Something truly astonishing is how beautiful the women in these places are—their golden hair, angelic features, and pale cheeks that bloom in the cold. They could be called ice-born shards, created to enchant those around them.
Billy took one last deep breath before launching into the final song of the night. He was drenched in sweat, his button-up shirt still clinging to him, and with only a vague idea of what to choose next, he settled on a song. The set had been full of highs and lows, and now, for his closing track after a grueling two-and-a-half-hour heatwave—
- Well, I think some of you might know this one. "Holiday" (Green Day) – Billy said, his breathing still heavy but gradually syncing with a steadier, calmer rhythm, unlike the erratic gasps he'd been taking over the past few days.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Say hey!
Cha!
Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame (hey!)
The shame is the ones who died without a name
Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called "Faith and Misery" (hey!)
And bleed, the company lost the war today, and
Oh, I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives (whoa, oh, whoa, oh)
On holiday!
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
The fierce strumming of the guitar blended with a pounding drumbeat, aggressive yet electrifying, like a sugar rush infused with raw energy. Billy matched the intensity, letting the rhythm propel him forward, urging the crowd to jump, to lose themselves in the music.
The opening was explosive—people were ecstatic, desperate to be part of this vibrant spectacle. The roar of thousands filled the air as the atmosphere surged into a frenzy once again. Billy amplified the moment, weaving imagery of fireworks into his performance, setting the stage ablaze with shimmering colors, painting fleeting, radiant scenes across the night sky.
Brilliant bursts of color, cascading like emerald waterfalls, darting and shimmering through the air, each one vying for a moment in the spotlight.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Hear the drum pounding out of time
Another protester has crossed the line (hey!)
To find the money's on the other side
Can I get another amen? (Amen!)
There's a flag wrapped around a score of men (hey!)
A gag, a plastic bag on a monument
Oh, I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives (whoa, oh, whoa, oh)
On holiday!
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Jerry was signing deals in the background, listening to his client perform, though he kept his distance to let him focus. There was something about Billy—something magnetic. Even the older man found himself unconsciously swaying his hips, his right foot tapping lightly to the beat. The crowd was wild, shifting and thrashing in waves of euphoric chaos.
MTV was broadcasting the entire event live outside the stadium. Some spectators couldn't help but smile at how this once-serene capital had transformed into a grand festival. Billy's voice, sharp and powerful, sliced through the air like snowflakes grazing the skin of the dancing masses, each note a tangible sensation. It was the raw truth of music seizing hearts, making them feel something real.
Because when people say there's a difference, there is.
When they hear Michael Jackson perform, there's an undeniable energy, a spark of electricity that travels from his fingertips into the audience, reaching far beyond the stage.
When they listen to a rapper like Eminem, it's a visceral, aggressive pulse that courses through their veins.
Billy was different—he had his way of awakening emotions.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Hey!
Three, four!
The representative from California has the floor
"Sieg Heil" to the president Gasman
Bombs away is your punishment
Pulverize the Eiffel Towers
Who criticizes your government
"Bang! Bang!" goes the broken glass, and
Kill all the fags that don't agree
Try to fight the fire, setting fire
Is not a way that's meant for me
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Billy wound down the performance, slowing the tempo by three octaves, transforming the audience's euphoric energy into a strange, suspenseful anticipation—an unresolved feeling, as if something crucial was missing. He had a way of leading people to a place just beyond their reach.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned into the microphone. As the crowd hushed, his voice rang out crystal clear, casting a hush that felt almost tangible, a shared moment of quiet solitude.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
Just 'cause (hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!)
Just 'cause, because we're outlaws, yeah (hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!)
Oh, I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives (whoa, oh, whoa, oh)
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives (whoa, oh, whoa, oh)
This is our life on holiday!
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶
...
He exhaled deeply, grabbing a bottle of mineral water. He was completely drained.
- We've got a photo session lined up. Hurry up, we're running a bit late. The police are handling our transportation—they've cleared the streets for a smooth ride. – Michael Ocklars informed him.
Billy groaned in annoyance.
- What do I have to do? –
- Well, the latest sensation is a young singer—you'll be posing with her for Teen Vogue. You two have a shoot together, and let's just say… It's going to sell. Everyone wants a glimpse of that tiger tattoo. – Michael added.
The fans couldn't see him, but their signs were everywhere. It was a clear sign that a signing session might be in order, though Billy wasn't one for autographs. He never liked making people wait for him to scribble his name.
- Yeah… yeah… I just want to head to Skiar once this is over. – Billy muttered, making Michael sigh, though he simply took note of the request.
- Alright… we'll handle the band members. – Michael spoke to the crew. – They'll be at the after-party. Billy will join later. –
Billy sighed, sinking into his seat, dozing off as they drove. He was completely disconnected from the world, exhaustion taking over.
Waiting for him was a stunning blonde, Natasha Thomas. She wore a cropped top, her hair flowing freely, exuding a rebellious energy that felt oddly familiar.
- So, you're Billy Carson. –
..