He has your picture everywhere.
There's one of you in that bright red shirt (with the yellow stripes) that he keeps in a beautiful polished wooden frame on his night-table. So he can see that smile in the morning when he gets up, that smile where you don't show any teeth, but your mouth is stretched wide and your eyes are caught in the middle of a secret twinkle.
There's another one of you wearing a yellow hat, and that one is actually hung on the wall in the passage that leads from his (your) bedroom; it's with him, you, Andy and Joe, with these massive goofy grins. You're in the center, the focus. As always.
The black-and-white picture of you that he printed from his home-office computer is hanging over the large ornate work-desk. He says it gives him inspiration to write. A color version of that same picture is pasted into the back of his lyric book, and he carries that book with him everywhere; so you go, too.
He still writes lyrics; good ones. There are a couple of awesome bands and some solo artistes that pay good money to use them, and he's pretty well off that way.
He gave a copy of a photo (the one where you were all at dinner at Marco's, hamming it up) to Andy, who keeps it on the table he uses to do up his lecture plans.
And Joe got the one where you're all laying around on carpeted floor somewhere and your laughs are all frozen and perfect. Joe put this on the side-table in his office so that that when the clients come in to his promotional company, they would see them all so easy-going in that photo and they themselves would relax. It works.
He got a new notebook today to jot down lyrics in. He takes his old notebook, and carefully pries up the photo and puts it in the new one.
He carries you everywhere.