As the final echoes of Mr. Brightside faded into the warm California night, the crowd was still roaring, thousands of voices chanting the chorus like an anthem that refused to die. David stood in the middle of the stage, chest heaving, sweat gleaming under the lights. He could feel the pulse of the audience — not just excitement anymore, but connection. They weren't just spectators; they were part of something bigger.
He let the noise linger for a moment, soaking it in, then raised a hand for quiet. The crowd gradually settled, murmurs replacing cheers, as if they could sense the shift in energy.
David stood center stage again, drenched in sweat, the adrenaline still rushing in his veins. He looked over at his band — Avril's chest still rising and falling fast, her eyes glistening under the stage glow; Emily's fingers resting on her bass, still trembling slightly; Tommy wiping his forehead, mouthing, "One more."
David smiled faintly, nodding. Then he stepped up to the mic and spoke softly, his voice carrying through the desert air with unexpected warmth.
"This next one," he said, pausing to breathe, "is different. We've had the fun, the chaos, the madness… but I wrote this one for the quiet moments. For the nights when you lie awake wondering if you've done enough, if you've been enough."
The stage lights dimmed to a gentle blue glow. Behind him, Emily adjusted her bass, fingers poised delicately. Avril set aside her usual confident stance, brushing her hair from her face and giving David a small, knowing nod. Tommy twirled one drumstick between his fingers, then brought it down in a slow, steady rhythm — soft enough that it sounded like a heartbeat.
A faint guitar note hung in the air — simple, trembling, almost fragile. The crowd, thousands strong, fell into absolute silence. Even the wind seemed to stop moving.
Then David began singing in a softer voice.
"I dreamed I was missing,
You were so scared.
But no one would listen,
'Cause no one else cared…"
The words hung in the air like smoke — tender, fragile, yet painfully real. The first rows of the audience fell still, faces tilted toward the stage. A girl near the front covered her mouth, eyes wet. A group of friends in the middle linked arms without saying a word.
"After my dreaming,
I woke with this fear,
What am I leaving,
When I'm done here?"
The lyrics hit differently. You could feel it in the air — the quiet sniffles from the front row, the stillness in the mosh pit that moments ago was chaos. People were swaying now, arms around each other. Some lifted lighters, small flickers of orange against the dark sky. Others held up their old flip phones, recording shaky, grainy footage they'd keep forever.
David's voice cracked slightly, but it only made it more powerful. It wasn't polished, it was human.
A sea of phone lights flickered to life — hundreds, then thousands, until the entire field shimmered like a constellation come down to earth. Even in the early 2000s, people had their flip phones and small digital cameras, their tiny LCD screens glowing like candles in a vigil.
Scarlett watched from the wings, tears brimming in her eyes. This wasn't just a performance , it was a confession. She could see it in David's face, in the way his jaw tightened when he sang about regret, in the way his hands trembled just slightly on the guitar.
But now, now he wasn't performing. He was speaking through music, and everyone could feel it.
"So, if you're asking me, I want you to know" He took a pause as the chorus began.
"When my time comes,
Forget the wrong that I've done,
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed…"
The crowd began singing along softly — hesitant at first, then louder, word by word, until it was a chorus of strangers joined by something deeper than noise. Some people raised their hands; others closed their eyes. The song wasn't just about loss — it was about hope hidden inside the pain.
The entire stage glowed softly, as if bathed in moonlight. Avril closed her eyes as she sang, her voice blending seamlessly with David's. Emily's bass filled the space with warmth, while Tommy added faint cymbal washes that shimmered like distant rain.
David's voice trembled again, but he didn't back off. He leaned into it, pouring everything out. Avril's harmony rose behind him like a soft echo of forgiveness, Emily's bass a heartbeat, Tommy's drums steady and calm — each hit like the passing of time.
"Don't resent me,
And when you're feeling empty,
Keep me in your memory,
Leave out all the rest…"
The lights above the stage turned white and gold, spreading warmth across the crowd. The desert breeze carried the sound outward, through the palm trees, over the dust, over everything.
People were crying openly now — not from sadness alone, but from that strange beauty that comes when music reminds you of your own scars. Someone held up a picture of a lost friend. Another raised a lighter high, flame flickering in the night.
David glanced toward the sky mid-song — the stars faint but visible — and his voice softened as he continued:
"I'm strong on the surface,
Not all the way through.
I've never been perfect,
But neither have you…"
The line hit like a quiet confession. Avril's eyes shimmered as she strummed. Tommy slowed his drumming, tapping his snare so gently it almost felt like breathing. Emily's bassline swelled — warm, round, like a pulse under the melody.
By the time David reached the final chorus, the crowd wasn't just listening — they were singing with him. Tens of thousands of voices filled the night, raw and imperfect but united, the emotion overwhelming.
"When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done,
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed…"
David's throat tightened. He looked over the crowd, seeing faces glowing under the lights — every age, every kind of person — all connected for a few fleeting minutes.
He stepped back from the mic and let the audience carry the chorus alone.
"And Don't resent me,
when you're feeling empty,
Keep me in your memory,
Leave out all the rest…"
Tens of thousands sang in perfect unison, their voices echoing across the desert night. Some raised their hands, others hugged strangers, it was like the whole world was standing still.
Emily was wiped her tears quietly as she played, her fingers never faltering. Tommy kept his rhythm steady, but his eyes were glassy under the lights. Avril looked over at David, smiling through her tears. She could feel the deep emotion behind the lyrics.
When he saw Scarlett near the wings, whispering the lyrics too, tears in her eyes, he smiled gently.
Then came the bridge. David's voice rising, almost breaking, as he poured out the final verse.
"Forgetting all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well,Pretending
someone else can come and save me from myself…"
He stepped forward, gripping the mic with both hands. His voice cracked once, just slightly, but it made the moment even more human.
"I can't be who you are…"
The music swelled — Tommy's drums rising like thunder, Emily's bass growling deep, Avril's harmony soaring high above. The sound was massive, but not overwhelming — it carried pain, beauty, and release all at once.
When the final chorus hit, the crowd sang so loud that David stepped back from the mic completely. The sound didn't fade. It grew — tens of thousands of voices, echoing the same plea into the night sky.
"When my time comes,Forget the wrong that I've done…"
Avril's hands wavered with emotion as she closed her eyes and let the audience carry the song. The lights slowly dimmed until only David remained visible, standing in a soft white beam. His lips moved with the crowd, whispering the final words like a prayer.
"Leave out all the rest…"
The last note lingered in the air, vibrating through the desert silence before fading completely. For a full five seconds, no one moved. Then the sound hit — a tidal wave of applause, cheers, and sobs blending into one.
David lowered the mic, his eyes glistening, and looked at his band. They were spent — emotionally, physically, utterly drained. But they were smiling.
He looked back to the crowd, thousands of lighters still glowing like stars, and raised one hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Everyone. Thanks for being here. I hope you loved it." he said softly, barely audible over the roar.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Nobody even breathed.
Then the applause came — slow at first, a few claps — then a thunderous wave that shook the stage. People screamed David's name, screamed the band's name, but it wasn't just noise this time. It was gratitude. It was release.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone yelled, "You saved me, man!" and that shout seemed to hang in the air long after.
David wiped his face, smiling faintly, voice breaking as he spoke. "That one… that one's for anyone who's ever felt invisible. You're not. You never were."
The lights shifted again — all gold now, glowing like the dawn over the desert. The band gathered at the front of the stage, arms around each other. The crowd wouldn't stop cheering, wouldn't stop screaming their names.
Scarlett rushed out onto the stage, not caring about protocol anymore, and threw her arms around David. He laughed softly, pressing his forehead against hers. The crowd roared even louder.
Tommy threw his drumsticks into the audience. Emily tossed her pick. Avril blew a kiss and waved, still wiping her eyes.
David took the mic one last time, voice hoarse but clear. "Thank you, Coachella… thank you for letting us leave a piece of ourselves here tonight."
And as the band walked offstage, the crowd began singing the chorus one last time on their own — thousands of voices blending together, echoing across the night like a prayer.
"Keep me in your memory…
Leave out all the rest…"
It followed them as they disappeared backstage — a haunting, beautiful echo of connection, loss, and the fragile, fleeting magic of being alive.
*****
The crowd was still roaring long after Leave Out All the Rest ended. The echo of David's voice seemed to linger over the field, mingling with the desert wind, and even as the lights dimmed and the stage crew began setting up for the next act, the chants wouldn't stop.
"Gravity Dreams! Gravity Dreams!"
Tens of thousands shouted in rhythm, clapping, stomping, refusing to let the moment end. It was electric — like a wave of emotion that couldn't quite settle down. The sound rolled across the festival grounds, shaking the speakers, drowning out the usual between-act chatter. They knew they had just witnessed something special. The birth of a new rock band that would probably become one of the best.
Then, as the stage lit up again and the giant banner of Linkin Park dropped behind the instruments, the cheers only got louder. The band members of Linkin Park emerged to applause, but even then, half the crowd was still yelling "David! Gravity Dreams!"
Mike Shinoda stepped up to the mic, holding his guitar, grinning wide. "Wow," he said with a chuckle, waiting for the noise to die down a little. "Looks like you guys still haven't recovered from the last one."
The audience burst into laughter, some cheering louder. Chester Bennington walked forward, adjusting his mic stand, flashing that mischievous grin of his. "Yeah," he said with a grin, "let's hope you can enjoy our songs. I promise, we also have some good ones for you."
That got another laugh, and the atmosphere settled back into a warm, excited hum as Linkin Park launched into Papercut.
Backstage, Gravity Dreams sat sprawled across a couch in the greenroom, still buzzing — physically exhausted, but mentally high.
Tommy was the first to speak, his eyes wide like he was still processing what just happened. "Dude," he said, almost whispering, "did that really happen? Like… that just happened?"
Emily was sitting beside him, clutching a water bottle like it was a trophy, her face still glowing under the faint lights. "I don't even know what to say," she laughed, shaking her head. "They were chanting our name. Ours! That doesn't even feel real."
David leaned back against the couch, shirt half unbuttoned, sweat still glistening on his skin. Scarlett was sitting on his lap, her head resting against his chest. She smiled up at him and whispered, "You did it, baby."
He smiled faintly, brushing his fingers through her hair. "We did it," he corrected softly.
Avril sat across from them, her legs tucked under her, still in her stage outfit — leather pants, worn-out sneakers, and eyeliner smudged from the heat. She had this bright, proud smile on her face… until she noticed Scarlett leaning in and kissing David, slow and affectionate.
For a split second, Avril's grin faltered. She didn't even know why. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly — just a strange tightness in her chest she couldn't explain. She quickly masked it with a little smirk and looked away, pretending to be busy tuning her guitar.
Tommy was still rambling in disbelief, pacing in front of the mirror. "Man, we freaking killed it out there. I thought we'd get booed off the stage or something, but they went nuts! Like — nuts nuts!"
Emily laughed, tossing a towel at him. "That's because David's songs are insane. Did you see that girl in the front row crying during Leave Out All the Rest? I almost lost it up there."
Tommy pointed at David. "You're like, the messiah of rock or something, man. We gotta do that again. Like, soon."
Just then, the door burst open, and Mike Schulz, the festival organizer, came rushing in — his tie askew, hair sticking out, a phone still in his hand. "David! Holy hell, that was incredible!" he shouted, clapping his hands together. "You guys just hijacked Coachella. Everyone's talking about you — even the headliner's crew was blown away!"
David stood up, still holding Scarlett's hand, looking a little dazed. "Thanks, Mike. Honestly, I didn't expect that reaction."
Mike waved him off. "Oh, come on. That was more than a reaction. You owned that crowd." He stopped for breath, his grin spreading wider. "Also, I've got some news. Big news."
That got everyone's attention immediately.
Tommy leaned forward. "What kind of news? Don't tease us, man."
Mike smirked and straightened his tie. "Someone from Sony Music was here tonight. One of their senior reps. They saw your whole set, and they want to meet you, David."
The room went silent. For a moment, no one moved. Then —
Tommy exploded. "NO WAY! SONY?! Like, THE Sony?!"
Emily blinked, stunned. "You mean the actual record label? As in, albums, distribution, all of that?"
Mike nodded vigorously. "Yep. They want to talk. Maybe even sign you guys for an album deal."
"Holy crap…" Emily whispered, slumping back in disbelief. "Sony Music…"
Tommy was jumping like a kid. "Hell yeah! Dude, this is it! This is the dream!"
Avril suddenly shrieked with excitement and jumped up, literally pouncing on David's back, wrapping her arms around him. "We made it!" she yelled, laughing breathlessly. "We freaking made it, rockstar!"
David stumbled forward a bit, laughing too, trying not to fall with Avril on him. Scarlett rolled her eyes with an amused smile, crossing her arms. "Alright, Avril, let the man breathe," she teased.
Avril grinned down at her from David's back. "What? I'm celebrating our future number-one album, Scarlett. You can have him back in a minute."
Scarlett chuckled. "You're lucky I like you."
David laughed, finally prying Avril off. "Alright, alright," he said, catching his breath. "I guess we're a real band now, huh?"
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. "You bet your ass you are. So — are you in? Gonna keep this crew together?"
David looked at his bandmates, and for a moment, there was only silence — the good kind, full of unspoken understanding.
He smiled. "So guys, what do you think?"
Tommy straightened up, giving a mock salute. "You know it, boss man. I'm in all the way."
Emily grinned and nodded, eyes bright. "Count me in. I want to be a part of this."
Avril smirked, hands on her hips. "You can't get rid of me now, so don't even try."
David chuckled, looking at them — his band, his friends, his newfound family. "Then it's settled."
Mike's grin widened. "Perfect. Because that Sony rep's waiting just outside the VIP tent. They want to talk business tonight."
Scarlett touched David's arm, eyes shining. "Babe, this is huge. Go talk to them — you deserve this."
David exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said quietly, steadying himself. "Guess it's time to see what comes next."
He turned back to his band, flashing them a grin. "Don't celebrate too hard without me."
Tommy shouted, "No promises!" and Emily raised her bottle with a laugh. Avril just smiled that same bright, unstoppable smile, though her eyes lingered on him a little longer than before.
As David followed Mike out toward the VIP tent, the muffled sound of In the End rumbled through the air, Chester's voice echoing across the desert.
And as Linkin Park carried the night forward, David walked into his own next chapter, the lights of the stage behind him, and the future of Gravity Dreams burning bright ahead.