Before he knew it, Maxim was on his feet, tears welling up as he stared at Ronan, who was belting out a song with all his might. Ronan's figure had melted into the dazzling, blinding sunlight. In a daze, it felt like Ronan and the sun had become one. Still, Maxim kept his eyes locked on that "sun," unblinking.
Even as his eyes stung, he forced them wide open, afraid to miss a single detail. Tears blurred his vision, but he couldn't bear to close them. Over forty-eight hours without proper rest had thrown his body off balance—weightless, like he was floating in midair. His hormones were a mess, and his emotions had spiraled out of control.
His heart trembled faintly.
Yes, they were battered and bruised. Yes, they were exhausted. Yes, they'd hit a dead end. Yes, they were long past the age where passion alone could fuel a reckless charge forward. Everything screamed that this was it—the end.
But!
What harm was there in trying one more time? Even if darkness clouded their sight, the strength of belief could tear it apart, setting them back on the path to chase the light.
That was where their hearts truly wanted to go. The voice deep inside never lied.
"You know… everyone's chasing… the light."
Higher, higher, and higher still—Ronan's voice ripped through the melody like a shaft of dawn piercing the heavy curtain of night. The world brightened slowly, a magnificent, breathtaking scene unfolding before them. That overwhelming force surged from their souls, sweeping through with unstoppable power. Before they could even react, they were on their knees, surrendered to it.
Ronan handled the soaring high notes with ease. Without instruments—just pure, unaccompanied singing—his voice laid everything bare, letting its raw strength hit straight to the core. One emotion after another detonated, the torrent in their chests and minds shaking their bodies uncontrollably. They could feel the sun's heat, its searing warmth boiling their blood.
True music was a resonance of the soul—beyond language, age, gender, culture, or borders. It was just the vibration of melody and notes, like right now. The simplest, most honest performance stirred up a storm.
Through her lens, Alice watched Ronan, bathed in sunlight. The backlight hid his expression, but she could just make out the sweat trickling down, his chest heaving, and the faint upward curve of his lips. He shone so brightly, outshining even the sun.
Ronan was born for this stage.
Alice's nose tingled with emotion. Knowing him made the happiness in his voice hit her harder, clearer—
Not desperation or despair, not pain or sorrow, but happiness. A sunlit, crisp kind of joy, like a freshly dried white shirt.
Even in the darkest moments, Ronan never lost faith, loving and holding on with pure simplicity. Even teetering on the edge of a cliff, he didn't wallow in self-pity. He ran full tilt, sprinting with abandon, then leaped with everything he had.
Soaring toward the sun!
To Scooter, that purity was foolish. To Alice, it was courage.
Because everyone's chasing the light. You shouldn't give up your信念 just because others stop running. They don't lack the desire—they lack the guts and grit. So clench your fists, stand back up, and fight like a soldier to the end.
Success has countless paths; life has endless shapes. But happiness? There's only one way: place your right hand on your chest, feel your heartbeat, and listen to that deep inner voice. The answer's there—everyone can find their own way to joy.
The difference lies in whether you've got the courage to chase it.
Alice's eyes grew damp. She instinctively shut them to hide her mess, but then opened them again, gazing bravely and firmly at Ronan, who blazed with light on this humble stage. She captured the moment through her camera.
"Everyone's chasing…"
His clear, powerful high notes effortlessly pushed the emotion to a new peak. Their hearts warmed, then burned, nearly scorching their chests. Every cell in their bodies cheered, screamed, roared. One by one, they stood, heads tilted back, facing the sun like sunflowers.
Everyone's chasing… the light.
Without realizing it, they rose onto their toes, just to get closer, a little closer. The urge to chase the light took over, breaking free from the dark's grip, tearing through the endless night's chains. Before they knew it, their right hands reached for the sky, grasping at the vast, clear expanse, feeling the sun's warmth—even if it meant burning to ash.
That heat brought tears to their eyes.
This was where the heart led—a truth you could fool others about, but never yourself.
The song ended.
Ronan's chest still heaved wildly. The emotional release of those high notes left him needing a moment to catch his breath. His skin felt warm, like a low fever, his fingertips trembling from pouring out so much. His knees and calves quivered faintly.
But it didn't feel bad. It was like soaking in a hot spring—refreshing and freeing. A smile tugged at his lips, unbidden. The rush of inspiration washed over him, sweeping away the dark clouds of fatigue and confusion.
His fingers, stretched toward the sky, felt that searing heat. Closing his eyes, he could trace the shape of the sunlight with his fingertips—soft arcs spreading delicately, pulling his smile wider. Then he opened his eyes again.
He saw it.
A faint gold shimmered against the pale blue, blending softly. In the corner of his vision, he caught hints of lush green and vivid red. The distant hum of engines and bird calls filled his ears. The world was so beautiful, so real, that tears welled up, blurring the colors into a watercolor haze.
He was the one chasing the light—a fool, a dreamer, a fighter, a lone wanderer, a battered Sisyphus.
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