Don't own a thing.
Angel's parents had sworn their son had known how to sing before he knew how to talk. He'd always loved music. His mother would play music for him to dance to during her pregnancy, something his parents kept to from there on out. He'd just always loved it, smiling and giggling, kicking his little feet.
At two years old, for his birthday, he'd gotten his first drum kit. He'd loved it, which made his parents love it a lot less as time went on.
At five, another birthday, he'd gotten a microphone stand and mic to go with it.
And at seven, this time for Christmas, he had gotten his first guitar.
Along they way he'd had different toy instruments to play with, but those had always stuck out.
He would sing all the time. At home, at school, in church when they'd make it. Anytime friends of the family would be over... he'd put on a show, or he'd gather up his friends and put something on in the backyard. Anytime he could perform the boy would.
He loved it.
More so after his parents' tragic death.
He was months shy from becoming a teenager when a drunk driver had taken them away from him.
Something had snapped in the young boy after that. Music became his escape. But not his only one. Before he knew it, he was trying out all different things to numb the pain in his heart.
He started writing his own songs after their passing. He dived into it, letting it become a part of his entire being.
Living under his aunt and uncle's care hadn't always been easy, but they'd done the best that they could. He didn't mind it so much, he just wished life hadn't dealt him the hand it had.
His cousin was alright, he taught him some skills and found a partner to play around with. And as time went on, they found more to join in and before he knew it... they had a pretty decent band going.
Going from playing in the garage to on stages across the world hadn't ever crossed his mind though. His sights hadn't gone further than local fairs and talent shows.