[ Shape of My Heart ]
His chiseled features cast dramatic shadows across his face, accentuating his strong jawline and piercing eyes.
The silver-grey of his hair caught the light, creating an almost ethereal glow around him.
As he continued his soulful performance, Brandon's body swayed gently with the rhythm. His fingers danced across the guitar strings with practiced ease, each note resonating through the silent room.
"I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart"
Brandon's voice, rich and emotive, carried the weight of the lyrics. His eyes closed as he sang, lost in the music, a slight furrow in his brow betraying the depth of his emotion.
In the audience, Elise sat transfixed, her eyes never leaving Brandon's form. She felt each word as if it were a physical touch, sending shivers down her spine.
Beside her, Devon leaned towards Pierre, his voice barely above a whisper. "Man, those lyrics..."
Pierre nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"It's brilliant. I feel it speaking to my soul."
Joyce opened her mouth to add her thoughts, but Elise raised a hand, silencing them without taking her eyes off Brandon.
"Shh," she hushed, her voice soft but firm.
On stage, Brandon's voice soared as he reached the crescendo.
"That's not the shapeeeee~
The shape of my hearttttt~"
He dragged out the notes, his voice rich with emotion.
As the last word faded, the instrumental took over, filling the ballroom with its haunting melody.
Brandon stood still, eyes closed, lost in the music, as the audience held its collective breath, waiting for what would come next.
Then his eyes slowly opened, scanning the audience.
The audience remained spellbound, their eyes fixed on the young artist under the spotlight.
Brandon's gaze swept across the room, landing on Elise.
Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and he felt a surge of emotion as he began the next verse:
"If I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one"
Elise's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as she felt the weight of Brandon's words. Around her, the audience swayed gently to the rhythm, some closing their eyes to fully immerse themselves in the music.
As Brandon continued to sing, his eyes flickered towards Gerald Sinclair.
His expression remained neutral, but there was a glint of defiance in his eyes.
A hint of a smirk played on his lips as he delivered the next lines with a subtle, challenging tone:
"But those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost"
Gerald's jaw clenched, recognizing the veiled taunt in Brandon's performance. He gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure.
The crystal chandeliers above seemed to shimmer in response to Brandon's voice, casting dancing shadows across the faces of the mesmerized audience. The air in the ballroom felt electric, charged with emotion and and a haunting serenity.
Brandon's voice soared through the grand ballroom, each note carrying a raw emotion that seemed to touch every soul present.
His eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration as he poured his heart into the final chorus.
"I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart"
His voice cracked slightly on the last line, a deliberate imperfection that only added to the authenticity of his performance.
The audience held their collective breath, captivated by the vulnerability in his tone.
"That's not the shape of my heart~"
Brandon's eyes fluttered open, his light grey gaze scanning the hushed crowd before him.
He took in the sea of faces, some awestruck, others wiping away tears, all hanging on his every move. The weight of their attention pressed against him, a tangible force in the otherwise silent ballroom.
"That's not the shapeeeeee~
The shape of my heart~"
As his voice faded, the outro instrumental took over.
Brandon stood still, guitar hanging loosely in his hands, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
The audience remained silent, entranced by the lingering notes.
In the crowd, Joyce dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Devon sat motionless, his usual bravado replaced by a look of awe.
Even Gerald Sinclair, despite his earlier animosity, found himself leaning forward in his seat, grudgingly impressed.
The instrumental continued to play, its haunting melody washing over the crowd.
Some swayed gently, eyes closed, lost in the music. Others exchanged glances of shared amazement, unable to put into words the emotions Brandon's performance had stirred within them.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath, charged with the lingering emotions of Brandon's performance.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
No one dared to break the spell that had been cast over the audience.
Brandon stood motionless on the stage, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. His eyes, still glistening with the raw emotion of his song, scanned the sea of faces before him.
The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.
Then, like a dam bursting, the crowd erupted.
A thunderous wave of applause crashed through the ballroom.
Brandon blinked, momentarily overwhelmed by the sudden cacophony of cheers and whistles.
"Bravo!" someone shouted from the back.
"WOOO~!"
"Encore! ENCORE! ENCORE!" cried another voice, quickly joined by a chorus of similar requests.
Near the front, Joyce jumped to her feet, her eyes shining with tears.
"That was bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed, clapping furiously.
Beside her, Devon nodded vigorously.
"That was STRAIGHT FIRE!!!" he called out, his earlier awe transformed into excitement.
Even the usually composed Elise found herself caught up in the moment.
"Incredible," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din, but her eyes locked with Brandon's, conveying volumes.
Pierre, grinning from ear to ear, cupped his hands around his mouth.
"That's my boy!" he shouted proudly.
The crowd's excitement seemed to feed on itself, growing louder with each passing moment.
"13! 13! 13!"
The chant started somewhere in the middle of the audience and quickly spread, filling the ballroom with its rhythmic cadence.
Brandon stood there, guitar in hand, a mix of emotions playing across his face as he took in the overwhelming response.
The spotlight still shone on him, illuminating the slight sheen of sweat on his brow and the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.