Mark glanced at his watch again. Wow. 30 seconds had passed. All right, get a grip, he told himself. Ben's just a little late; he'll be fine.
"Mark!" He spun around and saw Ben running towards him.
"I'm sorry; we got caught in a traffic jam and Jeremy made a wrong turn-"
"Ben, I'm almost out of my mind worrying! I thought something'd happened to you!" He put his arm around Ben's shoulders and guided him forward, "Christian would probably turn into a worrywart if you'd shown up any later, and Tim's getting pretty anxious; the plane leaves in about five minutes."
"I thought Tim got us a private plane this time."
"He did. But the pilot has a tight schedule. Immediately after our flight, he has another group of people to fly over to America. There they are," Mark said as he pointed out Christian, Paul and the rest of their crew sitting in a corner of the airport. Paul jumped up from his seat, ran over to them and gave Ben a big hug.
"I've missed you, Ben! Wow, it's been four months! Hey...have you grown taller again?" Ben laughed.
"I don't know, but the last time I checked, I was quite sure I hadn't shrunk," he replied. When Tim took all their baggage to be checked in, Ben took the opportunity to pull Mark aside.
"What is it?"
"Are all of you fussing over me? I thought we had an agreement, Mark."
"Hey, Ben...we're just being friends. Friends worry about you if you're late, and Paul, well, don't worry, that hug wasn't special treatment. He's been hugging everyone else too. He really misses everyone. We won't be like those people, Ben. It'll never happen again." Ben smiled.
"Thanks."

Mark sang as he walked nearer to the edge of the stage. Christian took over and he walked to where Mark was standing:
"You know that when you smile,
You stop the rain
And we will be together
, Once again..."

Mark raised the mike and sang again as he felt tears start in his eyes:
"Although I'm gone,
Remember me
Please be strong, I'll never leave
Just hold on,
To the memories
'Cause while I'm here,
All I'm thinking about is,
Tomorrow"

Ben walked to the front of the stage as he sang and Christian and Mark put their arms around his shoulders as he started:
"I've always known,
The love you've shown
Means I'll never be alone,
There'll be times you wonder why..."

Ben was looking at both of them in turn as he sang and Mark knew that this time, he was saying it straight from his heart. Paul walked up and draped his arm around Christian, leaning heavily on him as he sang:
"Seeing you with someone new,
Used to make me feel so blue
But now I'm with you
All the time..."

Ben lifted the mike and sang the bridge, already getting the feeling that this was his song; a song with "goodbye" written all over it:
"You know that when you smile,
You stop the rain
And we will be together,
Once again...

Mark sang the chorus again, letting the tears flow freely this time and he felt Ben's hand squeeze his shoulder, as if to say, "It's all right."
Then it was Ben's turn:
"From the moment that I looked into your eyes
All of my life I thought I'd be there
By your side,
I wish I'd took the time to find the words to say..."

Christian's turn now and Mark saw the tears in his eyes after hearing and truly understanding what Ben had just sung:
"You know that when you smile,
You stop the rain..."

And Mark ended the verse:
"And we will be together
Once again..."

When Paul sang again, it seemed as though his voice might break from his crying, but it didn't and he sang the beginning of the chorus smoothly. Then Ben sang the second part and he too started crying as he realised what he was saying:
"Just hold on,
To the memories,
'Cause while I'm here,
All I'm thinking about is
Tomorrow."

Finally, Mark sang the last lines:
"'Cause while I'm here,
All I'm thinking about is
Tomorrow."

The fans cheered and screamed wildly as the four of them on stage gathered closer together for a group hug. No one realised that they were crying because they'd still been smiling through their tears. In their little group hug, they were all quiet again, except for the sounds of quiet sobbing. After ten seconds which seemed like forvever, they broke apart, waved and bade the fans goodbye, with Ben blowing them a few kisses as they ran off stage. Gathering their things from the dressing room, they were then escorted to their waiting tour bus, with two bodyguards on either side of each of them. When Mark got up the bus, he saw that Ben was already there, seated and waving out the window at the fans trying to get as near to the bus as possible. He sat in the seat next to him and grinned to himself as he watched Ben smile and wave at the crowd. Soon, Christian and Paul boarded the bus, still high on overflowing adrenaline that'd been supplied by the ecstatic fans. The bus then pulled away from the concert hall and Christian and Paul finally started to quiet down at the back. Ben twisted around in his seat to look at the receding form of the concert hall and only turned back to face the front when it was out of sight.
"We did it, Mark," he suddenly whispered. "We finished the tour."
"Yeah. That was great."
"It's the best thing I've done in my life, Mark. Thank you," Ben said softly as he watched the scenery out side whiz by.
"You don't have to thank me. You made it this far on your own."
"Couldn't have done it without you guys. " Ben sighed and slid down in his seat.
"I'm tired, Mark."
"Yeah, I know. We all are." He expected Ben to reply, but when he didn't, Mark looked over and saw that he was sleeping. Looking to the back, he saw Christian and Paul, also asleep. I guess sleep isn't such a bad idea, he thought and closed his eyes. Then, the bus made a turn and Ben's head fell on his shoulder, jerking him awake. A thought entered his mind.
"Ben?" he called tentatively. Ben didn't answer.
"Ben?" he called again, a little louder this time. Ben still didn't answer. Mark stopped calling. A part of his mind was telling him why Ben wasn't answering, but he blocked it out, shut it off and refused to listen. Memories began to surface of their own accord.
Among them was a promise, made so long ago, but not forgotten:
"I promise you'll wake up tomorrow."

And there was a wish:
"I just want to die with my friends around me."

Mark just sat there, wishing that the half-hour long bus ride would go on forever, so that they'd never have to wake Ben. At least, now, he could still deceive himself...he could still believe that Ben was only sleeping...but if someone tried to wake him...
All too soon, the hotel's entrance loomed in front of them. When the bus stopped, he sat there, not moving, not wanting to wake Ben. Then he heard footsteps and voices from the back. Christian was awake and walking towards the front where he and Ben were seated. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
"Mark," he heard Christian call.
'No, Christian, don't wake Ben...' "Hey." Christian's hand landed on his shoulder and his eyes flew open. "Come on, let's get upstairs."
"No, Ben's really tired. I think I'll stay with him for a while," Mark heard himself say.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's definitely more comfortable upstairs. Wake him up and let's go."
"No, Ben's really tired; I'll just stay with him. You and Paul go ahead." Mark didn't even recognise his own voice anymore; panic was so evident in it. He saw the light of understanding dawn in Christian's eyes. His eyes darted from Mark's face to Ben, his head still on Mark's shoulder.
"Ben?"
"Chris, no-"
"Ben?" Christian's voice was louder now.
"Christian, don't wake him!"
"Ben! Wake up!" Christian reached past Mark and tried to shake Ben's shoulder.
"No!! Chris-"
"Get out of my way!!" He shoved Mark aside and he fell into the aisle running down the middle of the bus. Christian caught hold of Ben and started shaking and yelling at him. Mark just lay in the aisle, watching Ben's head flop lifelessly back and forth as Christian shook him, almost begging him to open his eyes. He put his hands on the floor and was pushing himself up into a sitting position when he felt something wet fall onto his left hand. He looked up and saw Paul standing beside him, tears winding slowly down his face. Christian's voice was already getting hoarse from shouting and his face showed that he was beginning to accept the hard fact. Paul stepped forward and gripped Christian's shoulder.
"Chris...let it go. Ben's...gone." Gone. Mark couldn't believe it. How could you believe that someone could be so happy and full of life one moment and five minutes later...dead? How could you accept something like that...? Tears started in his own eyes. He squeezed them shut and the tears fell... The three of them were gathered around Ben's lifeless body, a cold shell that not so long ago, was warm with spontaneous energy, cheerfulness and a joyous love for life. Outside the tour bus, a shooting star streaked across the night sky, a star falling from its place in the heavens. A star that had just burned so brightly, that had shone with the last of its light, was now dimming, the light that was its life now being put out. And as the light dimmed till there was none, the star fell...leaving the place where all its fellow stars and friends were...

Mark sat up suddenly in bed. Looking around, he remembered where he was. He was in his single bedroom in a hotel's presidential suite that he was sharing with Christian and Paul. Then he remembered what it was that had woken him up. It was the dream. The dream that had woken him up almost every night for the past three months. The dream always stayed the same and in it, he was an invisible observer. He'd see himself walking into St. Margaret's Church, the church where Ben had been head chorister. Then, he'd see himself singing "Tomorrow" with Christian and Paul. Then as if someone had taped the whole scene and zoomed out, he'd see that it was a funeral service. At the very last part of the dream, he'd see himself talking to Ben's mum. Over and over again, he'd hear the converstion that they'd had on that very day.
"Ben wouldn't forget you," she'd say as she smiled. "The four of you loved each other like brothers and I know that Ben never forgot those that he loved."
"I already miss him so much," Mark would say between tears. "And what if I'm the one who forgets him?"
"You won't, dear. I know you won't. Ben always found a way to be with those that he loved and he'll find a way to be with you." Then he would wake up. Mark sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had to get back to sleep. They had a concert tomorrow and he couldn't wreck himself by thinking about this too much. Strange, he thought as he fell asleep. This was going to be their first concert without Ben...

The next night, Mark, Christian and Paul walked back on stage after another costume change. Now, they were all wearing blue jeans and identical white short-sleeved T-shirts. The shirts bore a single rose on the front and on the right sleeve was Ben's name. The large red-and-blue-coloured a1 logo was emblazoned on the back and "Ben" was printed in black below it. That whole evening, they'd been singing songs from their first and second albums, but there was a difference in the music that they sang along to. They'd integrated Ben's voice into it. His voice became a part of the pre-recorded music. And yet it still seemed like he was right there with all of them, singing his heart out and dancing on the same stage.
"Well," Paul said into his microphone, "this is really great. I'm sure all of you know that this is our first concert since Ben left us...now, we'd just like to dedicate a couple of songs to his memory." The fans screamed. Mark took his place behind the keyboard and Paul sat on a high stool in the middle of the stage while Christian hefted his guitar up onto his lap. The huge screen behind them suddenly showed white text on a black background:
a1 Presents:
Then the words faded away and were replaced by new ones:
A Tribute To Benjamin Adams
The three of them had dug up earlier video footage of themselves and Ben and their crew had helped put it together to form a video of happy memories. Now, as the video began to play, individual memories played in their own heads like a long, painful movie. A scene faded in: it was a hotel room. Mark remembered that this was the first hotel that they'd stayed in together. Someone was obviously fumbling with the camera in this scene; the image on the large screen was shaking as the camera was being turned around. Then the shaking stopped as the camera came to focus on Ben standing in the middle of the room.
"Well, say something," someone said from off-camera.
"What?" Ben asked.
"Something." Ben seemed to think for a while, then he grinned and said,
"Hi, I'm Ben." Then the scene faded into black as Christian played the opening bars of "Like A Rose". Mark joined in with the keyboard and Paul listened quietly to the rhythm. And as Ben's pre-recorded voice started singing, more happy memories played on the screen behind them. Happy memories of the time that Ben had spent with them. The entire concert hall had gone quiet and everyone had their arms around each others' shoulders, swaying to together to the music.
Every scene in the video had Ben in it; from the playful side of him to his somewhat-serious side. Shots of him playing around in the hotel pool, jumping on beds with Mark, fighting over TV channels with Paul and a shot of him with a lollipop in his mouth, busy at the Playstation console. The camera edged around an open bathroom door, revealing Ben standing at the sink, fingering his flicky fringe as he looked in the mirror. The next shot was from one of their dance rehearsals; it was a clearly a dance studio and and they were practising their dance steps. In the next shot, a very tired and sweaty Ben had finished all the water in his bottle and was proudly showing the empty bottle to the camera. Then, it was Ben being as serious as he could be; one shot showed him and Mark sharing the piano bench, debating over a note for a song as Christian watched. The camera then crept up from behind him as he sat at a table scribbling on a piece of paper, obviously working on a song idea. As Mark sang, he watched the screen. Every single one of Ben's smiles was a stab in his heart. The screen was like a door to another world, a world where Ben was still alive. Yet, it was also like a wall. A wall that wouldn't let him through to be with his friend; a wall that would never allow them to meet or laugh or cry together again; a wall that would never allow them to be together as friends anymore; a wall that separated their two now very different worlds. He just didn't know if he should smile or cry. Should he smile because Ben was free from his pain?
Or should he cry because of the friendship and the friend that he had lost?
His fingers glided across the keyboard on their own, already so familiar with the notes that Ben had written. Suddenly, Mark became aware that they were playing the final bars and he snapped out of his reverie. As "Like A Rose" ended, the screen faded to black once again and the sound of recorded screaming became audible. Mark recognised the scene on the screen as the last concert.
"This is 'Tomorrow',"he saw himself say. The music started and the three of them walked to the centre of the stage and sang. The fans began to cry with them as they sang and the memories and good times kept on playing... Christian's heart ached at the sight of Ben; he knew he'd never find a friend like him again. Ben had been the one that he wrote songs with most of the time and lately, he hadn't been able to write anything. Half the inspiration was gone and he knew he wouldn't get it back. Christian knew that Ben wanted them to carry on with a1, but he felt like he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't write; it was like his inspiration was paralysed. How could he carry on like this?
Paul felt like he'd lost a little brother. Whenever he was in one of his crazy moods, Ben would always play along and joke around with him. Even when he told really stupid, lame jokes, he could always count on Ben to laugh. Ben's laughter was contagious; his enthusiasm and happiness would usually put the rest of them in a good mood too. Ben was the "happiness bug" in their band; sure, they'd had plenty of laughs during the past three months too, but Paul hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what it was that'd been missing. Recently, he'd realised what it was. Ben was missing and with his absence, there were other things missing too. Ben's laughter carried a hint of liveliness that made him...well, him. That lively spark that made Ben the person that he was...it was also what he'd contributed to the band...and what he'd taken away with him. In a way, all three of them felt that they just couldn't go on and they felt incomplete without Ben. The gap he'd left behind was not easy to fill and though now it was a dull ache instead of the initial pain, it still hurt. When "Tomorrow" ended, the lads waved goodbye as they were hustled off by burly security guards. At the back of the concert hall, unseen by anybody, a figure dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and white trousers pushed open the doors and exited quietly before the fans started rushing.

When Mark, Christian and Paul reached the hotel, they were passing the reception when the receptionist called out to them.
"I have an envelope for Mr. Read," she told them.
"Thanks," Mark said as he took it. On the plain white envelope, it was written simply in black ink, "Mark Read".
The handwriting actually looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he'd seen it before. When they were in the lift, he opened it and Paul took the envelope from him as he unfolded the paper inside.
"You know, is it just me, or does this handwriting look familiar?" Mark gave him a sideways glance.
"You think so too?" Paul nodded and Christian sidled over for a look.
"Yeah, it does look familiar, but I can't figure out from where." They shifted their attention to the letter that Mark was holding and from the first sentence, Mark thought that it was from an ardent fan.

That was a wonderful concert; you guys are getting better at this, you know? I know that it's been rough the past three months, but hold it together and keep chasing those dreams. I know you feel like can't go on, but you've really come too far to let go now. This is a dream come true for all of you and I hope that you see it through till the end.

"How does this person know all this?" Paul asked in an awed voice.
"I...do feel that we can't go on without Ben..."Christian admitted as he stared at the letter. Mark had similar feelings and he looked back down at the sheet of paper.

And I loved the video that you put together. I saw most of the fans cry in the second part and it was a wonderful idea.

A single word, "Love," stood alone in the next line and Mark saw that where he was holding the paper, his thumb was covering the signature. He moved his thumb...and got the shock of his life.
Now they knew why this person knew so much.
Now they knew why the writing looked familiar.
The signature explained everything.
It was Ben's signature.
The unmistakable scrawly letter "B" that ended in a cross. They stood there shocked; Paul was the first to break out of his daze and he stopped the lift at the next floor and sent them back down to the first floor. The three of them raced back to the reception desk and Mark immediately started firing questions.
"Slow down, Mr. Read!" the woman raised her hand to stem the flow of questions.
"I...I'm sorry...when was this left here?"
"Someone dropped it off with me about five minutes before you returned."
"That can't be," Paul said. "Ben...Ben left...three months ago!" he spluttered.
"Unless someone's pulling our legs," Christian said. "What did this person look like?"
"Oh, he was slightly shorter than Mr. Read. I remember that he was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and white trousers...I do recall that he had blue eyes and...brown hair. Dark brown hair with curtains, yes. Oh, and I'm quite sure that that was a scar on his right eyebrow."The three of them were stunned. It couldn't be. She'd just given an almost flawless physical description of Ben.
"Thanks," Mark managed to say as they walked back to the lift. They were silent in the lift and all the way to the door of their presidential suite. Finally, when they were all seated in the living room, Christian spoke.
"This is impossible. How could Ben have left that letter there?"
"I don't know," Mark said. "But I do know this: Ben probably saw that we were falling apart and he wanted to help. He wanted us to go on with our dreams, remember? Now he's trying to help us to hold on to that dream. He doesn't want us to give up just because he's gone. Don't you see? He's still trying to hold us together. We made it possible for him to die among friends; now let's just make this one last wish come true."
"So, now he'll be like our guardian angel?" Paul asked as he smiled.
"I don't know; maybe he is," Mark answered.
"Angel Benjamin; just think of that," Christian chuckled. "Great, who needs bodyguards when we've got an angel?" They all laughed.
"You've got a point, Mark. Let's carry on," Paul said.
"Yeah," Christian agreed, smiling. There was silence after the agreement.
"Well...um, look at the time," Mark said. "We'd better get to bed or we'll never make it onto the flight back home tomorrow." They went into their separate rooms and Mark lay awake for a while, reading and re-reading the letter. Finally, he sighed, folded it and put it on the bedside table.
'Thank you, Ben,' he thought as he reached to switch off the bedside lamp.

Outside, a figure dressed in white watched the windows of the presidential suite on the top floor. The light in Mark's room went off and the figure smiled to himself.
"We have to go now," an older man said, stepping out from the shadows behind him.
"Can't I stay with my friends till tomorrow?" the younger one begged.
"No. You were given one night. It's time to go Home. You don't belong here anymore." The younger one looked hurt at the last remark and he looked up at the dark windows of the presidential suite again, his blue eyes shining sadly in the reflected moonlight.
"I miss them." The older one looked at him. He remembered that he himself had been unwilling to leave Earth too, but he had come to terms with it. But he had been almost 50 years old when he left his mortal life behind him. This young one had only been 19...
"I know, but you will still be able to see them and be with them...even though they won't always know that you're there." He turned to leave. "Now come, let's go." A silent, warm, golden glow enveloped him as he vanished. The younger one continued to watch the empty windows.
"Bye, Paul. Bye, Chris. Bye, Mark," he whispered as he grinned boyishly to himself and disappeared in a bright white glow. Mark woke suddenly; he thought he'd heard someone call him. He glanced around and his gaze fell on the letter still sitting on the table. Then he just smiled. Ben's mum was right; Ben had found a way to be with them and now he was in their hearts...forever.

Last Will And Testament Of Benjamin Stevens Adams 'Oh God...' Mark had thought. A will. The date of its last edition was shortly after Ben's eighteenth birthday. A will written at the age of eighteen. Seeing this made Mark wonder again. Had Ben been that prepared for death?
So prepared that he'd drawn up a will when he was eighteen?
How could they not have known?
The three of them scanned quickly down the list. All the money he'd made in his career went to his Mum and Jeremy. All his other possessions went to Rupert and Lucy. His own house went to...Mark Read, Christian Ingebrigtsen and Paul Marazzi. Mark almost couldn't believe it then. Ben had left his house to the three of them and in the white envelopes were duplicates of the key to the main door. Now, two days after that incident, the three of them were taking a break from recording and Mark drove them over to Ben's house.
"What are we going to do with it?" Christian asked as he looked around. Mark shrugged.
"I don't know. What do you suppose Ben's intention was?"
"We could use it as a summer house or something," Paul suggested. "When we get days off, we could just meet here and chill."
"Sounds good to me," Christian replied. Mark let his gaze rove around the living room. Something felt strange here. Ben was no longer with them, but...the house seemed to have a particular feel that reminded them of him. The place felt of him. Every corner they turned, they'd feel something that made them think of Ben. Eventually, they ended up in his studio at the back of the house. As with everything, it was covered in white. Sheets were draped over the table, chairs and shelves in the room. Mark pulled the sheet off the table and they saw a violin case sitting there. He opened it.
"It's beautiful," Christian commented.
"Yeah," Paul agreed. "But we've never seen him play it and now we never will." Mark lifted the violin out gently, almost afraid that he might break the fragile instrument.
"Hey, what's this?" Paul suddenly said. He reached past Mark and picked up a folded sheet of paper that had been hidden beneath the violin. They gathered around for a look. When the paper was unfolded, they saw what seemed to be a song, from the way it was written. It was dated at the top, meaning that Ben had written this when he was twelve. But the first two verses and the chorus were in childish, script-style writing. The bridge and the final verse were written in an older, more mature hand. Scrawly handwriting that they were familiar with.

A Thousand And One Tears

The sand's running out of the hourglass
And the days are slipping through our fingers
This one year we've been given will end soon
But a memory of happy days still lingers

Chorus:
I wish time would slow down
I wish I had more of my life
To spend with you
But there are a thousand and one things
I've left undone
And for all those wasted and unseen years
There are a thousand and one tears

Don't count the days that we have left
Don't wonder if we'll see tomorrow's sunrise
Just walk with me and be my friend
Till the last thing I see is the love in your eyes

(Chorus)

Bridge:
I know we only got halfway down
This avenue of dreams...
Now I'm gone, it's hard to believe
But just hold me in your heart's embrace
And I'll be with you
Till you come Home too.

(Chorus)

I'm just thankful
That you shared your life with me
Thanks for sharing
My smiles, my tears, pointless fears
v And now I know
More than before
You're worth these
Thousand and one tears.

Now Mark understood. Ben had stated writing this when he was twelve and had finally finished it when he was nineteen. It was a goodbye gift.
"It's good," Christian said. "Do you think he recorded it on his own? We could put it into the third album."
"Don't know," Mark shrugged. "Let's look around; maybe it's recorded on a tape somewhere." They searched all over the studio and when Christian opened the table drawers, he found a neat stack of papers and a cassette with "ROUGH" scribbled on the sticker.
"I think this is it," he called to the other two. Further searching around the studio yielded a tape deck that they could play it on. Soon, the three of them of them were sitting in chairs around the tape deck, looking at the lyrics as the melodious sound of a piano floated out of the speakers. They realised that this had been a solo project for Ben when they heard a melancholy violin in the background. Mark understood that Ben had used his first four months to finish this song and probably many others. Part of that time had been used to record the piano and violin separately; then he recorded his voice. The piano provided a mellow, constant rhythm throughout the song while the violin's slow, drawn out notes made the song even sadder. And in this song, Ben's voice seemed...haunting. It sounded the same, but the sadness of the song and the mood contributed by the two instruments...it gave his voice a somehow haunting quality. They followed the written lyrics throughout the song and left the tape on for about ten seconds more as they let it sink in. Then Christian snapped it off. Silence reigned.
"We should put this in the third album. Nothing says 'We still remember Ben' better than simply putting this song in," Mark said.
"Yeah, but we ought to take it back to the studio for editing. We can sing the chorus together," Paul agreed. Silent agreement followed.
"Hey, Mark...you were the last person with Ben, right?" Christian asked.
"Last person? What do you mean?" Mark asked, genuinely confused.
"You were the last person to...see him alive, weren't you?" Mark felt his heart drop. He felt it fall through a deep, dark abyss filled with pain.
"Yeah...I was. Why?"
"What was the last thing he said to you?"
"'I'm tired, Mark.' That was the last thing he said to me. It's strange, you know, when I think about it now. At that time, I thought he was tired because of the gig; I mean, we're always pretty exhausted after a performance, but now, when I think of it, Ben might've meant something different. Maybe he wasn't physically tired. Maybe he was tired of all the pain and suffering..." Mark let his voice trail off.
"Maybe," Paul agreed softly. "You know, I didn't really want to come here with you guys. I was afraid that this place would remind me of him. And guess what? It does. It reminds me of him. It's even creeping me out little by little because this place feels of him. It feels like some part of him is here, in this house, like...his essence, his spirit or something. We've walked through the entire house and every room I go into, I can almost feel him smiling, I can almost hear him laughing; it almost feels like he's still alive."
"He is. He's in our hearts," Christian replied. "I've been thinking lately too. Ben did say that he wanted to be normal , but...he wasn't normal. The leukaemia...it was part of him; in some part, it made him the person that he was and I know that that person was definitely not normal. That person was one of the best friends I've ever had in my life." Mark sighed.
"Ben knew. That's why he was thanking us on that night before the gig started. That's why he said all that . Before the two of you came out of the dressing room, he even told me, 'It's the last one.' Ben knew, that night...and when I think back, I wonder how he knew."
"We all still miss him, don't we?" Christian asked. The other two nodded.
"I'd much prefer to have him in front of me rather than just an image of him in my heart," Paul mumbled. Mark looked around. White sheets pinned up on the walls. Then a realisation hit him and he grinned.
"Guys...this is Ben's studio! Remember what's all over the walls?" Now waiting for an answer, he scrambled out of his seat and grabbed the end of one of the pinned-up white sheets. With one vicious yank, the top of the sheet tore with a satisfying, ripping sound, leaving only a small fringe of white near the ceiling while the rest of the sheet fell away. "Ben covered the walls with our posters, remember?" A giant poster of them, the four of them, was up on the wall, contrasting sharply with the white sheets around it. Paul walked over to the sheet on the left of it. "Chris, give me a hand with this." They pulled, and it tore with the same ripping sound, this time, uncovering a collage of smaller posters. They continued, going around the entire studio and as the dreary sheets fell away, the happy memoirs seemed to shine, as if to say that they couldn't and wouldn't be forgotten or covered up. White sheets lay in a pile in the middle of the room as the three of them looked at what those sheets had been obscuring. Giant posters, smaller posters, pin-ups, collages of smaller individual and group pictures, gold discs and platinum discs mounted on the walls...the entire studio was an art piece dedicated solely to the four members of a1. Within the four walls of the studio, the only a1 that existed here had four members, not three.
"Yeah...Ben's here all right. He is definitely here," Paul grinned.
"Which is a good thing; that way, we'll know where to find him when we need him," Christian chuckled. Mark was about to add his own comment when his mobile rang. The display recognised Tim's number.
"Mark, head on back to the studio; back to work now."
"Yeah, but Tim, I just need to ask; we have some songs that we wrote and recorded on tapes while Ben was still with us, right?"
"Yes."
"Could we put them on the third album? And we want to add another song too. Ben wrote it and we just found the rough recording."
"Sure...you can put it in. That makes it 16 songs then. That song by Ben...you could make it a bonus track. We'll discuss it once you lot get your necks back in here." Mark smiled
. "Sure, Tim." Then he hung up.
"What do you think, Mark? Ben's just given us our very own a1 vacation chalet and our very own a1 studio!" Christian said, a grin already beginning to spread across his face.
"It's brilliant, but it's back to work in the other studio now; Tim called." Paul sighed.
"Now I don't want to leave."
"Hey...don't worry...he'll be right here, remember?"
"Yeah..." Paul perked up at this. "Well, we'd best be off then!" he said as he started pushing Mark and Christian towards the doors of the studio. Just as they were about to exit, Paul turned back to the empty studio and shouted:
"Don't you go anywhere, Ben! We'll be back soon!!"

And in the ringing echo, they could feel Ben's trademark boyish grin and a pair of laughing blue eyes...