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Collins has had plenty of time to wait. Not that he's complaining, he's had lots to do in his time alone.
Mark is sitting on a stool, filming Roger who's tending the bar. Collins watches as Mark says something and Roger's face erupts into a smile. Platonic soulmates, they both have the same blue mark of a flame on the side of their necks. Roger still has one mark on the small of his back that he's waiting for an identical of, and another faded one on his leg. Mark has no others.
It's quiet and late in the evening now. There's very few customers left. Boheme Café was the best decision Collins made in his life, he'd taken a risk in quitting his teachers job to run it, but there's nothing in life without risk. New York is a big city but Collins feels like his mark on it, if you ignore the pun. It's small place, and it's not too far from where they live, but it's an extension of home. His friends have stable jobs and are able to work at their art, and it's this buildings fault.
Roger jumps over the bar and grabs Mark's camera, chasing him around the tables before Mark fights him for his favourite possession. They're so easy with each other, completely secure in them.
It's times like this when he misses them. He'd like to watch Roger and Mark and hold his soulmates hand. He'd like to love them now. Kiss their cheek. Squeeze them. Know them. He's alone. He wants the person with the matching flowers on their hand, the rainbow one.
Sighing, Collins walks over to Mark, makes a smartass comment for the camera and swallows away the ache.
Roger still screams in his sleep sometimes. Sometimes it's for April and other times it's for drugs to numb the pain. Tonight is one of those nights, he's heard "April!" shouted several times now. The faded mark on Roger's leg acts as a horrific reminder as to what happened to her and what nearly happened to him. The remaining mark on his back is a hidden piece of hope. They try and cling to that.
Collins is woken up by it. Rolling over in bed, he checks the time. Six in the morning, they only only got into the apartment four hours ago. Quickly, he gets out of bed and walks to the living room. He passes Mark on the way.
"Send him my love," Collins says.
Mark snorts, "I'll try."
A few moments later, the noise from Roger's room turns into sobbing. Collins cringes, hands in his pockets. Collins isn't the person for this, Mark is, but he hates standing still.
Shaking thoughts out of his head, Collins gets a glass of water. He doesn't drink any. Collins simply walks it over to Roger's room, knocks the door, and runs back to his room before Roger feels any worse for knowing he was there.
He shuts his own bedroom door behind him.
He runs a hand down his face. He can't hear Roger anymore. There's a lump in his throat. The room is stuffy. Collins cracks open a window.
Collins has the room with the view of the street below. The flat is on the second floor of the building. As Collins always does when he goes to the window, he appreciates the view. Leaning through the window, he looks around. There's the park below them, it's almost eerily quiet. The sun rising onto the apartments. The city is beginning to open it's eyes.
"Good morning Honey!"
Collins jumps at the address. Looking down at the source, he sees a tall woman walking down the street. She's looking up at him, grinning. Collins can't see detail at this distance, but he can spot her through how colorful she is.
"Good morning to you too!" Collins shouts back. He thinks she winks before she turns into the park, strutting in. Collins smiles wider before leaving the window and returning to bed.
"Wake up Sleepyhead! There's a whole day ahead!" Maureen taunts, Collins groans.
"It's too early for this," Collins complains.
"Come on!"
Collins turns over, pushing his face into his pillow.
Maureen rolls her eyes before ripping his bedsheets off him, leaving Collins on his mattress with no cover. The air is oddly cold.
An eyebrow is raised, "Girl, you should be glad I don't sleep naked."
Maureen grins at him, "Or should I be disappointed?" She winks.
Laughter escapes from Collins, it's dry from sleep.
"Why did you agree to this?" Mark asks. He's got his camera rolling, pointed at the small corner stage in the café.
Collins exhales, "I don't know."
Maureen is center stage, halfway through her last rehearsal of tonight's protest. Roger is sitting next to her, plucking through the score on his guitar.
"Roger! It needs to be faster!" Maureen interrupts herself to command. Roger's eyes widen with frustration before he increases his speed.
Mark and Collins exchange a tight lipped smile.
"How long until he loses it?" Collins asks.
Mark shrugs at him. "It's anyone's guess."
Joanne speaks in from behind them, "I'm guessing fifteen minutes. It's how long it usually takes me."
Mark smirks, "I'm guessing half an hour" He says loudly, then muttering, "Or that she calls someone Pookie and he flips."
Collins remembers the 'Pookie' saga. The name Maureen used to call Mark whilst she cheated on him. Most people don't understand how anyone could cheat, but Maureen and Mark weren't soulmates, they weren't most people. Roger was Mark's biggest defender at the time, although he was the first to laugh at who Maureen left Mark for. It's all water under the bridge now.
No use crying over spilled milk, unless it's from Cyberland. Collins does cringe at the memory of that protest, the first of Maureen's but certainly not the last.
He'd like to think that Roger has a high tolerance for bullshit, they all do.
Collins adds "Forty Five Minutes, or less."
Joanne is correct. It takes a shot of vodka and some kind words from Mark to get Roger to play for the protest again.
"We're idiots," Mark shouts. The café is packed, and both him and Collins are having to work the bar.
Collins gives another young bohemian their drink. They don't tip.
"We are, but she makes us money," Collins points out.
"All whilst protesting against capitalism," Mark complains.
Quickly, Collins catches Mark's eye.
"America?" Collins suggests.
"America," Mark answers.
They each fall into their own patterns of work. Collins laughing with the more regular customers and taking his time. Mark working efficiently and quietly. The bar starts to die down as Maureen's protest is prepared.
The second Roger sits down on the stool Joanne provided, Collins knows he's going to have a good time. Collins is restocking the shelves, and he overhears two people sit on the free bar stools behind him.
"Who's the cutie with the guitar Mimi?" One asks, their voice is high pitched and familiar.
"I don't know, but I'm guessing not Maureen Johnson," Another voice, apparently Mimi, offers. Collins laughs, and turns.
"He's called-" Collins is stunned temporarily. "-Roger Davis. Do I know you?"
Collins addresses the person in the seat closest to him. They are covered in bright colour, with a short bob. There's a level of art to it. Collins can tell from a few seconds of observation that they're elegant, the way they hold their body is graceful. They put their handbag on the bar with one hand. Mimi watches them for a few seconds, shrugs, and then looks back to Roger.
Collins also now knows where he recognizes them from.
"I'm not sure I do Honey" They answer, smiling despite it. Their eyes are wide and attentive, full of life.
Collins grins, "Would you like to?" He leans against the bar, arms resting on it.
The person chuckles, chest moving slightly with it. They reach up into their hair, and remove the short bob, leaving cropped hair. Placing the wig next to their handbag, they smile, "Would you still like to?"
Collins claps his hands together. "I'll be honest, you still look prettier than I ever will," Collins jokes. They both laugh.
"Don't count on it-" They wink. "-I'm Angel,"
The protest is near silent, he only sees them "I'm Tom, friends call me Collins."
Collins offers his hand to be shaken. He doesn't do it very often, only when he's being a grown-up, but Angel feels special enough to deserve it.
Angel looks at the mark on the back of Collin's hand. Their heart stops. They couldn't get this lucky. Quickly, they reach out and grab Collin's matching hand, pulling the back of it into their view. Their eyes widen, their painted mouth falls open.
Collins looks at their matching marks, and nods slowly to himself.
Together, they look at each other.
"What do people who are more than friends call you Sweet?" Angel asks. They beam at each other.
Mark glances over at Collins and spots their identical marks, the camera is immediately pointed at them.
His heart is beating hard in his chest, but he isn't scared. He's calm.
Collins takes Angel's hand. Their marks, twin flowers, shine on opposites sides of their fingers. Collins can feel that Angel's hands are slightly sweaty, their fingernail's are painted different colours.
"Anything they like," Collins answers.
Then, comes the fuss. Mimi turns around, her hand goes over her mouth in shock and then around Angel in happiness. She couldn't have predicted this. She blubbers excitedly about how she knew it'd be soon, she knew Angel would find them. She just knew it.
Collins gets to watch Mark tell Roger the news. Roger turns to Collins in amazement. The look on his face is pure joy. Roger hugs him tightly when he can. Words whispered into his ear, "Love her." Collins nods at him afterwards, a heavy weight in his chest when he finally recognizes everything Roger lost when April died. When Mark puts his arm around Roger, Collins realizes what Roger has managed to keep. When Mimi leans up to hug Angel for a second time, her shirt lifts with her arms exposing the mark on her back which matches Roger's, Collins knows what Roger will now fight to keep too.
Maureen runs to the bar, which is now starting to clear out, leaving only people Collins knows. "What did you all think of the show?" She demands, glee in her voice. Joanne takes her hand and whispers into her ear. Maureen's face lights up. "Wait... Collins found his soulmate because of me!"
Mark and Roger exchange a look, and Collins has to stifle a laugh, again.
Collins turns to Angel, mostly in an attempt to ignore Maureen's antics. He takes their hands in his, he doesn't think he's let them go yet.
"Sorry about her, she's..." Collins starts.
Angel shrugs, head touching their right shoulder, "Unique?" they suggest.
Collins swallows, "I was going to go for fucking crazy."
Angel giggles. A grown ass person that giggles? Who blessed Collins with them? Is there actually a God?
"I like crazy, why else would I come to her protest?" Angel considers it. "Though, it was Mimi's idea. I thought it'd be shitty."
Collins slowly nods. "I get it. Has it been?"
Angel laughs, snorting out air. "No! It's been-" they laugh again, tucking their chin to their chest and almost looking through their eyebrows before returning to normal "-pretty good."
Everything feels right. They're in his bar. His home. It's been a fabulous night. Collins reckons that the protest was probably good, shame he wasn't paying attention. Angel is beautiful. Angel is everything Collins never would have expected. Angel looks like they'll be worth the wait. After such a long time, he can't help but ask.
"Can I kiss you?" The question makes him feel like a teenager all over again. His face goes hot. The heartbeat in his head must be abnormal, though Collins really doesn't want to get sent to hospital right now.
Angel rolls their eyes, "You're cute when you blush. I wanted to kiss you when I saw you this morning."
Collins chuckles, "So you do remember!"
Angel looks up to the ceiling and shakes their head. They look into Collins's eyes.
The next thing Collins knows, he's being kissed.
He can taste lipstick, and Angel is softer than he could have ever imagined.
There's cheering in the background. His friends, one of Angel's friends, happy for them.
Collins isn't alone anymore, and he probably wasn't really in the first place.