The lights throughout the venue slowly dimmed, until only a solitary spotlight shone down on Ronan.
The air still felt like it was burning, and I could still hear the crackling sounds in my ears. The pulsing of blood continued to pound against my eardrums, but the world was gradually being enveloped in darkness, like a tide relentlessly invading, consuming, occupying, and finally dominating.
Even the spotlight above seemed to flicker slightly, precariously close to breaking apart. The darkest moment was quietly arriving.
The clamor subsided, the heat dissipated, and the restlessness calmed. The audience in the Old Blacksmith Bar all quietly held their breath, their eyes wide as they watched the stage.
Utter darkness, utter silence, yet it suppressed an extreme elation and excitement, as if the mind had momentarily frozen before the end of the world.
Without any accompaniment, Ronan began to hum softly, "Hmm... mmm mmm..." The sound was as melodious and winding as a nocturne played on a violin, quietly blooming and blossoming. Fragile and sensitive emotions spread little by little, gently and carefully, with the utmost tenderness.
Involuntarily, I wanted to close my eyes and capture those faint emotions in the air, but when I opened my palm, I could only feel empty air. The emptiness and loneliness deep within my heart slowly settled, and I could almost feel the darkest moment slowly swallowing and destroying me.
"Help me, it's like the walls are caving in all around me. Sometimes I want to give up, but I can't, it's not in my blood." (Note 1)
The almost whispered a cappella, carrying a hint of hesitation, quietly revealed the wounds deep within. It was a vulnerability that could only be shown with the cover of darkness, and the pain and struggle entwined in the voice dragged the ankles down, slowly descending.
A single phrase, "Help me," betrayed so many scars.
Helpless and disheveled. Painful yet stubborn.
The emotions in the voice were so real and so delicate. A pause, a turn, an upward inflection—every detail was so beautiful and moving, layer by layer narrating a mix of complicated feelings.
No music, no lights, no embellishments, just one person and a voice, quietly using melody to tell a story of emotions. Mixed feelings quietly surged up, and I could almost clearly see the sparse shadows cast on his face by the light, the slightly trembling eyelashes revealing inner unease, like the gently fluttering wings of a butterfly.
Quietly, I slowed my breathing and softened my movements, afraid that my sounds might startle that "butterfly." Eventually, I naturally forgot to breathe. All my energy and focus were fixed on Ronan, like a black hole drawing in all the gazes in the venue.
No one was an exception.
Hah.
Softly, Ronan just gently exhaled, and even that simple action seemed to naturally blend with the melody, becoming a part of the music.
Duncan couldn't help but lean forward slightly, just wanting to get closer to the stage, a little closer—
The joy of unexpectedly enjoying the band's performance again and the sadness of the performance nearing its end created a strong contrast. His brain, still half-awake in the early hours, had completely gone wild. The ups and downs of emotions began to rampage, and then just followed Ronan's singing downwards.
The clear and rich sound of a guitar string rang out, the lingering sound stirring up ripples, perfectly intertwined with Ronan's voice. The clear and bright singing now carried a hint of magnetism, like the scent of a cigarette lingering on fingertips—invisible yet objectively present. The faint scent of tobacco evoked related memories, and then slowly landed on the chest, a shallow warmth that almost burned.
"Lying on the bathroom floor, feeling so hollow. Anxiety and restlessness are consuming me. Just give me something to loosen these tight nerves."
The drums kicked in.
The weight of the melody made Ronan's voice even deeper. The power erupting from the depths of his soul matched the beat of the drums, pouring down. There were no techniques or fancy singing, but in the articulation and the handling of the trailing notes, you could feel the trembling after emotions had been suppressed to the extreme—an uncontrollable trembling, like withered leaves about to fall from the branches in late autumn.
My heart slightly curled up.
"Just one drink, and you'll loosen up. Take her home, and you'll forget your worries. Keep telling me everything will be alright, but will it really?"
Darkness, boundless darkness, surged in, trapping my steps. I desperately tried to escape but found myself with nowhere to run. In the end, I was imprisoned in a cage of darkness. The numerous wounds still stung slightly, the scalding hot blood sticking to my skin. Even hugging my knees, trying my best to hold myself with both arms, I still couldn't shake off the bone-chilling cold that came from the bottom of my heart.
My heart was a wasteland.
No matter how I struggled, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how I ran, it was all in vain. Would everything really be alright? Had everything ever been alright?
Despair crashed down like an overwhelming wave.
From the guitar to the drums, and then to the bass, the melody slowly climbed, a comprehensive increase in both volume and layers. The overall richness, with distinct layers yet feeling completely natural, crashed against the eardrums. Ronan's singing also became more and more firm, more and more powerful, his emotions pouring out unrestrained.
"Help me! It's like the walls are caving in all around me. How many times have I wanted to give up? No medicine can cure this."
"Someone help me, anxiety is churning inside. How many times have I wanted to give up, but I can't."
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Help.
Help!
Help me! Save me!
Louder and louder, wave after wave, the cries for help were roaring heart-wrenchingly. Clenching his fists, he exerted all his strength, screaming wave after wave, but still unable to escape the shackles of the night. The omnipresent despair was suffocating, and then the emotions finally couldn't be suppressed any longer.
Boom!
The clear and heavy sound of the piano boomed, like an echo enveloping the sounds of other instruments, instantly pushing everything to a new peak. The scorching blood suppressed beneath the skin finally lost control, breaking free from its shackles and erupting. That force that seemed to burst out of his chest was fully released.
"It isn't in my blood!"
Lightly, yet nimbly, brightly, and purely, the voice reached a high note, like a whale suppressed beneath the ocean finally breaking through the surface, leaping high up, letting out a joyful cry. The freedom and unrestrained joy of the vast ocean and sky instantly opened up the view.
Ronan, his hands tightly gripping the microphone, kept his eyes closed. His slender figure seemed to carry the weight of the entire world, releasing all his energy, just singing his heart out. There was no deliberate showing off of skills, just an instant release and instant retraction. The well-rounded sound allowed the lingering notes to gently ripple.
And then...
Note 1: In My Blood – Shawn Mendes
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