The group of young people in front of him, laughing and joking, boarded the bus with their instruments, heading west toward the city. Hugo couldn't help but feel a stir of excitement himself; he wanted to return to that kind of life. After the initial unease following his time travel, life had gradually stabilized, and Hugo increasingly missed the days of performing on stage.
However, now Hugo was alone, without the support of a band. Even if he wanted to perform on stage, he lacked the means. While solo singers were countless—and Hugo himself had performed the ending song for A Few Good Men independently—he still preferred being in a band. Not only because of his enduring passion for rock, but also because of the unparalleled support bandmates provided on stage.
"Hugo… Hugo!" A voice called from behind. Hugo turned and saw Joseph signaling him to come over. Hugo quickly walked back, knowing it was likely time to sign some insurance forms. Joseph noticed the flyer in Hugo's hand. "Strip… club?"
"Black and white?" Hugo asked in return, implicitly denying it—what strip club would use black-and-white printed flyers?
Hugo handed the flyer to Joseph, who glanced at it briefly. "Music?" Hugo nodded. Joseph casually asked, "Planning to attend?"
"Attend what?" Alfonso happened to walk over and, without thinking much, answered reflexively. Then he noticed Joseph's gaze directed at Hugo and realized he might be overstepping, quickly adding, "You just need to finish signing the remaining forms."
Hugo didn't mind at all. "No, just a party, a rock party." He sat down. "Which forms do I need to sign?" Alfonso immediately came over, flipping through the papers in front of Hugo, pointing to where signatures were needed.
As Hugo began signing, Alfonso straightened up and then noticed the flyer in Joseph's hand. "So it's a rock night—planned a month ago." Alfonso paused, examining the band names on the flyer. "Wow, this is much bigger than I imagined."
"You know about this party?" Hugo asked, a bit surprised, looking at Alfonso. Dressed in a suit, Alfonso seemed even less likely to be involved with rock, and Joseph had never mentioned it before.
"Of course." Alfonso nodded, casually offering a detailed explanation. "AL Bar holds these large events every few months. Normally, it's just where many underground rock bands hang out. The owner, Green Hill, is wealthy. Rumor has it his family is involved in the military… but who knows? Anyway, AL Bar is quite famous in this circle. Every rock night, many underground bands gather to perform, compete, and show off—it gets very lively."
Hugo couldn't help but pause his pen, excitedly looking at Alfonso. He clearly knew a lot. Then he looked at Joseph with curiosity. Alfonso, a close friend of Joseph, knew so much about underground rock, yet Joseph never mentioned it—it was surprising.
Joseph shrugged lightly. "He used to play in a band, but hasn't in years. Look at him…" Joseph gestured at Alfonso's crisp suit and slightly protruding belly—a clear sign. Hugo couldn't help but laugh.
Alfonso chuckled. "It's true. Work matters more than music." Though he didn't elaborate, it was clear that in the face of dreams and life, Alfonso chose life. Yet he was living well; not having a dream didn't mean life had no hope. As for his inner feelings—regret or satisfaction—only he knew.
"Do you still go to rock nights?" Hugo asked. From Alfonso's earlier tone, it was clear he hadn't completely left the scene and still knew some of the latest news.
"I went once this February, then never again." Alfonso said directly, giving Hugo a helpless smile. "Life, you know. But I still know some of the insider news—some friends are still in bands."
Alfonso paused, then curiously looked into Hugo's eyes. "Sounds like you're interested too. You play in a band?"
"Lead guitar." Hugo set down his pen and extended his right hand.
"Me too, lead guitar!" Alfonso extended his right hand, shaking Hugo's. Both smiled. "Wow, looks like the Los Angeles Times interview missed this—'Next Time You See Me' wasn't a coincidence."
Recently, with the popularity of A Few Good Men, Hugo's "first singing performance" had kept people talking. People were amazed that he not only made a strong comeback as an actor but also hid an impressive singing voice—a major highlight.
"Everyone needs a hobby, right?" Hugo brushed it off lightly, then looked at Alfonso and asked, "Are you going tonight?"
"Rock night? Oh, no, I'm driving home this afternoon." Alfonso shook his head, then looked at Joseph. "You know, I didn't go home last Christmas, and I've been nagged about it all year. What about you, going home?"
After speaking, Alfonso instinctively glanced at Hugo. He knew Joseph wasn't someone to share personal matters freely. Alfonso only asked casually, but Joseph sighed and said, "I plan to go back once. Don't know how things are with Peter yet. Hugo still has some work unfinished these two days, so I'll take the flight the day after tomorrow."
Christmas, which is New Year in the U.S., normally includes a three-day holiday. Most film and TV crews take time off, so nearly everyone goes home. Not just Joseph, but Kal, Charlize, Alex, and others. Hugo had considered going home too, but after calling his father Adam twice, the calls were immediately hung up. It seemed Adam never intended to let Hugo return.
"Then the whole city will be empty, and I'll be home alone. That's the real 'Home Alone.'" Hugo joked, self-mockingly, making Joseph twitch his mouth. "Hope you don't smash the furniture," Joseph teased, referencing the movie Home Alone, poking fun at Hugo not turning his house upside down like Kevin to fight intruders.
"Maybe Hugo will find like-minded friends at rock night, so this Christmas won't be lonely." Alfonso picked up the conversation, smiling widely.
Alfonso implied finding a "female" companion, but Hugo didn't care at all. Compared to romance, music was clearly the focus at such rock parties. "Right, I guess I should go home and get ready. Do I need to prepare anything for a party like this?"
Alfonso looked Hugo over from head to toe, pursed his lips. "Besides this shirt?"
Hugo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, seems I picked the wrong outfit today." This shirt had indeed drawn a lot of teasing. The fact was true: it wasn't very casual, the cut was formal, and it was white, making him look like a businessperson.
"Looks like not everyone can pull off a Beatles classic," Hugo added self-mockingly. Alfonso laughed heartily. "If you pick three companions, it'll be much better."
Hugo and Joseph quickly drove home, with Alfonso following in their new car. After arriving, Joseph drove Alfonso back.
Hugo ran upstairs excitedly, planning his outfit for the evening while imagining the party's grandeur. Suddenly, a strong man in a tight white T-shirt, heavily tattooed arms, a studded leather wristband on his right hand, holding a black leather jacket, and with a deep voice, said, "Sorry," as he briskly descended the stairs. Hugo stepped aside, watching the man's black combat boots strike the steps with a dull echo before disappearing from sight.
Hugo had lived here for over half a year but had never seen this man before. He wondered whose visitor it could be, and then a thought popped into his mind—could this be the mysterious third resident on the fourth floor who had never appeared?
Thinking this, Hugo quickly moved to the stairwell window, looking out, but only saw a disappearing silhouette. He pursed his lips, thinking that regardless of whether the man was the fourth-floor resident, it was strange he had never seen this mysterious person—someone upstairs seemed like a Voldemort figure.
"Squeak," the door to the second-floor apartment opened. Hugo saw the old man Ernst carrying a bag of trash. Their eyes met. Hugo offered a polite smile. Ernst snorted, glared sharply at Hugo, then, without further fuss, carried the trash downstairs.
After watching the old man leave, Hugo briskly returned upstairs, thinking about which outfit from his wardrobe would suit tonight's party. However, in the past year, Hugo had bought very few clothes, and his previous aesthetic differed greatly from his own. Hugo realized this was a serious problem: at the very least, he could no longer attend parties wearing a shirt.
....
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