Ollie froze for a moment, staring at his friend. Ronan's clear, deep eyes gradually lit up, sparkling like they were filled with stars—bright and dazzling.
Then, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, light and easy, like a June afternoon in early summer. A breeze carried the crisp, refreshing heat, golden sunlight spilled across a shimmering green lake, and the rustling reeds swayed gently. Amid the calm, there was a lazy, laid-back vibe.
Without meaning to, Ollie's mood lifted too.
Vaguely, he felt like something about Ronan had shifted—something subtle he couldn't quite pin down. Then he noticed Ronan's gaze settle on him. Instinctively, Ollie took half a step back, eyes widening. "You… what are you up to?" His throat felt dry, practically crackling.
Ronan's eyes followed Ollie's movement downward and caught him crossing his arms over his chest, even clutching his shirt collar while leaning back. A brilliant grin flashed in Ronan's eyes. "Relax, I'm not into you."
Ollie noticed Ronan's stare and glanced down at himself. A little embarrassed but not flustered, he puffed out his chest and shot back, "Who knows? I'm such a snack—how could you resist?"
Ronan didn't reply. Instead, he gave Ollie another once-over, his eyes darting playfully. Then he grabbed the bathroom door, pretending to shut it.
Ollie's jaw dropped: Seriously? He's pulling this?
But Ronan didn't follow through—just faked it. Seeing Ollie's expression shift, he swung the door wide open and strode out with big steps. "Come on, we've got a show to finish!" His words trailed off with a sprinkle of cheerful laughter.
One-upped again!
Ronan had totally got him. Ollie ruffled his messy hair, letting out an annoyed sigh, but he couldn't hold back a snicker. Then he jogged after him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ronan glanced back at Ollie as he caught up. "The boss said our set isn't over and won't sign off on it. So, let's just finish the stage properly—problem solved, right?"
Ollie blinked, dumbfounded. That's not how it works, okay? This wasn't some patch job! And was the bar owner really just mad because they didn't finish their last song?
But Ronan didn't slow down, marching straight ahead without giving Ollie a chance to argue. Ollie scrambled to keep up.
"Ronan."
"Hey, Ronan!"
"But like this…"
"They might not let us back on stage."
In his panic, Ollie's words came out jumbled. Before he knew it, they were already beside the stage.
Calling it a "stage" was generous—it was just a low platform, barely half a palm's height off the ground, one measly step up. Performers and the audience were practically eye-to-eye, with none of that formal vibe you'd get from a taller stage.
Even a karaoke setup in public felt fancier than this.
Naturally, with such a casual stage, there were no security guards or barriers. So, Ronan and Ollie climbed up without any trouble—one after the other.
Onstage, signs of the earlier chaos lingered. A guitar and bass leaned haphazardly against the drum kit, the keyboard sat crooked and teetering, nearly toppled over, and though the fallen mic stand had been propped back up, tangled cords still sprawled across the floor in a mess.
Below, the bar patrons belting out drinking songs didn't even glance at the stage. Catching a flicker of movement in their peripheral vision, they assumed it was staff clearing up and paid no mind, turning back to their chats, drinks, and pool games.
But for Ronan, this was a first.
Sure, it was just a rundown little bar. Sure, it was a tiny, low stage. Sure, the crowd was just a handful of bored drunks. But it was still a stage—a real performance stage.
Standing on the wooden floorboards, he pressed down slightly with his feet, hearing the creak and groan—like every inch held history and stories. The spotlight wasn't professional by any stretch, and only one lonely bulb was left on now, the rest of the stage lights long since off. The dim, yellowish glow accidentally created a spotlight effect, lazily warming his skin with a faint heat.
Once, Ronan had dreamed of a stage like this.
It didn't need to be big—just enough space to stand. It didn't need to be tall—just high enough to see the audience. And the audience didn't need to be huge—just someone, anyone, willing to listen to his songs. Even one would do. A little applause would be nice, sure, but if there wasn't any, he wouldn't mind.
Music, to him, was a beam of light tearing through the dark—whether it carried sadness or joy, pain or delight, it could stir echoes in the endless void.
And now, Ronan was standing on a stage like that.
The satisfaction was beyond words. And he even had… ten, twenty… twenty-three people in the audience! A whole twenty-three!
If happiness had a color, it'd be the caramel glow he saw right now.
"Ronan?"
Ollie stepped onto the stage too, watching as Ronan straightened the keyboard, looking like he was genuinely about to perform. It made Ollie nervous. He stared at Ronan, eyes wide, whispering in a near-ventriloquist rumble, "Ronan, this isn't right—what are you doing?"
"Singing," Ronan replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, leaving Ollie speechless.
Ronan lowered his head, his gaze settling on the black-and-white keys in front of him. His fingertips brushed over them lightly, and that familiar, comforting feeling loosened him up even more—
After losing his hearing, he'd spent a long, long time fumbling in the "dark." His hands could still feel the texture of keys and strings, but the notes eluded him, leaving him to imagine them in his mind.
When his vision started fading too, he simply closed his eyes and learned to listen with his heart. Even though he needed help from others to know if what he played was any good, and the challenges piled up one after another, he never gave up.
For three years, he'd worked as a piano and guitar teacher, clinging on through fear, doubt, frustration, anger—even moments of dark, extreme thoughts, tempted to surrender to the void. But in the end, music guided him back. Life was full of possibilities, whether you cared about them or not—they were there. The question was, could you quiet down enough to find them?
"Ollie, let's finish tonight's set." Ronan looked up, flashing Ollie a wide grin.
Staring into Ronan's bright eyes, all of Ollie's words stuck in his throat, unable to come out. Finally, he just gave a firm nod.
(End of Chapter)