Dear Michael,
Ashton showed me his scars. It's hard not to see them anyways, but this made it more special.
He told me the story's behind all of them. It took almost two hours for him to finish explaining it all. Then he asked to see mine, and I started to cry.
He took me into his scarred arms. He rubbed circles in my back, the way you used to. He sang me a song that I didn't know, but it helped.
After I calmed down I pulled up my sleeve and took my pants off to show him. It was all your name. He started to cry when he read them. "Michael Clifford?" He asked me. I nodded, even though I was confused.
Then I realized who Ashton was. He was a boy from the band you tried as a younger boy, before I.came into your life. The band didn't work. One of the boys went to play professional soccer. One boy left for university. One boy died. And one boy ended up sadder than ever, sitting in front of me.
I told him our story. I told him how we met. I described everything I admired about you. I told him how I was in a coma and how you died. I told him you are the reason I'm here. And I'm the reason you aren't anymore.
He ended up staying in my room that night, even though it was against the rules. He held me like you used to. He traced you name carved into my skin.
You sat across the room and watched as another boy held me. You cried. And so did I.
Love,
Elora
