A/N: It's pretty bad, but I tried my best. This is for a promise to one of my reviewers and I am sorry if this isn't what you were expecting. I don't own Rent, by the way.
Knowing Him, Knowing Her
"Angel," Mark shifted as he heard the door scream awake, "I didn't know you were coming. Where's Collins?"
"At work," Angel put her pickle tub on the counter and walked over to where Mark was trying to insert film into his camera, "And I have nothing to do so I thought I would come over here. Suddenly she paled, "Is that…alright?"
"Yeah," Mark nodded, realizing how rude he probably sounded, "Of course. I am about to head out and try to get some filming done today if you want to come with me."
"Really?" Angel's face lit up, "Thanks! I love watching you film – you have like such a huge passion for it. It's good to enjoy something so much."
"Yeah," Mark didn't know what else to say, so he packed up his things and nodded towards the door, "Let's get going, I don't want to lose this light."
The two headed out of the loft and down the rust-ridden stairway. It was nice old side, a warm front had moved in and the sun was shining vibrantly; Angel realized why Mark wanted to use this lighting and capture it before it escaped into the afternoon.
They didn't really say anything to each other, mostly because they didn't exactly know what to say. Angel had never been alone with Mark before and suddenly realized that they had never really actually talked. She didn't know anything about him, but assumes no one else did. His camera was his mask that he constantly hid behind. He looked into everyone else's souls so that no one could see his.
"It is pretty," Angel said, glancing around the slums.
"What are you talking about?" Mark scoffed.
"There's beauty in everything, honey. You just have to look a bit harder sometimes."
Mark flinched at the word 'honey,' but Angel didn't blame him. He wasn't used to people like her and it would take some time for him to come around. She was patient though, and Mark had never been one to be rude, just…careful.
"Sorry," Angel apologized, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's alright," Mark tried to assure her, but he wasn't very convincing.
"I tend to do that to a lot of people…"
"Yeah well I am not a lot of people!" Mark snapped. Angel paled and he instantly felt guilty. Angel took things personally more so than anyone else he had ever met, he hadn't meant to hurt her, "Angel…I…it's just that I don't want to be one of those people that look at you and turn away. I want to be your friend. I want to walk down a street with you and laugh and talk like old friends like you and Roger."
Angel smiled sweetly, "It's okay, really. You aren't like most people. You have never said anything rude about me or my lifestyle. You have always tried your hardest to look past the wig and makeup. I am glad for that."
"It's just not good enough. I don't want to be uncomfortable…."
"But you are?" Angel finished for him, "I know, Mark. I am not the easiest to like…"
"That's not true!" Mark objected, "You have the biggest heart I have ever known and you are always wanting to help people and you notice things no one else does, you take the time to see people and read them, you smile and walk away instead of fighting, you are the strongest person I think I have ever met. I do like you."
"Thank you," Angel smiled, "I like you too. So, am I the first drag queen you've ever met?"
"Yes," Mark admitted.
"Sweet, I'm special!"
"Can I film you?" Angel blurted out.
"You heard me. So, can I?"
"I usually handle the filming…"
"I'm not going to break your camera," Angel rolled her eyes, "Hand it over."
"But I wouldn't know what to say or…or…do."
"Just be," Angel instructed, grabbing the camera from his hands, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fantabulously talented Mark Cohen!"
"Uh…" Mark blushed, "Hi."
"Talk about what you see!" Angel said, "Talk about the weather, the sky, the buildings, the flowers – anything!"
"Um…I see Angel…and I see…"
"I don't count, silly! Come on, look! You're a photographer for goodness' sakes! What do you see!"
Mark was beginning to grow angry when suddenly he saw a small window box hanging from one of the slums. He looked up at it and noticed that there were about three small, dying flowers in it. A woman was watering them.
"I see death."
"Good," Angel instructed, "more!"
"I see death and hope. I see life and struggles and joy and happiness and sunshine in the dark."
"Good!" Angel began to jump up and down excitedly, "You just got to look!"
"I think I like being behind the camera better."
"Of course you do," Angel sighed, and him the camera.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing…it's just that being behind the camera is easier than in front of it."
"So, sometimes it's good to do things that challenge us, right?"
"I guess you have a point."
"Keep your filming, don't forget, include yourself in that film. We want to hear about you! You know, I have watched countless movies of yours and I still barely know anything about you."
"Sure you do."
"I don't know where you are from or what you used to do prior to this. I don't know what your favorite color is or what your favorite food is. I don't know your favorite band or your favorite book or…"
"Ohio, I went to NYU for a year to major in filmography but dropped out because I couldn't film what I wanted to, my favorite color is blue, my favorite food is fries of the French variety, my favorite band was Roger's, and my favorite book is anything by Orwell. Now your turn."
"Manhattan, ran away, yellow, milkshakes, Roger's, and anything by Keats."
"There ya go," Mark nodded.
"There we go," Angel smiled, following him down the sidewalk.