The Greatest Showman #901 - Confidant is Enough

"Knock-knock, knock-knock," the hurried knocks on the door echoed through the streets in the dead of night, leaving almost no time for a response. One sound, followed by another, a continuous rapping that revealed the confusion and anxiety of the person at the door, disrupting the peaceful night with its ripples.

Nathan's pace quickened as he hurried to the door. When he opened it, he saw Paul Walker's concerned face.

"How's the situation now? How is he doing?" Paul's voice was strained, dry, and edged with panic.

Nathan wasn't sure how to respond. "... He's fine," he said, a little uncertain. After scratching his head in frustration, he added, "That's really it. He's fine."

Paul blinked, taken aback by the answer, and an absurd, dark humor flickered across his face. A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. Thinking about it, if Nathan had said that Renly was collapsing, Paul would've probably thought it was a prank.

Shaking his head, Paul asked, "Where is he? Is he asleep?"

Paul knew Renly was an avid sleeper. After hearing the news, he hadn't hesitated—he drove straight from Malibu. But now, standing at the door, he realized it was half past twelve. Renly could have already fallen asleep. "If he's asleep, I'll just come back tomorrow. What time is the plane tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure. Renly went back to his room a while ago. He's probably showering now. He shouldn't be asleep yet." Nathan stepped aside, motioning for Paul to come in. "His flight is at eleven-twenty-five tomorrow."

Paul nodded in understanding. He made his way to Renly's room, gesturing for Nathan to follow. The door creaked open, and warm orange light spilled out, revealing that Renly had not yet gone to bed.

The room was neat, but with scattered clothes—shirts and socks lay across the floor, and towels were haphazardly tossed around. The navy-blue color scheme of the bedroom gave it a calm, classic elegance, but it also felt oddly empty. Paul stepped lightly over the mess, making his way toward the balcony where Renly stood.

The faint light of the night outlined his figure—calm and still, with no sign of distress. The sharp curve of his chin, the firm shoulders, the straight spine—all exuded a calm composure. Yet, the cigarette in his hand remained unlit, tobacco falling from it like grains of sand, disappearing into the wind.

Renly's lowered eyelids betrayed a trace of sadness, a quiet loneliness that seemed to vanish as soon as it appeared.

Paul felt a pang of unfamiliarity. In a panic, he lowered his gaze, trying to hide the confusion that flickered in his eyes.

As an actor, Paul knew all too well how tough the media could be, and how hurtful online feedback could feel. Even for someone as low-key as him, the malicious comments were hard to stomach. But he couldn't begin to imagine the pressure Renly must have been under—dealing with an overwhelming flood of negative news and the shift from being adored to suddenly facing harsh judgment.

He could hardly imagine the pain of such a transformation. Looking at Renly's back, Paul struggled to look away.

A soft thud echoed as Paul's knees brushed the door frame. He stumbled slightly and caught Renly's gaze, meeting his eyes for a split second. A fleeting smile danced across Renly's face.

It was the same gentlemanly calm Paul was familiar with, but there was something else—something lost, like the quiet waves of the ocean reluctantly lapping at the shore before they receded, leaving only traces of their passing.

Paul felt discomfort rise in his chest. "Are you okay?" The question left his lips before he could stop it. The moment the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes in frustration. It was the worst opening line he could have chosen.

Renly met his gaze with a faint smile. "No, I'm not okay," he said with surprising bluntness.

Paul's eyes widened. "I know, I know..." he started, but the words caught in his throat. He stood there for a moment, at a loss for how to respond.

Renly sighed, the corners of his lips curling upward. "Paul, I'm not okay."

In his past life, Chu Jiashu had kept everything inside, burdened by his mother's struggles. No one had been there for him to talk to. He buried his feelings, silently shouldering the weight. In this life, Renly found no one to confide in either. In the high society he moved through, negativity was a forbidden luxury. All emotions had to be kept hidden, or it would be seen as scandalous.

But Renly had never followed the rules. From his rebellious youth at Eton and Cambridge to his bold decision to become an actor, he had always followed his inner desires.

"For Elf, for George and Elizabeth," Renly murmured, "I kept my feelings hidden, but they didn't care. For Arthur and Edith, I didn't hide them." He let out a soft laugh, but it was full of self-deprecation.

"You know," Renly continued, looking out over the sparkling lights of the city, "just a week ago, I thought I had the whole world." His eyes softened as he remembered, "I won the Silver Bear at Berlin, and I was nominated for an Oscar. As an actor, I had finally achieved my dream. I had the recognition I'd always craved, and I could continue to explore the world of acting."

His voice wasn't self-pitying, but the bitterness in his tone was undeniable. It was like the fleeting joy of a grand party, followed by the crushing emptiness once the festivities ended.

Paul sat beside Renly, letting out a quiet breath. He wasn't great with words, but he could at least listen.

Renly chuckled softly. "Standing on the stage of Madison Square Garden, I thought I had found my place. My album, 'Don Quixote,' had found its listeners. For a moment, I thought I had real support. They really understood me."

He shook his head. "I guess I was naïve. Maybe I'm just an idealist. I thought I understood the industry, but I didn't."

Paul didn't know what to say. He could feel the weight of Renly's words but didn't know how to ease his pain.

Renly looked away, lips pressed together. "At least I thought, if nothing else, they should understand that I'm not stupid. If I wanted to play the game, I'd do it smartly. But... do they really think I'm this foolish?"

The sarcasm in Renly's voice made Paul laugh, though it was a bit helpless. "Renly..." Paul muttered, shaking his head.

Renly grinned. "They never understood me, did they? Not even for a moment."

Paul nodded firmly. "You don't need them."

Renly met his gaze and saw the unwavering support in Paul's eyes. It was pure and sincere, a quiet warmth that melted the sharp edges of Renly's bitterness.

For a brief moment, Renly felt embarrassed. He looked down, then back up, turning his attention to the night scene. "A friend once said that blind obedience to thousands is too little. But one confidant is enough. Now, I finally understand what that means."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Who said that? Sounds like a wise guy."

Renly looked sideways at him and smiled, just as a voice interrupted them.

"Who, me? Are you talking about me?" Ryan Gosling appeared, a little disheveled. His hair was messy, and his shirt was misbuttoned as if he'd rushed out the door. The mark of sleep still clung to his cheek.

Ryan walked over, nudging Paul and Renly aside with his knees. "Let's go, make room." After sitting down, he pulled out candy from his pocket, offering it to Renly and Paul. "Tonight, I'm not taking no for an answer."

Renly and Paul both accepted the candy, and Ryan popped one in his mouth. "So, what are we doing now? Cursing the media? The netizens? Or just staring into space? Come on, update me on what's going on."