"Get out of the car!"
Adam's voice was like a fragile boat in a torrential storm, desperately struggling for balance but teetering on the edge of collapse. His emotions were stretched to the limit, ready to shatter at any moment, and the air temperature began to rise slowly. Waves of emotions surged one after another, and even he couldn't discern the details of those emotions: anger? sorrow? madness? regret? despair? loss? bitterness? confusion?
Perhaps it was all of them, or perhaps it was none. But the only thing he knew was that the volcano was about to erupt. If Kyle didn't leave, he didn't know what he might do.
"Adam!" Seth continued to nag tirelessly, trying to convey his emotions. But Adam couldn't hold back any longer. His volatile and surging emotions burst their banks completely. He wildly swung his fist at Kyle, "Get out! Just get out!" His fierce punches fell like raindrops, unrelenting and merciless, without restraint.
"Don't hit me!" Seth was almost defenseless, caught off guard by this sudden outburst. This wasn't a scene written in the script. The eruption had taken him completely by surprise, leaving him no means of defense.
Though he kept shouting stubbornly, "I can't f*cking let you do this." as he tried to collide with Adam to fend off the frenzied assault, it was in vain. He kept retreating until he was thrown out of the passenger seat like a ball. He watched helplessly as Adam closed the car door, the wind gusting in his face.
"Jesus Christ! Man!" Seth roared in frustration at the car, but he was left outside without mercy. He looked at the car door in anger, muttering under his breath, "Shit!"
Standing outside, a cold wind blew, and Seth shivered, then shivered again, and once more.
Only then did he realize that his back was soaked from the scene where they drove just now. It had been completely improvised, and he had genuinely wet himself from fright. He felt his underwear might be a bit damp. The moment of life and death, the fear of being on the brink, tore at his heart without reservation. He sincerely believed that the one behind the wheel was Adam.
How ludicrous it all was, wasn't it?
Seth's thoughts were so clear, he knew without a doubt that he was Seth Rogen. Yet the one in the driver's seat wasn't Renly, but Adam. He didn't doubt it for a moment. Even more astonishingly, his lines, reactions, and performance, guided by Renly, blended seamlessly with Kyle's, and the entire scene was filmed with enthusiasm and fluidity.
Even he himself, at this moment, had lost the boundary between reality and illusion.
Bending over, looking at Adam in the driver's seat, a sense of desolation suddenly washed over Seth. Unstoppable.
Having forcefully pushed Kyle out like a storm, Adam panted heavily. But even so, his chest felt like a boiling volcano, bubbling and churning. The turbulent emotions roared and collided, and countless memories flooded his mind.
The first time attending a friend's funeral, the first time smoking recklessly, the first time seeking a passionate encounter at a bar, the first time being betrayed and abandoned by a girlfriend, the first time seeing hair falling in his palm, the first time feeling sympathy and pity in the eyes of others, the first time vomiting uncontrollably by a toilet, the first time undergoing chemotherapy, the first time learning about his cancer diagnosis...
All the fragments of memories crowded together and vanished in an instant, leaving behind only one piece of news: Mount Matavanu, located in the Savai'i Highlands, had erupted, spewing forth black feathery ash and smoke that reached a height of four miles. Initially, reports stated that the activity of Mount Matavanu was declining, but now, according to analysts, it's confirmed that the volcanic activity is actually intensifying.
It was such an insignificant, unrelated piece of news. Yet, it struck his chest with a force.
He was like that volcano, silent for a long time, repressed for a long time, quiet for a long time, accumulating all his strength and then bursting forth, seemingly releasing every last bit of energy from the depths of his soul. After the eruption, he would fade away, gradually restoring calm and sinking into complete silence.
Death. Dying quietly and peacefully like this, like volcanic ash drifting in the air, ultimately settling and dissipating, leaving no trace.
But he didn't want it this way, he didn't want to fade into silence like this.
He yearned for another eruption, craving that after a volcanic explosion like this, it would only mark a turning point in the path of his life. After this outburst, he would gather strength anew, ready to start another round of eruption, gradually embarking on a brand-new path in life. It wasn't a symbol of decline; it was a point of reinvigorated transformation.
He yearned like he never had before.
At this moment, the suppressed emotions in his chest were like the volcanic vent of Mount Matavanu, booming in his ears, echoing, surging incessantly. He had been suppressing it all, fearing that a single eruption would be the end, worrying that a single release would be the conclusion, dreading that a single bloom would turn into nothingness. But he was about to lose control.
Even more absurd was that as he watched this television news, the spectacular and grand eruption of the volcano left him dumbfounded. Empathetic sighs and a sense of detachment from the scene circulated in his eyes. A shallow warmth cast a thin mist over his gaze, but it couldn't coalesce.
He wanted to ascend those undulating mountains, to witness a volcanic eruption up close, to traverse treacherous paths through tropical rainforests, to stand on the crest of surging waves, to freefall from great heights and taste the steepness of coastlines, to be immersed in the wild wind and torrential rain, to gaze upward as the volcanic ash floated down like falling snow...
But all he could do was sit on his couch at home and watch the news. All he could do was be pressed onto the hospital couch, undergoing chemotherapy. All he could do was stand helplessly in place, awaiting judgment.
He hadn't yet savored the brilliance of this world, nor tasted the flavor of life. Yet his life was about to be declared over.
In this moment, all the fragments of memories erupted like a kaleidoscope. But a moment ago, his mind couldn't conjure anything he wanted to do. He blurted out just one thing, "Drive." Though his life had just begun and countless things awaited his exploration and conquest, on this night before the surgery, the only thing he could think of was driving.
Unwillingness, anger, bitterness, erupted on his tongue; regret, despair, agony, collided within his chest; helplessness, suppression, suffocation, rippled through his mind.
The searing heat in his lungs gradually began to lose control, almost leaving him breathless. His mouth hung open, attempting to breathe, yet he couldn't sense any oxygen. He felt his entire body swell to the extreme, teetering on the edge of imminent explosion. His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly, veins pulsating and bursting as he exerted all his strength to restrain himself. The steering wheel was on the verge of being crushed, but still in precarious balance.
He could no longer suppress it, like the erupting volcano of Mount Matavanu. But he didn't know if this was his final eruption.
"Ah!"
A roar, a furious roar, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, channeling all his emotions and anger into his hands. But still, he couldn't control the erupting emotions. "Ah!" He ignited his own life, bursting forth all the vibrancy, all the splendor, all the brilliance. The entire world gradually turned black and white.
But even so, it wasn't enough.
"Ahhh!" He angrily pounded the steering wheel, kicked at any obstacles around him with his legs, as if trying to break free from all the restraints of life, fighting against the heavy burden of fate. Yet he found himself trapped in a narrow chasm. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free. "Ahhh!"
He grasped the steering wheel tightly again, his muscles erupting as his upper body pressed forward, akin to a drowning person's desperate cry for help. "Ahhh!" Could anyone hear him? Could anyone hear his cries for help? Could anyone hear his roars of anger? Could anyone hear his unwillingness and despair? Could anyone hear his suppression and agony?
Tears filled his eyes, yet before they could form droplets, they evaporated into nothingness, consumed by searing rage and boiling despair. A faint red mark remained next to his eyes, like the fiery clouds that lingered on the horizon after a volcanic eruption, gently fading and scattering until they merged into the meeting point of sea and sky.
"Ahhh!" Once, then again, Adam furiously slammed the steering wheel, squeezing out the last ounce of strength from his body.
Outside the car window, Seth stood silently, watching Adam's frantic outpouring. His mouth involuntarily opened slightly, emotions stuck between his chest and throat, as if blocking his breath. He floated in midair, unable to go up but also unable to come down.
He knew Adam had cancer, he knew Adam was about to face surgery, he knew Adam's life was in a delicate stage. He knew, he knew it all. Yet he could never truly empathize because he wasn't the one going through it. He hadn't tried to understand Adam's emotions. However, he had never known that beneath Adam's calm exterior lay such turbulent emotions, erupting in an instant, even more intensely than a volcano.
In this moment, Seth felt the imminent arrival of Death as he never had before. As if Death stood around the corner of the street, wielding a scythe, gazing expressionlessly at Adam. Seth wanted to step forward and stop Death's approach, help Adam regain his spirits, but his feet were rooted in place, immobile.
Seth blinked, concealing the warmth around his eyes, gently pursing his lips and tasting the bitterness that filled his mouth. He couldn't bear to watch any longer.
With an intense release, his emotions were finally spent. Adam slumped weakly over the steering wheel, gasping for air in deep breaths. The dense darkness of the night began to seep in slowly, gradually consuming all the light around, dimming the world. Those fragile shoulders seemed as if they might collapse and crumble at any moment.