking at the same pace he and Angel used to whenever they went for small walks in the park, hand in hand.
And from my tortured shape
No comfort, no escape
I see, but deep within is utter blindness
He pulled his hands out of his pockets slowly and put one in the other. His mind raced with memories of the countless times he and Angel's fingers had been entwined with each others. Staring down at his hands, his eyes began to water.
Hopeless . . . as my dream dies
As the time flies
Love, a lost illusion
He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Then he realized it. He was wearing the coat Angel had bought him two days after they'd met. He brought the collar up to his nose and inhaled. It still had Angel's sweet smell on it. As he took in the beautiful fragrance, it began to rain.
Helpless . . . unforgiven
Cold and driven
To this sad conclusion
He now walked with his arms wrapped around himself, imagining that the sun was shining and his love was right beside him. He looked to his left and pretended that she was smiling at him, saying, "Honey, you've gotta get out of the rain. You'll get sick."
No beauty could move me
No goodness improve me
No power on earth . . . if I can't love her
There she was. Right in front of his eyes, in all her colorful glory. The rain fell around her, never wetting her.
No passion could reach me
No lesson could teach me
How I could have loved her
And make her love me too.
Reaching out, he tried to touch her cheek, but only succeeding in making her fade away. He closed his hand around the air and pulled it back.
If I can't love her . . . then who?
He was soon at the building. He couldn't turn back if he wanted to. He took a few deep breaths as the rain pelted his head and lightening flashed. Mustering enough strength not to cry right then and there, he walked into the building with his head held high.
Long ago I should have seen
All the things I could have been
He climbed the three flights of stairs and walked as slowly as he possibly could down the hallway until he came to the door. His and Angel's door. A sign made out of paper was taped on the front door that had: Knock first, please written on it in neat cursive. Collins smiled sadly as he reached for the doorknob and turned it.
Careless and unthinking I moved onward
It was dark and cold in the apartment, but it most certainly wasn't empty. Memories came flooding back as Collins walked around and he was almost overwhelmed when he saw Angel's pickle tub by the small, ratty couch. He could feel her everywhere, see her everywhere. If only he could kiss her one last time.
No pain could be deeper
No life could be cheaper
No point anymore . . . if I can't love her
He saw Angel's black boots that she'd worn when he'd first seen her in drag as he made his way to the bedroom. It was even colder there than the rest of the apartment. A flash of lightening lit up the room for a moment and a clap of thunder followed. Collins felt around for the light switch and flipped it. He was facing the dresser when the light came on and he immediately reached for the small bottle of blue nail polish that was sitting there.
She died wearing this, he thought as he held it. Mimi must've brought it back.
He then placed the nail polish back on the dresser and turned toward the bed, where he saw it. The small, red jacket Angel was wearing the night she'd rescued him. He slowly walked over to the bed and, as he picked it up, let his tears fall freely.
No spirit could win me
No hope left within me
Hope I could have loved her
And that she'd set me free
He clung to the jacket as he cried, hugging and kissing it. His prediction had come true. Angel's jacket was too much for him to handle and he went into hysterics.
He leaned on a wall, still clinging to the jacket and crying, and slid down it. Angel had worn that jacket everywhere they went and now it was touching Collins' coat.
"Angel . . ." Collins sobbed. He wanted nothing more in the world to be n heaven with her, but he knew he'd have to wait. He knew she'd never forgive him if he took his own life, though he was tempted to no end.
Once his tears had slowed up, he stood up (still holding Angel's jacket), walked to the livingroom area, picked up the phone, and dialed the number to the loft.
But it's not to be . . .
"Hey, Mark?" he said into the phone. "I'm still at the apartment. Yeah . . . I was crying. No, I'm fine. I was just calling to tell you that I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna stay here tonight. You don't have to come. I'll be fine. Okay, bye." He hung up the phone, went back to the bedroom, and lied down on the bed.
As he slept with Angel's jacket in his arms, he dreamt of the day they'd be reunited.
If I can't love her . . . let the world be done with me
That's the end of my sad fic. So, so sad. :(