August 23rd.
The world tour officially began on August 23, 2004, after tickets had gone on sale in July. It would visit 30 cities across Europe. Ticket prices were around 50 euros—a considerable amount—but there were also more expensive options that could reach up to 300 euros. The pricing was set based on estimates from other artists. Jerry was well aware that sometimes the most devoted fans could barely afford a ticket.
What is the significance of ticket costs for these people? First, it can create a sense of exclusion among fans—of being rejected and forgotten. Second, it can shape how people perceive the organization and the event itself. Yes, some can afford it, but what if those who can pay don't want to be there beyond maintaining an appearance?
Billy, on the other hand, has a way of handling emotions in small bursts, like fuses blowing. He makes an impact on people, sometimes even turning new listeners into devoted fans through the sheer intensity of his presence. Yet, despite that, Jerry still couldn't shake the bitter taste in his mouth—he knew too well what went on behind the scenes.
There were also other ways to generate revenue—through additional services that weren't as visible. Fast food, drinks, broadcasting rights, merchandise, and reinvestment in album sales—all were key to keeping the machine running.
-I think you should take it easy.- commented Sugar Egg, watching Jack pace back and forth. His turbulent relationship with Kate Bosworth had led to an unfortunate trend of romanticizing emotional instability.
-I am calm. I just have to do something.- The young man replied, continuing to pace, waiting for a call. He wasn't entirely sure what the call was about, but his restless demeanor made it clear that it was important.
-Young people. I'd like to try some of that food!- Sugar Egg said to no one in particular, breaking the silence in the room. Connor absentmindedly played with his drumsticks in the air while listening to a track, and Spencer was absorbed in a book on art history, one of his newfound passions. The blend of visual and auditory beauty, jazz in particular, was starting to shape his artistic sensibilities in a way he found exciting. He longed to find that style for himself.
-Where the hell is Billy?- Sugar Egg asked again. This time, no one even looked up. They all knew by now that he wouldn't shut up until someone acknowledged him, but dealing with the bald man was exhausting, especially for introverts like Connor and Spencer.
An hour before the concert, the band had barely seen Billy. They had rehearsed so intensely that his absence made them uneasy. Spencer finally looked up but said nothing. All they could do now was focus on doing their job—the way they always did.
Billy was at a signing event, trying to manage the crowd. Cameras flashed relentlessly, bombarding him from every direction. At least 40,000 people had gathered for the August 24 and 25 shows—two back-to-back dates in the same stadium.
The coordinator signaled the security guards, who were starting to get annoyed. Billy just kept moving forward, while the press drowned in the frenzy of news coverage. Unlike in other countries, during his stay at the hotel, the media had barely been present—just a few formal interview requests through respectable channels.
-We don't have time for interviews.- Those words from Michael Ocklars cut through the breath of the reporters like blades. But with a tour this packed, interviews weren't the priority—keeping the schedule on track was.
-But we should go.- Jerry sighed.
-Upload everything to my website. I want people to see the support I'm getting. Also, it would be nice to take some photos around the city and visit a few good restaurants.- Billy added.
Jerry hesitated. -Are you going to attend?-
-I will, on one condition. Let me rent out the best restaurant in the city for regular folks. I want to document it on my website.- Billy replied.
-For what reason? Isn't the hotel enough?- Jerry asked.
-If there's time for interviews, there's time for restaurants.- Billy answered.
Arhus was scheduled for the 28th, Stockholm for September 3, and Gothenburg for September 8, with two shows in each city. Concerts ranged from 40,000 to 60,000 attendees per night—it was a growing movement of interest among fans eager to be part of something bigger.
-Then I suppose you're a damn pain in the ass.- Jerry muttered, resisting the urge to strangle Billy. -Fine. I'll make the arrangements. We'll involve the whole band to make it more justifiable, and we'll do the interview somewhere nearby, prioritizing a natural, outdoor setting.-
Michael Ocklars was always present in these situations.
Billy raised an eyebrow and thanked his producer with a smirk.
With ten minutes left before showtime, the band was already warming up in front of a roaring crowd. The sound system picked up even the smallest details. Billy was reclining in a chair, and doing vocal exercises. Michael shifted uncomfortably—he could feel the concert creeping up on them. It was already 2:00 PM in Danish time.
-Billy, we have to go.- Michael insisted.
-Relax, we're right on time. I feel like eating some chocolate.- Billy said, glancing at the catering table. -Are there chocolates?-
Michael sighed.
Ten minutes later, the band was still playing instrumentals, letting the drums take center stage. But the moment Billy stepped onto the stage, everything ignited. His hair was damp—he had decided to shower at the last second. He wore a black button-up shirt left open, keeping to his signature dark style, complete with pointed-toe shoes.
-Copenhagen, good day.- he called out in English, receiving an eruption of cheers in return. The screen behind him captured his face—the face of rebellion.
-We'll start with an unfamiliar song, just one, and then we'll move on to my previous album. I hope you find some joy in knowing this is for you. 'The Kill' (Thirty Seconds to Mars). -
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
What if I wanted to break
Laugh it all off in your face?
What would you do?
What if I fell to the floor
Couldn't take this anymore?
What would you do, do, do?
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
His voice carried the weight of something raw—something beautiful yet haunting, like a snowstorm over a darkened lake. A sense of peace, acceptance, and solitude. It was the image of someone who had nothing left to gamble, nothing left to do but surrender.
But that sadness soon gave way to fury. The sky roared with the sound of the music, and the crowd responded in kind. Heads shook, voices screamed, bodies moved to the rhythm—rock had settled deep into their bones.
Meanwhile, Jerry was negotiating a photo shoot with two celebrities—a move he called "relationship politics."
-See what I mean? Natasha would benefit from pairing up with Billy. She could be the opening act. A joint photo shoot would be perfect.- Jerry commented.
Natasha Thomas was a rising star in Germany and the Nordic regions. The same age as Billy, she could strengthen his already solid ties with German audiences. Unlike pop music, rock in those countries thrived on authenticity, and Billy had plenty of that.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
What if I wanted to fight
Beg for the rest of my life?
What would you do? (Do, do, do)
You say you wanted more
What are you waiting for?
I'm not running from you (from you)
Come, break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
The music took on even more weight. By tomorrow, tabloids would claim the song was dedicated to Avril—that Billy's broken heart was laid bare for all to see. A narrative formed effortlessly.
Emotion fueled the performance, painting a picture of distant, forgotten sorrow. The kind one finds alone on a mountaintop, lost even to the passage of time.
As Billy's voice soared, the audience surrendered to the moment, giving themselves entirely to the music.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, that this is who I really am inside
I've finally found myself
Fighting for a chance
I know now, this is who I really am
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Come, break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you, you, you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
MTV cameras captured the performance, with an average of 2 million viewers tuned in. The harsh reality was that the concert was not just music—it was a spectacle, intertwined with massive marketing deals. Nike and Burberry ads had already flashed briefly during the broadcast, featuring Billy in high-adrenaline stunts, showcasing his sculpted physique in tailored clothing. He was a celebrity by definition, yet still carried the aura of an 18-year-old who had barely stepped into adulthood, sharp features masking the imperfections of youth.
He took a deep breath. A minute and forty seconds in, and the crowd was already entirely his.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Come, break me down (bury me, bury me)
Break me down (bury me, bury me)
Break me down(bury me, bury me)
What if I wanted to break
(What are you waiting for?)
(Bury me, bury me)
I'm not running from you)
What if I, what if I, what if I, what if I
(Bury me, bury me)
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
As the song ended, Billy looked past the audience—toward the sky.
Breathing in the air always felt strange. Copenhagen. The world feels so vast when you haven't traveled it, but beauty always hides in unexpected places.
...