So . . . it's been a reallylong time since I updated this story. Like a really long time. I actually forgot about it. Bad authoress! Bad, bad, bad! Now that that's outta the way . . . enjoy.

I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.

Running.

That's what it feels like I'm doing right now. It's not what I was planning to do, but considering how much time Collins has left and the fact that I left the room . . . I don't even want to think about it. I just left to get a cup of coffee.

He couldn't have died within five minutes . . . could he?

I shake my head to get rid of those terrible thoughts. Collins is the strongest person I know. He'll live longer than three days. I know he will.

He won't leave me. At least, not yet . . . I hope.

I get to the door of his room and stand there. My palms are sweaty, my breathing is quicker, and my heart is pounding. I hate leaving and coming back. I never know what I'm going to see when I open the door.

Calm down, Cohen. Just breathe.

I take a deep breath, grab the doorknob, and open the door slowly. I put my head in the door first, just to make sure everything's okay, and see Collins in the bed where I left him. Only . . . he's shaking.

"Collins?" My voice is barely above a whisper as I allow the rest of my body to come into the room. It's then that I notice Collins is sweating and wrapped in the blankets so tightly that it looks like he's trying to squeeze the life out of himself. I put my coffee on the floor next to the chair I've been sitting in for . . . I've lost count. "Collins, are you hot?" He continues shaking and I can't tell if he's trying to nod or shake his head.

I touch his cheek and my hand recoils almost instantly. He's freezing.

He needs more blankets.

As I turn to leave again, I feel his hand grab my arm. His grip is much weaker than it was yesterday when he was clinging to me while he cried. I turn and look at him. If my eyes would allow tears to fall, they'd be falling uncontrollably right now. The look in Collins' eyes is one that looks as if he's begging me to take the suffering away. To put him out of his misery. His skin has lost color and I can tell he's in more pain than yesterday. Even a simple motion like grabbing my arm seems to hurt him. How can a person get that much sicker overnight? How?

"M-Mark . . ." he struggles to say as he shivers. "Don't . . . don't . . ." A tear falls from his eye. "Don't leave me." I feel like such a terrible person. I've lost six of my friends and I'm about to lose the last one . . . yet I can't cry. I should be bawling.

"Collins . . . I need to get you some extra blankets," I tell him.

"Mark . . . please . . ." Another tear falls from his eye. "I . . . I don't . . . I don't wanna die . . . alone . . ."

"If you don't let me get more blankets for you . . . you could freeze to death." He continues to shiver, but lets his hand fall from my arm. I walk as fast as I can out of the room and find the nearest storage closet.

There has to be blankets in here somewhere.

"Hey!" a nurse yells. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My friend needs blankets," I tell her, not even bothering to turn around. I finally find a couple blankets and turn to go back to the room, but the nurse stops me.

"You could've just asked."

"My friend is freezing. Get out of my way." I push the nurse away from me and start walking. She grabs my arm and I turn to look at her. "Get off of me!"

"What is your problem, sir?"

"You! You're my problem! My friend just broke out into a cold sweat and I'm trying keep him warm, but you're asking me all kinds of questions! Get off of my arm and leave me alone! MY FRIEND IS DYING DAMN-IT!" I shove the nurse and run back to the room.

Once there, I wrap the blankets around Collins. I then sit behind him and wrap my arms around him. I want him to be as warm as possible.

"I . . . I remember . . . holding Angel like this," he says, still shivering. I'm quiet in fear of saying the wrong thing. "Can you tell me a story, Mark?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Tell me about a time when we were all . . . happy." I'm completely still. "Please, Mark."

"Um . . . okay." I rack my brain for a story from the happier times.

Flashback (Normal POV)

"Come on, Mark," Angel said, trying to pull Mark out of the armchair he was sitting in.

"No," Mark replied, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. "I told you I don't go on blind dates."

"But it could be good for you."

"No means no, Angel!" Angel frowned, sat on the beat up couch next to the armchair, and folded her arms across her chest.

"I think you'd really like her," Angel said after a small silence.

"Angel, I'm not going on a blind date with one of your friends and that is that," Mark told her sternly.

"You don't even wanna meet her?"

"No, Angel."

"She's really pretty."

"No."

"Mark, just give her a chance."

"NO!" Angel frowned again as the loft door suddenly slid open. Collins walked in carrying a box with Maureen and Roger not far behind. The first thing Collins noticed was Angel's frown.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

"Mark won't give Daphne a chance," Angel explained, still frowning.

"I don't do blind dates," Mark stated flatly.

"You might wanna give it a try, man," Collins said, sitting on the couch next to Angel and putting the box on his lap. "I've seen Daphne. She's hot. And this is comin' from a gay man." Angel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Of course she's not as hot as you, baby."

"Yeah, nice save," Angel replied, rolling her eyes.

"Collins is telling the truth, Marky," Maureen said. "She's really hot. I'll date her if you don't want to!"

"Maureen, don't you already have Joanne?" Roger asked.

"What's your point?"

"Never mind."

"You guys can try to convince me all you want, but I'm not going," Mark told his friends. "What's in the box, Collins?" A huge grin spread across Collins' face.

"I've got Stoli, yes I do," he said. "I've got Stoli, how 'bout you?"

"Was the rhyme really necessary?" Roger asked.

"Yes it was." Collins took one of the many bottles of Stoli out of the box, opened it, and took a drink. "Tasty! Who's up for gettin' toasted?"

"I AM!" Maureen practically screamed.

"Me too," Angel said.

"Count me in," Roger put in. "What about you, Mark?"

"No, you guys go ahead," Mark said, getting out of the armchair.

"Mark, it's either go on the blind date with Daphne or get drunk with us," Collins said, taking another drink out of his own personal bottle of Stoli. Mark sighed and sat back down. "Excellent!" Collins poured him a drink and gave it to him.

The Next Day

"Should we wake him up?" Angel asked, looking down at Mark, who had fallen asleep in his underwear on the fire escape and was hugging his scarf.

"Yeah," Roger said. "He'll freak out if he wakes up out here."

"Wait!" Collins exclaimed, stopping Roger before he could shake Mark awake. "Let's not wake him up just yet."

"Honey, I don't like that look," Angel said.

"Let's put makeup on his face!" Maureen suggested.

"And then let's draw on him with permanent marker!" Collins added.

"No!" Angel told them. "That's mean!"

"No, that's hilarious," Roger said.

Moments later

Mark slowly opened his eyes and shivered. He quickly stood up and practically jumped in the window of the loft. He walked into the bathroom and then saw he'd gotten a make over and a bra had been drawn on his chest. He stormed out of the bathroom to find his friends, who were laughing, waiting for him.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU GUYS!" he yelled.

Collins stops shivering a little as I wipe sweat off of his forehead. We're both quiet and I listen to him breathe. His breaths are uneven and shaky. It almost sounds like his lungs are shrinking. The only other sound in the room is the beeping of the pacemaker next to the bed.

"Mark?" Collins says weakly.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I don't want you to be depressed when I die."

"If you die." He's not getting away from me that easily.

"No, Mark. When I die. You heard what the nurse said."

"Collins . . . you . . . can't die. I . . ." I can't finish.

"I know you care about me, but . . . I can't stop it, Mark. I'm . . . I'm dying."

"Collins I don't . . . I don't . . ."

"Don't what?" I take my arms from around him and stand up.

"I don't want you to die!" I shout. "I've never wanted you to die! I never thought you would! Not like this! When your test results came back positive . . . I didn't want to believe it! I didn't believe it! I've been . . . in denial that you even had AIDS for . . . a really long time. I don't want you to die, Collins! You can't . . . you can't just leave me like this!" There. I said it. It took years, but I said it.

Collins stares at me for a long moment and then puts his hand to his face. A few seconds later he's shaking again, but this time it's from his sobs. He uncovers his face and looks at me, tears pouring out of his eyes.

"You think I want to leave you alone?" he asks. "Mark, I never thought I would die like this either, but I'm going to. You just . . . gotta accept that I'm not gonna be around much longer." I look away from him. "Just because I stop living doesn't mean you have to. No day but today, Mark. No day but today."

No day but today. Those four words used to mean something. Now they just mock everyone who lived by them. Angel, Mimi, Roger, Joanne, Maureen, and even Benny all lived by them and they're all . . . dead.

I slowly go back to my place behind Collins and wrap my arms around him again. He soon falls asleep in my arms.

And I pray he'll wake up tomorrow.

That is my update for this story. Review it please.