18 Heartbeat like Drums
Badump!Badump!Badump!Badump!
The thumping of Ronan's heart against his chest was intense, fierce, and continuously accelerating. It felt as if his heart might burst out at any moment, the force so powerful that it caused his chest to ache. Even his eardrums reverberated with a buzzing, roaring sound.
Ronan couldn't deny it—he was incredibly nervous, more so than he had expected.
Tonight was different from the previous night.
The previous night had been a blur, partly due to the disorientation of his arrival, making him question whether it was all a dream. But he had also acted impulsively, not fully comprehending his situation, and adrenaline had propelled him forward.
Tonight, however, everything was crystal clear. Reason had intervened, making Ronan acutely aware of his situation. How could he not be nervous?
Despite being a former singer, the memory of being on stage was distant and hazy, fading after his deafness. Over time, he had developed a fear. The last time he had officially performed seemed like a distant memory, and his confidence had waned.
Moreover, less than 24 hours had passed since his arrival, and he was still unfamiliar with One Day Kings' songs. Learning new lyrics and melodies so quickly was putting immense pressure on him. What if he went off-key? What if he forgot the lyrics? What if there was technical difficulty?
What if his performance turned into a disaster, and he became a laughingstock?
What if, while on stage, he suddenly lost his hearing or sight again?
"Ronan, are you nervous?" Maxim was the first to notice Ronan's unease and asked directly.
Ronan glared at Maxim in response, protesting silently.
But Maxim pressed further, "Are you holding your breath?"
Ronan failed to conceal it, and it was true—he had unknowingly been holding his breath, consumed by thoughts of the potential failure of his performance. "What if the performance goes wrong tonight?"
He meant every word.
The band members exchanged concerned glances. They had been through something similar before.
The night before, Ronan had been so nervous that he could barely breathe, which had affected his singing. However, with the performance imminent, he had gritted his teeth and taken the stage, resulting in a disastrous performance. The memory of that failure was still fresh in their minds.
Could another catastrophe be on the horizon tonight?
"Yes, I'm ready," Ronan affirmed, a determined look in his eyes.
Maxim expressed his doubts, "Are you sure?" as he scrutinized Ronan.
Ronan took a deep breath and nodded firmly, "Yes, I'm sure."
His pounding heart was evidence of his boiling blood and surging passion. He was nervous because he cared deeply, and his anxiety stemmed from high expectations.
Though his mind was currently blank, with forgotten melodies and lyrics, Ronan didn't resent the tension. In fact, he embraced it. This tension helped him focus and temporarily pushed aside other worries.
At this moment, the stage was all that mattered.
Ronan's smile broke through, genuine and sincere. "Let's rock this stage!"
Ollie, ever the joker, chimed in, "Literally, or just figuratively?"
The four of them burst into laughter, Cliff the only one sporting a puzzled expression.
With Ollie's humorous interruption, the tense atmosphere eased somewhat. The four of them left the lounge in a line, making their way toward the stage.
High Noon wasn't a formal performance venue, so the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate. There were no introductions from a host or drumrolls. The band members simply appeared on stage, heading to their pre-arranged positions. It was time to perform.
The One Day Kings Band was slated as the opening act for the night, signaling the official start of the evening's festivities. The audience welcomed them with cheers and applause, not just as a polite gesture but as a celebration of the night's festivities beginning.
Cheers and shouts filled the bar, mirroring the heat outside. The crowd's excitement spilled over into the indoor venue. Regardless of the performer's identity or the quality of the opening act, the audience was supportive, as they had been waiting for this moment.
As Ronan observed the buzz around him, his nervousness seemed to dissipate. The sensation of standing on the stage and the voices of the audience enveloping him had a calming effect. His heartbeat steadied, not because he had lost touch with his emotions, but because the stage felt like home. It was a place of security, akin to curling up on a sofa—pure and comforting.
His focus shifted to the guitar in his hands, and he immersed himself in its presence. Holding the guitar, he felt like he had the world at his fingertips.
No need for overthinking. No need to worry. Standing in front of the microphone, the words flowed naturally from him. Ronan effortlessly controlled the rhythm, officially announcing the band's debut.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening! Welcome to High Noon. We are King for a Day. Tonight, welcome to our kingdom."