Nyx and her siblings, along with Angel, had turned the empty shed in her parent's yard into their club house. They had used it as a not-so-secret lair ever since. The single bare light bulb dangled over head. Fading sunlight struggled to make its way through the grime coating the windows and stapled pillowcases that served as curtains.

They had furnished the small space with a collection of questionably acquired lawn chairs around a wobbly round table. An ancient mattress lay in the back corner with a single pillow and a blanket tossed on top. A narrow bookshelf made of stacked cinder blocks and wood planks rested against the side wall. It was stuffed with crusty paperbacks, board games with missing pieces, comics and magazines.

The knock at the door drowned under the pounding of the drum set. Sweat formed on Nyx's brow and the nape of her neck as her arms moved in the familiar rhythm, clearing her mind. She worked through the song, quick and loud, until her biceps hurt, only stopping when the door to the shed opened.

Angel stepped inside. His red guitar slung over his shoulder, and a sheepish grin on his face. Nyx slid off the stool and tucked her drumsticks in the back pocket of her jeans. Her breath tightened in her chest, caught somewhere between festering frustration and instinctual happiness at the sight of him.

"You're not mad at me are you?" he asked.

"I was," she said, "but I'm not anymore. Not really."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"I just wish you'd cool it." Nyx stepped around the drum kit to sit at the wooden table.

Angel propped the guitar against the wall. He joined her at the table, then fished a joint out of his pocket. His bright blue eyes narrowed a moment to focus as he lit it. Then they landed on her graphic t-shirt.

"So that's where that went," he said, gently plucking at her sleeve.

"Hands off Grub." She tugged the cloth away from him. "It was mine in the first place. I simply stole it back."

"Whatever, we'll share."

"Easy for you to say. It's not yours." She playfully snatched the joint from him and took a long drag. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday.”

"You gotta work," he said, but she heard the twinge of sadness in his voice. A pang of guilt twisted in her guts.

Angel took the joint from her again, twirling it between his fingers.

“Maybe if I had come, things would have worked out differently,” she said.

He took a hit, exhaling smoke. “I doubt it. Timmy was pretty keen on getting his money back. What could you have done?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she sighed. “From what I heard, you instigated it.”

Angel tensed and averted his eyes. The assortment of rings on his fingers suddenly became quite interesting. “Well, it would have gotten there eventually.”

Nyx clenched her jaw, biting her tongue. After a breath, she said, “If you didn’t gamble with money you don’t have, you wouldn’t get yourself in these scenarios.”

“Do you have to do this? You think I’m not pissed about this too? I don’t like getting stabbed.”

Sometimes I wonder.

“Timmy is a psycho,” Angel continued. “If the fight had been fair -”

“There shouldn’t have been a fight in the first place!” she snapped. ”Do you have any idea how scared I am for you? Does that even cross your mind?”

“Not in the moment,” Angel confessed, putting the last of the joint in his mouth. He flicked the lighter, touching the flame to the end.

“So I’m an after thought then?”

“Not at all, it’s just, I dunno.” He crushed out the filter in the ashtray. “I’m sorry.”

“Angel, if apologies were pennies I’d be a very rich woman,” she said, chest cinching against her throbbing heart. “For once in your life, please put your money where your mouth is.”

“I’ll try,” he sighed.

Their eyes met. Sadness softened his usually crisp irises. Butterflies danced in her stomach. They had known each other since a time before memory. The warmth of his easy smile was as familiar to her as turning toward the afternoon sun, but now, his lips turned down in a brooding grimace.

“That’s all I’m asking,” she said, softening her tone.

At least for now.

“How was supper with Julian?”

He fidgeted with a ring, wiggling it between his thumb and forefinger. “About how I expected it’d go.”

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“I’m sorry.”

Nyx’s stomach churned. She hated to pile on to whatever Julian must have said to him. She left the table to take up the drums again. Angel followed her lead, getting the guitar from its place against the wall and hooked it up to the amp. They'd never officially come together as a band or even tried to play on stage anywhere. It was just something they always did together. Some nights, they hardly talked at all.

While they played, Nyx studied his face; the serious squint of his azure eyes as he focused, the angles of his delicate bone structure and the gentle curve of his lips pulled down in concentration - so used to smiling, it was striking to see him so intent. Deft fingers strummed the guitar. His tendons were as taunt as the strings he plucked. She skipped a few beats, and his eyes flicked in her direction, the intensity in them momentarily lost, replaced with an amused glimmer. A slight smile. She blushed, eyes returning to her drums. Electric chords reverberated through the tiny shed.

When the song ended, they switched to a familiar ballad. Angel started to sing. It was as if a crow became a song bird and Nyx wished she could bottle the sound. His voice was low and deep. It mesmerized her how it could resonate yet remain so light and elegant at the same time. The way he varied his range with ease captivated her. She could listen to him for hours.

She would give anything for Angel to stay this version of himself. This version emerged in his trickster smile and gentle kisses, the way he played with her hair even after she'd fallen asleep, but that version was fleeting and tangible as steam.

The ballad trailed off. Nyx stopped to catch her breath. Sweat dampened the back of her neck. The blisters beneath her thumbs throbbed. Standing up to stretch, she tucked the drum sticks into her back pocket again.

Angel propped up his guitar and slumped into the nearest chair. A red stain blossomed on the left side of his breast.

“You’re bleeding,” Nyx exclaimed and hurried to his side.

“Fuck. Sorry, it’s been doing that off and on all night,” he muttered and tried to fumble with the buttons on his top.

Her heart raced, and her hands quaked as a sort of cold nausea set in.

“Here, let me,” she gently pushed his hands aside and unbuttoned his shirt, guiding the fabric over his shoulders. He winced as it brushed past the bandage. Bright, fresh blood mingled with the darker dried patches, soaking the wad of gauze. Her heart twisted. Nausea made the room spin before she collected herself again. She gently touched the edge of his wound like a whisper across his torn flesh. “You’re a mess.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

She peeled the bandages away to reveal a scantily formed scab. “This probably needs stitches. Angel, maybe we should go to the clinic? Alistair could drive -”

“No, that’s not necessary,” he said, catching her wrist. They locked eyes. Supplication clouded his irises. “They might report it to Watcher Liz. It’ll heal quick. It always does.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

“I’ll be right back.”

Nyx left the shed hurrying for the first-aid kit inside the house. The night air was cold and brisk against her clammy skin. The house was now in darkness with everyone else gone off to bed, so she was careful to be quiet climbing up the back deck and slipped through the patio doors.

After gathering the first-aid kit from the bathroom, she went to her bedroom to grab a fresh t-shirt and returned to the shed.

Angel had moved himself to the mattress on the floor. For a moment, she held her breath. He was so still.

It wasn’t that deep. Was it?

When she tugged the shed door closed, he raised his head, squinting at her.

“Nyx, I’m -”

She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside him. Angel propped himself up, blood dribbled from the split scab. It trailed a red line down his chest.

Nyx rummaged through the first-aid kit for alcohol wipes and began to clean the wound. Angel winced at the soft touch.

“You don’t have to,” he began, shifting away. “I can do it. It’s late. You should probably go to bed.”

“I want to.”

She fixated on his wound, wiping dried blood away with firm pressure.

“Nyx -”

“Will you please just shut up and let me help you?” she snapped.

Why do you have to make things so difficult?

Nyx pressed the gauze to the wound, then twisted the bandage around his shoulder. Her fingers grazed his skin. Pressure formed at the base of her throat. It became hard to swallow. She softened.

“I don’t mean to be so hard on you,” she said, dropping her gaze. “I can’t stand to see you like this.”

“Then look away,” he muttered.

Then what would you do? Where would you be if I turned from you?

She handed him the t-shirt and he tugged it on, but not without wincing when he raised his arms up. The sea air permeated the cracks in the old shed, causing a damp chill to settle into the room. Nyx snuggled against him, finding solace in the warmth of his body. He pulled the threadbare blanket up around them and laid back. The bare light bulb swung overhead, dust motes dancing in the thin beam. Such a comforting, familiar view. The scent of old wood and brine mingled with their own sweat and the dust in the blanket. She wished to stay here forever, for everything to remain just as it was. A place outside of time, with the heat of his body beside her into eternity.

When I die, this will be heaven.

“I think - I think I should move in with you,” she said, looking up at him.

“I uh - I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Angel said, scratching the back of his head.

"Why not?" She had expected some resistance, but it still stung. "There's no sense in me taking up a whole other cabin from someone else when we spend all our time together anyway."

"You'd hate living with me," he said finally, and seemed self-satisfied with the answer. "You like your space."

Nyx scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Like I have so much space living here."

"You have this shed," said Angel.

"Oh wow, a shed. Amazing." She wanted to keep her voice casual, but there was no way he couldn't hear her heart thundering in her chest. At least she could hide her tears from him, resisting the burning sting at the rim of her eyes. She turned over on her side.

Angel sighed, rolling after her, he wrapped his arm around her waist. Tugging her closer. Against her instinct, she stiffened. Everything in her wanted to melt into the embrace, but she resisted.

"C'mon," he pleaded, letting her go. "Don't be like that. Can't I think on it a bit?"

"How much longer do you need?"

"I dunno," he said. "Let it sink in a bit."

It shouldn't be this hard for him to decide. Hasn't it been on his mind all this while?

She nodded, but wouldn't look at him. "Fine."