Ah—ahhhh—
In an instant, the screams broke free from restraint, shattering all balance, slipping out of control like a volcano erupting in flames and fury, unleashing wave after wave of scorching heat and wild passion.
"Rookie!"
"Ahhh, Rookie!"
"Lance, I love you!"
The cries overlapped, layering one upon another, bursting with an overwhelming energy that surged through the crowd and swept across the entire space.
The moment Lance stepped off the double-decker bus, the crowd erupted.
Security rushed in immediately, forming a tight circle around Lance. At the same time, other personnel approached the barriers to prevent a stampede, keeping the situation under control though slightly chaotic.
Inside the bus, it wasn't just Kelce—others crowded forward too.
Wait, what the hell is Lance doing?
Ahhh! Ahhhh!
The very air was burning.
Felix Grey was no exception. A wide smile stretched across his face as he excitedly called out to his mom, then turned his gaze ahead and shouted with all his strength.
"Rookie! Rookie!"
Karen, his mother, looked at Felix with deep concern. Like a mother bird, she wrapped her arms protectively around him. She couldn't help but murmur to herself—why jump off the vehicle? He could've just enjoyed the parade from up top.
She was thankful—deeply—for the strength Lance's performance had given her son. She liked Lance very much. But that didn't stop her from worrying over this spontaneous and reckless action. During a parade, doing something like this was risky.
Young and impulsive.
Karen mumbled under her breath.
Then—everything stopped.
Her complaints caught in her throat. She froze.
So did Felix. One moment he was waving with all his might, the next he sat stunned, frozen in shock, staring ahead in disbelief.
Was Lance looking… at Felix?
No… no way, right?
Lance realized his own mistake. A rush of excitement had overtaken him—an oversight born from inexperience. But it was too late to turn back now.
So he kept waving down the crowd with both hands, urging calm. He flashed that signature sunny smile, exchanging eye contact and sharing warm glances with fans, doing everything he could to stabilize the atmosphere.
Step by step, he walked forward.
And stopped right in front of the boy in the wheelchair.
One look, and Lance could see the stunned, motionless expression on the boy's face. Rigid. Frozen. Eyes wide, locked onto him. Overwhelmed by joy, disbelief, and something much deeper.
Then—
Lance opened his arms and said nothing, pulling the boy into a silent embrace.
Felix went stiff. Paralyzed. His body—and brain—both froze completely. Everything hit pause.
Until he heard Lance's voice, soft but clear amid the roaring chaos around them.
"You've done so well."
It was light—barely more than a whisper. But it struck like thunder in Felix's heart. A gentle phrase, weightless in sound yet heavy with truth, exploded inside him.
Without warning, Felix choked up.
Warmth flooded his eyes.
Since the cancer had returned, Felix had been holding on.
He knew his parents were barely holding it together. He knew the doctors were trying their best to stay positive. So he forced himself to smile, to stay upbeat. He didn't want to be a burden.
But late at night, when the pain gnawed at his bones, eating away at his soul, he'd curl into himself, clenching his teeth as sweat soaked through his sheets—staring blankly at the ceiling, as death slowly crept in like a shadow overhead.
He was scared. Terrified. But pretending not to be.
Until now.
That hug, that one sentence—shattered him.
He didn't want to die.
There was still so much youth he hadn't wasted. So many adventures left untried. He wanted to tell the girl he liked how he felt. He wanted to struggle over college majors and worry about his future.
But…
He was scared. Deeply, desperately scared.
Suddenly, he threw his arms around Lance, hugging with everything he had.
Lance felt it—tight, desperate, aching.
His heart sank.
He knew this boy's story. Sue had told him.
She'd remembered that bright smile, that straight back in a wheelchair, that silhouette soaking up joy in the crowd.
She'd shown Lance a photo.
"…A little regret—I didn't ask his name. Didn't get to speak more."
Lance remembered that.
He never expected to see the boy again today. But here he was, standing right before him. Sue's words echoed in his ears.
Lance had asked her: "If you could say something to him again, what would it be?"
"You've already done enough. Thank you for continuing to fight."
Lance gently patted the boy's back, repeating the words Sue never got to say—
Because no one knew the pain he carried. Or the pain his parents carried.
Fighting to live—it's not just for yourself. It's also for those who love you.
The pain, the despair, the constant battle—it could easily crush someone. Sometimes it's easier to let go than to hang on. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. For himself, for his loved ones, he had to keep going.
It was a crushing burden.
To others, "stay strong" and "keep fighting" were just words. But for him, it was a daily war. Every moment—torment. Drifting between hope and hopelessness, over and over again.
Lance thought of Eric Berry.
They were warriors. Fighters.
So when he saw the boy, he didn't hesitate. He wanted to pass on Sue's strength. And his own.
It might not be much, but it was 100% real.
"You're not fighting alone," Lance said again.
And he could feel it—the boy trembling, barely holding together. His tears ran hot down Lance's shoulder, wordless yet louder than any cry.
In the corner of his eye, Lance saw the boy's mother turn away, unable to bear the sight. Her hands covered her face—but the tears still slipped through her fingers.
A mother worries for her child. A child worries for his mother.
No one has it easy in this battle.
Lance's throat tightened.
He took a deep breath. Composed himself. A soft smile curved across his face.
"Hey, next season we're gonna fight again. No one believes we can repeat. Same doubts. Same story. But we're ready for it. You in?"
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Powerstones?
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