Sitting in the bandroom, he seems so at home. He’s so relaxed all the time, but here seems the most comfortable. He skims over his music with his lips pressed together and eyes squinted in concentration. He pushes his sandy, dirty blonde hair back the right side of his face and gives the excerpt another shot with corrected notes. The keys of the piano bounce with his fingers as he strings through the eigth notes, then sixteenth notes. The bouncy jazz beat resonates in the room long after he finished, and he sits satisfied, but only for now. He turns to me and and smiles and the sun comes shining through the windows. His smile is so warm and welcoming to everybody, whether he means for it to be that way or not. He asks, “What’s up?” and I just shrug as to let him know that I want to keep hearing him play. His voice is smooth and soft to me.

He turns back to the piano, still with that mile-wide grin. “Alrighty then,” he laughs. The words sound as though they were dripped from honey comb, warm and sweet. He plays another twenty seconds or so of bouncy music, hunching slightly over the piano. His hands move quickly and stretched across the sharps and the flats. He plays one long chord and turns back to me, expecting feedback, as per usual. I give him a long smile, to let him know that I’m proud of him. When he makes eye contact, I can see the joy music brings him, and when he sees something he loves or cares about his eyes have a little more depth, as though someone could see years into his future, doing what he loves.

He rises from the bench and gives me a quick hug before migrating over to the counter. He skims through odd music pieces laying there and asks who’s they are, if they’re mine, or if I know whose they are. He looks at me when I don’t respond right away, and catches me staring for a little too long. “What?” he laughs, dragging out the -at in the question. He strides over, closer than usual, curious as to what my deal is. When he stops, the smell of his cologne washes over me and it smells like summer, and the all of our endless laughs. The sound of the director’s voice distracted him for a split second, his eyes glance around quickly. When he looks back he laughs again and the whole world lights up again. He takes half a step back and keeps eye contact with me for awhile. His eyes are a hazel green, but the green was more dominant when they hit the sunlight. His eyes reflected all of his happiness, all of his detetmination, and all of his work. There are slight dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying up late playing games or practicing.

He tries to tickle me, and with one look, he scurries back to the piano and plays a random set of notes. He’s laughing a little louder, and more eyes are drawn to him than just mine as he plays a classic jazz song, until he hits the wrong note and laughs even more, followed by “Dammit.”

Once he’s done with his encore, he runs over to me, tickles my chin, gives me tighter hug than before and runs off with his friends. He gives one last flash of his smile before he says goodbye, and I know that smile will be back later.