The Greatest Showman - #716: No Home

Between moments.

The Hall family reunited for the first time in two years, but it was a fleeting encounter. From meeting to parting, only two minutes passed. The strangers who crossed paths at the party shared nearly the same level of detachment. Yet, in that brief two-minute conversation, there was so much unsaid. It began with a subtle back-and-forth regarding Renly's acting career, followed by an unspoken challenge for the upcoming winter season.

In front of the public, under the scrutiny of countless curious eyes, the encounter revealed much. Anyone with a keen sense could see that the youngest Hall son was a thorn in the side of his family, embarrassing George and Elizabeth. His presence, seemingly a subtle but deliberate affront, wounded the Hall family's dignity.

After nearly two years of disappearing from London's high society, everyone assumed Renly had been cast out—perhaps banished to Sicily or the Scottish Highlands to live a forgotten, lonely life. The Hall family's actions suggested this narrative, and for a time, it was believed true.

But two years later, Renly returned—not as a pariah, but with dignity and strength. As a Hollywood actor, even a commercial one, he commanded respect, though some might not call it an achievement. Yet, over time, his presence morphed into something more: he was gradually seen as an artist, earning admiration.

Perhaps not an entirely fitting description, but it was impossible to ignore the comparison to the Count of Monte Cristo—someone returning with a thirst for vengeance and a renewed sense of purpose. However, Renly wasn't pretending to be someone else; he didn't hide behind a mask of aristocratic airs. He simply stood before the world once more.

What a show it was.

In that short, two-minute interaction, the upper-class crowd found their entertainment for the next month. Every glance, every word, every gesture was analyzed and discussed from countless perspectives.

Even more thrilling, this was just the beginning.

The youngest Hall son had clearly made a name for himself in Hollywood. If his career continued to thrive, the scar on the Hall family's public image would only grow, increasingly impossible to hide.

Eventually, the story would reach its conclusion. Perhaps the East would triumph, with George and Elizabeth finding a way to sever all ties between Renly and the British upper crust. Or perhaps the West would win, with Renly becoming an acclaimed artist, a figure of stature recognized by the nobility. In time, he might even be revered like Wolfgang Mozart, the object of fascination for aristocrats.

The tale was eerily familiar, evoking the themes of The Moon and Sixpence.

How would the Hall family's drama end? Whispers later revealed that their story was far from simple. Elf, the doctor; Arthur, who had connections across Europe; Edith, the official photographer for the United Nations—this family, it seemed, was ripe for further gossip.

Renly had come in quickly, made his mark, and left just as swiftly. But unlike Elf's return last year, which had caught them off guard, George and Elizabeth had truly seemed cornered. Their eyes and words held a layer of real emotion, evident even in full view of the public. It was a rare moment of vulnerability.

After the encounter, George and Elizabeth would likely sleep in separate rooms, saying nothing to each other. Their anger would remain unspoken, cold, but clearly felt.

They didn't leave the party immediately, not wanting to appear embarrassed. Instead, they lingered, engaging in social pleasantries as if the earlier exchange had been nothing more than a private family matter. Around 8:35, they finally departed.

After they left, John, still somewhat confused by the exchange, refocused on Renly and began talking about "Peter Pan." Eaton, the host, patted Renly on the shoulder with a knowing look and gestured that it was time to move on. He had guests to attend to.

Renly, sensing eyes on him, looked up and saw Arthur and Edith on the second-floor balcony.

Edith leaned against the railing, her amber whisky catching the light. Her smile was warm, and when she noticed Renly's gaze, she raised her glass in silent celebration. Arthur, more relaxed, gently swirled his drink, his narrowed eyes filled with curiosity. He whispered something to Edith, and they both chuckled.

Renly, unbothered, raised his own glass in response and returned to his conversation with John.

Yet, Edith couldn't shake the feeling that Renly had something more planned. "Arthur," she said, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "do you think Renly is plotting something? Why do I feel like we're being played?"

Arthur, still watching Renly, shrugged, a playful smile crossing his face. "No way. We haven't done anything. And besides, Renly will be too busy soon to worry about us."

But Edith wasn't so sure. They had witnessed quite the spectacle earlier, and Renly had noticed them when even George and Elizabeth hadn't.

Without further words, they both took a sip of their whisky, exchanged one last look, and quietly departed.

Renly didn't linger long. After speaking with John, he was greeted by familiar faces, particularly old classmates from Cambridge, a university known for its strong ties to the arts and entertainment world. The crowd was a mix of established figures and young upstarts eager to make connections.

Renly, with his rising star status in Hollywood, was a coveted figure at this event. "I made a Hollywood star" was always more impressive than "I made an earl," a fact that would be flaunted by partygoers long after the evening ended.

But Renly wasn't interested in staying late. At around 8:45, he excused himself and left.

Walking down the street after leaving Eaton's, Renly didn't hurry to call a taxi or find Richard. He strolled slowly, the wet streets beneath his feet echoing in the quiet night. The world felt eerily still—difficult to believe it was Saturday night and not yet nine o'clock.

In front of Arthur, he could relax; in front of George, he could stand firm; in front of Elizabeth, he could counter. Yet, in the coldness of it all, he never seemed bothered. Perhaps, deep down, he never saw this place as home—or maybe it once was, but no longer.

As he looked up at the dark sky, he thought of the stars of New York and Los Angeles, missing the California sunshine. The warm sea breeze, the laughter of young people, the roar of engines, the music of bars and nightclubs—it was all so lively, yet so lonely. So free.

He hummed the melody of a song he used to love, the words resonating in his mind:

"When we were born, we waited for death; we dreamed, but never won your approval; I have been trying, trying to soften our relationship, you are so perfect and yet so cruel, you say, all the love in the world can't be satisfied. Nothing can hurt me more than the truth."

He had worked so hard, tried so much, and wanted to make up for past regrets. Yet, after all the attempts, he still found himself disappointed, cold, and alone. The world was big, but there was nowhere to fit in.

"Honey, welcome back to my California home, you don't have to call, you can leave at any time, with an inner vision hanging over the bed, an unknown light shining in your eyes, I don't know, please tell me, because I want to know, do you still feel lonely?"

Are you still lonely?