They weren't particularly good [i]live[/i] despite how happy Ryan had been with the record. He'd been playing guitar and writing longer than he sang, so he didn't sound very strong when he had to, dropped his voice too quiet when he wasn't completely focused. It's not that he was a bad singer, not at all; when you touched on the subjects his band's lyrics tended toward, you needed a confident voice to accompany it. Ryan couldn't even muster up the courage to ask servers for extra condiments, or something, so it was even more difficult to put on a convincing show without the editing "prowess" of Spencer in a rented-out recording studio. Thankfully the theatrics of it all helped get them by without being, like, pelted with tomatoes, and he was at least not as weak sounding as he was at the first show. At the time he wasn't familiar with the acoustics of a room and whether a crowd of people affected it and exactly how far his mouth should be from the mic and - well. Basically he'd matured, forcibly, in a very short amount of time, although he still felt fifteen and powerless. Funny how that worked.

It'd been on their to-do list to put together a real band before the first tour, and they had actually gotten through plenty of trials and interviews. Very few bass players fit the sound they needed. Even fewer got along with them individually. More importantly, they knew Ryan couldn't keep on singing - too late for the first record but for the next one they'd be ten times better, if they found the right person. He was kind of in denial about it, though, pushing aside Spencer's suggestions and his invitations to the studio while they heard applicants, until he realized he was being an asshole. Then Ryan was actually at terms with their (more accurately, his) shortcomings and he participated in giving everyone that came in a solid 'maybe, we'll call you,' still taking lessons on the side. Thank god the label funded these things; they'd have starved to death by now or had to move into Ryan's car, which wouldn't do much for their image.

It got a little easier to ignore the more than slight distinction between the album and the live performances with each night, but that was probably unfair to people who'd only come to one show. As such, they overcompensated. The songs were instrument-heavy, and the sound guys deliberately lowered his volume in favor of the guitar. Visually they'd tried to hang on-theme decor up and at least slightly dress accordingly; Ryan swore by a very homeless French boy look, Spencer refused to do anything in particular besides a button-up and eyeliner, Jon did not participate whatsoever. Their instruments all fit the scheme of the record's cover as well, and maybe it wasn't exactly perfect, but they'd stumbled their way this far. No regrets now. And besides - there was still that vision he could execute when they got their shit together a little more. Not that the first-time stumbly band stuff wasn't totally building character, but Ryan was truly sick of watching YouTube tutorials on how to use all the new equipment again like, an hour before they were meant to go on.

Sometimes he wondered if letting individual audience members into that unplanned, clumsy mess if only for a few seconds was unfair. Maybe they should've just handed out packets full of lyrics, real elementary school classroom-like. Other times, he knew someone who [i]wanted[/i] to be here from just a look. Not someone just trying to get out of the house, or to drink in the back and not pay them any mind, or those who had nothing better to do and managed to land a cheap ticket - someone who knew them and who waited for their show date and took ridiculous commutes to get there. They were too young in their career for anything too serious in those terms, probably, except for the first couple hundred who happened upon his online demos and stuck around since then. Ryan had no idea what category of people who deliberately got here, full intention, that this guy fit into, but he wore it well. He had energy still despite keeping up with every song before, was probably sweating more than the band, hadn't broken away as far as Ryan could tell. All this mixed in with just generally being [i]cute[/i], well. The split-second choice of who to share the mic with wasn't hard to make.

Ryan usually let them do their thing however long they wanted, probably make their friends laugh by saying something definitely not lyrical, so he awaited whatever show his new favorite audience member was going to put on - and simultaneously prayed that he didn't have debilitating participation anxiety. It seemed that way for a second, him frozen and Ryan grinning encouragingly behind the lyrics, but he practically sprung into action to finish the chorus. Ryan's grip on the microphone went slack but he just sort of hovered in the same position, completely caught off guard. It wasn't just that he sounded great objectively but Ryan was briefly not so sure he'd even written his own lyrics anymore. Like, he was nervous to sing some lines, and it was audible. This fan he'd never said a word to before, however, grasped them entirely, lilted and perfected whatever key he sang in to fit the storyline of [i]Build God[/i]. Ryan was torn between just being purely impressed and envy. The former sounded a little more healthy.

The chorus ended and Ryan held his gaze, kind of not even wanting the mic back, because now he was very interested. His nerves disappeared, it seemed like, able to focus on the singer rather than the uproar of the rest of the audience trying to voice their approval and sing with him at the same time. Whoever he was, though, he deserved an arena, not some shitty half-bar half-stage scene, to cheer him on. It went too quickly and Ryan almost wanted to just let him keep it, come on stage and join the band, would you, but this wasn't the best timing. Suddenly it was reality again, and while his bandmates and the crowd covered the prolonged 'yeah,' he struggled to express to the clearly exhilerated fan that that was the best thing ever and now he didn't know what to do with himself. Instead of talking underneath all the noise like he fully intended to, feeling the start of words but not hearing them, he just opted to give him the most bewildered, delighted expression he could. Not hard to do when it was pretty genuine, actually. 

[b]"[i]And- not to mention...[/i]"[/b] Ryan got back up quickly, already trying to breeze past it by giving the same look to his bandmates, and was firmly stuck in his head for the rest of the song, basically. Here were the facts: they needed a singer, that just happened, someone practically fell into their lap. Unknown: was he already in a band, was he single, who was he interested in... That wasn't quite directly correlated to the band, but. Priorities. He was [i]very[/i] cute even when he looked like he just got off a gigantic rollercoaster - especially then, actually, and holy fuck, it was [i]raindrops on roses[/i] and Ryan had to consciously stop wondering how he'd go about finding this guy afterward and instead get through the very intense guitar parts. No problem, that, but his voice still shook slightly towards the end of [i]Build God[/i], and he could see it now. Someone with certainty doing that instead; it'd be nice.

Ryan didn't give his full attention to the farewells, either, meandering to the very edge of the stage with everyone who worked on the show trailing unceremoniously behind them just to give a bow. It took him no time to put on his uncharacteristic stage voice. [b]"Thank you for believing in us! Before we say goodnight - round of applause for the brave soldier who took on my lyrics, yeah? Thank you."[/b] He wanted to go all Ellen and jump back down and hold up his mic, "what's your name," "when are you getting signed," but he didn't. Instead he laughed behind the sound of the last cheers and whistles and hoped some random strangers showered him with the compliments he couldn't just shout over. Ryan and his bandmates hurried off to avoid feeling the wrath of the building owner, not bothering to fit in a shower or anything before carrying whatever equipment they could grab and fitting it into the storage hooked up to their kind of dingy van. 

Considering that was up to crew and Ryan kind of wanted to recalibrate in the coolness of the outside air, though, he just leaned against the side of the van, taking off layers until he was in a v-neck and could rub at the shadow on his eyelids to smudge it around. They weren't quite so far in their career where people might actively look to meet them unless they happened upon the band at the bar, or something. Nevertheless, all three band members sprung to action when a little group came round, Jon and Spencer moving ahead to greet them while Ryan hung back, let them test the waters first.