He said
"Some'll win, some will lose
Some are born to sing the blues"
He sang
"Whoa, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on
The passionate singing surged wantonly, and the clear piano keys intertwined with powerful drumbeats. Despite the slight thinness caused by the lack of coordination between strings and vocals, it had no adverse impact. On the contrary, its purity made it even more sincere. The clear and translucent voice continuously released the passion and excitement deep within the heart. The intense heat collided, creating a resounding sound that buzzed in the ears.
Involuntarily and uncontrollably, my heart surged. I raised my chin gently and stared intently at the figure on the stage.
Sam Payne calmed down, no longer struggling or shouting. He simply stood there, quietly listening to the clear singing. But his heart had rekindled.
"Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlights, people"
His thoughts swirled in his mind. Sam had gradually forgotten his initial purpose of opening a bar and the dream of inviting bands to perform. Those passions and dreams had long been buried in the river of time. He told himself:
"It's all about making a living."
If the bar couldn't sustain itself, then all dreams and life would be mere castles in the air—this was a fact. But as time passed, Sam had become more complacent.
In reality, the bar was firmly established, and he didn't need to worry about his livelihood. A steady stream of customers ensured stability in life. He could finally support those indie bands in realizing the dreams he had been forced to abandon. But he had completely forgotten about these things. Alongside life's stability, all ambitions had been submerged in daily financial matters.
Even when there was no need to worry about his livelihood at all, he had justified ignoring those musical dreams because he believed that the outcome of the dream was already determined—failure was the only result. Before making an effort, he had closed off all possibilities and had stopped believing.
At this moment, Sam's heart burned once again.
It wasn't because he had rekindled past memories. His chaotic thoughts couldn't be sorted out. It was because he saw the purity in that young man—the clear, simple purity, the fiery simplicity in his heart. Sam's heart seemed to beat again.
Not just a beat, but a throb.
Thump. Thump.
A real and powerful impact, as if finally awakening after a long slumber.
Sam stood there, concealed in the darkness, quietly savoring the performance.
"Strangers waitin'
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searchin' in the night
Streetlights, people
Livin' just to find emotion
Hidin', somewhere in the night"
Both Cliff and Maxim noticed Sam's change. They had given up on their desperate efforts to move forward, and their attention, too, shifted to the stage along the path of Sam's gaze.
Ronan wore a smile, a genuine one, completely immersed in the melody. Making music had become a joy once again, a stage, a singing voice—this was enough. It was just you and the melody, conveying heartfelt emotions through song.
It had been a long time since they had seen such a stage.
For the members of the One Day King band, who were in dire straits, this was a luxury. Their nomadic life, filled with hunger and uncertainty, had exposed them to the harsh realities of life. Survival had endangered their dreams, and they were irritated, angry, frustrated, and confused. Negative emotions had overshadowed the beauty of their rose-colored dreams. Music no longer seemed like simple music.
However, Ronan on the stage was singing loudly:
"Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people"
In a daze, they felt like they were back in college again, forming a band out of passion, enthusiasm, and dreams. They could stay up all night discussing music, drive for miles to acquire instruments, argue over song composition, and blush with excitement... Life was so simple; a passion could illuminate the world.
Unintentionally, Maxim locked eyes with Ronan, a slight smile seemingly encompassing the entire world.
King for a day!
Even if they could only be kings for a day, they were willing to shine brightly in life—that was the initial purpose behind forming the band, but it had also been forgotten in the corner.
Caught off guard, Maxim shifted his gaze, embarrassment washing over him. He mumbled something about "dust," rubbed his eyes vigorously to conceal his embarrassment, and it seemed that something deep within his heart, long scarred, had been touched, and the pain had returned.
Cliff, stubbornly refusing to show vulnerability, kept his gaze fixed on Ronan through the hazy lights. He hummed the melody softly: La, la, la, la, la... the fire in my chest burns.
"Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people"
The melody soared once again, and Ronan effortlessly elevated his singing to a higher level. His smooth, high notes ignited the atmosphere within the entire bar.
Boom! Boom!
The sounds of keys and drums reached a new peak, emotions exploding. Ronan's hands danced passionately on the black and white keys, veins bulging on his neck and the backs of his hands.
"Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people"
The singing continued to rise, spanning three octaves in succession. The intense emotions at the summit sent shivers down the spine, a tremor from the soles of the feet to the forehead. The surging blood filled the muscles, making the entire chest cavity resonate.
Don't give up.
Hold on to the faith.
Such simple lyrics created a tidal wave that reverberated loudly and vibrantly, hovering in the entire bar for a long time. In the blurred vision, countless lights blossomed, as if igniting a fireworks display—gorgeous and dazzling. But the splendor in front of them couldn't fully describe the depth of the soul's impact.
"Streetlights, people"
Once again, emotions peaked with a bang, and then the melody descended like a Milky Way plunging into the sea. The continuous roar shook the entire bar, the tremors seemingly never-ending.