"…This is something you were born with."
Ronan caught a spark in Alice's eyes—teasing, sure, but mostly affirming. It made him chuckle.
From Ronan's line in his song, "This isn't something I was born with," to Alice's playful jab, "This is something you were born with," it was just a swap of subject, yet the meaning echoed the same. Even more, Ronan could sense the lighthearted tease in her words.
"Looks like there's a lot hiding in my blood, huh?" Ronan quipped back, making Alice burst into laughter. She doubled over, "pummeling" him in her excitement to show how much she loved it. Poor Ronan, innocently taking the hits, was left with a head full of question marks, retreating but still unable to dodge her enthusiasm.
Once her laughter settled a bit, Alice straightened up, trying to salvage her shattered dignity. She shifted back to a serious tone. "That song just now—I've never heard it before. When did you write it?"
Ronan didn't know how to answer.
He felt a mix of shyness and nerves. read more in patreon belamy20
In his past life, he'd returned to music through songwriting, but he'd only just begun—no real recognition yet. He had no clue about his own skill or talent. Even after releasing an album, he'd only started gaining some approval, his career on the rise. He still didn't know where he stood.
Worse, three years in a world of deafness had worn down his confidence and pride. He'd clung to a stubborn spark, but countless times, he'd doubted himself, torn himself apart.
Tonight, though, the creative spark felt… different. Not like his past life. It flowed smoother, deeper, like his mind, body, and notes were in perfect sync. He wasn't sure if it was a perk of crossing into this new life or just his imagination.
Truth was, Ronan had never formally studied songwriting. He couldn't even read sheet music, let alone write it. The one time he'd shared his work, before it could face the public or critics, time had flipped, and he'd landed here.
So naturally, he had no standard to judge his own creations.
Just now, inspiration had struck, and the melody and lyrics poured out effortlessly. A verse and chorus came together in no time. He'd thought he was alone, oblivious to an audience—or the camera capturing it all.
Now, Ronan was a mess of emotions—hard to pin down. A little anxious, a little scared, but mostly shy and jittery. His work had been laid bare to someone else, unprepared: What if it got criticized—could he handle it? What if they hated it—would it sting? What if they said he had no talent, no gift—how would he face that? What if his so-called "genius" was just a bubble, and music wasn't his path at all?
Yet… deep down, a tiny part of him craved praise, recognition. That hopeful flutter was impossible to tamp down.
Ronan's gaze shifted slightly upward, dodging Alice's eyes to hide the storm inside.
It felt like forever in his head, but in reality, it was a split second. Alice didn't notice his turmoil and kept chatting away.
"Looks like my filming plan fits your vibe perfectly. These past days, you've been wrestling with the future, stuck in the mud. All that anxiety and fear—it's woven right into the melody. Honestly, I'm blown away. The tune and the emotion? Totally ear-catching."
Blown away? Ear-catching? Ronan latched onto her words, his focus drifting back down. His eyes slowly lit up.
"In short, I loved it. You should write more." Alice caught his brightening gaze and giggled. "I'm serious! Tonight's piece feels more mature, more complete than before. And the emotion in it? So moving."
Alice wasn't a music expert either. She couldn't talk chords, arrangements, or beats—she was clueless there. But as a listener, she shared her honest feelings, and her praise was 100% genuine.
Ronan felt her sincerity, his whole face glowing. He couldn't bring himself to boast, though, so he humbly said, "I just wrote it tonight. Your words sparked something, so I gave it a shot."
True story.
Step by step, Ronan was testing the waters—from performing to creating—feeling the notes soar freely from his soul. Even in the dark, with no end in sight, trapped by reality, he wouldn't feel alone or afraid.
He'd keep going.
"Wow, I'm honored to be the first to hear it!" Alice beamed with delight. "Now I've got some ideas too. How to film this, what theme to capture… Oh! I need to head back and sort my thoughts. Tomorrow, we're diving into a fresh shoot. Gotta go!"
With that, she jumped up, eager to get to her room.
Ronan hesitated, then called after her. "…Are you serious? I mean, did you really like the song?"
He knew he shouldn't fish for more reassurance, but the jitters got the better of him, and the words slipped out.
Alice paused, turned back, and flashed a huge grin. "Yes, I'm serious. When you sing, that's when you shine the brightest, Ronan. Trust me—I'm the last person on Earth who'd admit you're a charming guy."
Her answer caught him off guard. He burst out laughing, picturing the Cooper siblings bickering and roughhousing. No fear of slipping up—just pure, warm closeness. Even the New Orleans night felt softer.
Ronan didn't linger by the pool much longer. As his racing mind calmed, he headed back to his room.
The door was ajar. Inside, his teammates were still at their usual antics:
Ollie was dozing off over "Advanced Calculus," drooling a little. Cliff was doodling comics in a blank notebook. Maxim was striking model poses, showing off.
Footsteps at the door jolted Cliff and Maxim into action, striking cool poses. Ollie, still out cold with drool trailing, didn't budge—until Ronan's laughter broke the silence. Ollie jerked awake, nearly tumbling off his chair. He scrambled up, rubbing his face, mumbling, "I wasn't sleeping! I was thinking. Just… thinking."