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 arms hurt, only stopping when the door to the shed opened.

The dim light of evening briefly illuminated the shed as Angel stepped inside. He carried his guitar case, a sheepish grin on his face. Nyx slid off the stool and tucked her drumsticks in the back pocket of her jeans.

"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.

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 and the remnants of sunlight struggled to make its way through the grime coating the windows. One of them had stapled pillowcases over the windows for extra privacy.

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. Before Angel got his own cabin, he had avoided going home on many occasions by sleeping off his drinks here. A narrow bookshelf made of stacked cinderblocks and wood planks rested against the side wall. It was stuffed with crusty paperbacks, board games with missing pieces, comics and magazines.

Angel propped the guitar case 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 the green flannel shirt draped lazily over her elbows.

"So that's where that went," he said.

"Hands off Grub," she said and whisked 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.

"We can go out later if you want to? Maybe tomorrow night?"

He perked. "You haven't been out with us in a while."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you, and clearly Alistair isn't capable of keeping you out of trouble. Why did Timmy punch you anyway? What the hell did you say?"

"No idea." He shrugged and for a split second, his eyes danced away. "If you're gonna come out, promise you'll be chill?"

"Only if you promise not to be a shit," she said.

"Then we have a deal?"

"You have my word."

Angel went to peck her on the cheek but she swerved to dodge it.

"The minute I wanna go home, I'm going home," she said.

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"Ok, got it," he said and this time she let him kiss her.

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.

When they finished their cigarette, Nyx took up the drums again and Angel followed her lead, getting the guitar from its case and hooking 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.

Sometimes, if he were in the right mood, Angel would sing. It was if a crow became a songbird, and Nyx wished she could bottle the sound.

Tonight was not such a night.

They finished playing and Angel packed up to leave.

"You coming over?" he asked, hand on the door knob. "I'll fly ya."

"Not tonight," she said. "I work in the morning."

"So do I? What's it matter?"

"All my stuff is here."

"Just leave early and come back here before you go," he said.

"Can we talk? Just for a second?" she asked and hated how hot her cheeks became.

"Uh, sure," he said, putting his guitar case down.

Nyx sat at the table. She nibbled her lip, uncertain how to begin, so she may as well come right out with it. "I've been thinking... wouldn't it be easier if I moved in with you?"

"I - uh -" Angelus scratched the back of his head. His eyes flitted around the room, looking anywhere but at her. "That's not a great idea."

"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 with Mom and Dad. At least Alistair gets his own room. I gotta share one with Cass."

"You have this shed," said Angel. As if that were something.

"Oh wow, a shed. Amazing." She plucked a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it, hoping to appear casual, but her hands were shaking. There's no way he couldn't see it, or 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.

Angelus sighed, shoulders sagging, and he slumped into the chair across from her. He reached for her free hand, but she snatched it away.

"C'mon," he pleaded. "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."

Nyx drummed her fingers on the table, exhaling a cloud of thick smoke.

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

When Angel first moved out on his own, Nyx had hoped he'd ask then, but they were both so young. He had just turned nineteen then, so it was understandable why they should wait. That was three years ago now, and her patience was wearing thin.

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

He smiled and took her hand. This time, she didn't pull away and he gently kissed her knuckles and then her palm. "I'll stay here tonight."

"No, I'll go with you." Nyx crushed her cigarette out into the ashtray and got up. She pulled the flannel up over her shoulders. Though it was still summer, it was bound to be colder in the air.

They stepped into the balmy night. The sun had gone down, leaving only the sparse streetlights to illuminate the close knit neighborhood. Wind rippled the tall grass and wild flowers in the overgrown lawn. Moths gathered around the porch light of her parent's cabin. Only the kitchen light was on inside the squat grey house. Her mother and father would be playing cards at the table with the radio on.

Angel left the guitar behind in the shed. He pulled off his shirt and flexed his shoulders. The skin near his spine rippled and split. Coal black wings emerged from the slits near his spine. Fully spread, they were twice as long as he was tall. They drew back, the air whooshing in response. The tips of his feathers trailed across the ground as he walked toward her.

"Ready?" he asked, extending a hand.

Nyx took it and he pulled her close. Even that was breathtaking and they weren't even in the air yet. Angel scooped her up in a single motion. Nyx rested her arm around his shoulders to keep steady. He jumped, and flapped his wings, shifting the air around them and was airbourne. Her stomach always seemed to remain a few seconds behind the rest of her.

It was exhilarating to fly with him, soaring above the village. The already small houses faded. Nyx studied his face; the serious squint of his indigo 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.

He took his eyes off the horizon, only for a moment to look at her instead.

"You good?"

She rested her head against his chest. "Never better."