I still have dreams... Chapter 33

"Beckett!" I yelled from the stage, smiling to myself. "You better be out here in, oh I don't know, oh point 2 seconds."
"I'm here, I'm here," he said calmy, putting his hands up as his tall lanky figure stalked by.
"Good. Now, what did Carden say about being late?" I asked, glancing down at my clipboard.
"Oh, no he's getting here on time," replied William, picking up the mic.
He started vocal warm-ups as I walked backstage to find Pete.
"Peterrrr," I sing-songed as I spotted him standing, talking to Chizz.
"So, Bilvy's warming up. The sound guys are done, so I guess all is well," I said.
Pete nodded, then took a sip of Aquafina before replying.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Camilla. Sorry I called you so last minute, but I'm really glad you could help out."
I suppose now is when I 'catch you up to speed' or something like that. If you didn't preasses, it's been quite a few years since I graduated from Rockwell High School. 6, to be exact. So now my 25 year-old self is working at a record label. After graduation I moved to Chicago, went to college, dropped out of college after two months, worked at an art place, quit, went back to school, graduated with a music degree, and now I'm here. I had met Pete just as I was graduating college, and he offered a job to me at DecayDance.
Honestly, who could turn that down? 
Now I went from stage to stage all over the East Coast, helping manage pre and post-show madness. I still don't quite get it, but Pete puts a lot of trust in me. He sends to me to big jobs, jobs I never imagined myself capable of. I met Beckett almost right after earning my job, and we'd become friends instantly. This was what I was meant to do with my life.
After setting the clipboard down, I decided to go for a walk around the grounds, get a feel for Warped Tour. I nervously made my through the sea of teenagers, feeling awkward and out of place. I looked up to see a girl wearing shirt that said Become What You Hate.
Midtown. Gabe's Midtown. Gabriel Saporta. The one and only. I had bought tickets ages ago to go and see them live, but didn't have the nerve. I didn't have the guts to show up in a crowd of a thousand people to see my ex of 6 years perform. How lame is that?
I had been on exactly 4 dates since highschool. 4. Two of them had been decent, actually really great guys. 
I still couldn't help myself but to think of Gabe, and what he would've said when the waiter forgot to leave the meat off my salad. Or what Gabriel would have thought when I dropped out of college, the disappointment he would have felt. Or the pride, when I got my job at the label.
Now Gabe was in a band with none other than the entirety of my best friends at Rockwell. Cobra Starship. 
Between Midtown and Cobra Starship, I felt like I had a piece of Gabe no one else would understand. A little tidbit of information only I would understand. I felt that by listening to his voice in my iPod every single day of my life, that it would bring me closer to him. That the hole in my chest would be filled, as if by a miracle.
I walked lazily around in the hot sun, wondering what to do with all of the time on my hands. I flicked through the songs on my iPod, coming to my personal favorite of my best friends' latest album. I hummed along with One Day Robots Will Cry and found my way backstage again, safe from the UV rays baking my pasty skin off my body.
"You lost, punk?" Sisky asked in fake confusion as I walked by.
"Shut up," I muttered, grinning as I walked around the speaker, bumping straight into the last person I ever expected to see right then, right there, on that stage. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Gabe's POV
I laughed as Ryland poured his water bottle out on me, running between tour busses. It was like a secret maze, and you had to be pretty effing good to get out. I bumped into Vicky-T as I walked around a bus, then whispered, "shit, sorry, be quiet, I'm trying to lose Ryland."
"Okay, Gabe, sorry!" she yelled, grinning apologetically and shrugging.
"Bitch!" I yelled back as I ran away. I waited for a while, not knowing where Ryland was, before deciding to go back to the bus.
Fuck this heat.
I sighed as I sat down on the couch, watching tv absentmindedly. Suddenly my phone rang, and I jumped slightly at the sound.
"Hola, Gabriel," my mother answered sweetly, and I was actually glad to hear her voice.
"Oh, hey ma, hows it going?"
"I'm alright, we miss you. Would you by any chance have your social security card with you? I'm renewing insurance and they keep asking me for social security and I just don't understand why, I mean-" she started a long story, but I interruped, saving myself the headache.
"Yeah, ma, hold on, kay?" I dug into my pockets and flipped open my wallet, papers flying everywhere. I finally found the card, then read out the number to her.
"That it, then?" I asked.
"Yes, dear, thank you. Have fun. Be safe, and drink water!" she warned.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, got it mom."
"I love you, Gabriel."
"Love you mom," I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone, glancing down at the mass of papers that had fallen out of my wallet.
I began cleaning them up, most of it receipts and small notes I'd made myself. I noticed a stray square on the floor, neat handwriting splayed across the top. I picked it up and realized, my heart sinking, what it was. I flipped it over, and saw myself. Well, me almost 7 years ago. I got the nerve to flip the Polaroid back over, and read the writing.
Gabriel Saporta. The love of my life. My best friend. Future musician. Exceptional man. I love you.
My mind flipped back to that day, the promise she'd whispered in my ear the last time I'd ever seen her.
"I love you, never forget that," she'd said. Her letter. It has said so little. I remembered being angry that day, that she had left. Now I regret not getting my sorry ass up and looking for her.
I'd lost her. Lost her without even putting up a fight.
What a fucking dumbass.
I shook my head, and got up to head backstage.
I guess somethings never change.