There was a certain sadness in his stare, and I saw it in the way he smiled at the photo of Jackson that rested on the easel outside the auditorium. The canvas was placed a little too much to one side, and I reached out to center it. His gaze softened as I adjusted the picture on the stand.

"Thank you," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I said. "How–how are you?"

He nodded slowly and shrugged. "I'm doing the best I can," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. He paused and glanced around the open area filled with students, parents, and kids. "This is a good thing the school and his classmates are doing," he finished.

I wondered if it also hurt him to hear people laughing today like it hurt me. I wondered if he ever felt that pinching feeling in his chest whenever he smiled, or felt happy. Like a feeling of dread and shame that washes over.

I've been feeling that a lot lately.

"He would've liked this," he murmured.

"I hope so," I said.

"Oh, I can guarantee," he said. "He loved live music, but you already knew that. I used to take him down to the Music Hall to listen to local bands; he loved it. His face lit up every time he felt those drums shake the floor. I think that's what drew him to you. Music was always something he wanted to be good at, but it never came naturally."

He turned to me and smiled. "Thank you, Apollo," he said. "Sincerely. You're the kind of friend every kid dreams of having. I'm glad he got that, even if it was for a short time..." He paused. " I'm sorry you have to walk the rest of the way without him."

I glanced down at my shoes and nodded.

Jackson always said he was jealous of me for being able to play duets with my dad, but I was always jealous of the way his dad loved him. It was an unconditional type of love, and anyone who saw them together never doubted this. You would never know that Jackson was his adopted son. They were so alike, but I think that's because Jackson tried so hard to be just like his dad.

Mrs. Asher liked to say they were one and the same.

Jackson often complained about how much his dad coddled him, but he secretly liked this. He told me it made him feel wanted. He was the reason why Jackson asked to be adopted. He wanted to get rid of his old name and become part of his family. I think Mr. Asher was the person Jackson spent most of his life waiting for.

"I thought you should know," he began. "Amy and I have been discussing some things, and we're thinking it's time to move out of here."

"Oh," I said, raising my head.

"We've been wanting to leave for such a long time, but Jackson was always against the idea," he said. "He really liked it here, I couldn't take that away from him...Not after everything he went through."

"Yeah, that makes sense," I agreed.

"Are you performing?" He asked, and his eyes lit up.

I nodded. "A few classmates and I are playing a song."

He smiled, rubbing my back in a comforting way. Jackson was lucky to have him as his dad, even if it was for a short time.

"Apollo!" Shawn shouted from down the hall.

I pointed towards the practice room and said, "I have to—"

"Don't let me hold you up." Mr. Asher smiled.

I nodded and waved at Shawn to let him know I was coming. "I'll see you, Mr. Asher."

"Apollo," he started. "Come by the house sometime. There are some things we'd like you to have before we move out."

I nodded and ran towards the practice room where all the performers had gathered to tune and warm up one last time before the concert started.

...

Mr. Asher took the stage while his wife stood offstage, gazing at him with admiration. I could tell she was choked up by the way her eyes glistened and how her hand rested on her chest. Mr. Asher took a look at the audience and smiled wide, his eyes also had a glossy film over them.

He was gripping the microphone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Firstly, I'd like to thank the school and our community for their support. It's been very uplifting to see just how much they care enough to put on an event like this. Secondly, to the performers, thank you for your time and music. There was nothing my son loved more than live music," he said. 

He briefly paused and glanced at his wife before continuing, "This fundraiser isn't just for my son, it's also for the the survivors of suicide loss. There are quite a few families here that I have invited from our support group, and I know that seeing everyone here today smiling and laughing might bring a sense of sadness to our hearts, but also an even bigger sense of happiness to know there are so many others willing to help."

His introduction was short, but I don't think it needed to be any longer. I'm sure Mr. Asher wanted to talk more about Jackson, but I also think he wanted this day to be easy. I think he just wanted to get through today.

There were a few acts before us, and we watched in awe as all the performers put on the best sets I had heard in a long time. Ken gushed at the older performers and raved about how one day he wished he would be as talented as them. I told him he didn't need to wish for things that were bound to happen.

"Apollo, stop being so nice...It's weird. I'll fall in love with you if you keep it up," Ken said, nudging my elbow.

"Boys you're up," Mr. Castro said. Ken threw up a thumbs up, letting him know we were ready to go on. Ken pulled Shawn and I into a group huddle while our bassist, Jorge, awkwardly stood outside the huddle.

"Oh," Ken mumbled as he pulled Jorge into the group. "Sorry, I'm just so used to it being the three of us. Thanks by the way," Ken said, patting our last minute addition. Jorge nodded reluctantly.

"Kenny, we have 30 seconds. So spit it out," Shawn muttered.

Ken smiled and began, "I just want us to have fun." He pulled away from the circle and pointed at the stage. "Drummer first! Shawny boy, we follow your lead."

Shawn nodded and let out a deep breath before making his way past the curtains and onto the stage. I gripped onto the neck of my guitar and followed behind Ken as we followed closely behind our drummer.

The stage lights shined into my eyes as I tried to look for my friends, but the brightness was too overpowering. The warmth from the lights made me feel uneasy, but one glance towards a smiley Ken reassured me. My eyes wandered towards Shawn who was silently counting, waiting for my cue.

Ken nodded at me as he also waited for me to start off the song. I let out a shaky breath as my fingers picked away the start of the melody. I practiced this riff hundreds of times, it was muscle memory at this point, this whole song was.

Shortly after Shawn's Cymbals entered along with his slow rhythmic beats. Shortly after, Ken and Jorge entered their parts on acoustic and bass guitar. The tightness in my chest began once I realized it was almost time for me to start singing.

Fuck. I forgot all the lyrics.

My eyes shifted towards the crowd, and past the blinding stage lights there was a short blonde-girl standing up in the front row with both her hands pressed against her chest as she gazed at me in awe.

It was Michelle.

She nodded and smiled at me encouragingly.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The first few lines left my lips in a shaky voice.

If you leap awake

In the mirror of a bad dream

I slowly opened my eyes and watched Michelle sway to the song. Her hands still pressed against her chest, over her heart, and with her eyes closed. Maybe she was remembering something, but she looked happy–peaceful. Another deep breath, and this time I was ready. With a more stable voice I continued.

And for a fraction of a second

You can't remember where you are

I glanced at Ken, he was lost in the rhythm of the music, nodding his head to the beat and swaying his body side to side with his guitar. 

Just open your window

And follow your memory upstream

I gazed back out at the crowd and I could only see the first five rows clearly. The first face I saw in the second row was April. Mei was clinging to her side with her head resting on her shoulder as they both swayed side to side. April gave me a thumbs up, and winked. A small smile crept onto my lips as I continued to search for one face in the crowd.

To the meadow in the mountain

Where we counted every falling star

Then, there he was. His curly bangs were swept to one side, so that nothing obstructed his view. He was staring at me with the softest expression I'd ever seen on his face. His eyes were wide open, twinkling almost, and his lips were slightly parted as he stood completely still, watching me.

I believe the light that shines on you

Will shine on you forever

I wanted to stand there next to him, and ask him why he looked so starstruck. I think it would be fun to tease him.

I'm gonna watch you shine

Gonna watch you grow

In the audience there was Jackson's mom holding onto her husband's sleeve with her head rested on his shoulder. Beside them was an open seat, an open space. That pain in my chest flared up when I looked at that space, and now–staring at that empty seat–made me realize that this is a terrible song to be playing.

It's a parent's song for a child, it reminded me of a lullaby. It's a wonderful message, if one of the people weren't dead. But in this case Michelle's dad is, and so is Jackson.

Why would Michelle want to hear this sad song? Wasn't it just a reminder of what she lost?

A song with a painful memory masked in a melody. Who could bear this?

The rest of the song went on, and I played on auto-pilot trying to separate my thoughts from the performance.

As long as one and one is two

There could never be a father loved his daughter

More than I love you

I played out the last few measures before the audience began clapping, and within the crowd I could hear April's loud whistles. Along with Amory and Blake's infectious smiles which brought a warm feeling to my cheeks while my heart raced at the sound of the applause.

But within the crowd I caught Michelle's small frame rushing her way out the double doors in the back of the auditorium. Ken noticed her too and glanced at me. I shrugged and unplugged my guitar from the amp, swinging the guitar behind my back as I ran backstage to follow her.

I sprinted down the hall towards the waiting area outside the auditorium, but once I reached it, there was no one. The area was completely empty.

"Michelle!" I shouted. I walked further down the hall, peaking my head behind corners. "Michelle, I saw you run out. Are you...are you okay?" I asked, practically talking to myself.

I continued down the hall until I reached the alcove with the restrooms. There were quiet cries coming further in the small area, and I continued down to investigate. I froze in my tracks once I saw Michelle resting her forehead against the wall with her back facing me.

"Michelle," I said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She turned around to face me with her hand covering her eyes.

"I'm okay," she said, sniffling. I brought her in for a hug and she rested her face on my chest and wiped her tears.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She looked up at me and raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Why?"

"I shouldn't have played that song. It must have been a shitty thing–"

She shook her head and gently smiled. "No, Apollo! It's okay, I asked you to play that song."

"But you're crying," I said, waiting for an explanation. "It must remind you of your dad."

She nodded. "That's the point, Apollo."

"Why would you want to do that to yourself?" I asked.

She wiped her nose with her sleeve and chuckled, poking me in the head. "Sometimes it feels good to cry about him. It's like this, I carry all these leftover emotions and unsaid things that they need to come out this way," she explained. She squeezed me one last time before pulling away from our hug. "I'm okay, promise."

She wiped her tear stained cheeks and pressed her hand against the girls bathroom door. Before she pushed it open she said, "It's okay to think about him, Apollo. It's okay to cry for him too. It'll get better, I promise."

She disappeared behind the door and left me standing alone in the alcove.

I hope so.