"Honestly, I don't know," Ronan said.
His words were light, no taunting, no grand emotion, no heavy sighs—just a quiet resolve and determination woven through them. Those feelings seeped out slowly, and the subtle wisdom tucked inside hit his bandmates right in the chest—
Because they all felt it too.
Before they knew it, their eyes were on Ronan. A soft smile curved his lips, radiating a warm, crisp comfort from within. The night's chilly breeze seemed to settle, and their restless, tangled thoughts calmed down too.
"Heh, at least for us, this journey's got meaning," he said.
"Maybe when the tour's over, that's it for the band—our story ends with a period…" Ronan barely got halfway through before Maxim cut in, "Ronan!"
Clearly, Maxim wasn't ready for that kind of ending.
Ronan turned to him, not pausing. "Or maybe these five gigs bring us back to the start—back to the simplest, purest joy. Maybe on this last stretch, we realize how big and wide the world is, how life's still full of possibilities."
Maxim's words caught in his throat, a flicker of sadness crossing his face.
"Or maybe we find nothing at all, just quietly take a different path and start a new chapter."
"But whatever happens, we should finish this tour. At least give our persistence a proper curtain call—don't let all these years of fighting and dreaming fizzle out with nothing to show."
Ronan's gaze drifted over his bandmates—Maxim, Cliff, Ollie.
Cliff stubbornly turned away, his furrowed brow shouting his resistance. He couldn't stomach the idea of "the end," even just thinking about it made his chest tight. But Ollie was the first to break the stillness.
"I'm in!"
His lively voice buzzed with enthusiasm and excitement. Ollie was still Ollie—unshaken, eyes sparkling with energy, hands rubbing together like he was ready to hit the road. A bright grin lit up his face.
He tilted his chin at Ronan, winking as if to say, See? I've got your back—total loyalty.
That look sent a wave of amusement through Ronan's eyes. Then, together with Ollie, he turned to Maxim.
Maxim hesitated for a moment, feeling their stares. His emotions were a mess—touched yet bitter, happy yet sad. They'd just been arguing about the tour, and now they were facing the band's future. This might really be the end.
It was hard to put into words.
He didn't want it to be over, but… Ronan was right. Whatever came next, they should at least finish the tour strong. It wasn't even about the breach fees—they owed it to themselves to see it through. What happened after? Leave that to time.
Maxim let out a long breath, pushing down the storm in his chest. He flashed a smile at Ollie and Ronan. "Count me in."
All eyes swung to Cliff, pinning him in place. He squirmed, awkward and tense.
Turning back, he growled, "You three already ganged up—what's the point of asking me?"
His face twisted, but the fire in his eyes had cooled. Ollie sidled over, grinning as he nudged Cliff's ribs with his elbow. "Oh, come on, we're asking you right now, aren't we? So, what do you say?"
Ollie's teasing broke Cliff's tough-guy act. His scowl cracked, though he still tried to hold the line.
Ronan jumped in, winking. "For the curtain call?"
That got Cliff—he couldn't help but smirk, finally nodding. "For the curtain call."
"Oh yeah!" What could've been a somber moment turned goofy with Ollie's loud cheer. Laughter rippled through them, easing the mood at last.
No matter how it ended, they'd run this race to the finish—no regrets.
But the high didn't last long. Reality crashed back fast. Cliff spoke up, "Did you ask your brother? What'd he say?"
Brother? Ask?
What was that about?
They'd just sorted one thing, and now another popped up—no breather in between? Ronan blinked at Cliff, totally lost.
Luckily, Ollie swooped in to save him, hooking an arm around Cliff's neck in a playful chokehold. "We just got a second of peace, man! Can't you chill for once?"
Ollie's a big guy—6'1", 175 pounds, broad shoulders, solid muscle. Next to him, Cliff's "scrawny"—5'9", 130 pounds—looked like a twig. No chance of fighting back.
Ollie's lock had Cliff pinned in seconds. Flailing, Cliff slapped at Ollie's arm in protest. "I was just asking! Can't I even ask? The problem's still there—ignoring it won't make it vanish. I'm just worried… Ollie! Ollie! Okay, okay, I give! I give! White flag—don't you see me surrendering?"
Cliff tapped Ollie's arm again, this time like a judo tap-out. His chatter didn't stand a chance against Ollie's brute strength—he caved in no time.
Maxim and Ronan, watching from the sidelines, burst out laughing, loving every second.
Cliff reached out for help, but Ronan and Maxim shared a look, turned in sync, and strolled back to the room, chatting like nothing was happening.
Behind them, Cliff's desperate wail rang out, "You two disloyal jerks!"
Back inside, Cliff's struggling echoed down the hall. Ronan and Maxim's eyes met, and they high-fived, cracking up again.
As the laughter settled, the vibe mellowed out. Ronan's mind drifted to Cliff's question—what was that about? His brow furrowed in thought, but Maxim misread it.
After a pause, Maxim couldn't hold back. "Ronan, you said this might be the end. If it really is, have you thought about what's next? Any plans?"
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