Page 119 of Cherish

The crowd roars their approval.

“I’m going to bring him on out. But you’ve got to do me a favor. From this point on, you need to refer to my little, tiny, baby brother only as…” Lumi plays a really loud riff on his guitar, strumming chords in quick succession to ramp up the introduction. “Jaxon ‘the Hair’ Vega! Come on, everyone, give a real Vegaville cheer for ‘the Hair’!”

64

The Best

Shade Plans

Jaxon runs onstage as Hudson’s voice echoes through the arena. And the already frenzied crowd somehow manages to take it up another notch or ten as he slides behind the drum kit and plays a complicated set of beats.

Apparently he’s been building up a lot of energy waiting to be called onstage, because the more the crowd cheers, the longer his drumming intro goes, until he ends with a crash of cymbals and a spin of his sticks really freaking high in the air.

I expect him to pull another pair out of his pocket, but apparently I’ve underestimated the younger Vega’s showmanship. Instead, he fades to the front of the stage and catches them before tipping a fake hat at the audience.

“Bloody hell!” Hudson says with a roll of his eyes. “I neglected to tell you that the reason he has all that hair is to cover his giant head.”

The crowd roars with laughter, and Jaxon bends forward, doing a head-banging kind of move à la eighties hair bands everywhere, then fades back to his drum kit. Hudson walks to the edge of the stage, picks up his electric guitar, and hangs it over his shoulder before crossing back to the mic stand with its lone purple bra still waving in the wind.

The other musicians stop playing as Hudson runs his fingers up the neck of his guitar in a quick chord progression that culminates in the most plaintive note I’ve ever heard.

It echoes across the stage and out into the audience, a sound so pure and sad that it sends chills down my spine, and for a second I imagine that this is the sound of Hudson’s soul. The sorrow and the beauty and the agony of living all rolled into one perfect minor key.

Hudson holds the note and holds it and holds it until finally it starts to wobble just a little bit at the end. As if sensing the same thing I do about the music, Jaxon picks it up with the drums, and it’s such an obviousI’ve got you, brotherthat my heart catches in my chest.

And then he’s laying down a slow, soft beat that shares with the audience the first, glancing rhythms of the song.

Hudson starts to play again, and this time a melody takes shape. One note and then two, and as the brothers continue tossing the notes back and forth to each other, my eyes widen as I finally realize what song they’re playing. It’s got a slightly different composition here, played between the two of them, than it does on the album, and it’s a little slower, a little edgier, but it’s definitely the same song: “My Blood” by Twenty One Pilots.

My heart shatters at the realization. Because this song is about family.

Like it was written just for these two brothers, who have each other’s backs against all the odds and against all the shit in the world.

Brothers who would rip apart anyone who came for the other.

Brothers who, despite their differences, are ride or die till the end.

And as Hudson leans forward and starts to sing the lyrics, I feel the truth of them—the love and the pain and the determination of them—all the way tomysoul as these two guys I love so much finally find their way to each other.

The lyrics meander across the stage, slow dive into the audience, and I can see the exact second all the screaming people realize the moment they have found themselves privy to. The gift that they’re being given.

Because Hudson Vega is singing to each and every one ofthemthat they’re his family, too. And he will keep them safe. He’ll protect them. Like they’re his blood.

When Hudson gets to the falsetto that the lead singer, Tyler Joseph, usually does…Jaxon leans forward into his mic and lets loose with it, and the crowd goes fucking wild. And my chest tightens until I think my ribs might crack as I take in the beaming smile of pride on Hudson’s face as he watches his little brother shine.

This—this moment right here—is what this song is about. More, it’s what Jaxon and Hudson are about. These two kids who’d been to hell and back before they’d even learned to read. Tortured by their parents, forsaken by their people, separated from each other until all they heard was the lonely echo inside of them. Yet here they are, playing together, creating harmony and light and joy for all these people. Filling up the loneliness inside of them with their love and trust for each other.

It’s one of the most profound moments of my life, and as I glance at Flint, who is still beside me, I can tell he understands it, too. That he knows just how much these two have suffered and what it means that—despite everything—they’ve somehow found a way back to each other.

In the middle of the song, the music lowers to a hush, the other musicians softly playing in the background. Even Hudson stops playing his guitar, letting it go until his straps hold it. He grabs the mic with both hands—and sings to every single wraith before him.

Low, deep, like every word is a part of his soul and he wants it to be a part of theirs, too.

Hudson Vega has them in his hands, and he’d die to keep them safe.

The audience is straining forward now, hands stretched to the sky like they can catch the notes if they could just reach high enough.

And then Jaxon’s falsetto joins. And then Lumi and Caoimhe and the entire band, doubling and tripling as the music grows and grows and grows, filling every crack and crevice in the arena until there’s nothing but wave after wave of sound and hope and promise echoing through the space.

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