Everything, so simple.
No grand stage was needed, no intricate instruments, no dazzling lights—just a guitar and a voice, and that was enough.
The melody flowed from the depths of the soul, a soft murmur and low hum that tugged at the heartstrings.
Creaaak.
The bar door swung open again, cold air clawing its way inside with a fierce rush, briefly intruding with the chaos and noise of the outside world.
But this time, no one paid it any mind.
When Anne Hathaway entered the bar, this was the scene she saw: a small tavern with only a handful of patrons, all immersed in their thoughts, gazing at the stage with quiet focus, swept away by the soaring and passionate melody.
And then, she saw him.
The man, so carefree yet so confident, so unruly yet so unrestrained—wherever he was, as long as he spread his arms, the world would fall into place.
He sat still in the hazy glow of the dim light, its soft beams sketching the outline of his figure. His deep blue eyes, hidden in shadow, were profound and tranquil, and though he looked down on his luck with nothing to his name, all he needed was a guitar.
Fingers danced across the strings as he sang with abandon.
That pure, clear voice climbed higher and higher, and when it reached its peak, a faint rasp betrayed the wear and tear of life's scars and hardships, slipping through momentarily before vanishing.
Then, his voice fell silent, leaving only the wild strumming of the guitar. The collision of his fingers and strings became a ballet of abandon and madness, dancing recklessly.
It was as if he stood on the edge of the world.
He didn't need an audience.
He was completely lost in his own melody, singing at the end of time, at the edge of existence—
The towering mountains, vast oceans, and endless stars all bowed before him.
The surging, electrifying melody ignited the blood of every listener present, setting their hearts racing faster and faster until it became one with the wind.
They forgot themselves.
Anne stood there, staring blankly at his figure.
In that moment, she saw the traces of life's trials and tribulations etched into him, yet also the optimism and grace with which he faced those struggles. The light radiating from deep within his soul was mesmerizing.
That calm and composure—it was the essence left behind after everything superficial had been stripped away.
The music climbed higher and higher, reaching a peak before returning to simplicity and tranquility, leaving behind only a faint, gentle smile on his lips.
The raging waves in the bar slowly ebbed, peace settling in.
The man's gaze fell lovingly and gratefully on the guitar in his arms—his old companion who had been with him through it all. He began to hum softly once more.
"But if you truly loved me, then why did you leave me?"
"Take me away, take me away…"
"All I want, all I need, is to find someone—someone just like you."
The wild winds, the crashing waves, and the burning heat all subsided, returning to the calm of a summer afternoon. It was as if they were lying on a green meadow at the edge of a cliff, hands behind their heads, gazing up at the ever-changing clouds.
The soft, drizzling melody lingered, extending endlessly into the sunlit sky.
"So much like you… mm-hmm…"
Gentle and far-reaching, the long, drawn-out note carried the thoughts further and further, smoothing every edge and ripple until all was still.
"You… oh-oh-oh…"
The strings hummed softly as his fingers came to a stop, leaving the lingering vibrations to tremble silently in the air.
Finally, the performance ended.
He remained seated, as if holding onto the moment.
The bar fell into utter silence. No one wanted to break this fragile stillness. The faint background noise seemed even more distant, highlighting the peace in the room, while their hearts beat loudly in their chests.
Then, he spoke again.
No accompaniment, just his voice, like a lullaby.
"Mmm… mmm…"
The breeze, the drizzle, and the sunlight caressed the scars on their hearts, gently healing them.
At last, it was over.
He lifted his gaze and immediately saw the group standing at the bar's entrance.
With so few people present, the new arrivals stood out effortlessly. Just a glance was enough to notice them.
He saw her.
And she saw him, their eyes meeting unexpectedly, locking her into those deep blue eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat.
For some reason, Anne's mind conjured a scene from Casablanca:
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."
Caught off guard, a faint heat rose to her cheeks.
Before Anne could gather her composure, the patrons in the bar erupted into applause.
The thunderous clapping broke Anne's awkward moment. She quickly averted her gaze, joining in with the applause. But when she looked back up, the man had already shifted his attention back to the guitar in his arms.
The bar was alive with excitement.
Despite the small audience, they clapped as if giving their all, channeling their overwhelming emotions into the act of applause.
Bittersweet yet joyful.
Relieved yet sorrowful.
Everyone had their own story, but they all found resonance in the melody, awakening memories and healing old wounds they thought had long since closed.
It was an unspoken connection, a collective immersion. The fiery emotions were too intense for words, leaving only the mechanical motion of clapping.
The applause wasn't loud—the bar had fewer than twenty people—but it filled the space completely, brimming with passion and warmth.
Under the stage lights, the man leaned toward the microphone.
"No need to be so enthusiastic, or I might get the impression I'm performing at Madison Square Garden. Then I'd have to start charging admission."
The playful joke drew a round of laughter.
The man, unfazed, continued, "Feel free to relax and enjoy your time. Don't worry, I don't mind if you just savor the moment."
With that, he didn't wait for a response and gently strummed the guitar again.
Soft murmurs rippled through the bar as people resumed their conversations. But this time, the mood was different—soon enough, attention turned back to the stage.
After all, wasn't this why they chose a bar with live performances?
Even though the man, "Levien Davis," was an unfamiliar name, it didn't stop them from appreciating his music.
"Anne?"
The voice of her companion pulled her back to reality. She quickly masked her emotions and turned to find Jake Gyllenhaal's wide eyes staring back at her.
"We should find a seat. We can't just stand here forever."
The others in their group were already seeking out a spacious spot.
Anne took a deep breath and forced a smile to mask her inner turmoil. "Of course. I just thought the performance was good. Looks like we picked the right place."