Thump, thump.
Strum, strum, strum...
The guitar strings sweep quickly, with bright, clear notes pouring down like a roaring waterfall, flooding the entire space in a continuous, unstoppable flow.
Performing is a form of artistic creation, fully expressing Anson's joy and happiness at this moment. It's not about forgetting or escaping but about opening his arms to embrace life — including the pain and struggle, the setbacks and torment. Don't dismiss everything because of the hurt, because life is long and still holds many more things worth remembering.
The melody surges.
Anson looks at Miles; Miles looks at Anson. The clash of stringed instruments somehow creates distinct layers in this moment. They don't even need vocals — just the notes and melody alone can vividly convey the bright emotions from deep within their souls, grand and powerful, bold and surging.
It boils, it burns, it roars.
Then...
Lily and Connor join in, clapping their hands, singing loudly and freely—
"Roar! Hey!"
Camilla can't hold back anymore. To hell with what others think, to hell with societal rules. She just wants to focus on herself, to embrace her life fully.
Maybe tomorrow it'll all end.
Maybe tomorrow more awful, crappy things will happen.
Maybe the pain will never go away.
But she won't deny herself, and she won't let those storms swallow her whole. She's determined to live and tightly grasp every bit of truth within her reach.
"Roar!"
Camilla shouts along.
"Hey!"
Strangely, her lips lift into a smile, blooming proudly under the twilight.
Laughter echoes in her chest.
Ignoring the glances of others, she claps and jumps alongside Lily and Connor. Who needs instruments? Her own hands and legs are enough to beat out the rhythm and become part of the music.
Singing at the top of their lungs—
"Roar! Hey!"
Soon, Camilla notices she's not alone.
Looking left, she sees others. Looking right, more companions.
They all jump and clap together, cheering in unison.
Quietly, the entire audience has become part of this performance—
No one can resist.
They watch Anson and the others, and Anson and the others watch them back, searching for smiles on each other's faces, where happiness and joy reflect.
They can see each other's eyes and expressions, feel the trembling and excitement, and even the clarity of their breathing and heartbeats.
Everything is so real, so warm, so intense, almost tangible to the soul.
This isn't a stage. Everyone stands on the same level, in the same space. It's not even a performance, just a reawakening of deep-seated passion.
A kind of purity, and also a kind of simplicity.
This, it turns out, is music.
The space stretches outward, no longer confined to a small café, but extending along the street, spreading as far as the eye can see, everything becoming part of this vast sea.
Lily laughs, and Connor does too.
They raise their hands high, like conductors, prompting the entire audience to raise their hands, becoming the fifth member of the band, clapping along to the beat.
Then, singing at the top of their lungs—
"Roar!"
"Hey!"
One shout after another, layer by layer, eventually transforming into a wave of energy, crashing down with a force that seems to stop all of Paris in its tracks.
Finally, Anson stands at the front of the crowd, singing loudly.
In reality, it's futile.
With no microphone and no sound system, Anson's voice can't carry far. It's completely drowned out by the surging sounds around him, and the audience just a bit further back can't even see his mouth move, let alone hear his singing.
But that doesn't matter.
What matters is the atmosphere of the moment — a kind of emotion, a release, an immersion.
Anson doesn't care if anyone hears him. He sings with all his might.
"Love... we need it right now... we long for it…"
The drawn-out note climbs higher in the air.
Then, he repeats it.
"Love, we need it right now…" an octave up. "We long for it…" another octave higher.
His soaring high notes ignite all the passion and enthusiasm.
At this point, the crowd can no longer contain themselves, jumping, shaking their heads, and using all their energy to feel and follow the rhythm, losing themselves in it.
Finally—
"Because we're bleeding."
Another octave.
Just as the high note is about to reach a new peak, Anson suddenly stops, a flawless conclusion that captures all the attention, holding everyone in his grasp.
Like a magician.
Even without a microphone or sound system, even with just one guitar and one voice, even without a stage, everyone standing on the same level, Anson has this energy. His invisible conductor's baton is like strings in the hands of a puppet master.
Controlling the entire crowd.
Camilla's heart races, her ears roar, and the world spins, but she holds her breath, her gaze fixed on that figure.
Inexplicably, she feels a surge of emotion.
In her vision, she can see that man's lips curl into a small smile, and in an instant, the brilliant and vibrant sunset pales in comparison.
"Ha."
Anson lets out a soft laugh.
"I belong to you. You belong to me. You're my sweetheart."
Not just Anson. Connor and Lily join in, singing loudly together.
"I belong to you. You belong to me. You're my honey."
The melody climbs, the cello's grandeur, the guitar's clarity, the power of claps and stomps all collide together, like a symphony.
The high notes soar, smiles bloom, and adrenaline surges. No microphones, no frills, just a voice — the charm of live performance fully displayed.
"I belong to you. You belong to me. You're my sweetheart."
Finally, unable to hold back, Camilla joins in the singing.
"I belong to you..."
Camilla quickly realizes she's not alone. The crowd erupts with an overwhelming energy, everyone singing together.
Unbelievable!
Inconceivable!
Camilla can be 100% sure this is the first time she's heard this song and seen this band. She knew nothing about them before, and others must be the same.
But it doesn't matter. Everyone effortlessly becomes part of it, part of the music, part of the performance.
"You belong to me..."
As she sings, Camilla doesn't know why, but her eyes fill with tears, blurring her vision.
She's not sad, so what's going on?
All the day's pressure and frustration, the pain, the struggle, the indecision, seem unimportant now because she's found her center. Her heart beats stronger than ever before, and the burning blood seems to ignite her life force.
So, are these tears of happiness?
Camilla doesn't care. She just jumps, immerses herself, and sings with all her heart.
"You're my honey..."
Never has a performance been so exhilarating and free. Her mood soars, as if she only needs to open her arms and the sky and sun will fall into her embrace.
The whole world belongs to her.