"So… how'd it go?"
Cliff's eyes were brimming with urgency and longing as he studied Wyatt closely. It was just one short question, but the earnestness behind it slipped out anyway. You could almost hear a thousand more "How'd it go?"s looping in his head, barely held back.
Wyatt found it kind of funny and let out a half-amused, half-exasperated look. "Aren't you worried I might actually be a scammer? That all this interviewing and photographing today could be for nothing? So, are you still excited to see how the shots turned out?"
Cliff's eyes widened, his pupils practically trembling as he tried—and failed—to keep his emotions in check.
"Even if it all ends up being pointless, the process was still fun. Plus, we made something great today. Maybe no one will ever see it, but Van Gogh didn't know his work would spread across the world either, and he never put down his brush." It was Ronan who stepped in to smooth things over.
Wyatt was caught off guard. Ronan wasn't the type to steal the spotlight or pick a fight—rarely, if ever. But then again, it wasn't that surprising. Avoiding confrontation didn't mean he couldn't push back, and when he did, it always piqued Wyatt's curiosity.
"Are you comparing yourself to Van Gogh now?" Wyatt's reporter instincts kicked in, and he couldn't resist the jab.
Ronan burst into a cheerful laugh. "Nah, I'm just saying we're creators. No matter what happens, we had a blast with this afternoon's interview and shoot. So, back to Cliff's photos—how'd they turn out? You happy with them?"
And just like that, he circled the conversation back.
Wyatt glanced down at the camera in his hands, deciding not to drag it out any longer. "I'm happy with them," he said to Cliff. "We're all done here."
Cliff and Ollie's photo sessions had been just as tricky as the others. Stiff body language was still the common thread, though each had their own quirks.
Cliff was like a marionette—give him a direction, and he'd follow it to the letter. He knew his limits, like how his height was the shortest in One Day Kings, practically standing in a ditch compared to the others. But his proportions were solid, and he had a knack for posing. With a little guidance, he adjusted and delivered shots that exceeded expectations.
Ollie, on the other hand, channeled the No-Face from Spirited Away. He kept his expressions minimal, fading silently into the background. In that near-motionless state, though, something unique slipped through—especially when his eyes drifted off into a daze. Those moments turned into surprisingly good shots. No expression became his biggest expression, a weirdly effective style all its own.
As for the group photos…
Well, the obvious approach—four band members standing still, posing politely to show off their teamwork while the photographer snapped away—didn't work for One Day Kings. Luckily, Alice's quick thinking saved Wyatt from the mess.
She got the band to "argue"—debating where to stand, how to line up, what they thought of the earlier shots, how they should pose. It brought the scene to life. Even Ollie, who'd been silent all through the interview, slipped back into his usual self. No photographer interference needed—the band just was, and Wyatt wandered around, snapping the best moments. In the end, the group shots were his smoothest and most satisfying haul. Even Maxim showed off some fresh poses.
But inexperience was inexperience. The indie band's raw, unpolished energy was undeniable, and it made Wyatt's job both heavier and trickier. Especially since he was flying solo today. He couldn't tell if this was some cosmic test or just him making life harder for himself.
It was rushed, it was rough, but Wyatt still pulled it off. His clothes were a wrinkled mess, soaked through and dried out, then soaked again—two, three times over. Finally, the dragged-out day wrapped up, and the results weren't half bad.
Perfect? No. The lack of hair, makeup, and styling was a glaring flaw. Still, Wyatt was willing to give the band props where it was due.
Cliff, though, was clearly still uneasy.
The Twitter buzz? The band still didn't feel it. So naturally, they were skeptical about a Rolling Stone feature. Today's barebones interview and shoot didn't help—everything screamed "scam" vibes. Hard not to wonder.
Wyatt's earlier tease had been a joke, but Cliff wasn't laughing.
Seeing Cliff's tense, fidgety look now, Wyatt realized his quip had landed wrong. He patted Cliff's shoulder again. "Relax, the photos came out great."
Across the band, Maxim's shots were the strongest, with Cliff a close second. Wyatt's personal favorite, Ronan, didn't quite shine through in the photos—his unique vibe slipped past the lens, which bugged Wyatt the most. Maybe next time, with a real photographer, it'd turn out better.
"Barring any surprises, the piece should drop next week—aiming for before Friday. I'll email you once it's locked in."
Wyatt was wiped out, too drained to keep reassuring Cliff, but professional duty nudged him to toss out that lifeline.
"I know this interview was pretty basic. We didn't see the scope coming and weren't prepped for it. Hopefully next time we meet, things will be different—bigger setup, bigger team, the works. I'm really looking forward to that day."
For Wyatt, that was about a month's worth of politeness crammed into one go.
Day in, day out, he lived between spotlights. Stepping away from the dazzling glow into the quiet shadows, feeling that raw passion and sincerity again—it hit him. Under all the entertainment hype and profit-chasing glare, that simplicity could still soothe a tired, jaded heart, even if just for a moment.
So yeah, he was willing to pin a little hope on One Day Kings. Today had been too rushed—he hadn't even had time to really listen to their music, which made him feel sloppy. Before he sat down to write the piece, he'd start there: with the music.
The chaos was finally over. Wyatt turned and walked off. A wild, surreal afternoon faded into calm.