Breathe.

Brian.

I shifted nervously as I wiped the gathering sweat off my hands onto my jeans. Every few seconds I developed a habit of raising my hands to play with my hair and bite my bottom lip. It's been four weeks since I'd seen Angel, or even heard from him for that matter, and this morning I got a text from him. He wanted to meet up with me as soon as possible. Of course I agreed to meet him within the hour.

Hope was the only thing keeping my heart at bay right about now. That an the fact that I've been discovering that I have a passion within music. Graham's dad recently bought a small recording studio down here so that I could record my first CD, at least a few tracks, before flying out to New jersey to finalize and mix it. With the hours me and my new band have been putting in, this thing could be finished by the end of Christmas in about eight months.

The thought of Christmas reminded me of Angel's obsession with Santa. Smiling I chuckled and shook my head. So childish and silly, but that's one small part that made up Angel. And I wouldn't want it changed for the world.

Removing thoughts of him from my mindas if that ever happens I force my thoughts to drift back to my knew band. We were still deciding on a name for ourselves since I refuse to take all the credit by allowing just my name to be on the CD cover. I wanted us to be an actual band, nothing else. It's not just about me anyways, without their music to back me up I have nothing.

Mark was our bassist, sometimes pianist/keyboardist if needed. God it was hard seeing him again, but also one of the best things in the world. No I don't love him like I thought I did so long ago, but he still felt like my best friendaside from Angel. He's also a lot more calm than I remembered, very laid back and go with the flow. There's no traces of the hyper, temperamental guy I used to know.

Then you got Graham who I forced to join the band when I heard him jamming with our drummer Shawn. He was one fucking amazing rhythm guitarists though he doesn't seem to realize it. I swear to god that kid could pull a random, but sweet sounding, tune out of his ass if he wanted to.

Vinny, Vincent, is our lead guitarist. He's a sweetheart, unless you piss him off then I swear he'll go eighties greaser on your ass. Like the Outsiders shit. Don't believe me? Then believe the fact that he grew up in a homophobic neighborhood, and he was the only kid brave enough to admit he was gay. From the neighborhood he grew up in, that's not something you can admit and expect not to get beat for. His record scares the shit out of me. Yes, I said record as in mug shots and all.

To top off the cake you got Shawn. Insane, over the top, perfectionist, childish, humorous, weird as fuck, freaky Shawn. There are just too many words to describe Shawn. One I forgot to mention was perverted, another immature beyond belief. Four minutes with the guy and you're on your ass laughing or sitting there wanting to shove something down his throat just to get him to shut up. Shaking my head I chuckle. Doesn't help the fact that he's only five foot three.

A shadow moves in front of me and my head snaps up, my eyes making contact with Angels. Sweat gathers on my palms again as I wipe them across denim and my breathe catches in my throat. God, only he could do this to me. My heart beats skips as it speeds up. But the look in his eyes as he tries not to make eyes contact with me shatters the hope that was holding up my beating heart, and sends it crashing down.

His hand comes across the table to grip mine and I hold back tears. I can't bring myself to hold his hand back, when I know what he's going to say.

"Brian I..."