Things Didn't Work Out

….

27 Days Later.

June 3th, 2010.

.

Regal walked out of a commercial building.

Behind him, Keanu trailed with a scowl etched on his face. He kicked his leg off in the air as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Those bastards… to think they reject us without even a proper reason?" He growled in deep annoyance.

Regal continued to walk ahead, seemingly unbothered, but his bent back gave away his slight disappointment.

"Want a Coke?" He stopped reaching a parking section and spotted a free bench and a vending machine in a corner.

Keanu also stopped in his tracks. "....sure." - then sighed and moved towards the bench.

Responsively, Regal inserted a handful of coins into the machine, retrieved two cans of drinks, and settled himself beside Keanu, passing one to him.

Both men didn't speak any words and unplugged the drink and gulped down a couple of sips.

After a minute of silence, Keanu probed. "Seriously Regal. It surprises me how you act as if it was no big deal."

Regal responded. "This is my movie, man. I poured everything into it. Trust me, I am not exactly chill about this either."

It was nearly their third week of distribution hunting, which had started the very next day after seven straight days of completing the editing work.

In these twenty days, this marked their ninth rejection from a company.

Four companies hadn't even bothered giving them time to speak, let alone watch the film. One skimmed it, and two walked away halfway through the meeting and said the idea was trash, dismissing them away.

And this last one?

They stayed the whole meeting and even seemed a little invested looking at the script and a few clips, and that's exactly why Keanu was even more disappointed and couldn't understand why they rejected it with such nonchalance.

It seemed more than a rejection - it was plain ignorance towards them, which he started only understanding recently.

No-name filmmakers like Regal weren't supposed to come knocking with a finished product, expecting distribution.

Aspiring directors were expected to slog through the ranks - work as assistants, gain experience, write scripts, take notes, and jump through hoops.

Skipping those steps?

It was an unspoken insult to the gatekeepers of the industry.

Keanu sighed, cracking open his can.

He glanced at Regal, who stood finishing his drink and staring in the direction of the company they had just left, his face oddly blank.

"Hey, come on, boy." He reached out and gave Regal's hair a quick ruffle, like comforting a sulking kid. "If it's not Pixy Studios, it will be someone else. Don't let this get to you."

Regal blinked and pulled back, smirking faintly. "Right, because you were the one throwing a tantrum a minute ago."

Keanu shrugged, taking a sip. "It's called emotional versatility."

Regal snorted, finally cracking a small smile. "Emotional versatility, my ass. Drink your Coke."

Keanu chuckled, doing the same as he lifted his to sip the drink, he caught something in Regal's eyes, causing him to roll his eyes in amusement.

For all his failed attempts, Regal was unaffected.

Whatever was brewing inside him wasn't sadness or disappointment - it was something sharper.

Something resolute.

BuZZ-!

Just then Keanu and Regal both felt their phones buzz simultaneously, their respective ringtones breaking the brief silence.

In unison, they reached into their pockets to check the caller IDs.

Keanu's face darkened the moment he saw the name on the screen, tension creasing his features, and similarly Regal revealed a subtle but noticeable shift, a faint lift in his expression.

However, Keanu was far too preoccupied with his inner turmoil to pick up on Regal's reaction.

The name flashing on Keanu's phone was his girlfriend's.

Just yesterday, he had been boasting to her about this meeting, throwing around phrases like 'it's practically a done deal' and 'all that's left is the signature'.

Now, with the meeting nowhere near what he had hoped, he could already imagine the fallout if he confessed the truth.

The thought alone sent a chill down his spine.

Determined to avoid both embarrassment in front of his future brother-in-law and the inevitable wrath of his girlfriend, Keanu hastily muttered.

"You just take the call. Good luck." He stepped aside, putting some distance between himself and Regal.

Regal gave a slight nod, acknowledging the excuse without much thought, and turned his attention to his own phone.

Still seated on the bench, he let his gaze drift across the road to the bold, unmistakable sign of the distribution company he had just walked out of.

The memory of the meeting lingered briefly, tinged with unresolved thoughts, but the vibrating phone in his hand demanded his attention.

-tut!

"What's up..." Regal said, his tone casual as he answered the call.

["I should be the one asking that."] Came the quick reply, a hint of amusement lacing Gwendolyn's voice.

Regal paused briefly before replying. "Things didn't work out."

As if on cue, she chimed in, smoothly finishing his sentence. ["...for them, I suppose."]

"Yep, definitely for them." Regal echoed with a chuckle, appreciating her effortless way of lightening his mood.

The words weren't exactly Gwendolyn's style, they felt more like something Regal himself would say or think.

Their conversation continued for a few exchanges, the mood lightening with each word. By the time the call ended, Regal had regained some of his composure.

"Yeah... see you." He said, ending the call and slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Meanwhile, Keanu remained on his own call, his voice low and sharp as he tried to manage the conversation with a hissing emergency - he went as far as to cup the phone with both hands for added discretion.

Regal glanced at him briefly and shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he leaned back on the bench.

In truth, he was somewhat optimistic about his entire 'distribution' concept, despite all the emphasis he made on the job's difficulty.

It wasn't just blind hope, it was rooted in the new title he had recently acquired.

Not in the game teams or his system's new feature.

No, his title as an author.

…and not just any author, but a successful one.

Yet, as days went on, he began to wonder if he had been deluding himself.

All his new title was only worth sparing an extra second glance at him before dismissing it.

Sure, it helped open a few doors, sometimes making initial meetings marginally easier.

But more often than not, conversations inevitably veered toward his book, discussions of sales, popularity, or even requests for rights rather than his distribution ideas.

It grated on his nerves.

Lost in thought, Regal was pulled back to the present by Keanu's return. He approached with the weariness of a soldier who had barely survived a long and grueling battle.

"Someone is getting chewed out, it seems..." Regal remarked smirkingly.

Keanu shot him a withering look, his frustration clear. He wasn't getting any sympathy here either.

"Anyway, I am hungry." Regal said abruptly, springing to his feet with a sudden burst of energy that startled Keanu.

The shift was jarring, but Keanu was happy.

"Okay, let's eat something. My treat." Keanu offered.

"Now that's what I am talking about." Regal chuckled, already walking off ahead.

Keanu stood there for a moment, watching the younger man's back as he strode ahead. A humbling sensation stirred within him.

Regal was younger than him, yet his composure and determination were something else.

He wasn't just patient - he was methodical, willing to take the long route if it meant achieving his goals.

It stirred something in Keanu.

He wasn't just frustrated anymore - he was impressed.

More than that, he felt a growing urge to protect the quiet resolve Regal carried, to do whatever he could to help him succeed.

….

Pixy Studio.

Inside an office on the second floor of the building.

An aged man leaned back in his swivel chair, rocking it with lazy precision.

A small desk nameplate in front of him read: Brad Carter - Script Review Coordinator.

His position wasn't a top-tier one, but one that definitely gave him the authority to reject projects on behalf of the company.

Brad's expression was one of deep contemplation and smugness as he stared at the now-empty seats.

"That movie is going to work." Brad's voice broke towards his assistant, John.

?!!.. John, standing behind him, froze, blinking in confusion.

He stared up at his higher employer, unable to mask his bewilderment. If the movie was going to work, why reject it?

"Sir…?"

.

….

[To be continued…]

★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★

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