The gentle melody flowed like a murmuring stream, carrying the moonlight as it meandered. Smooth pebbles followed the water's current, gently rippling. It was as if, in the ink-dark night, one could see the gradual illumination of countless lights—little by little, colorful dots scattered across the world. Each dot represented a family, yet none belonged to them. Solitary and lone.
What was even more brutal was that she wasn't alone; another person sat beside her. They used to be an intimate and fervent union, radiating similar halos. But now, they were drifting apart, each tending to their own space. Overwhelming loneliness and loss stole the last vestiges of warmth from the air.
The tender melody seemed to lack any impact, flowing through hearts. Suddenly, the beats and chords erupted, myriad points of light twinkling simultaneously. The world seemed as bright as daylight, and that sorrow burst forth with unparalleled vigor. However, such cries met no response; the ears were still filled with silence and solitude. The inevitability of desolation left one as if trapped in an icy cavern.
The phrase "I don't even know if I wanna believe" encapsulated confusion and loss.
Drake stood where he was, utterly lost, as if he'd been deeply wronged. He unleashed all the pain and bitterness from the depths of his heart.
He and she had broken up—amicably parted ways. After years of struggling, entangling, grand and vigorous endeavors, they had exhausted themselves. Thus, they chose to part honestly and openly, embracing each other with deep affection, bidding farewell like two old friends. Life went on, empty within yet not sorrowful; there was more of a sense of release.
When writing the script for "Like Crazy", he had called her several times. They spoke joyfully, reminiscing about the past—those memories that seemed to have disappeared but were still vivid in their minds. Finally, they could let down their defenses, discussing the stumbling blocks of the past and the bittersweet moments, laughing and reminiscing, as if they were from a different world.
After completing the script, she was the first to read it. Only after receiving her approval did he start seeking investments.
It seemed as though they had forgotten their heartaches, like healing a festering wound and breathing a sigh of relief after the pus had been drained. But as time passed, they realized the wound had left a significant scar, irreversibly marking them, much like a piece of the heart being excised.
Until this very moment, all the sorrow and regret surged forth, completely shattering Drake's defenses, leaving him disarmed and overwhelmed.
"Drake," Bryan approached, lightly patting Drake's shoulder in an attempt to remind him that their time was limited, and they needed to focus on their work. However, before Bryan's hand could touch Drake, he was pushed away forcefully. Drake opened his mouth, trying to say something, but found that he couldn't utter a word. He simply shook his head, standing there, crying so heartbreakingly.
A hushed silence fell over the room, an indescribable sadness flowing at their fingertips, evoking an unbearable ache within.
Felicity wiped away tears from her cheeks, gazing through the kitchen door. The world seemed to narrow to a slender gap. She observed the figure sitting behind the black and white keyboard. His shoulders slumped, not in despair, but in bewilderment. It wasn't the absence of hope, but the disorientation that followed the dissolution of once steadfast beliefs, leaving her at a loss.
She knew Anna felt the same.
In this moment, she truly understood Anna's emotions and Jacob's as well. They were like two shattered souls, seeking to find each other's warmth to become whole again, only to realize that once something was broken, it remained broken, unable to return to the past. She found herself unable to even shed tears now; she just looked at the figure with helplessness and confusion, silent and wordless.
Renly gently sensed the touch of his fingers on the black and white piano keys. He felt almost drained, his thoughts jumbled. He couldn't discern whether it was because of Jacob's loss of faith in love or his own wavering beliefs in dreams. Returning to London had caused fluctuations in his mindset, and the city's chilliness pervaded everything—even his soul felt its coldness.
A chill spread through his fingertips.
Renly once again retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips.
"What was that song just now?" Drake's voice was hoarse as he inquired. He could barely produce sound, but he still stared at Renly, straining to voice those few words. His swollen eyes and tear-streaked face looked utterly disheveled, yet they revealed the depths of his sincere emotions.
"Believe," Renly replied with a single word—a seemingly simple word, yet it carried immense weight. It was the strongest yet most fragile word in the world.
Drake murmured it softly, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth—a smile uglier than tears. Then, he looked up at Renly once more. "Can I use it as the soundtrack?"
The sudden request left Renly momentarily stunned. "No," he shook his head.
The unexpected refusal silenced everyone in the room, and Drake was particularly dumbfounded; he hadn't anticipated that Renly would decline. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"As a soundtrack, this song carries too intense of a personal emotion, which might mislead the audience," Renly explained. "You see, what we least need is to forcefully impose our own thoughts on the audience. Instead, we should leave more room for them to contemplate."
The same scene, the same argument, each viewer would discern different nuances, not to mention the variations in thinking due to gender differences. Truly exceptional films aren't about the director, actors, or lines telling the audience what the scene is about, what the core of the work is; rather, it's about presenting the content and then bestowing the audience with the right to think and judge.
Drake stood frozen, the earlier emotions were indeed overwhelming, so intense that they led him to a complete breakdown, unable to resist. His fondness for this song was like a moth to a flame. However, Renly's words cooled him down somewhat. It's just that he had just gone through emotional turbulence, and his mind was still tormented by the cold, making his thinking a bit out of sync.
"Uh... I... I meant..." Drake felt a burning sensation in his throat, and he started coughing fiercely. He gulped down several mouthfuls of water, slightly easing the discomfort. "I want... to use... this song. We can discuss the specifics later." Drake wanted to explain further, but his throat couldn't produce sound.
Renly, however, understood Drake's intention. If he only wanted to use the song, there was no issue, of course. "Once it's recorded, I'll send it to you. You'll be on the waiting list."
Renly knew Drake's reaction was impulsive, resonating with the melody, which prompted him to be so eager to use it. However, during the later stages of production, after emotions settled down, it was necessary to approach the song's potential use as a soundtrack from the perspective of the entire work. Renly didn't insist, but expressed his hope that Drake could understand the broader perspective.
Drake broke into a wide smile and gave a thumbs-up gesture. He felt feverish all over, even the tears in his eyes seemed on the verge of evaporating. He might be showing signs of a fever. But Drake didn't mind. Because "Like Crazy" was on track during shooting, and his sole focus now was completing the project.
At an unspecified time, Felicity's figure appeared at the kitchen doorway. She had regained her composure, a smile tinged with apology on her face. However, there was no time for apologies now. She was still trapped in the emotions of a moment ago. She tugged at the corners of her mouth, but the smile quickly faded, and she spoke in a somber tone, "I'm ready. We can shoot anytime."
Felicity glanced at Renly with complex emotions flashing in her eyes, but words failed to convey them. Then she turned and entered the kitchen, preparing for the upcoming shoot.
Drake looked at Renly, not speaking, but his eyes were clear. Renly nodded, "I'm ready too."
And so, the entire crew immediately sprung into action, wiping the disheveled look from their faces and readjusting the filming parameters to ensure the passage of time didn't affect their settings.
Renly walked to the kitchen doorway, observing Felicity's figure at the cutting board. Her frail silhouette bore a trace of loneliness and fatigue. Sensing his gaze, she turned, and their eyes met.
Felicity's lips twitched upwards, attempting to muster a smile. But before the smile reached her eyes, it vanished, and her lips straightened. She lowered her gaze, avoiding Renly's stare. She turned her attention back to the zucchini on the cutting board, leaving her back for Renly.
Renly's voice gently broke the silence, "Are you ready?"
Felicity turned back, nodded with a smile, not saying a word. Then she turned away again after a brief moment, remaining silent for half a second, then a full second before speaking, "Thank you. For that song... thank you." Her words seemed to lose their color, becoming dry and bland.
Renly tugged at the corners of his mouth. His gaze lingered on Felicity's back for a moment, not saying anything. He turned and left—Jacob's scene required preparation.
Felicity waited for a while but heard no sound. She stole a sidelong glance, but there was no figure at the kitchen doorway. Suddenly, she raised her head and saw John, Bryan, and others busily preparing. She retracted her gaze, stunned in place. Her mind seemed to have gone blank.
Suddenly, she snapped back to her senses, took a deep breath, and gathered herself. Yet, that touch of desolation remained, as if just like Anna.