Duncan shot his right hand up high.
Uncontrollable, lost in the moment, and bursting with passion, he clapped along to the live beat. His giddy expression spilled out pure, unfiltered joy and ease—like he'd come back to life. Even his butt couldn't stay still, itching to ditch the chair and stand up, ready to let the fire in his chest roar with every ounce of energy he had.
He was all in.
Not because the song was some masterpiece—just because he wanted to let loose in the rhythm and melody.
After another long, soul-draining day at work, Duncan had almost forgotten who he even was. How did he end up on this path? How did he stumble into this life? Where was he supposed to go next? And that wild, hopeful rebel from high school—the spiky-haired kid in ripped jeans tearing through town on a motorcycle, kicking up dust and laughing like nothing else mattered—where'd he go?
Day after day, the same mechanical grind had sucked the variety out of life. Every day blurred together—Monday felt like Friday, Friday felt like Saturday. It was like copy-pasting 365 days straight. His brain had basically gone into hibernation, forgetting how to even think.
He didn't need much. Not a way out of life or some grand happiness fix. Just… a little release, a tiny vent. Maybe a bit more than a beer and a buttered roll—just a quick escape from the cookie-cutter routine. Three minutes would do.
Like right now.
Tap-tap-tap.
Duncan bobbed to the beat, locking eyes with Ronan on stage. In that dazzling glow, he could almost see his old self—the dust trails, the carefree laughter.
"I just wanna play my music." That's it. So simple.
Not far behind him, Sam caught sight of Duncan's restless energy, practically vibrating as he tried to stand. A helpless little smile crept into Sam's eyes—not because Duncan was blocking his view of the stage (he couldn't see much anymore anyway), but because of Duncan himself.
…A childlike heart.
That's the phrase that popped into Sam's head: shedding the adult mask and baggage, showing that raw, simple sincerity of a kid. Yeah, that's about it.
Duncan wasn't the only one.
Right then, all forty-something people in the bar had their eyes glued to the stage. More than half were tapping along to the drums—maybe just a finger or a foot, small moves, but you could feel the focus, the vibe. A chill, easy energy spread through the room.
Sam thought to himself, This is kinda cool. 😏
"What makes music good, anyway?"
It's one of those "to each their own" questions. Music's like painting or novels—an art form. Everyone's take on art is different, so what's "good" or "bad" depends on the person. Taste is personal; there's no right answer.
It's not a math problem, after all.
But truly moving music? It's got one thing in common: it hits you right in the feels. At its core, all art is just humans making sense of emotions, the world, themselves. When something resonates with you, that's when it's "great."
So, the same song can feel totally different depending on who's singing it. Everyone's got their own spin, their own way of pouring emotion into it.
What's the difference between last night's show and tonight's?
The songs are the same—pop-rock, simple chords, straightforward lyrics. Catchy enough, sure, but not the kind that sticks with you or shakes you up. In today's cutthroat music scene, it's the kind of stuff that could vanish in a blink.
But the delivery? Night and day. That clean, bright voice brought out the melody's pure simplicity, then layered in the raw, honest passion behind the words. It turned the song into something fresh—like a cool spring bubbling up with genuine happiness. It got you with feeling.
And the cherry on top? The skills. Perfectly placed high notes, effortless rhythm, and a voice that's just chef's kiss—pure talent, spot-on pitch. Those rock-solid basics made the emotion hit harder, fuller. It was a total "wow" moment. ✨
The only bummer? The "Noon" bar's stage was way too small. No room for the band to really let loose and show their full power. That meant missing out on another big piece of the live puzzle—the one thing you can't teach, train, or fake:
Stage presence.
Some singers have killer skills and talent but step on stage and… nothing. No spark. Like on a talent show, people go, "Wow, they're amazing, perfect technique!"—but then vote for someone else.
Then there's the other kind. Maybe their performance isn't flawless, maybe they can't nail the high notes, but put them on stage, and they shine. You can't look away, imperfections and all—you're just sucked into their energy.
That's another "gift from the heavens" thing. One in a million. No envying that.
"Noon" bar's setup just wasn't big enough to show off that stage presence. And honestly, Sam wasn't some expert with a golden eye for talent. Even with a bigger stage, he probably couldn't tell if Ronan had "it." But one thing he knew for sure:
The crowd loved it. That's what mattered.
Last night, One Day King's set didn't do much for Sam. But from that final "Don't Stop Believin'" last night to tonight's gig, he could feel a shift in the band's vibe—or really, the lead singer's.
It was like… he'd suddenly got it. The way he owned the performance, the way he brought it to life—it wasn't just a step up; it was a whole leap.
What flipped the switch?
Maybe it's that do-or-die desperation, teetering on the edge, that sparks something deep inside and pushes you from "meh" to "whoa." Or maybe this was the singer's real level all along—last night he was just off his game, maybe sick with a fever, and tonight he's back to normal.
Sam leaned toward the first one, though. The whole feel of the show was different—option two didn't quite add up. So, did that mean his call last night accidentally lit a fire under them?
He wasn't some pro analyst, just going off gut and experience. His thoughts stopped there—no need to overthink it. Instead, he chuckled to himself, settled into the bar's vibe, and started enjoying the show with everyone else.
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