As the tidal wave of cheers continued crashing through the venue, Jonathan made his way toward the stage.
The members of 4 of Scones barely had time to react before he started pulling them into tight bro hugs one by one.
And each hug was genuine.
Each one came with a heartfelt thank you.
A sincere acknowledgment of the effort they'd poured into the performance.
The six were surprised at first.
Then they immediately hugged him back with equal enthusiasm.
Nikola was first.
And somehow, despite this being their very first meeting, he hugged Jonathan like they'd known each other for years.
Like they'd already shared several questionable life decisions together.
Mikko came next.
And, naturally, he matched the energy.
By the end of the hug, they looked less like strangers and more like long-lost friends who had accidentally been separated at birth.
Isaac was a little shy.
A little hesitant.
But his hug was warm and sincere.
The kind that spoke louder than words.
Nox was calm as ever.
Cool as a cucumber.
The hug felt less like meeting someone new and more like finding a kindred spirit you'd somehow misplaced.
Then came Louie.
As Louie hugged him back, Jonathan leaned closer and whispered:
"Nice abs."
Louie immediately choked on his own spit.
The poor man barely managed a raspy:
"Thanks."
Which only made the entire interaction infinitely funnier.
And finally came Leo.
Whose hug lasted approximately half a second.
It was as though the gamer gremlin lurking inside him had detected excessive wholesomeness and immediately initiated an emergency retreat.
Jonathan was lucky he got a hug at all.
The entire moment was filled with laughter.
Smiles.
And the kind of warmth that couldn't be faked.
Then Jonathan glanced around the stage.
"Now where's my most adorable and beloved little brother?" he called out. "Come out here, little bread!"
The crowd laughed.
And from backstage, Foca finally emerged.
The second Jonathan saw him, he crossed the distance between them and immediately wrapped him in a tight embrace.
No hesitation.
No holding back.
Just love.
Pure and simple.
"Words aren't enough to express how much I love and appreciate your gift for me, Ha-," Jonathan said quietly, his voice low enough that only Foca could hear.
The emotion behind the words was unmistakable.
And the fact that Jonathan had used Foca's real name made it even more meaningful.
It wasn't a joke.
It wasn't teasing.
It wasn't one of Jonathan's usual antics.
It was simply a brother speaking from the heart.
"Happy wedding anniversary, Jonathan. Love you."
Foca gently patted his brother's back as he returned the hug.
"I love you more, little bro."
For a moment, neither of them let go.
And honestly?
I love this.
Absolutely adore it.
The fact that these two siblings can openly tell each other "I love you" without acting embarrassed about it.
Without treating affection like it's some forbidden ancient ritual.
Normalize 👏 saying 👏 I love you 👏 to 👏 your 👏 family 👏
Seriously.
Some people will tell their friends they love them.
Tell their partners they love them.
Tell complete strangers on the internet they love them.
Yet suddenly become allergic to saying it to their parents or siblings.
Make it make sense.
Why wait until someone's lying in a hospital bed?
Why wait until it's almost too late?
Why save those words for emergencies?
You have the time now.
You have the people now.
Use the words now.
And if somebody thinks that's cringe?
That's their problem.
Not yours.
Because at the end of the day, being remembered as someone who loved their family openly sounds a whole lot better than being remembered as someone who worried too much about looking cool.
****
Anyway, back to the story.
The brothers never really broke apart completely.
Jonathan simply kept one arm hooked around Foca's shoulders, refusing to let his little brother escape.
Right on cue, a backstage technician hurried onto the stage and handed Jonathan a microphone.
"Everyone!" Jonathan called out enthusiastically. "Once again, let's hear it for these six incredible young men and for my beloved baby brother!"
The venue immediately erupted into another thunderous round of applause.
The members of 4 of Scones bowed together in perfect unison.
Beside them, Foca wore a soft smile filled with gratitude and quiet happiness.
Facing the crowd, he simply said:
"Thank you."
And somehow those two words carried all the sincerity in the world.
Eventually, the applause settled.
Jonathan raised the microphone once more.
"And this," he began, gesturing toward the performers, "is exactly why tonight's cause matters."
The room quieted.
"These six young men and my baby brother have just reminded all of us how important the arts truly are."
He swept his hand toward the audience.
"When you donate to this cause, you're investing in future artists. Future musicians. Future performers. Future storytellers."
"The people who will bring us entertainment."
"Joy."
"Inspiration."
"The people who will add color to our otherwise corporate, monochrome lives."
A few chuckles rippled through the audience.
Jonathan nodded.
"Some people might say tonight's cause isn't important."
"'It's just the arts,' they'll say."
"'There are more practical things to support.'"
He paused dramatically.
Then pointed at the audience.
"But let me ask you something."
"Has your quarterly report ever made you jump out of your chair and start dancing?"
The audience laughed.
"Has your email inbox ever brought you pure, unfiltered joy?"
More laughter.
"If your answer is yes, then respectfully, there is something deeply wrong with you."
The laughter became louder.
"Because no sane person wakes up excited to spend eight straight hours handling clients, attending meetings that could've been emails, staring at spreadsheets, and wondering why half the office printer's functions remain a mystery to modern science."
Even more laughter.
"Let's be honest."
"We all need an escape from the exhausting cycle of everyday life."
"And whether people want to admit it or not, many of those escapes come from the arts."
"We listen to music."
"We play video games."
"We read books."
"We watch movies."
"We binge television shows."
"We enjoy incredible food."
"The arts are woven into our daily lives far more than most people realize."
A wave of nods spread throughout the venue.
Then Jonathan smiled.
The dangerous kind.
The smile that suggested he was about to do something.
And judging by Foca's immediate expression of concern, his brother recognized that smile too.
"And while we're being honest..."
Jonathan paused.
"I'm going to make an announcement."
Foca immediately narrowed his eyes.
That never boded well.
"I'm personally funding the music video for the song my baby brother wrote in my honor and these six young men performed so beautifully tonight."
Silence.
For exactly one second.
Then six heads and one brother snapped toward Jonathan so quickly it looked choreographed.
"Wha...?" Foca managed.
For perhaps the first time all evening, he was completely speechless.
Jonathan merely smirked.
"I won't be taking no for an answer, baby bro."
The tone was light.
The decision was not.
"Holy fuck."
Nikola and Mikko spoke in perfect unison.
Apparently sharing a single brain cell remained one of their greatest talents.
Even Nox looked surprised.
Which was impressive.
The man was usually as emotionally stable as a mountain.
Because unlike most people in the room, Nox knew exactly how absurdly wealthy Jonathan actually was.
Jonathan casually turned toward Foca.
"I was thinking Athens, Rome, Rio, Berlin, and Alabama for the shooting locations."
He listed the destinations the same way normal people discussed lunch options.
As though international travel costs were a minor inconvenience.
As though booking flights across multiple continents was equivalent to ordering takeout.
"Holy shit!"
This time Nikola and Mikko were joined by Louie, Leo, and even Nox.
A feat so rare it deserved documentation.
Isaac, meanwhile, remained true to himself.
"Oh my Lord!"
The sheer sincerity in his voice somehow made the reaction even funnier.
Because while everyone else was busy questioning reality...
Isaac was questioning reality politely.
****
And then, completely out of nowhere, Vincent de Clairmontin rose from his seat.
The patriarch's timing was impeccable.
Almost suspiciously so.
"Is that all you're giving your brother?" Vincent asked.
The venue immediately fell silent.
The old man folded his arms.
"A brother who carefully and sincerely created a song inspired by you?"
He shook his head.
"I have to say, Jonathan."
A dramatic pause.
"I'm rather disappointed."
The entire venue collectively blinked.
Then Pearl stood.
"Yeah."
Alexandrite stood beside her.
And nodded.
A terrifying development.
Because Alexandrite rarely stood up for anything.
"How can you be so stingy?" Pearl asked.
"Are you going broke or something?"
Alexandrite nodded again.
Offering his full scholarly endorsement to the accusation.
Jonathan stared.
Once.
Twice.
Then pointed accusingly at all three of them.
Absolutely not.
He was having one of the best days of his life.
He wasn't about to let his family hijack the moment.
"My beloved father and siblings," Jonathan said.
"I love you all."
A pause.
"Respectfully."
Another pause.
"Fuck off."
The venue gasped.
Several people nearly swallowed their own tongues.
A few attendees looked ready to witness a public execution.
Because surely...
Surely...
One could not tell the great Vincent de Clairmontin to fuck off in public and survive.
But those who actually knew the family?
They were already laughing.
Because this wasn't disrespect.
This was communication.
The De Clairmontin family had spent years trying to one-up each other whenever Foca was involved.
Who loved him the most?
Who spoiled him the most?
Who could give him the best gift?
It was less a sibling rivalry and more an ongoing Olympic event.
Jonathan pointed dramatically.
"This is my moment."
He pointed at Vincent.
"Don't take this away from me."
He pointed at Pearl.
"Especially you."
Then Alexandrite.
"You too, you sleepy potato."
Alexandrite looked mildly offended.
Which, for him, was equivalent to a dramatic emotional outburst.
Then suddenly...
Jonathan froze.
Because across the room, Leonor had narrowed her eyes.
Every Filipino child knew that look.
It transcended age.
It transcended social status.
It transcended wealth.
It was universal.
Jonathan immediately straightened.
"Sorry, Mom."
The apology arrived with record-breaking speed.
"But your husband and your other two children are bullying me."
The audience nearly got whiplash.
Moments ago they had been watching industry titans.
Powerful business leaders.
Respected figures.
People whose names carried enormous weight.
Now they were watching a family argument unfold in real time.
A very normal family argument.
And somehow that made it even more entertaining.
Because many people only ever saw the wealth.
The prestige.
The influence.
They assumed money was the entire personality.
But moments like these revealed something different.
They weren't just the De Clairmontins.
They were a family.
An absurd family.
But a family nonetheless.
Nearby, Foca simply shook his head while quietly laughing to himself.
This was hardly surprising.
His family had been professionally embarrassing one another for years.
Then Odette stood.
A shocking development.
A historic development.
Possibly a once-in-a-generation event.
"For once," she said calmly, "I'm taking my husband's side."
Jonathan's head snapped toward her.
"Wait. Really?"
The genuine shock in his voice was almost touching.
"But you always take my family's side."
He looked genuinely emotional.
"You never take mine."
Odette rolled her eyes fondly.
"The song was heavily inspired by you."
Then she turned toward her in-laws.
"Let him have this one, guys."
Vincent considered this.
Slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Then sighed.
"If my daughter-in-law says so..."
Another sigh.
"Perhaps I shall allow you this little victory."
A pause.
"Considering how rare they are."
The room exploded.
"DAAAAAAYYYYUUUUMMMM!"
Several of Jonathan's friends doubled over laughing.
"Call 911!"
"I just witnessed a murder!"
"Absolute cinema, Uncle Vincent!"
The audience roared.
Vincent huffed proudly.
Clearly pleased with himself.
Then he felt it.
A chill.
A primal warning.
A disturbance in the force.
Very slowly, he turned his head.
Leonor was looking at him.
Not glaring.
Somehow worse.
The Look.
Every member of the De Clairmontin family knew The Look.
Its translation was simple.
Behave.
Or else.
Or else what?
Nobody knew.
Nobody wanted to know.
History had taught them that a petite Filipina mother's wrath was not to be tested.
One never knew when a slipper might achieve terminal velocity.
Vincent immediately cleared his throat.
Sat down.
And reclaimed what dignity remained.
Pearl and Alexandrite followed suit.
Wise decision.
"It's okay, Jonathan," Foca said, patting his brother's arm. "We love you. That's what matters."
Jonathan immediately looked ready to cry.
"You're the only one who understands me, little bread."
The mock tears returned.
The audience laughed.
And somewhere along the way, everyone realized something.
The Sparrow Charity Ball had become far more entertaining than anyone had expected.
People had arrived anticipating speeches.
Donations.
Networking.
Perhaps some polite entertainment.
Instead, they had received a concert.
A family comedy.
An emotional reunion.
And what was rapidly becoming a public competition to determine who loved Foca the most.
Frankly?
The night was exceeding expectations.