The band went on with their sectionals, Pat seeming a lot more harsh than usual. "No, Tim! You're playing that 'C' wrong!" He yelled out at one of the rookie trumpets in his section. "Hey, Pat. Chill out." Todd, the Mello sectionleader told him, putting a hand on his shoulder from behind. Pat let out a sharp breath. "Sorry." He said, to no one in particular. Todd grinned, patted him on the back, and went back to his section.

Patrick ran his hand through his dark hair in an effort to calm him down. He's right. I can't freak out in front of the section. He thought to himself, It makes me look bad. "Right, well, let's run through that again. Take it from measure 18." He stood by and watched his section perform, and was honestly impressed. The rookies were even top-notch. But then again, as trumpets, what else were they going to be?

Of course, there were people in the section who wanted to know where their real section leader was, but weren't about to ask. They could already guess his anger had something to do with it, and none were willing to set the near six-foot tall trumpet into another frenzy. In all honesty, he was a good temporary section leader in the way he went straight to business. If you did something wrong, all you would need was an icy cold stare from Pat's deep green eyes.

A few minutes later of run-throughs and marching, practice was over, much to a lot of the trumpet's relief. "I see you're all working hard today." The band director bellowed in a friendly, yet no-nonsense voice. He was in his mid-thirties, but had great physique. He had directed their high school band for over 10 years, which may have been a factor in this. "Clarients, you may want to work on backwards marching. Baritones, your horn angles. And the trumpets seem to be worked to death today, thanks to the helpful Patrick." A few good-natured laughs were had after his last remark, and Pat simply grinned sheepishly.

"You guys know the drill. Same time tomorrow, alright?" Everyone replied in the affirmative, and were talking with each other by this point. "Band, 'Ten-Hut!" Everyone snapped to attention, and their cries bounced off of the buildings far away. "Now I want you all to be more focused tomorrow. This year's show is big, and everyone's participation is required. Understood?" The band replied loudly, "Yes sir!"

"Band, dismissed." They all said 'thank you sir', and headed back up to the band room. Pat headed up faster than usual, as he wanted to find out what was up with Nate once and for all. Once he got up to the room, he put away his trumpet into its case and headed out to the back of the school, where his car was parked. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door, once he'd got in, he rested his trumpet case in the passengers seat. People would probably think it was weird for him to keep a seat especially for his trumpet, but he wasn't about to let it get damaged. He started towards the local hospital.

>>

"Daniels, Nate." He told the nurse in the front counter. She flipped through a few papers and told him the room number. He thanked her and went on his way to find his section leader. He almost didn't want to see him, in fear of it being the worst. If anything happened to Nate, he'd go crazy. When he found his room and entered, he was instantly unnerved from many IVs inside of him. "Nate?" He asked in nearly a whisper, not even sure it was him.

He was on the hospital bed, his eyes closed, probably asleep from the various medicines in him. He didn't see a cast or anything on him, so he assumed something was messing up his insides. From the looks of it, he hadn't moved from there in a few days, the bedsores on the bottom of his arms very noticible. He bit his lip, not even sure if he should wake him, he was about to turn when he heard a familiar voice call out, "Pat...?" He turned back to face him, brow furrowed in worry.

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?" He asked. Why was he all of a sudden so caring? It wasn't normal of him to be like that. "No, it's fine." His voice was much raspier than usual, and it absolutely killed Pat inside. "Why won't you tell me what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you avoiding my question?!" He let out at him, not being able to take it anymore. Nate chuckled softly, "There's the Pat I know. I got scared for a second, I thought you'd gotten soft on me." Pat glared at him, waiting for him to get back to the question.

Nate let out a large sigh. "Honestly, I'm not going to be able to march this season. Or... any season, for that matter." The slightly darker skinned trumpet's eyes widened at this. "Why? The section needs you!" The other boy gave him a sad smile, letting that sink in before he told him the next thing. "I... have skin cancer. I have 5 months."

A/N: Ooooh... Cliffhanger lmao. I hope you guys like this chapter... R&R's are appreciated!