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🕑 Added 2025-06-06 17:13:04 +0000 UTCChapter 153: Seamless Flow
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Get out of my head, I should look ahead.”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Get out of my head, if I stay silent, I’ll just fade away.”
Cleverly, Ronan tweaked the lyrics on the fly. This wasn’t the original version he and Ollie had written—it was supposed to be “keep loving you”—but now, he adapted to the moment, pouring emotion into his voice, telling a story that pulled every ounce of the crowd’s focus toward him.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah.”
“Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah.”
The light, airy hum, unburdened by melody, felt even clearer and simpler. The raw emotion in his voice—fragile, timid, bitter, uneasy—unfurled shyly, seeping through the confusion and doubt. It brushed against every ear in the room, delicate and tentative.
Once. Twice.
The repetition might’ve seemed monotonous, but Ronan’s delivery layered it with subtle shifts, turning listening into a genuine pleasure. He didn’t explain a thing, yet somehow the band’s shaky start felt understood, woven invisibly into the performance.
Tension and nerves, urgency and longing, fear and chaos—all of it swirled in his voice. But there wasn’t a hint of hesitation or retreat. Instead, he danced through the struggle, arms wide open, diving into the ocean of music and surrendering fully to the rhythm.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Get out of my head, if I stay silent, I’ll just fade away.”
So enchanting, so moving. His clear voice stretched into a lazy ripple on the final note, like dappled sunlight filtering through sycamore leaves onto a balcony in the height of summer. White shirts and skirts fluttered with every step, a crisp freshness washing over the senses.
Before you knew it, your spirits lifted.
Clap.
Hands started rising here and there, joining the rhythm’s call. Bodies relaxed, swaying to the beat with a simple motion that tugged smiles onto faces. Phones stayed forgotten in pockets.
Clap!
One. Two. Three. One after another, more people jumped in, clapping along. It wasn’t the majority in a crowd of ten thousand, but it was enough to shake off the feeling of being outnumbered. Hundreds, then thousands, clapped in sync.
Buster glanced over his shoulder. Most of the action was in the standing rock zone—people letting loose, fully in the music. Even the seated folks in the stands were craning their necks, the chaotic buzz of the arena quietly sharpening into focus.
Even Buster’s mood brightened. Turning back, he locked eyes on Ronan at center stage. A faint smile played on his lips, blooming wider by the second. You could tell he was completely lost in the music, radiating a carefree joy that made you want to dive in too, to share that pure, simple happiness—
Because you could feel it in his voice.
“Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah.”
It was a call to his bandmates, shaking off the nerves. A call to the crowd, breaking the silence. A call to the stage itself, unleashing song.
That’s the magic of music.
And then, the applause swelled.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Ronan stopped clapping and turned to the band, signaling—especially to Ollie: jump in with the drums on the chorus.
Ollie got it instantly, like he did back when they played “Don’t Give Up on Faith.”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Though Ronan dropped out, some of the crowd followed suit—an unknown band’s pull only went so far. But the die-hards, fully in the concert vibe, kept clapping, easing into it, keeping the rhythm alive.
Ronan’s gaze swept back to the sea of people, soaking in the steady, fiery beat—not deafening, but alive. Then, with no melody, just the pulse, he belted out again.
“Looking around, shoulder to shoulder, tears become windows to the soul.” (Note 1)
The melody shifted.
Tonight’s opening song was supposed to be “Chasing the Light” for the warm-up set. “Get Out of My Head” wasn’t even on the list—still unpolished, unrehearsed. But thanks to the hiccup, Ronan’s quick thinking spun the performance into something new, unscripted. After a little detour, it circled back to the plan.
“Like a silent symphony never sung, that wild, wondrous hidden realm, a timeless masterpiece we’ll never explore.”
Lyrical poetry pierced through the crowd’s steady, grand rhythm, bursting with unbelievable power. It was like sunlight tearing through the gloom, spilling over vast oceans and soaring between towering peaks—effortless yet breathtakingly expansive.
So vivid, so graceful, so beautiful. As if secrets hid in their eyes, treasures in their souls.
In an instant, a new world opened up. Bodies leaned forward, drawn to the stage, pulled in uncontrollably. This was nothing like the emotions of the last song—
Yet it flowed together perfectly, a sudden clarity gathering every heart and mind onto the stage, eyes locked on that figure.
Ronan paused, just for a beat. His breath crackled through the mic, a soft breeze whispering past your ears.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
With his pause, the clapping in the Verizon Center surged, crisp and thunderous, climbing to a new peak. Over half the crowd had joined in, unprompted, the sound seamless and natural. No one stopped to marvel—before they even realized it, they’d melted into the moment, gazes fixed on Ronan, breaths hushed, afraid to shatter the spell.
“Because…” Ronan sang again, his voice clear and piercing, like an eagle slicing through a boundless blue sky. Ripples shimmered across the heavens, the vivid blue so striking it stole your breath. A sound like heaven itself rained down. “Everyone’s chasing the light…”
The lingering echo was exhilarating… vast and stirring.
Note 1: “Chasing the Light” (Looking-For-Some-Light — Colony House)
Chapter 154: A Breath of Fresh Air
A pause. “Because…” The word stretched out, lingering in the air, its faint echo trailing off. “Everyone’s chasing the light…” The sound expanded, breaking through, piercing the clouds with a sudden clarity. In that instant, the whole world brightened, as if pure golden sunlight flooded the Verizon Center.
Slowing down. Softening. Lightening.
Ronan’s voice floated down like a feather, twirling gently, landing softly on the heart—so tender it could almost melt you. “You know… everyone’s chasing…” Ripples spread across the soul, stirring up a swell of emotion.
Boom, boom!
“Light!”
The drumbeat synced perfectly with Ronan’s voice, landing like a hammer on the audience’s hearts. It was as if Ollie’s drumsticks were striking their very chests. You could feel the thud of each beat, a faint ache blooming in your ribcage.
Their minds were hooked.
Every ounce of attention locked onto Ronan. It was like their breath, their pulse, their heartbeat were tethered to his hands. Not a single soul in the Verizon Center’s crowd of ten thousand could escape—their gazes burned with urgency, fixed on his shoulders.
Then—
Ronan raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Like a spell straight out of Harry Potter, the lights blazed to life. A dazzling flood of brightness swept every corner of the venue. The shimmering silver overwhelmed the eyes, blurring everything into a momentary haze—no one could catch a single movement.
So, it was all sound.
Boom, boom! Clang, clang! Crash, crash!
The band kicked into gear.
From guitar to bass to drums, this time there were no slip-ups. Their playing locked in flawlessly, weaving a shared melody—gentle yet radiant—guiding the crowd into the new world Ronan had opened for them, bathed in golden light.
The hand-clapping stopped. The band’s melody took over.
No rehearsal, no practice, yet under Ronan’s lead, it flowed seamlessly. The transition was so natural, it felt like it was meant to be.
As the lights settled, the receding silver glow revealed the stage once more. There was Ronan, hands gripping the mic, standing front and center, lost in the song. The corners of his mouth curved up lightly, effortlessly charming, fully immersed in the moment.
It was like… he glowed. Without even trying, he drew every eye in the room, quietly taking command of the scene.
“When the world’s weight falls on your shoulders, when despair crushes your soul, keep pushing, sing loud like a soldier…” (Note 1)
Ronan’s voice flowed so naturally, so freely, like it took no effort at all to find the perfect spot in the melody. His soft, soaring notes landed right on the audience’s hearts, brushing against the living rhythm of their beating pulses.
The lyrics and reality stitched together perfectly.
Even in chaos, even ignored by the crowd, even in the darkest moments—never panic. Instead, sing like a soldier.
“Shouting, ‘Come on! Come on! We’ll make it home!’”
Boom!
Boom, boom, boom!
It wasn’t just Ronan anymore. The other three bandmates joined in, singing into their mics. Though they took the lower harmonies, their voices braided tight with Ronan’s, unleashing the raw emotion from deep within, letting it pour out unrestrained.
That pure, thick power hit head-on, igniting the crowd’s pent-up, restless energy. Like a volcano, it started to release—slowly at first—sparking the night’s first climax at the Verizon Center. A roar filled their ears.
Then the band’s voices faded, leaving Ronan alone to belt it out once more:
“Because everyone’s chasing the light! You know… everyone’s chasing the light!”
In place of their singing, the instruments took over. The drums grew denser, the guitar and bass swelled louder.
Buzz, buzz.
Buzz, buzz.
The sparks of the instruments fueled Ronan’s voice, a force erupting from his core, pouring into the lyrics.
“Come on! Come on! Because! Everyone’s chasing…”
A rest!
Huff, huff. Huff, huff.
The Verizon Center fell into total silence. Every eye in the crowd locked onto the stage, chins tilted up, breath held, staring at Ronan in the center.
That tall, striking figure stood bathed in the spotlight, casting a long shadow—like he was holding up the world. In the stillness that filled the air, you could still see the blue flames burning deep in his soul. Clear, brilliant blue—so vivid, so captivating—radiating a raw, unfiltered strength.
It was love.
A love born from the depths of his being, wild and blazing, bursting with energy. Even in endless darkness, even surrounded by boundless chaos, that flame never flickered out. It glowed steadily, illuminating the scars etched across his body and soul—bloody and raw. Yet his eyes stayed bright, a light so fierce it outshone the night.
In that moment, you couldn’t help but hold your breath. The melody and soul fused perfectly, the stage and performance sparking dazzling fireworks. It was breathtaking.
Then—
“Light!”
Boom, boom!
His voice synced with the drums again, and this time Ollie pushed the beat to new heights. The melody exploded like the lights, surging to its peak in volume and depth. The whole Verizon Center shook with the tidal wave of sound.
Thud, thud! Boom, boom! Rumble, rumble!
The melody poured down like artillery fire, relentless booms battering their eardrums. In that earth-shaking, sky-splitting chaos, every last bit of emotion broke free, smashing through the ceiling with no restraint. All that remained was an endless roar in their minds.
Buzz, buzz!
Buzz, buzz!
The crowd was stunned!
Yet even that deafening surge couldn’t drown out Ronan.
He yanked the mic from its stand, striding forward in one bold step. His towering frame stretched out, commanding the space. The emotions pent up in his chest hit their peak with the melody, spilling out in a full-throated cry. That soul-deep power poured down unchecked—one step, then another, then another—pushing the climax to its limit.
“Darkness blurs the view! Like a veil over your eyes! With the power of true love, tear it apart!”
The melody climbed higher in that passionate outpouring, his voice cracking, emotions bursting, his soul trembling beyond control.
Note 1: “Looking For Some Light” — Colony House
Seventh update.
Chapter 155: Emotional Surge
“Darkness blurs the sight! Like a veil over the eyes! With the power of true love, it can be torn apart!” (Note 1)
A voice, deep and resonant from the core, carried a weight that overpowered the melody’s vastness, unleashing an even brighter burst of energy.
Darkness—absolute darkness—spread through Ronan’s singing, like the pitch-black moment before dawn. An endless void swallowed the earth, gripping every listener with a visceral, trembling fear. That raw power swept through, unstoppable.
Boom!
Fear and timidity, unease and confusion—these heavy emotions latched onto their ankles, dragging them down, deeper, like a free fall spiraling out of control. The force of the melody and his voice shattered their defenses effortlessly, pulling them from outsiders to participants, then straight into shared despair and pain.
In the face of fate, resistance felt futile.
But!
Would they just surrender? Give up without a fight? Bow their heads in defeat? Settle for mediocrity? Abandon themselves entirely?
No!
Absolutely not!
“Oh… oh… oh!”
The melody soared, leaping an octave with Ronan’s voice, emotions ripping through the sound bit by bit. “You know everyone’s chasing the light!”
Then, another octave higher, hitting a new peak. His trembling voice poured out every ounce of feeling and energy, unbound even by the melody itself. It exploded from eardrums to hearts to souls, brushing against the power of darkness—
At its deepest point, darkness cradled light.
“Yeah! Yeah… you know! Everyone’s chasing… the light!”
His high notes climbed step after step, unstoppable now. Power rippled outward in waves, and the darkness retreated, crumbling before a world-splitting brilliance—like tearing through the night to greet the sunrise. The world transformed.
The entire crowd stood frozen, following Ronan’s “steps,” lifting their faces toward the glow of hope.
Dazzling, searing golden sunlight erupted, spilling recklessly across their skin, so hot their bodies couldn’t help but tremble.
The melody softened, easing through an eight-beat transition. Ronan lunged forward, planting himself at the stage’s edge—legs apart, hands gripping the mic stand. His towering figure radiated a commanding awe, drawing every eye in the room. Then, with his right hand raised high, he ignited the crowd.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Buster was the first to thrust his right hand up, tears brimming as he stared at the figure onstage. He didn’t glance at the others—just locked onto Ronan. He saw it again—that light.
A dazzling, radiant light.
Warmth and resilience fused into the melody, carried by his voice. It was like Icarus from Greek myth, flapping wax-sealed wings toward the sun, only to shatter too close to its heat. Yet, knowing his fate, he soared without regret, resolute in his flight. In that fleeting moment, Buster felt his soul quiver.
He truly felt that immense strength, leaning in wholeheartedly. “Come on! Come on! Sing like soldiers! Come on! Come on! It’s not over yet! Everyone’s chasing the light!”
A cry from the heavens, a call from the cosmos.
So, Buster raised his left hand too, joining the right, then clapped them together, rediscovering the earlier rhythm.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
One measure. Two measures.
Buster didn’t care about the crowd around him—he just felt it, so he did it.
He didn’t expect it to spark a chain reaction. It started in the standing rock zone, then rippled across the Verizon Center. One by one, people joined in, clapping along, their surging blood breaking through the chains of reason.
A hundred.
A thousand.
Three thousand.
Five thousand.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The arena thundered with a tidal wave of rhythmic claps. They united with Ollie, pounding out the beat with their hands, a roaring surge that fused the entire crowd into one heartbeat, one spirit.
Ten thousand.
A true, full-house roar—no exceptions. They let go completely, diving headfirst into the melody.
Ronan felt that power too. He stepped forward again, belting out to the sea of faces—
“Come on! Come on! Sing like soldiers!”
“Come on! Come on! It’s not over yet!”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The massive clapping synced with Ronan’s voice, pushing the energy past its peak into something even greater. The booming waves pulsed against their eardrums. Then, Ronan turned, signaling the band. The melody began to fade.
First the guitar, then the bass. After an eight-beat stretch, the drums dropped out too. All that remained was the crowd’s ten thousand claps, surging alone. Ollie, Maxim, and Cliff ditched their instruments, joining in with their hands.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“You know, everyone’s chasing the light.”
Ronan’s voice wove through the crowd’s rhythm, laced with the thrill of a soul burned bare, wild and free. Then, all the noise and chaos settled, pooling at his lips into a soft, soaring smile—an exquisite curve.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The clapping ebbed like a receding tide. One eight-beat, two, then a long stretch of silence. On the third, the crowd finally lowered their hands, eyes still shining as they gazed at the stage.
Huff, huff.
Heavy breathing swirled through the arena, but no other sound broke the stillness. The crowd watched Ronan intently, waiting—though for what, they weren’t sure. As the heat and passion cooled, Ronan finally moved.
“You know…” he murmured into the mic, soft and unaccompanied. His lone voice filled the space, tender and captivating. The quiet after the storm settled their hearts, like a whisper brushing their ears.
“Everyone’s chasing…”
His voice faded into the void.
Note 1: “Chasing the Light” (Looking-For-Some-Light — Colony House)
(End of chapter)
