"Phew… phew…"
Deep breaths, one after another, but the pounding of his heart refused to slow down. The tension wasn't easing up at all. His mind was a mess of wild thoughts, spiraling into a pit of self-doubt that quickly snowballed out of control.
Ronan glanced down at his trembling fingertips. There was no stopping it, so he gave up trying. He let the nervous energy spread.
Lifting his head, he saw his restless bandmates in the green room. Ollie was doing nonstop squats in place, Maxim was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, and Cliff stood frozen, staring into space. Even Alice, usually steady, kept switching arms to hold up the camera—a subtle sign of her own anxiety and urgency.
"Guys."
Ronan called out, his voice rising. He wasn't great at this—rallying the troops was more Cliff's thing—but tonight, he wanted to step up and share what was on his mind.
All eyes turned to him, following Alice's lens. It made him feel a little awkward.
But he pressed on.
"Hold on to this nervousness—it's not a bad thing. We're tense because we're excited, because we care. Because we love this, because we've poured ourselves into it, that's why we're on edge." Ronan placed a hand over his chest. "We need to feel the power of our hearts beating. That's the strength that pushes us onto the stage, lets us connect through music, and gets everyone partying with us."
"From Full Moon Parties to street gigs, we've come this far. Tonight, we're stepping onto a bigger stage—so let's get this party going!"
As he spoke, his voice climbed higher, his bright eyes lighting up his whole being. His grin stretched wide.
"So, you ready?"
His gaze landed on Ollie, who blinked, caught off guard, and stammered, "Uh, ready."
But that wasn't the vibe Ronan was going for. He shook his head and roared again, "Are you ready?"
This time, Ollie got it. He clenched his fists and shouted back with gusto, "Ready!"
Ronan nodded, satisfied, and thrust his right hand high, fist clenched. "Let's party!"
No prompting needed—Ollie was the first to raise his fist. Maxim and Cliff followed in sync, their fists up too, shouting a jagged chorus of "Let's party!"
The scattered yells lacked any real punch, which made them all crack up. They exchanged quick glances, then tried again with more force: "Let's party!"
That simple phrase worked like magic, pulling the band together. One shout turned into another—"Let's party! Let's party! Let's party!"—and before they knew it, the tension melted away, replaced by a feverish, blood-pumping excitement.
They were ready!
…
Alice's camera tracked the band as they left the green room, heading toward the stage. In a daze, it felt like stepping back to those Full Moon Party nights.
Back then, no one expected anything from One Day Kings. No one even knew who they were. But when they hit the stage, magic happened—it became their world, their moment. They shone brighter than anyone could've imagined.
Alice could see Ronan's nerves in sharp detail: the way he kept pressing his lips together, the constant clenching and unclenching of his hands, the restless hopping that only made his breathing more erratic, the drifting eyes that couldn't find a focal point. Every little tic screamed how wound up he was.
A stage this big, a gig this official, a performance this crucial—the layers of pressure had him more on edge than ever.
But Alice wasn't worried. She knew that once Ronan stepped onto that stage, the nerves would melt away like snow in sunlight. He'd transform into someone else—someone born for the spotlight, destined to dazzle on that small square of ground.
And then… the band took the stage.
As the opening act, there was no grand introduction, no spotlight trailing them. Their job was simple: warm up the crowd.
By now, the venue was about 80% full, with more people trickling in. Bruno Mars wouldn't take the stage for another half hour, though, and that long wait could easily turn dull and restless. That's where the opening act came in—to break the ice.
Before the main event, it was their job to loosen up the audience, get them warmed up, and ready to dive into the concert vibe.
Ronan walked onto the stage step by step. No lights, no applause, no cheers—strictly speaking, no one was even looking at them. They might as well have been stagehands.
It was a stark contrast to the Full Moon Party scene. The air felt a little tight.
But that made sense.
At Full Moon Parties, the crowd came to rave. It didn't matter who was on stage—they'd cheer with wild abandon. Even when One Day Kings played in the weary second half, the audience still danced to their beat.
Tonight's concert was different. These people were here for Bruno Mars. A random band popping up out of nowhere? They couldn't care less. Even if it were a semi-famous act, the crowd wouldn't necessarily pay attention.
Ronan didn't mind. The jittery nerves settled as his feet hit the wooden stage floor. The creak beneath his soles felt warm and familiar, stirring his blood into a slow boil. The performer in him was waking up.
Before him stretched a whole new world.
Buzz, buzz, buzz!
Buzz, buzz, buzz!
The packed crowd sprawled out in his vision, a sea of people stretching endlessly. Their focus wasn't on the stage—yet. But as their eyes flickered, some caught the movement in their peripheral vision. A spark of curiosity and anticipation flickered as they sized up what was happening up there.
Ronan knew it: showtime for the opening act had begun.
He turned to his bandmates, his eyes asking: Ready?
They were still rattled, no question. For Cliff and Maxim, seeing a crowd of ten thousand up close for the first time was a gut punch of awe. Even Ollie, who'd peeked at the scene earlier, wasn't immune. The sheer scale of the buzzing masses made them feel small—like things were slipping out of their grasp, plunging them into an unfamiliar, chaotic unknown.
Could they really handle a stage like this?