Collins stood at the door, just staring. He didn't move away, didn't knock; just stared at it. His eyes followed the cracks that crisscrossed their way down the cheap wood, absently looking for familiar designs. He didn't know how long he stood there, could have been only a minute, could have been an hour, but still he continued to stare. To stare and try to figure out what to do.

Collins had always been shy and awkward. Even as a child, he'd had trouble making friends. And boyfriends? Forget it. He could barely even get close to a man he was attracted to, let alone ask him out. Mark and Roger liked to tease him about it, and it was their voices ringing in his head that kept him there, glued in place in front of a worn, cracked door.

"Collins, if you ever found Mr. Right, you'd probably just turn and walk away from him."

It was exactly what he had done. Collins had found him. Found that one person that he knew was the one for him, and he had walked away. It was his door he now stood in front of, trying to gather the courage to knock, and his face that floated across his vision.

He was the most amazing man Collins had ever met. How many people would venture into a dark alleyway to help a big, black man? And how many people would then take that man home to tend to his wounds?

Collins had been captivated by him the moment he set eyes on him. It wasn't just his physical beauty, for he was beautiful; there was no other word to describe him, but it was the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. He was so gentle and caring, and yet so strong and independent. Collins had willingly followed him home, trying to suppress the desire that had spread through his body like wildfire.

They had talked a little. Angel so confident and charming, Collins stumbling over his words as he tried not to stare too long at the amazing creature before him. He'd wanted to say more, wanted to find out more about Angel, but the smaller man's feather-light touches had sent Collins' mind into a whirl and he hadn't been able to find the words. He had become distracted by the hand that rested casually on his knee as Angel dabbed at the cut on his lip, and before he knew it he was patched up and Angel was standing before him, smiling down at him as he sat on the couch.

That smile had ingrained itself in Collins' mind, and he longed to see it again. Not only to see the smile, but to see him; to see Angel.

But was it too late? Feeling suddenly awkward under Angel's gaze, Collins had abruptly stood up, thanking him for his help, and left. The instant the door had closed behind him, his friend's voices had begun taunting him. He knew they were right.

Angel was the one. Collins had no doubt about that at all. But what if Angel didn't feel the same? He tried to push that thought out of his mind. He couldn't allow himself to back out based on what ifs. Not this time. Not with him.

Taking a deep breath, Collins knocked on the door.