For Ronan, hugging felt incredibly foreign. He wasn't used to it, nor did he particularly like this way of expressing emotions. In his memory, he hadn't hugged anyone since growing up—he'd almost forgotten what it even felt like. But his body's muscle memory overpowered his rational resistance, and before he knew it, he was instinctively wrapping his arms around Alice.
It threw him off a little, to be honest.
Alice pushed against Ronan's chest, muttering complaints like "I'm fine," but she hadn't expected his seemingly skinny frame to be so solid. It was firm, unyielding, and no matter how she pushed, she couldn't budge him. A second later, she found herself enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, the faint scent of lime drifting off him and filling her senses.
For some reason, Alice's eyes welled up. Then, she couldn't hold it back anymore—she started sobbing, like someone who'd been wronged, burying her face deep into Ronan's chest. Over and over, she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," repeating it endlessly.
It was all her fault.
If she hadn't taken it upon herself to play matchmaker, if she hadn't tried to show off her cleverness, none of this mess might've happened.
Ronan's muscles stayed tense all over. He still wasn't comfortable with hugging, and it showed—his movements were stiff, awkward as he held Alice, his spine rigid and unmoving. Yet, the warmth of the embrace chipped away at his guardedness just a little.
It felt strange, vaguely familiar, but mostly warm. A simple physical connection somehow created a sense of safety words couldn't capture. The chaos swirling in his mind started to settle, and his taut nerves eased up a bit.
Then he heard the soft murmurs coming from his arms. He could feel Alice's struggle loud and clear, but he was totally confused. Patting her back gently, he asked, "What's wrong? Why are you apologizing? This stuff has nothing to do with you."
Alice lifted her head, meeting Ronan's gaze bravely. Her eyes were red and swollen, her appearance a mess, but her resolve was unshakable. "Actually, I'm the one who strongly recommended you guys to Scooter. It wasn't him asking to meet you. If you'd known that beforehand, maybe you wouldn't have…"
Her words were simple, lacking context, but the missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Ronan paused, stunned for a moment, chewing it over before cutting her off. "Then we should be thanking you. You're the one who fought for us to get that chance."
"But…" Alice tried to argue, but Ronan didn't let her finish. "No buts."
"It's because of you that we even got a shot to talk with Scooter. The fact that it didn't go as planned? That's on us. Sure, a lot went wrong today, but none of it's your fault." His gaze was steady as he spoke. "The interview didn't turn out how we hoped, but…"
He trailed off for a second, thoughts churning. "But those problems were already there."
Tristan's betrayal and departure were proof enough. Ronan's unexpected arrival had thrown off the band's rhythm, reigniting hope they'd buried. For the past three days, they'd barreled forward blindly, only to crash into a wall again. The issues they'd shoved down came roaring back.
Even without Scooter stirring the pot, those problems lurking beneath the surface wouldn't have gone away. If not today, they'd have blown up some other time. Tristan's issues were still unresolved, and the band hadn't had an honest, heart-to-heart talk about it.
In a way, Scooter just sped things up—ripping off the bandage in a brutal, no-nonsense way.
That was the logic, at least. But facing the damage Scooter caused head-on? It wasn't easy to calm down so fast.
"…We needed a hard punch to snap us out of it, to cool off and sort through everything. Otherwise…" Ronan's voice grew rough. He hated admitting it, but the harsh truth was they'd had no plan, no goals, no future. "After the bar tour ends, that might've been it for the band anyway."
Without some miracle dropping from the sky, once the last five bar gigs wrapped up, One Day Kings would've quietly fizzled out.
"But now, Scooter's gone and killed off any possibility early—and snuffed out that last shred of hope." The voice wasn't Alice's this time—it was Ollie's.
Alice was still a bit lost, though.
She'd noticed the band's manager was missing, but with everything happening so fast over the past three days, she hadn't had a chance to ask or dig deeper. She'd sensed something was off but didn't know the full story, so Ronan's words didn't quite click for her yet. Why would the bar tour ending mean the end of the band?
Then Ollie finally snapped out of it and spoke up.
Ronan let go of Alice, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat before turning to Ollie. "No, I actually think this is a chance to rise from the ashes."
"Alice, Tristan left us. He broke the contract and took off with all our cash." Ronan summed up the backstory in one blunt sentence, prompting a shocked "What?" from Alice.
That hug had steadied Ronan's emotions a bit. The tangled mess in his head started to unravel, and he found his courage again. He could face Tristan's exit and Scooter's disdain head-on because he knew he wasn't alone in this fight. He had Alice. He had Ollie.
And really, Cliff and Maxim felt the same way. Their anger, their fear, their panic—it all stemmed from a refusal to give up. If they'd truly accepted things, if they'd let go of hope, they wouldn't have reacted so strongly today.
Anger came from caring.
Disappointment came from expecting something more.
He—and they—kept holding on. Logic told them to quit, that it was the smart move, but they clung on like fools anyway. Like Sisyphus in Greek mythology, pushing a rock uphill forever, never reaching the top, never giving up, refusing to let go.
That's why their "Born to Be" stage performance could shine so brightly. Deep down, they all had that stubborn, stupid grit—crashing headfirst into walls, bleeding, and still not backing down.
He wasn't alone. They weren't isolated. One Day Kings was a unit, still fighting for a dream that seemed doomed to fail.
Maybe to Scooter, their persistence meant nothing. But Ronan saw it differently.
The cheers at Noon Bar, the nod from Radiance Band, the fans' affirmation after the show, the madness of the Full Moon Party, the crowd's roars, the packed house—those were all proof.