So… that's it?
"Oh," and that's the only reaction before passing out again? Is Ollie's response seriously this unstable? Is this really normal?
Ronan stared at Ollie, who was fast asleep, his ecstatic emotions suddenly stuck midair. For a moment, he stood there, dazed and lost, before shaking his head with a wry smile. The tension in his muscles, wound tight from excitement, finally eased along with his mood. He let out a long sigh, "Ah…"
Turning toward his bed, he was ready to flop down spread-eagle—only to realize he'd been running around like a lunatic with his guitar still strapped to his back.
Thankfully, he hadn't left it at the pool, or he'd have to make another trip down there.
Taking off the guitar, he plopped heavily onto the edge of the bed and grabbed the laptop sitting nearby. For a brief second, he zoned out, reality slowly sinking in.
Once the silence settled, the wild excitement began to simmer down too. His heart was still pounding, fast and chaotic, but that sense of reality tugged him back to earth, grounding him. His mind calmed, and rationality crept back in.
After a moment's thought, Ronan opened the laptop, ready to check Google and Facebook for updates: What's going on with Bruno?
According to the original plan, Bruno and John were supposed to arrive in Washington yesterday and have their interview today to confirm whether One Day Kings could be the opening act. The whole point was to avoid wasting the band's time.
Endless rehearsals day and night were a burden on both the band and the crew. If the opening gig didn't pan out, they could wrap up rehearsals early—either find a new opener or go without one entirely. John-Mark could move on either way.
But Bruno and John had both bailed. According to Julio, work in LA had caused a delay, pushing their schedule back by a day or two. The band members were a bit puzzled but didn't object. After all, Bruno's a busy guy—time's hard to pin down.
Still, after tonight, Ronan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
From wandering alone at midnight to looking like a washed-up boxer, to Bruno's reaction to the song "A Slower Death," everything screamed unusual. Sure, the band's spot as the opening act was already locked in, and Bruno's odd behavior didn't really affect them—but Ronan's curiosity was itching.
That gossip-hungry side of him just wouldn't quit.
Google and Facebook might not be the best sources, but for now, Ronan didn't have much else to go on.
He'd barely opened Google, typed Bruno's name, and hit enter when a loud bang bang bang rattled the hotel room door. Bang bang bang! The whole thing shook like it might collapse, the noise earth-shaking.
"Who's there?" Ronan called out.
"Ronan! Ronan!" came a muffled shout from the other side. Even though the voice was trying to stay quiet to avoid stirring up the hallway, Ronan could tell it was Cliff.
Setting the laptop down, he hurried to the door. The second it cracked open, Cliff barreled in like a whirlwind, followed by Maxim squeezing through. Instead of heading inside, Maxim lingered near Ronan. "What's going on? What happened?"
Ronan's head was full of question marks as he looked at Maxim, confused. "Shouldn't I be asking you guys that? What's up? Why'd you both come rushing over?"
"Ronan!" Cliff's voice rang out again. Not seeing Ronan, he doubled back to the entryway, his urgency practically bursting out of him.
Ronan couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, yes, it's me, Ronan. You've got the right guy—no need to keep double-checking!"
Cliff stared at Ronan, who was cracking up, his impatience so intense it looked like his eyes might pop out.
"What?" Just then, Ollie's groggy voice floated in from the room. He jolted upright, blinking blankly as he scanned around. "We're confirmed as the concert's opening act?"
After missing the beat by a mile, Ollie had somehow latched onto the key detail in his half-asleep haze and snapped awake again.
His voice echoed through the room. Cliff and Maxim locked eyes with Ronan, nodding furiously, seconding Ollie's question. It was what they were dying to know too.
So that's it.
Apparently, Ronan's earlier excited shouting had reached Cliff and Maxim's ears. They'd only caught bits and pieces, though—enough to wonder but not enough to be sure. So they'd raced over, desperate for confirmation.
Ronan didn't answer right away. Instead, he glanced at the wall and muttered, "I thought five-star hotels were supposed to have better soundproofing than a motel."
"That's not the point!" Maxim's voice cracked from excitement. He rubbed his throat but didn't care, pressing on. "I was out on the balcony smoking and heard you. What's going on? What's really happening? What did you mean earlier?"
Ronan's mood lifted again, but this time he stayed calmer, a contrast to his teammates' anxious energy. He patted Maxim's shoulder, then motioned for them to step aside. Walking back into the room, he spotted Ollie—hair a wild mess, eyes still lost in a fog.
Seeing Ronan, Ollie mumbled, "Ronan, I just had a dream. You told me we're confirmed as the concert's opening act. What do you think dreams mean?" He swallowed nervously after that.
Ronan's lips curved into a grin. He glanced back at Cliff and Maxim trailing behind him like a string of ducklings, then decided not to keep them hanging. "It wasn't a dream—it's real. I did wake you up, and I did tell you we've secured the opening gig."
"…" Silence.
After a full second, Cliff cautiously asked, "What do you mean?" His hesitant tone betrayed his nerves and uncertainty.
Ronan patiently explained, "I ran into Bruno at the pool earlier and we talked. He even shared some thoughts about music. Then he said there's no need for tomorrow's interview—he's decided now. We're officially his opening act."
"…" More silence.
Ronan added, "I double-checked. It was definitely Bruno Mars."
Ah!
The reaction finally hit, shattering their rational thoughts in an instant. Screams and cheers erupted uncontrollably.
Over the moon.