The Greatest Showman #872 - Weird Habits

New York, after the cold wave, was quiet at midnight. The wet streets, the heavy night, and the towering, silent buildings gave everything a strange, almost eerie feel. Yet, Rooney Mara couldn't calm the unease inside her.

The concert, One Person's Concert, had ended an hour ago, but as she closed her eyes, fragments of melodies kept swirling in her mind, endlessly, refusing to leave. She turned her head in the empty new apartment. Boxes were neatly stacked, waiting to be unpacked, but Rooney had no urge to do anything about it. After a long pause, she grabbed her coat and left.

After Christmas, she had made the decision to leave Los Angeles and move to New York.

Rooney's family was deeply embedded in the East Coast elite—her grandfather owned the New York Giants, and her maternal grandfather had founded the Pittsburgh Steelers. So, when she decided to pursue acting, she initially moved to Los Angeles, drawn by the sunny, bustling movie industry. But after six years of ups and downs, including the rise of The Social Network, she grew tired of LA.

The art scenes in both cities were strikingly similar, filled with the same industry rules and vanity. But compared to LA's flashiness and pace, New York felt more genuine, raw, and artistic. It still held a sanctuary for real creativity. And so, Rooney returned. Three days ago, she officially moved back, but instead of opting for the more glamorous parts of New York like Long Island or the Upper East Side, she chose a more grounded, eclectic, and vibrant area—Greenwich Village.

Just two days after her return, the One Person's Concert news broke.

Renly Hall. The actor who had talked about Telluride nights. The one who mused quietly on Seattle's streets. The same actor who had missed the Oscars for a film, only to shave his head afterward. She couldn't help but feel a strange mix of curiosity, skepticism, and intrigue. After recalling the casual conversation the two had shared, she decided to see it for herself.

Coincidentally, on the night of the 16th, a party was being thrown at her place, with several high-profile guests. It was the perfect excuse for her to slip away. So, early in the morning, she lined up to buy tickets at Madison Square Garden.

As she stood in line, Rooney imagined what the concert would be like—the staging, the atmosphere, Renly singing and dancing on stage. To be honest, her ideas were somewhat comical, and it turned out, she was completely wrong. The actual concert far exceeded her expectations. The aura, the style, the music... all struck a deep chord in her. The melodies played on repeat in her mind. They were imprinted in her soul, turning moments into eternity.

She pulled on her earphones and started playing Don Quixote—the album. The first track, "Cleopatra," filled her ears with its lively melody. She could almost picture the audience of 20,000 applauding in unison, their energy matching the intensity of a meteor shower. Even the stars in the sky couldn't compare.

That night, she bought the album digitally. But now, she wanted to get her hands on a physical copy. She wondered if the touch of the real album would feel any different.

Rooney wandered the streets for a few blocks, hoping to find a record store open at this hour. But after a fruitless search, her eyes landed on a supermarket. With a small glimmer of hope, she entered and made her way to the section selling albums and books. There it was. She found it.

The cover was exactly as she had imagined, and yet, it was somehow different. The album was tucked away, hidden behind a bulletin board—Renly Hall, a secret code waiting to be discovered by fans of Don Quixote.

She smiled. She loved little details like this. As both a singer and an actor, Renly was truly unique. At just 22, how did he have the whole world in his head? It reminded her of the feeling she had when reading One Hundred Years of Solitude—a constant sense of curiosity and awe, always exploring.

As "Budapest" started playing on her earphones, Rooney found herself unconsciously standing on tiptoe, swaying and dancing lightly, as if caught in the magic of Budapest itself. Even though she was wearing just a white T-shirt, jeans, and canvas sneakers, she felt as if she were twirling in a flowing skirt, her smile rising naturally.

The supermarket was silent at this hour, but it wasn't empty. The hum of daily life—tea, rice, oil, salt—was comforting. Perhaps it was the supermarket, or maybe the music, or a combination of both, but Rooney felt her restlessness slowly ebb away. She realized her new apartment still felt empty, and yet, here she was in the aisles of a supermarket, trying to distract herself from the void. She shrugged it off and decided to shop.

She filled her cart with toiletries, cleaning supplies, and daily necessities—no time for food, just essentials. As she passed the cleaning supplies aisle, she realized she'd forgotten laundry detergent.

"Huh," Rooney mumbled, pushing the cart quickly toward the aisle. Her feet left the ground as she sprinted forward, humming a moving tune, as if once again caught in the concert's energy. But then, joy gave way to a sudden jolt.

As she rounded the corner into the laundry detergent aisle, she saw someone sitting cross-legged on the floor, his cart pushed aside to leave space. She was moving too fast to slow down, and before she could control the cart, it collided with his.

"Sorry, really sorry!" she exclaimed, flashing an apologetic grin.

The young man, sitting cross-legged, didn't seem upset. Instead, he politely moved his cart to the side, and Rooney gave him a grateful smile.

She made her way to the shelf, ready to choose detergent, but then came the dilemma. All the bottles looked the same, yet different. She stared, momentarily unsure.

"Do you need a little help?" came a voice from behind.

Startled, Rooney nodded, "Oh, that would be great."

She took out her earphones, lifted her head, and was taken aback. Before her stood a young man with bright eyes, a subtle smile on his lips—Renly. Her initial shock was mirrored in his expression. Neither of them had expected to run into each other here, in this aisle, in the middle of the night.

After a beat of silence, Rooney joked, "I need to know which laundry detergent is gentle enough on the hands. You know, there's this chemical that can dry out your skin."

Renly smiled back, playing along, "Thanks for the reminder, I had forgotten that you're a woman."

Their eyes locked for a moment, both suppressing smiles. It felt like they were looking at their own reflections in a mirror.

After a brief pause, Rooney's gaze dropped to the earplugs in her hands. She tilted her head thoughtfully and said, "Thank you for the performance tonight. It was unforgettable. Honestly, I'm starting to think you might be a better singer than an actor."

She was joking, but her tone was sincere. She wanted to see how Renly would react, especially after the magical experience of the concert.

Renly's eyes flickered as if pondering her words. "Should I take that as a compliment? Or are you regretting your decision to buy a movie ticket after tonight's show?"

Rooney laughed at the absurdity of his response, her lips curling into a smile.

"The humor was a bit off, wasn't it?" Renly asked, clearly self-aware.

She laughed harder but nodded, agreeing, "Yeah, definitely."

"Can I try again?" Renly's voice was filled with playful sincerity.

Rooney covered her face with her hands, laughing so hard that it hurt. "Alright, alright. Let's change the subject. Did you enjoy the concert tonight?"

She pulled her hands away, her cheeks flushed with mirth. "You do realize how abrupt this change of topic is, right?"

Renly raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm not in the best shape today either, right?"

Rooney's eyes sparkled with humor. "Yes, anyone who's given such an incredible performance would be exhausted by now."

"Oh no," Renly replied, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. I meant, it's not a date night. I wasn't prepared for romance—I left my sense of humor at home."

Rooney's eyes lingered on the corner of Renly's mouth. He caught her gaze, and for a moment, there was a shared, silent understanding between them—like two conspirators in a secret.