Though reluctant and regretful, the day of farewell inevitably comes, just like youth itself.
Miles couldn't take his eyes off Anson, standing right in front of him:
Drenched in sweat, face flushed, completely disheveled. His loose white T-shirt clung to him like he'd just been pulled out of water. Yet, beneath the fabric, his well-proportioned body and toned muscles subtly showed, while his bright eyes sparkled like they held the entire universe.
Unconsciously, he became someone you couldn't help but admire, someone you couldn't help but fall for.
Miles wished he could live like Anson—carefree and unrestrained, seizing every moment of life, releasing all his energy to the fullest—like shouting, "Long live life!"
"Ah, what a pity. The tour is almost over, and it feels like we didn't do anything," Anson said, a carefree grin spreading across his face as sweat dripped down.
Thud, thud.
Miles' heart pounded uncontrollably. He glanced at Connor and Lily, took a deep breath, and finally summoned the courage.
"Anson."
He called out.
"We want the tour to continue."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Miles realized how abrupt and confusing his statement sounded, standing alone without context. He quickly waved his hands. "No, that's not what I meant."
In his haste, Miles choked on his own saliva and started coughing violently.
Anson silently handed him a bottle of water.
Miles gulped it down, cooling his mind a bit. When he looked up, Anson's smiling face came into view.
"Don't worry, take your time. I didn't misunderstand," Anson said.
Miles scratched his head and looked at Lily and Connor again. They both encouraged him with their eyes, as if only Miles speaking up was the right thing to do.
Miles turned back to Anson, gathering his thoughts.
He decided to start from the beginning.
"First of all, we owe you a big thanks."
"I know you always say the band wouldn't be what it is without all of us together, but we all know that without you, we'd be nothing."
"That chance meeting on the street—it was undoubtedly the happiest, most perfect moment of our lives. Even now, it still feels like a dream."
"And because of that, we've always been a little scared, afraid that the dream would end and nothing would be left. You've been our lifeline."
"Talk shows, albums, tours—we've stumbled along, chasing our dreams, but completely forgetting why we started in the first place."
"Like this European street tour."
"We've been running and pushing ourselves, like we were being chased by wolves, giving it everything we've got. But we forgot where we started, and where we were headed. Running... just for the sake of running."
"All along, we've known the August 31st Band exists because of you—not your fame, but your talent and creativity. You are the soul of this band."
"And we... we're just the instruments."
Miles' words, though not entirely precise, carried genuine emotion.
It wasn't simple regret or sadness, nor confusion or nostalgia—it was a feeling too complex to easily describe.
On the streets of Prague, bustling with people, Anson felt like the whole world had suddenly quieted down.
He looked at Miles and joked, "Oh, I'm a little hurt now."
Miles quickly looked up, waving his hands, "I didn't mean to blame you..."
Anson burst out laughing. "Miles, you're still the same honest guy."
"I know what you mean."
"So, what's your plan?"
Anson was smart. He knew everyone had their own struggles, their own battles to fight.
Miles took a deep breath. "We want to find our own music again, find our own voice, and most importantly, find the reason we started all this."
Anson looked at Miles.
Miles gathered his courage. "So, we want to keep the tour going."
"We know that without a lead singer, the August 31st Band won't be the same. But we've found the courage and confidence to move forward again."
"At one point, we all gave up on our musical dreams in different ways, for different reasons. But because of you, we found hope again."
"Now, we want to keep going under our own power."
Anson raised his chin slightly. "So, you're planning to leave me behind and go on your own journey, huh? Abandon me once you've crossed the river?"
Miles' face changed. "Anson..."
The honest guy was clearly panicking, waving his hands, his heart almost stopping.
Anson laughed. "Relax, don't be so tense. I know. Look at you, I crack one little joke, and you almost have a heart attack."
Anson understood—they didn't want to burden him, didn't want to cling to his fame like parasites. They could have easily kept doing that, living off the perks without a care in the world.
But they chose not to.
Because deep down, they still had a passion for music.
Anson turned his gaze toward Lily and Connor. "You guys have talked this over?"
Lily hesitated. She wanted to explain—they really weren't abandoning him. But after the European tour, after Cannes, they'd started thinking about themselves and reexamining Anson, too.
Seeing Anson shine at Cannes made them realize that Anson belonged on the big screen. His musical talent was undeniable, but no one could deny that Anson's most brilliant moments were in front of the camera.
They shouldn't keep holding him back. They didn't want to be parasites anymore.
So, they'd discussed it and decided it was time to take their own steps forward. That's why they had finally spoken up here in Prague.
At the very least, they wanted to give the August 31st Band's tour a perfect ending, just like the meaning behind the band's name—brief but brilliant, seizing the last moments of summer and shining without holding anything back.
But she knew any explanation would sound weak. Since their appearance on The Tonight Show, they'd been basking in Anson's glory. Any defense would feel like a flimsy excuse.
So, instead of explaining, Lily simply nodded. Better to face the future head-on than offer hollow justifications.
"Yes."
"We plan to keep touring north, through Estonia and Finland, then see if we can get to England."
"Anson, we can't keep relying on you."
Connor turned his head, bowing slightly as if wiping his eyes.
Anson suddenly called out, "Connor!"
Connor quickly raised his head, awkwardly wiping his face. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"Haha," Anson laughed heartily. "So, this is where the band's journey ends."
The golden sunset poured down, brilliant and dazzling—
A beautiful day was coming to a close.