I took another drag from my third cigarette. Damn, this stress was killing me. I couldn't believe that just kick me out like that! Fucking faggots. How could they betray me like that?! Especially my best friend...s. All of them were my closest friends for years and years...did that mean absolutely nothing to them?!

I wanted to scream, but instead I swallowed it down as I breathed in the last, long drag from my cigarette, preparing to pop out another one. I butted the cherry out and exhaled the smoke, enjoying my nicotine high, but hating the reality that was happening. This wasn't a dream. I no longer had my friends...the ones I fucking loved. Bunch of no, good, backstabbing, drinking pigs! I didn't do anything! I'm completely innocent! They can't kick me out...like I'm some sort of freeloader. I grew more and more angry as I thought about it and began to light my fourth cigarette until a voice interrupted me.

"That bad, huh?" said an unfamiliar voice. I realized he was right and stopped lighting the cigarette. I didn't want to waste it, so I put it back into the almost empty pack. "Yeah. My bad," I said. "Nah, dude, it's all cool. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

I looked at the stranger. He seemed nice and even looked like it, too. I became confused, however. "Why do you want to know?" I asked. He shrugged. "I don't know. It sucks to have problems. It usually makes me feel good if I just get it off of my chest," he answered. His hair was brunette, if not completely black. It shined brown, in the light, however. His eyes were hazel and his features were chiseled. He seemed really kind, so I trusted him.

"Fine…" I began. "I sort of got kicked out from my band," I said.
_

I looked at the smoker who began to confess his feelings to me. I didn't know the guy, but I felt obliged to come over and talk to him. I know what it's like to be stressed to the max to wear you just want to completely smoke every cigarette that comes your way, so I thought that maybe he would feel better if he just got the shit off of his chest.
"That's horrible man," I said. I really didn't want to tell him I just got a gig with a band. If I did, it might him feel even more like shit that he just got kicked out of his band when I just got into one.

"Yeah," he answered. He didn't continue so I cleared my throat. "Dude, yeah, I just got kicked from American Idol...I guess I just wasn't material for them," I began. "Really?" he asked as he looked at me. Maybe I got his attention.

"Yeah. It sucks, man, but it's not the end."

"Dude, you don't even know...I feel betrayed...these guys whom I was in the band with were my family. I told him everything, I always wanted to be with them. They were my best friends who I put my trust into...then...then they just kicked me out," he continued. I felt horrible. No way could I empathize that.

"Damn…" I said. I really wanted to comfort him and make him feel better, but I really didn't know how. I saw the man sigh. "I feel like shit...they were everything to me. The band...the music...but mostly the members. They just kicked me out. I don't even know why," he said. "I feel angry at them...I feel angry at myself…but truth is, I don't know what to feel right now. I feel sad, angry, depressed, isolated, betrayed...I don't know what feeling is right, though," he continued.

I even began to feel angry. "They sound like pieces of shit," I said, trying to support him. "What kind of friends are those?"

He shrugged. "I've known them ever since high school, man. We were tight…especially me and my homie, J-Dog," he continued. He looked at me. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to use names."
"No, it's cool," I said. I felt awkward. J-Dog?...My heart began to pound as I asked him this final question, almost already knowing the answer. I cleared my throat and prepared myself. "Uh, mind telling me...what band did you get kicked out of?"

"Ever heard of a band named Hollywood Undead?" he asked. Fuck. Fuck. My. Life.

"Uh," I coughed. Shit. I didn't know what to say. That was the band that just allowed me to become lead to. "Uh, I-I don't know. Sounds familiar." I felt torn. His story seemed so heartbreaking, but according to Johnny, Aron-Deuce, I believe the stage name is-is a backstabber along with being a complete asshole.

"Well, that's them…" he answered.

I fell silent and he sighed. "I guess I feel better," he said with a tender, sad smile. "Mind if I have your name? I can give you my phone number," he said.

Shit! I didn't want to reject. That would make me look like that absolute asshole. I sighed and gave in, giving him my phone number so he could put his number in it.

"My name is Aron, by the way. You?"

"My name is Daniel," I said, trying to refrain from saying "Danny". I was praying to God that he didn't catch on.

"Sweet. I hope I didn't make things awkward...I just really don't know who to turn to, right now," he said to me. I felt flattered, but heartbroken at the same time. It's only a matter of time before he realizes who I really am. I'm his replacement. I'm part of Hollywood Undead, now.

He smiled as he left, saying goodbye. I just sat there, staring at his number. My phone lit up to reveal Johnny calling me. My heart almost stopped as I realized how close that was. What if Aron saw Johnny Three Tears calling?

I swiped the answer button. "Hello?"

"Hey, Danny, we need you here at the studio. Charlie came up with an idea for the new album. Exciting, huh?" he asked.

"I'm shaking like a leaf here from the excitement," I said, preparing to grab my things. "I'll be over in a minute." I said. I hung up the phone and continued to stare at Aron's contact number.

I didn't want to be a douche and so with a sigh, I text him.

Me: Hey, it's Daniel. Send.

My heart was racing, but I sighed and ignored it. Almost immediately, however, my phone vibrated as Aron replied to me.

Aron: Hey, sup, man?
Me: Going to town. wbu?

He didn't reply back immediately. I began to walk out of the food court into my car to drive to the studio. I felt so scared for some reason. I didn't feel right. I felt like the middleman of some arms race, or something.

"Damn it, Danny, keep it together!" I audibly yelled at my mirror. I'm going insane. I sighed as I realized these weren't normal feelings. When my phone vibrated, I was just hoping it was Aron texting me back. It wasn't. It was Charlie, instead. I felt disappointed, but why?

Charles P.: Dude, I know you're new, but you needa come on.
Me: I'm otw, now. Chill.
Charles P.: No probs.

I realized I actually liked the dude, Aron. Fuck. I didn't need this.

I began to drive to the studio, trying not to think about him.