Page 15 of Saving the Rockstar

I frowned at that. "Of course not, Ash."

His eyes widened slightly at the nickname, a fleeting vulnerability that was quickly shuttered behind a mask of nonchalance. "Right. Well, welcome to my dirty little secret, I guess."

He gestured vaguely at the building, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I come here sometimes, when I'm in town. Try to help out where I can, do what I wish..." he trailed off, swallowinghard. "What I wish someone had done for me. When I was young and scared and so alone, I couldn't breathe."

My heart cracked down the middle at the wealth of old pain in those words. I fought the urge to reach for him, to pull him into the shelter of my body and hold him until that lost, haunted look faded from his eyes.

But I simply nodded instead, hoping my expression conveyed even a fraction of the fierce protectiveness.

"That's incredible," I managed, my voice rough with suppressed emotion. "What you're doing here, the way you're showing up for these kids is amazing.You'reamazing."

A dull flush crept up his neck at the praise, his gaze skittering away from mine. "It's not a big deal," he muttered, scuffing the toe of his boot against the cracked sidewalk. "Just some cash here and there, some care packages. Stuff I would have killed for when I was their age and thought..." he cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head, his throat working as he swallowed. "Anyway. It's the least I can do."

The visit itself was a revelation, a glimpse into a side of Asher I'd only ever caught in brief flashes. He was different here, softer, the jagged edges of his stage persona slipping away to reveal the gentle, empathetic soul beneath.

I watched as he moved among the residents, doling out hugs and fist bumps and words of encouragement.

It was his interaction with one boy in particular that caught my attention. The kid was scrawny and skittish, all jutting elbows and wary eyes that darted to the exits like he was scoping escape routes. There was a feral edge to him, that spoke of too many hard lessons learned at too tender an age.

Asher approached him slowly, telegraphing his movements, his body language open and unthreatening. He crouched down to put himself at eye level, his voice pitched low and soothing as he asked the kid his name, how long he'd been on the streets.

The boy - Ethan, he said in a mumble, gaze fixed on his battered sneakers - was reticent at first, his arms wrapped tight around his middle like he was physically holding himself together. But gradually, he began to open up, the longing for connection winning out over the ingrained distrust.

He told Asher how he'd been kicked out by his strict parents when they'd found out he was gay. How he'd been living rough for the better part of a year, surviving by his wits and whatever kindness he could scrounge from strangers. How he'd been beaten up, spit on, degraded in every way imaginable just for having the audacity to exist as he was.

By the end of it, there were tears coursing silently down Asher's cheeks, his hands clenched into bloodless fists at his sides. But his voice was steady, shot through with a fiery conviction, as he looked Ethan dead in the eyes and told him that he was perfect exactly as he was. That he was loved, that he was worthy, that he had so much goodness and light to offer the world.

That he was a miracle just for waking up every day and choosing to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep being brave in the face of a hostile, unforgiving world.

Ethan was crying too by that point, his thin shoulders hitching with the force of it. And when Asher opened his arms in silent offering, the kid practically fell into them, clinging to him as great, wracking sobs shook his narrow frame.

Asher just held him through it, one hand cupping the back of Ethan's head as he rocked him gently back and forth. His own tears were still flowing freely, but there was a fierce, protective love blazing in his eyes, a bone-deep tenderness.

Watching him cradle that lost, broken boy like he was something impossibly precious, I saw the Asher I was coming to know and cherish stripped down to his essential core. The nurturer, the guardian, the great, bleeding heart that felt the pain of the world and transmuted it into beauty and light.

The man I was beginning to suspect I would tear myself to pieces for, if only to see him smile that soft, unguarded smile, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and lit him up from the inside out.

As I stood there, watching him pour love and strength into Ethan's broken places like water into the cracked earth, I knew down to my bones that there would be no coming back from this. No stuffing the genie back into the bottle.

I now stood off to the side, trying to give Asher space as he sat with Ethan.

"When I first realized I was gay, I was terrified," Asher was saying, his voice low and heavy with old pain. "I grew up in a really strict family, you know? My dad's a pastor. And the way he talked about gay people, I knew I could never tell them the truth about me."

"How did you deal with it? Hiding who you were?" Ethan asked tentatively.

A wry smile twisted Asher's lips. "Not well. I threw myself into music, writing songs about my feelings but changing the pronouns. I dated girls, tried to convince myself I could make it work. But inside, I was drowning."

I felt a pang in my chest at the desolation in Asher's voice.

"So what changed?" Ethan leaned forward, desperate for some scrap of hope.

"Honestly? I met someone. My best friend, Dylan." Asher's expression softened. "He was the first person I ever came out to. And he just accepted me, fully and without question. It made me realize that I wasn't alone. That there were people who would love me for exactly who I was."

Ethan sat back, something wistful in his eyes. "I hope I find that someday. A friend like that."

"You will," Asher said firmly. "I promise, Ethan. There's a whole community out there ready to embrace you. You just have to be brave enough to find them."

Just then, Asher's phone chimed with an incoming video call. He glanced at the screen and smiled. "Speak of the devil. Sorry, I have to take this. But think about what I said, okay?"

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