I like playing concerts. The energy of the crowds, how in sync I get to be with my friends, the spectacle of it, everything combines to make this incredible harmony that makes my heart sing.

At the moment, though, my heart is not singing. It’s screaming. Because I’m about to do something I fricking never do. Ever. When we inked the contract to do this show, we included that Zane would get to do a solo song, and Christian and Dylan would get to perform their song “Brand New” as Narrazio, which has been hitting the airwaves. Like the impulsive person I can be, I asked Stan to throw something in there about me performing by myself if I chose to.

Turns out that song that started writing itself in the back of my head when I first talked to Jordan got dumped out on the page fully formed a few weeks ago and I’ve only shared it with one person: Zane. He’s got the best chops for songwriting out of all of us, and he needs company sometimes. He gets lonely when Rowan’s not around. Anyway, he liked it, we tweaked it a bit, and here I am, keytar slung over my shoulder, and about to walk out in front of tens of thousands of people to sing and play, by myself.

Christian and Dylan are finishing up, and they get a nice round of applause, taking the excuse for an encore which I’m glad to give them, really, but it also prolongs my agony. I’m not really a sports guy, but I’ve seen Rocky, and right now I could really use a coach giving my shoulders a good pounding and my brain a pep talk. And maybe someone to dump a bucket of water over my head. I don’t know if it would actually help, but it would sure as hell be distracting.

Finally Dylan and Christian are making their way off stage, Dylan flushed an excited red I remember. It’s a total rush to play in front of a stadium full of people, still, and this was his first time. He’s practically got stars pulsing out of his head for eyes. And Christian looks energized too. Not that he slouches off stage after an LtG show or anything, but he looks genuinely jazzed and that’s cool.

Now it’s my turn. I grip my keytar so hard it might break in my hands. I can’t imagine that when my parents signed me and Kevin up for piano lessons over twenty years ago that this is what they had in mind. Good thing Kevin likes to go with them to the symphony and talk with them about the beauty of the instruments. If he had any musical gifts whatsoever, he’d probably play something distinguished like the bassoon. He wouldn’t be caught dead with this keytar—which my parents would find ridiculous even though it’s fucking awesome is what it is. Better be, because it’ll be my only defense as I step onstage.

My feet feel like they’re encased in cement blocks, but I force myself to walk, forward, forward. They’re waiting for me. One woman in particular, is waiting for me. I’d wished that she didn’t go out to the front row seats we’d reserved for her and some of the other AHI staff who helped put this whole thing together. But now all she’ll see is rockstar Benji, not so-nervous-his-palms-are-sweaty Benji and I suppose I should be grateful for that. Right?

The audience is buzzing, but they quiet some when I walk onto the stage by myself. They’re not used to that. And are probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing. They’re used to me jamming out on my keyboard. Hell, they probably think I don’t even know how to sing, that I get a mic at my set-up for show. That we keep it off or that I just lip sync. Well, I don’t. I’m no Zane or Teague, but I can more than carry a tune. And since this song will be rare, maybe it will be valued for that? I can hope.

I reach the tape X marking center stage, and I look out at everyone in the stands. Tiny dots of heads and hands, all moving, with the thousands of flashes from people’s cell phone cameras going off. Even though I’ve got my keytar in front of me, I still feel more…vulnerable than I usually do up here. Between the lack of my board in front of me and the rest of my set-up and without the guys around me, I feel naked. And when I look down and see Jordan looking back at me, it’s worse than playing with just my skivvies on. Can’t count how many times I’ve done that. Hell, Nick and I have even played naked much to the other guys’ dismay. Whatever, they’ll never appreciate how much fun it is to jam out with your junk out, that’s all I’m saying.

Nah, with Jordan looking at me, her head cocked and her hair looking so pretty, and her knowing why I’m really here, well, I feel like it’s not my body that’s naked, but my soul. That is…not something I’m used to. And not something I can think too much about now. I’ve got a job to do.

I force my gaze away from Jordan and look out at all the people who’ve come here. I know they didn’t all buy tickets to support AHI. A bunch of them are probably here in spite of AHI’s mission and only came to see LtG. Their money is just as good and is going to help as many people, so what the fuck do I care? I can say I’m glad they’re here, no matter why they are.

“Thank you, Chicago, for coming out tonight!”

The crowd explodes in cheers and I smile at them, waving.

“Already Home Immigration is an awesome organization, and I’m really proud that we could be here tonight to raise money for them and their mission of supporting Dreamers and other people who are as much US citizens as you and me, they just lack paperwork.”

There’s a roar in the crowd, although not as loud as the last one. Clearly, not everyone is happy about that statement. Well, I don’t fucking care. They came to my show and they’re going to listen to me. You want my music? You’re going to get my politics too, and yeah, a bit of me being a flailing fanboy because while most of my heroes have been musicians I now have a favorite immigration lawyer.

“I’m especially grateful to Jordan Kennedy, who is one of the best immigration lawyers in this country. She and the rest of the AHI staff work tirelessly on behalf of their clients, and thanks to all of you here tonight, they’re going to be able to help a lot more people.”

More cheers, and a different part of my brain lights up. I’m as self-centered and praise-hungry as anyone else, maybe more so which is why I enjoy being part of LtG so much, but this isn’t the usual, “Yeah, I know I’m pretty great,” pleasure I usually get. This is something else entirely, something selfless and makes me feel bigger than I’ve ever felt.

“And in order to keep supporting AHI after tonight is over, I’m releasing a single of the song I’m about to play. It’s just me and my keytar and a song I wrote—but don’t worry, Zane vetted it, it’s not bad. Or he’s a really good liar.”

I clutch the neck of my keytar with one hand and use the other to push my glasses up my nose. I don’t usually have a problem keeping them on my face, but apparently I’m sweating more than usual.

“Anyway, if you like it, tell your friends to look up Benji Park and get it. Or hell, I don’t care if you like it, I’ll take hate-listening dollars too. Every cent of the proceeds is going to AHI to continue to support their efforts.”

More cheers, although I’ve only got eyes for a woman who’s standing in front of me. Her eyes are huge and she’s not clapping. I hadn’t told her about this, but I hope it’s okay with her? Can’t exactly hop down and ask her, now can I? Because I’ve got a song to perform. With a goddamn keytar.

The center of my heart, it’s beating hard.

And this feeling—it’s catching me off guard.

It was never supposed to be like this, you see?

Those cards I bet on? I was all set to fold,

But instead they came up you and me.

It was the last thing I’d hoped for, the last thing I’d expect,

But now I feel like fate’s breathing down my neck.

Take it, pull it, rip it, hold it,

Whatever you do, don’t you let it go.

Did you feel it too or am I alone?

How can no one—no one have known?

Someone should have prepared me for this,

This idea of winning more than I’d lose,

Because even though there’s grief, there’s also your kiss.

It was the last thing I’d hoped for, the last thing I’d expect,

But now I feel like fate’s breathing down my neck.

Take it, pull it, rip it, hold it,

Whatever you do, don’t you let it go.

There are a few more verses, but I’m not thinking too hard about it. I’ve practiced this song so many times that at this point, it’s mostly muscle memory and I let that easy part take over. I’m not the smartest guy, and despite my best efforts I’m not the hottest guy, but one thing I can do is play. So I do. Sing my heart out and rip my fucking keytar for all I’m worth. By the end I’m sweating from more than just the lights and it’s as buzzed as I’ve ever gotten from playing.

There’s a deafening silence when I let go of the last chord and I don’t want to open my eyes. I thought I did okay, and even if they didn’t love it, people at concerts get caught up in the mood, or they’ll clap to be polite, but there’s—

That’s when it hits me like a bomb blast. This wave of applause and shouts nearly bowls me, and the stadium sparkles with all of the flashes going off. All for me. It’s wild. But the best part is the half-smile Jordan’s got on her face and the way she holds her thumb out sideways before turning it up.

Yeah, I did all right.