Is it bad that I almost cried while writing this? Anyways, here it is. xD The song is Anthem of the Angels by Breaking Benjamin. Enjoy…review?

Gone

White walls surround us
No light will touch your face again
Rain taps the window
As we sleep among the dead

The funeral was small. Only eight people stood around the grave, listening distantly to the words the priest was saying. The rain drowned out most of them, pounding down onto the grass and soaking each of them to the bone. The rest of them, they didn't want to hear.

The black-haired boy stood at the back of the procession, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans. He didn't want to be here; he didn't want to be anywhere near the hole in the ground that had swallowed her up. He turned his eyes up towards the sky, letting the cold water wash over his pale skin, sending shivers down his spine. His legs felt numb; his heart felt hollow. The cries of one of the flock brought him out of his daze, and he glanced back at the rest of them as they stood gathered around the grave, each holding themselves together as best as they could, without the one person who was always there to help them do it.

A small girl stepped forward, her blonde curls hanging limply around her pointed face. She stood at the front of the procession, looking more like a fallen angel than the glowing one she usually seemed to be. She clutched a small black dog tightly in her arms, who was silent as well. For a moment it seemed as though she had forgotten how to speak; her throat constricted, and a sob bubbled up from inside of her. In the end, she projected her thoughts to the others. 'I don't think she would want us to cry,' She said, clutching the black mass of fur tighter to her chest. 'She would want us to pull together. We need each other now more than ever. We—' She bit her lip, turning her gaze downward as she stepped down from the front. She fell into the arms of the nearest flock member, squishing the dog in between them as she cried.

The boy still didn't move from his spot at the back, his face as cold and immovable as stone; the one person who could crack through his armor had disappeared, and to him it seemed as if she had taken the sun with her. Almost as if to confirm his thoughts, the rain beat down harder, drowning out the cries of the small girl and the taller one who held her in her arms. Even she, who could never seem to be quiet, had no words to speak now.

An older woman stepped forward and knelt down on top of the grave, resting a bouquet of brightly colored flowers on top. Her lips moved, but whatever she said was lost to the wind, carried away for ears that remained unseen. She took her daughter in her arms as she stepped back, and slowly they moved away from the grave, turning their backs on the mound of dirt that marked the resting place of their friend.

The boy was the last to leave; he stared at the gray stone on top of the ground, studying every word on it, every mark, every letter. When he finally turned away, the rain had begun to let up, but the chill still remained.

Days go on forever
But I have not left your side
We can chase the dark together
If you go then so will I

Every day seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer, like a flame slowly burning down a candle until nothing remained but melted wax. The boy went to the graveyard every day; no one asked him any questions as he came back to the house at strange hours of the night, his shoulders hunched and his face cast downward. They all seemed to be in a sort of stupor; nothing anyone could say would make things better, would change a thing.

He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't sleep. He spent every night kneeling on top of the mound of dirt that held captive the one person whom he truly needed to see, who he knew he could never see again. He had watched the light slowly go out of her eyes, her body growing limp and cold, as pale as death. She was the last person he expected to see gone; despite the things they went through every day, death was never an option. They always fought, and they always made it out alive. When she fell to the ground, she took with her his will to keep going.

The tear-streaked faces of the flock only added to the guilt that already crushed down on his chest, weighing down his heart until he felt as though he could barely breathe anymore. Their eyes seemed to be pleading with him to tell them something, anything. He was the oldest one now, after all; they were looking to him for guidance, when he was the one who really needed it. He felt lost, wandering through a maze with no exit in sight. No amount of tears or words could ever help him find the way out.

He began to know the graveyard better than the place that had become their temporary home. He didn't care about any of the names he saw, though, except for one. His feet always seemed to take them there of their own accord, dragging him out of bed at different hours of the night, as if pulled by an invisible thread that still held them together. Every time he saw those words, ran his hand over the cold marble of the gravestone, he knew. She wasn't coming back. But he always found his way back to the place where she lay, staying as close to her as he could.

There is nothing left of you
I can see it in your eyes
Sing the anthem of the angels
And say the last goodbye

He slowly lifted his eyes from the grave, turning his gaze up towards the night sky. It was lit up with stars, each one seeming brighter than the last. His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of all the nights he'd spent under the stars with her at his side. It was her soft breathing that had become his lullaby for years, whether he was behind bars or out in the open. It was her face that decorated his dreams, whether smudged with dirt and blood or clean. Her hair was like a halo of brown and gold around her face, even when it was a tangled mess. He could see her now; with her wings spread out and a smile on her face, she truly looked like an angel. He lifted up a hand to touch her, but as soon as he did, the illusion disappeared. He was back on the cold ground, his forehead pressed to the cool stone as hot tears streaked their way down his cheeks.

He couldn't let go of her. Though the rest of the flock seemed to be healing, each in their own ways, he remained broken and silent. He was running in place while they jogged ahead, never once turning back to look at him and see if he was okay. He held onto the memory of her face with closed fists, struggling to pull her closer to him, to feel her warmth once more, the touch of her lips on his own. He longed to touch her just one more time, and then to never let go.

She was buried; she wasn't going to come back and say his name again, call him an idiot when he deserved it, put him back on the right path when he strayed away. She wasn't going to wrap her arms around him, fight beside him, stay by his side when he needed a helping hand. He'd seen the light slowly fade from her brown eyes, until she was looking at nothing at all, or maybe something entirely new. He'd held her in his arms until they pried him away, but even then he wouldn't stay away. He tried to bring her back; he tried to make her heart beat again. He'd screamed and yelled, saying that she was always stubborn before; why was she giving up now? But her eyes remained lifeless, her arms and legs limp, her skin cold. Her lips wouldn't move; her chest wouldn't rise. She wouldn't come back.

Another sleepless night passed by slowly, with his dark eyes watching the stars slowly fade away as the sun welcomed a new day.

Cold light above us
Hope fills the heart
And fades away
Skin white as winter
As the sky returns to grey

She was looking at him. A smirk turned up the corners of her lips as she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring mockingly at him. His heart sped up, beating almost painfully against his chest until it felt like it would burst. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes covered in blood and torn into pieces, showing the bruised and scarred skin underneath.

He reached his hand out towards her, and this time, it didn't pass through. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him until there was no space in between them at all. Her body was warm; her chest was moving as air filled her lungs. He breathed in deeply, and his hands found the feathers on her back where her wings were tucked against her spine.

"It's you. It's really you." The words left his lips in a breathless whisper, and he felt her warm breath on his neck as she answered.

"Of course it is, you idiot. Who else would it be?" She slowly pulled away, taking a step back and looking at him up and down, appraising him. She snorted, rolling her eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost," She said, and again she was smirking, the light back in her eyes. "What's gotten into you?"

"You—" He began, but he didn't get to finish. As quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Panic seized his chest, but no matter how loudly he called out her name, she didn't answer. His throat felt raw and his lungs screamed for air, but he couldn't stop saying her name. His legs carried him farther and farther, but at the same time he moved nowhere.

She was laying broken and bloody on the ground, red blood pooled around her pale body. Her leg was twisted at an unnatural angle; her lip was split and bloody, and her wings lay broken and crushed underneath her body. He held her in his arms, and watched as she tried to speak, choking on blood that spilled from her lips. The last word he'd heard her say was his own name.

"Fang."

Days go on forever
But I have not left your side
We can chase the dark together
If you go then so will I

A voice was calling his name, over and over again. Each time it grew more and more panicked, until finally it was screamed. He sat up in bed, gasping and covered in sweat, the blankets tangled around him like a snake. Her image slowly melted away as his heartbeat returned to normal and the sweat dried from his skin. Again his legs carried him to the same place that they always did. The dirt was distilled and sunken in where he'd sat every day for hours on end, thinking about everything in the world and nothing at all.

She was still gone, but he wouldn't leave her side. He kept thinking of all of the things he could have done better, all of the times he'd messed up. He thought about how maybe, if he'd done something differently, he could have saved her life. Her voice whispered his name over and over again, until he felt as though she were sitting next to him again, leaning next to the bed and trying to wake him up, telling him that she loved him, leaning in for another kiss. He saw her in everything he did, everywhere he went. Everything brought back memories of her face, her voice, her touch. The grip he held on her couldn't be loosened by time, nor by distance. She was everywhere.

The rain began to pour again, just as it had on the day she'd been lowered into the very ground he now lay on himself. He closed his eyes and let it wash over his face, mingling with the tears that slid from his eyes. He didn't want to be weak; he was the one the other would look up to now, the one they would listen to for guidance, for orders. He didn't understand how she had done it; she'd always made it look so easy. She'd always been so strong.

He wondered if he'd be pulled down, too, if he lay there long enough on the damp ground, drowning in the rain that continued to fall.

There is nothing left of you
I can see it in your eyes
Sing the anthem of the angels
And say the last goodbye

She was smiling at him again. Her skin was warm, her face flushed red and alive. She was breathing again. She fit into his arms perfectly, like the missing piece of a puzzle that he'd been unable to find.

"You have to let go, Fang," She whispered, pulling out of his arms once more. Panic seized his heart once more as he watched her take a step back, her wings spread out around her.

"I can't," He managed to choke out. He'd never sounded so broken before, not even in front of her. Not even when he was alone. "Please stay with me," He whispered, but when he reached out for her, she stepped back. Her eyes narrowed, and the determined glint that he remembered so well was back in her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips, facing him head on.

"The flock needs you, Fang," She said, her voice biting and cutting straight to the point. "They need you now, and you're falling apart. You have to pull yourself together," She said sternly, her voice cold. Yet even in that coldness he could find the spark of warmth that she'd always held, even in her harshest moments. He closed it in his hands and pulled it towards him, watching the slight twitch of her lips as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Fang, I'm sorry," She finally whispered. "But this wasn't your fault. You know that," She said, but still he was silent. She let out a long breath, stirring the hair in front of her face. "I was careless," She said finally. "I wasn't careful. I let myself get hurt. But you have to stay strong, Fang!" she shouted. The warmth was growing to a blaze, and she took a step closer, enclosing him its warmth. Though her eyes glowed with anger, there was also a softness underneath them that he knew he could still reach.

"Pull yourself together," She said, her voice low and dangerous. "If not for me, then do it for them. They all need you, Fang. You have to take my place."

The words sent a chill down his spine that almost took away the warmth that he was holding onto so tightly. He shook his head quickly; no one could ever take her place. He could feel the warmth slipping from his fingers slowly, and then her lips crashed into his.

Everything was the same. He wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her to him. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world, and right now, they were. The warmth slowly spread throughout his body, chasing out the chill that had set in so strongly. When she pulled away, she was smiling.

"Keep going," She said quietly. "I'll be watching you."

And then she was gone.

You're dead alive

She was there with him, but at the same time, she was so far away. He couldn't find her when he was at her grave, nor could he find her as he lay awake at night in bed. The warmth was beginning to fade from within him, but every time he closed his eyes, she was there, waiting for him.

You're dead alive

She didn't leave his dreams. She was always there, telling him to get up off the ground, to pull himself together. She always left with the same words. 'Keep going.' The words never seemed to lose their meaning, no matter how many times she said them.

You're dead alive

Her grave became the most familiar place to him; he seemed to know it better than he even knew himself anymore. Every word on it was inscribed into his memory; everything about it was almost like a part of him. And every time he looked, he only heard her voice again. 'Keep going.'

You're dead alive

She still knew what to say to him to make him get up, to keep going the next day. And yet he still couldn't let go of her memory; he was afraid to move away from that one spot, for fear of forgetting her face, her touch, her everything. She was slowly slipping through his fingers, no matter how frantically he grasped for her hand.

There is nothing left of you
I can see it in your eyes
Sing the anthem of the angels
And say the last goodbye

Time still couldn't heal the gaping wounds he held deep within his heart. Days turned into weeks, and weeks slowly melted into months. The ground became frozen, and each time he went to her grave his hands were frozen stiff. Snow covered the ground and showed the footprints he left everyday, always in the same place, though erased by a new snowfall every morning. She hadn't left his dreams; she still told him to get up, to pull himself together, but he couldn't seem to get his feet off of the ground.

He knew that what he saw in his head were nothing more than illusions, but they felt so real to him; he wanted them to be real. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, to bring the warmth back into her that had left that day he'd found her broken. He wanted to hear her say his name again for real, to be able to say her name once more, to taste the word on his lips that had always brought him out of any stupor he was in.

Winter slowly turned to spring as the snow began to melt, giving way to new grass. The cool stone that marked her resting place began to dull down. Spring turned to summer, but even the heat couldn't stop him from going back to that place. The flock were still broken; they were lost without her. They looked to him for help, to tell them what to do next, but he couldn't say a word to them. The dreams were beginning to come less and less. He felt like he was losing the memory of her face; he clung tighter, but she always seemed to somehow slip away.

I keep holding onto you
But I can't bring you back to life

Nothing would bring her back. She'd told him that so many times in his dreams, but he refused to believe it. Visiting her grave everyday wasn't going to do anything; he knew that, somewhere deep down, but he wanted to believe that it meant something. He didn't want her to think he forgot about her, that he stopped caring for her.

"You idiot."

Those two words and the voice that spoke them brought him out of his thoughts, and his head snapped up from where he sat near her grave, leaning against the stone with her name inscribed in it. He blinked once, twice, and shook his head quickly. He wasn't asleep. He knew that he wasn't, and yet she was still here.

He reached out his hand for her again, but it didn't pass through. His dark eyes widened as she rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'd never think you forgot about me," She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're even stupider than I thought you were if you even believed that for one second," She said. Her biting words didn't seem to effect him at all; his eyes were still locked with hers, and finally she scoffed, taking a step forward.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Fang," She said, a smirk turning up the corners of her lips. "You look even paler than usual."

She was really here. He wasn't imagining it. But he couldn't make himself say her name, the one that he missed so much. He didn't understand how this was possible, but if it was another dream, he didn't want to wake up, not this time.

"But you're not asleep," she said suddenly, rolling her eyes again. "Come on, Fang, snap out of it," She said, snapping her fingers in front of his face, making him step back quickly, stumbling over the gray stone and falling into the grass. She chuckled, offering him a hand to help him up. When he didn't move she grasped it herself, pulling him up with ease. She didn't let go once he was up, instead intertwining her fingers with his own.

"You idiot," She said again, but her voice was softer this time. "You'll never forget me. But you have to keep going. There's still things you have to do."

His throat constricted as she let go of his hand, taking a step back. He couldn't find his strength to reach out for her again, to step forward. She was smiling, as if she could read his thoughts.

"I'll see you again," She said simply. "Take care of them," She added, and when he blinked, she was gone.

Sing the anthem of the angels
And say the last goodbye

He knelt down by the smooth gray stone once more, running his fingertips over the name inscribed upon it. Her image still burned brightly behind his eyes as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing down at the well-worn dirt where he'd knelt every night for almost a year. He slowly turned his gaze up towards the sky, and a small smile turned up the corners of his lips. He could almost hear her voice again. 'Take care of them.' He took a step back, then slowly turned his back on the familiar grave.

"Goodbye, Max."