Wyatt was gone.
Even after the interview wrapped up, the band members still couldn't quite wrap their heads around what had happened. No matter how they thought about it, Rolling Stone magazine felt too distant, too unreal, too far removed from their world.
It wasn't until they calmed down and opened Twitter that things started to sink in. Seeing "Bruno's Opening Act" trending worldwide, with One Day Kings mentioned under the hashtag, brought a flicker of reality. But even then, it didn't feel solid enough.
It was like swallowing something cold and heavy. You could feel it slide down your throat and settle in your stomach, a definite weight, but you couldn't tell what it was. So your mind started spinning—
A lump of lead? A chunk of ice?
Coal? Or maybe sugar?
The jumble of flavors in your mouth defied description.
Luckily, the band didn't have to wait too long.
Monday morning, Bruno sent a private car to take them from Washington to Philadelphia. The trip took about two and a half hours—pretty convenient. But even on that short ride, before they reached Philly, Maxim was already bouncing in his seat, shouting, "It's out! The article's out!"
Truth be told, since the night before, Maxim hadn't let his phone out of his hands. Like an internet addict, he kept refreshing Twitter's trending topics, scrolling through every post, and gleefully checking every new comment that popped up.
At first, Cliff joined in, buzzing with excitement and savoring the sudden attention. But it didn't take long for him to tap out. Maxim's refresh rate was insane—every three to five minutes, without fail.
The only thing that could separate Maxim from his phone was probably a shower. "If phones were waterproof, he'd bring it in there too," Ollie quipped mercilessly. Ronan, sitting nearby, just smiled quietly, though his heart skipped a beat—because, well, phones did become waterproof later on.
Sure enough, Maxim fell asleep clutching his phone, then kept it glued to his hands on the trip. Naturally, he was the first to spot the social media buzz.
"Whoa!"
Cliff was the first to lean over. Ronan and Ollie couldn't help but glance his way too, brimming with anticipation for Maxim's update. But as Maxim read, his expression turned odd. "Uh… what was the name of that Rolling Stone reporter from yesterday?"
"Wyatt Garcia," Ronan answered instantly.
Last night, Ronan had checked with Julio to confirm. Wyatt was indeed a Rolling Stone journalist, assigned to cover Bruno's concert. Once they got that reassurance, the band finally relaxed—otherwise, it would've been a sleepless night.
But now, seeing Maxim's face, their hearts sank again. Was something off?
Maxim held up his phone for the others to see, confusion spilling over. "But this article—it's written by someone named Buster Wayne."
"Huh?" Cliff blurted out, snatching the phone from Maxim to skim it himself.
Ronan thought it over. "Maybe it's a piece about Bruno's concert that just mentions us in passing? We stepped in at the last minute to save the day. Bruno probably put out an official statement, and with Fitz throwing a tantrum, fans might want to know more. So the reporter could've tacked us on?"
Ollie, ever the laid-back one, shrugged. "I thought it was something big. Even if it's not Rolling Stone, any press is good press. I'd be happy with TMZ." He plopped back in his seat, grabbed his chips, and stared out the window, crunching away.
"…Uh, this… doesn't seem like that…" Cliff had read the opening lines. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he sounded certain. After another quick glance, he added, "This is a full article about our band."
Cliff looked up, bewildered, meeting his bandmates' eyes.
A spark of wild joy flickered in Maxim's gaze, but then—crunch crunch—the moment was shattered. He turned, exasperated, to see Ronan and Ollie casually sharing chips like it was a friendly picnic. His ears rang. "Hey! You two! Are you serious right now?"
Crunch crunch.
Ronan glanced over, mid-chew. "Just read it, and we'll know what's up. Why waste time yelling at us when you could check the article?" He popped another chip in his mouth, flashing Maxim a grin like he was starring in a snack commercial, showing off how crispy it was.
Crunch crunch!
Maxim was done talking to Ronan.
He turned back, only to find Cliff already deep in the article. "Hey, I haven't even read it yet—how are you already scrolling? Wait, that's my phone… Cliff! Cliff Barron! This is robbery! Fine, fine, we'll read it together."
Meanwhile, off to the side, Ronan and Ollie exchanged a look.
"Should we… open another bag?"
"How far are we from Philly?"
"Not far, but…"
"Mouth's still got room. Let's open one."
"Yep, another bag it is."
Rip, crunch crunch.
The car fell into a strange, almost magical silence.
The answers didn't come quickly. Buster Wayne's article was longer than expected—nearly 3,000 words, packed with info. It wasn't a light read. Maxim and Cliff were fully absorbed, poring over every line.
But one thing was clear: this was a detailed feature on One Day Kings.
If Buster's in-depth piece was just the first spark, slowly drawing more eyes to the band, then Tuesday morning's special report on Rolling Stone's official site was the explosion that set social media ablaze.
The "Bruno's Opening Act" hashtag surged again, this time with even more force. Unlike before, when concertgoers shared their reactions, now the curious masses flooded in, buzzing with the same questions—
Why two in-depth articles in two days?
Why was Rolling Stone doing a full feature?
Why was this band suddenly blowing up?
Why was everyone talking about them all at once?
Where did this band even come from?
And the biggest question of all: "Who is One Day Kings?"