Vaguely, Ronan could recall the foggy memory of that morning.
It was Ronan who first discovered that Tristan had vanished without a word.
On that morning, still in a daze from waking up, Ronan knocked on the door of Tristan's room. He had asked if Tristan wanted to have breakfast together, but after a prolonged period of knocking, there was no response.
"This room has been checked out," the cleaning staff informed him. At the time, Ronan assumed it was a joke or a motel registration error. His recollection of the moment was hazy.
But it wasn't a joke.
The band members soon realized that Tristan had completely vacated his room, taking with him all of their tour earnings and disappearing.
Despite numerous attempts, no one could locate Tristan. Calls to his personal and company phone numbers went unanswered, emails were unanswered, and his whereabouts remained unknown. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. The band members were left in a state of chaos, unable to fathom the sudden and inexplicable departure. They couldn't accept the idea that Tristan had simply abandoned them.
They concocted various explanations: perhaps Tristan had been kidnapped, possibly he had encountered an accident and was hospitalized or stranded in some remote place awaiting rescue. Or maybe, he just needed time alone to rethink the band's future. They clung to these unfounded speculations to preserve their last glimmer of hope.
However, the arrival of a lawyer's letter two days ago shattered their self-deceptions. The harsh and brutal reality confronted them without explanations or negotiations. There was no room for maneuver; the verdict was delivered.
According to scientific research, grief comprises five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The band members had now entered the second stage: anger.
The anger was palpable, especially in Cliff and Maxim, who displayed their sharpness like defensive spikes. Even though they knew their teammates were not at fault, they couldn't control the surge of negative emotions. They needed an outlet.
Ronan was no exception. When Cliff mentioned Tristan's name, memories flooded back. Deception, betrayal, abandonment, and neglect—those wounds were still fresh, and the scene after the room cleaner unlocked the door was etched vividly in his memory.
A disheveled bed, empty, traces of a tenant's life, but no sign of Tristan. An unfinished glass of beer sat on the table, while the sheets and pillows were strewn across the carpet. Luggage had vanished, and the room's warmth and vitality had dissipated.
That vivid image of abandonment was forever etched in his mind. He had experienced what it meant to be abandoned.
But what should they do now?
Ronan felt bewildered. He hadn't fully shaken off the disorientation of identity shift and distortion in time and space. Yet, he had to confront this vast and complex predicament. His mind whirled with questions:
Had he tasted the thrill of stage performance only to reach the end of the road before he could set sail on his dreams? Were there no turning points?
He glanced at his teammates, who were both familiar and unfamiliar. Cliff's anger, Maxim's stubbornness, Ollie's despondency—no one spoke as they were shrouded in a heavy, oppressive silence. Emotions churned, negative feelings encroached on reason, and hope seemed to dwindle.
Yet, Ronan found solace in this scene.
His own mood didn't plummet; instead, it began to ascend slowly.
Anger was a sign of caring.
Sadness was a sign of caring.
These emotions flourished because the flame of hope still flickered deep within their hearts. They weren't ready to give up. Their reluctance and unwillingness were testaments to their enduring hope.
"We should continue and finish the tour," Ronan declared.
Cliff abruptly raised his head, his intense gaze fixed on Ronan. His anger rekindled. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Maybe," Ronan replied with a smile, meeting Cliff's anger with unwavering determination.
Cliff struggled to form his next words.
Ronan continued, "You're right. No one is eagerly awaiting our performances, and our music has gone unnoticed. So, is there a reason for us to persist?"
"But," he added, "we've come this far, haven't we? We've gone from a hopeful start to countless setbacks, yet we've persevered. Together, we've put in the effort to keep the band alive."
"Should we give up now?"
Ronan's words were calm, devoid of passion, yet they carried a powerful resonance due to the determination in his eyes. His words were like a ray of golden sunshine illuminating a crystal-clear mountain stream, lending warmth to the moss-covered rocks. The spring water flowed gently, and the sun's reflection dispelled the cold and darkness.
Suddenly, Ollie lifted his head, his eyes filled with hope, and his heart pounding.
"I understand, and maybe this last leg of the journey seems pointless. These last five performances may have no significance, and we might even have to make sacrifices. But are these sacrifices truly too great?"
"Is it worth forsaking our dedication and hard work just because Tristan left? Is his affirmation really that important? Are we ready to abandon the journey we've undertaken together, filled with hardships and persistence?"
"Truthfully, I don't."
Ronan admitted as much.