And when the lights dimd, anticipation flooded the theatre once more. This was the final performance of the night—the last chance to close the fifth evaluations on a perfect note. The air felt tight, expectant, like everyone was holding their breath at the sa ti.
Then, soft piano keys drifted through the silence—gentle—before the stage slowly lit up with the swell of the music.
The set revealed itself: an empty high school classroom. Chairs and desks were stacked along the sides in an almost dreamlike arrangent, ssy yet intentional, instantly tugging everyone back to their own school days.
Perched atop the desks and chairs sat the live band and orchestra, dressed in school uniforms nearly identical to the ones Bobby once wore himself. The details were uncanny—too familiar. Too real.
Finally, a soft spotlight found Bobby.
He leaned against a classroom window, gazing out as if there were sothing waiting for him beyond it. His expression was hopeful, fragile—like soone standing on the edge of a dream, afraid it might disappear if they blinked.
🎶Walking ho through sunset skies,
Chasing clouds with tired eyes.
Everyone's shining, I'm just ,
Lost in their glow so easily.🎶
As Bobby sang, he slipped fully into his own world. It felt less like a performance and more like an invitation—one the audience accepted without question.
The experience was surreal. The theatre no longer felt like a theatre at all. It felt like a classroom. Like everyone seated there had been transported back to their own high school days—classmates once more. And there was Bobby, by the window, dreaming big in a place that never quite believed in dreams.
When the pre-chorus began, Bobby finally stepped away from the window. And the mont he lifted his gaze and t the audience's eyes—
A chill rippled through the room.
🎶But sowhere deep inside my chest,
A little spark won't let rest.
Maybe I could change my fate—
Even if I'm always late.🎶
This wasn't just singing. It felt like witnessing Bobby at his most exposed. So viewers felt like they were intruding on sothing deeply personal. Others watched in stunned silence, afraid to breathe.
But everyone understood the sa thing: seeing an artist open themselves up this completely—without armor, without masks—was rare. A once-in-a-lifeti kind of mont in an era where vulnerability is often hidden behind polish and perfection.
Bobby's voice carried hope and innocence so purely that smiles spread across the audience before anyone even realized it.
Then ca the chorus.
🎶I may stumble, I may fall,
I might not stand out at all.
But if I take one tiny step,
Maybe I'll find what I dreamt.
Even if it's just tonight,
I'll burn my heart in neon light—
Let play my part a bit,
Even if it's just for a bit.🎶
Bobby began to dance.
Not with sharp choreography or complicated steps—but the kind of dancing you do when you're alone in your room, doors closed, music blasting, and no one's watching. He hopped, grooved, spun—and even snuck in a little booty poppin' he picked up from the Kweens during the second evaluations.
It was movent without restraint. Completely free. Completely unguarded.
And sohow, the audience's hearts tightened. It reminded them of themselves—dancing in their bedrooms, in the shower, in empty parking lots at midnight. Monts when they felt untouchable. Monts when they dared to dream without sha.
When the second verse began, Bobby stepped off the stage and into the theatre.
🎶And no one is perfect,
I can just keep trying every single day.
Because I learned… along the way,
That the best things in life won't be… perfect anyway.🎶
He moved through the aisles, interacting with the evaluators, with Cat, and with the audience. Every lyric felt direct—personal—like he was singing to them specifically. So people began crying without even realizing when it started.
What Bobby sang felt like sothing they desperately needed to hear. Words ant for those carrying too much weight. For those exhausted by expectations, fear, and the relentless pressure of the world.
The lyrics felt like light—small, steady, and warm—at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.
Bobby stopped beside an audience mber who was openly sobbing, clutching their chest. He gently took their hand, sensing the pain there, and sang the final line of the verse directly to them. He gave their hand a soft squeeze and an encouraging smile—wordless, but full of understanding.
The chorus returned once more.
This ti, Bobby shimmyed with Tuesday. Played rock-paper-scissors with Luca. For a brief, precious mont, hierarchy dissolved completely. There were no evaluators. No contestants.
Just joy.
Then ca the bridge.
Bobby turned toward Foca, ready to interact—only to freeze when Foca began singing with him.
The theatre gasped.
Luca and Tuesday exchanged soft, watery smiles.
🎶Let the spotlight find trembling,
Just once, let my heart sing.
I don't need forever's glory—
Just a mont where I'm seen.🎶
Hearing Foca sing, Bobby choked mid-line, overwheld. But Foca didn't stop. He continued singing steadily, eyes locked on Bobby, wearing a proud, encouraging smile.
That was all Bobby needed.
Beaming, he joined in on the second half of the bridge, energy renewed, heart blazing.
🎶If I just have a little bit of courage,
I may be ordinary, or friend C.
But even little ol' can be a protagonist,
Even if it's just for a bit.🎶
As the chorus hit again, Bobby bowed briefly toward Foca, Luca, and Tuesday—his evaluators, his ntors, the heroes he had found along the way.
Then he returned to center stage.
He sang with everything he had—raw, unfiltered passion pouring out in every note. You could see it hit the audience. You could feel it.
As the song neared its end, Yone suddenly appeared on stage.
Together, they launched into a quickstep inspired by the manga that birthed the song. Bobby held a soaring high note while dancing—clean, steady, effortless.
And then the dam finally broke.
Bobby began to cry—openly, uncontrollably—but his smile only grew brighter. It was pure joy, pure release. Even Yone seed recharged by it, guiding Bobby with infectious energy as they glided across the stage like they were flying.
As the final piano notes faded, Bobby stood center stage.
Fist raised high.
Eyes lifted toward the ceiling.
Breathing hard—alive.
And for a heartbeat, the world stood still.
****
As the final note faded into silence, the theatre exploded.
The live audience erupted into thunderous cheers—deafening, relentless, electric. Bobby's na rang out over and over again, chanted in unison like a promise, like a blessing.
"BOB-BY!
BOB-BY!
BOB-BY!"
Before Bobby could even process what was happening, Yone wrapped him in a tight, crushing hug. Bobby clutched onto him like a lifeline, his knees nearly giving out as everything he had been holding back finally spilled over. He broke down completely, sobs wracking his body.
Yone didn't let go. He only pulled him closer, one hand steady on Bobby's back, grounding him in the warmth of the mont.
On stage, the evaluators rose to their feet.
Tuesday clapped enthusiastically, tears streaming freely now as she furiously dabbed at her eyes, muttering under her breath about waterproof makeup failing her at the worst possible ti. Luca stood tall, applause steady and strong—only a few manly tears slipping down despite his best efforts.
Foca, however, clapped with his hands raised high, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips. It was the kind of smile he reserved only for people he deeply cared about—quiet, fond, and unguarded. As a fellow artist, he saw it clearly now: Bobby's potential wasn't just vast—it was limitless.
So might envy talent like that.
Foca never did.
All he felt was pride. Fondness. A deep, unspoken camaraderie between artists who understood what it ant to bare your soul and survive it.
When Bobby finally managed to steady his breathing, he slowly loosened his grip on Yone. He wiped his tears clumsily, face still flushed and damp, before turning to the evaluators, the audience, and the viewers watching from ho.
He smiled.
The crowd went absolutely feral.
"Bobby, you are such a gift!" Tuesday exclaid, only to choke up again halfway through. "Oh—oh no—" She laughed weakly, pressing a tissue to her eyes. "What we just witnessed was sothing so special… so sincere. That kind of honesty is incredibly rare these days."
She took a breath, voice trembling but firm.
"You laid your heart bare on that stage without a single ounce of fear. And for that, I thank you." She gestured toward Foca. "And this—letting you perform your own song—was absolutely the right choice. This man right here was adamant about it."
Tuesday pointed directly at Foca.
"Ever since the first evaluations, he's held you in high regard. And trust , Bobby—you should be very proud of that. Foca doesn't give that kind of respect lightly. So congratulations. You did an amazing job!"
"I completely agree with Tuesday," Luca added. "It's extrely rare for Foca to hold soone in such high regard. When he does, you know it's real."
Bobby bowed deeply, hands shaking, heart pounding.
"And honestly," Luca continued, smiling warmly, "from the very beginning of this show, you've proven yourself to be a special artist. With every evaluation, you showed us more layers—more depth. Watching you grow into the Bobby standing here today has been a privilege. Truly. Amazing work."
Then, it was Foca's turn.
The theatre fell silent.
Everyone leaned in, breath caught, waiting.
"Bobby," Foca began, voice steady but full of warmth, "it was an honour—truly—to work with you on this song. I haven't felt this kind of excitent in quite so ti."
He smiled knowingly.
"And while you may have thought you were the one learning… oh no." A soft chuckle. "This was very much a learning experience for as well."
Bobby stared at him, eyes wide.
"And after that performance," Foca continued, tone sharpening just enough to send chills through the room, "it would be extrely remiss—and frankly disrespectful—of not to sign you on the spot."
The audience gasped.
"WAIT—hold up!" Tuesday blurted out, eyes blown wide. "Is this—oh my God—is this what I think it is?!"
"Wait, wait, WAIT," Luca said, hand flying to his mouth as realization hit. "You're serious. You're actually serious, aren't you?"
"When have I ever joked about sothing like this?" Foca replied calmly, amusent dancing in his eyes.
Then he turned back to Bobby.
Who looked like he had forgotten how to breathe.
"Bobby," Foca said clearly, firmly, "Welco to Bread Music."
The theatre detonated.
The audience leapt to their feet, screams tearing through the air so loud it felt like the roof might co off. Confetti cannons exploded, lights flashing wildly as the mont etched itself into history.
In the crowd, Bobby's parents collapsed into each other's arms, sobbing openly as they watched their son achieve his dream in real ti.
Bobby stood frozen.
Yone nearly tackled him to the ground, yelling congratulations into his ear as other trainees poured onto the stage, surrounding him in laughter, cheers, and celebration.
And online?
Absolute chaos.
@Rumi: OMG HE MADE IT!!!! BOBBY MADE IT!!!!! AHHHHHHH CONGRATS!!!
@Yoyo: I'M SOBBING 😭😭😭 YOU DESERVE THIS BOBBY
@MileyCircus: SO PROUD OF YOU!!! DEBUT KING!!!
@Edward Cullen: Top pick from day one. Well deserved.
@SirenCoach: From the bottom of my heart—congratulations. You sang your soul tonight.
@LegalKween: You touched the world's heart. Bloom brightly under Bread Music.
@Corn⭐: BOBBY YOU MADE AND MY 🐱 CRY!!! TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!! CONGRATS BABY!!!
"It's official!" Cat announced, beaming. "Bobby is now an artist under Bread Music Entertainnt—and he will be debuting!"
The cheers surged once more.
And Bobby?
Still unsure if this was real or just the most beautiful dream he'd ever had.
But one thing was certain.
The road ahead was bright.
And Foca would make damn sure of it. 😉
****
PS - You can listen to "Even If It's Just for a Bit" in full at YouTube (@FocacciaBread-Music), Spotify (sopen.spotify/album/5Zi8IgrAiaKoEiaawz3mLJ?si=auP1H63iTHaO_8dRzelaSw) or other digital streaming platforms.
****
Full Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
Walking ho through sunset skies,
Chasing clouds with tired eyes.
Everyone's shining, I'm just ,
Lost in their glow so easily.
I'm not the jock that hits the ho run,
Nor the top student that always has a plan.
I'm a background soul in the schoolyard sun,
Clapping for the story that soone else began.
[Pre-Chorus]
But sowhere deep inside my chest,
A little spark won't let rest.
Maybe I could change my fate—
Even if I'm always late.
[Chorus]
I may stumble, I may fall,
I might not stand out at all.
But if I take one tiny step,
Maybe I'll find what I dreamt.
Even if it's just tonight,
I'll burn my heart in neon light—
Let play my part a bit,
Even if it's just for a bit.
[Verse 2]
Sotis the wind calls my na,
And I feel like I could change the fra.
Maybe the world will look my way,
If I just try today.
And no one is perfect
I can just keep trying every single day
Because l learned.... along the way,
That the best things in life won't be... perfect anyway
[Pre-Chorus 2]
Even if I trip and cry,
Even if my wings can't fly—
I'll still sing my lody,
Sowhere soone will hear .
[Chorus]
I may stumble, I may fall,
I might not stand out at all.
But if I take one tiny step,
Maybe I'll find what I dreamt.
Even if it's just tonight,
I'll burn my heart in neon light—
Let play my part a bit,
Even if it's just for a bit.
[Bridge]
Let the spotlight find trembling,
Just once, let my heart sing.
I don't need forever's glory—
Just a mont where I'm seen.
If I just have a little bit of courage,
I may be ordinary, or friend C.
But even little ol' can be a protagonist,
Even if it's just for a bit.
[Final Chorus]
I may stumble, I may fall,
But I'll still give it my all.
This little dream I used to hide,
Now it's bursting from inside.
Even if it's just tonight,
I'll shine beneath the city lights—
So let play my part a bit,
Even if it's just for a bit.
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