Luka’s heart went still when Reno lifted his guitar from his body and handed it to Arnaud. The crowd around him murmured until Arnaud put the mic on a stand, then started playing softly. The crowd erupted. No one outside of Arnaud’s close circle had seen him play guitar before.
“London is our home, and it’s because of the people who fill it. Those people come with us when we travel the world, in our hearts, sometimes in our hands," Arnaud said, leaning into the mic, playing an easy but soulful chord progression.
“We’ve been lucky this year to spend a lot of time with the people who feel like home. We hope you have too.” Arnaud continued as the stage around him grew darker, “It wasn’t always this way, though—there was a time when I was lying on my floor alone and it was so lonely I couldn’t get up. Everything felt so hopeless. I thought to myself, ‘yeah,okay. This is what depression feels like.’ I had that thought, then I got up and started looking for Voltage. I needed purpose. I needed music. I needed the right people to make music with.” He leaned away from the mic for a moment, looking down at his hands as he played, giving the crowd a moment to let his words sink in.
“And, you know? I’ve learned lately that some people think music can’t keep us alive. But, I know," Arnaud shook his head and the face he made formed a lump in Luka’s throat, “Iknow, that when I pull myself off the floor, it's because of this. Singing for you. For me. For the people I call my home. It gives me reason to live, and it brings people I love the most in the world tome. It's brought us together and bound us, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being alive, with me.”
The spotlight on Arnaud shut off and the venue was cloaked in darkness as Arnaud let a chord linger.
When the light popped on, blinding them with its intensity, stood Reno.
He glowed on stage as he lifted the violin to rest under his chin and struck the first note.
The crowd was so quiet, Luka felt like they’d all disappeared. All that remained was Reno, his creased brows, his pink hair shining like a halo, with his heart on his sleeve as he played, and a diamond ring on his finger, flashing in the spotlight.
A note sustained in the air until Reno lifted the bow from the violin and the drums and bass slammed so hard right as the stage lights blared back to life—Luka felt like he’d be knocked from his feet. The crowd went insane, screaming and headbanging to the drums, and Reno smiled at Arnaud, who handled Reno’s guitar like it was nothing.
He leaned forward as Reno put the bow back to his instrument and Arnaud sang along with it like they were always meant to be together.
"Last night, I came from the soil, it had been snowing.
While it snowed, you and me, we stayed together,
we’ve been laying
And as we slept in our warmth as a tether,
we’ve still been falling
But my wings are made from glass
My sins scattered around me, I’m crawling
I can't see them from the dying grass
Up and towards a distant past
Le vent emporte mon passé
Ne pars pas - ne pars pas
We can stay in our hiding place
Take my hand despite my disgrace
De quel monde pour te protéger
c'est tout ce que je veux
It’s all I want for you
One day, I’ll meet you in the sun and you’ll set off running
There I’ll watch, small and strong, we’ll run together,
We’ve been trying
As we brace against the stormy weather,
