The Greatest Showman#922 - follow
A sleek black limousine glided into view, cutting through the hum of the expectant crowd. Reflexively, Hope turned his gaze toward it. The atmosphere around him had shifted—no longer the frenzied buzz that had accompanied Brad and Angelina's arrival, but a lull, a collective intake of breath before the next surge of excitement.
The car inched past Hope, its slow approach affording a clear glimpse through the tinted window. Inside, caught between shadow and the soft glow of the setting sun, a familiar pair of luminous eyes gleamed with a quiet, knowing smile. For a heartbeat, the world stood still. The vibrant hues of the sunset paled, the background noise dissolved, and the pulse of the evening synced with the depth of that gaze.
Hope's breath hitched. His heart clenched, his thoughts scrambled. The young master—here? Now? Why so soon after Brad and Angelina? Was this an accident, a miscalculation, or a deliberate move by the organizers? The questions crashed into one another, a chaotic mess of intrigue and disbelief. But all those thoughts faded into a single, crystalline realization:
Renly Hall.
That name eclipsed everything else. It grew larger and larger in Hope's mind, swelling with a giddy, uncontrollable energy. Excitement, pride, and exhilaration surged through his veins. His hands, acting before his mind fully processed the moment, grabbed William's arm and shook it violently.
"William! William!" Hope's voice cracked with urgency, his finger jabbing toward the slowly approaching vehicle. Words failed him, and all he could do was yell, "Quick! Quick! Quick!"
William, caught off guard, took a second too long to react. His brain, sluggish with disbelief, processed the sight in front of him. Then, in an instant, realization struck. Spinning on his heel, he waved frantically, his voice rising to match Hope's.
"He's here! He's here!"
There was no need for explanations. The words alone ignited the waiting crowd into motion. The feverish anticipation that had simmered beneath the surface now erupted. Rehearsed maneuvers kicked in like clockwork. Despite the frenzy, they moved with precision, each person knowing exactly what to do.
The Kodak Theatre stood tall, its presence commanding the heart of Hollywood Boulevard. The red carpet sprawled like a regal river, flanked by photographers poised to capture fleeting moments of stardom. Flashes flickered like lightning, voices clamored for attention, and actors paused at designated spots to offer practiced smiles.
Renly's car reached the entrance, its sleek frame reflecting the riot of activity beyond. He sat poised, watching through the window as the grand spectacle unfolded. This was Hollywood's most coveted stage—the pinnacle of cinematic dreams. The journey to this moment had been long and arduous, paved with challenges and triumphs. And now, standing at the precipice, a quiet exhilaration mingled with the nervous energy within him.
Opposite him, Andy, Roy, and Nathan sat with expressions of mixed concern and anticipation. Renly met their gazes with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Any last-minute advice?" he teased.
Andy exhaled, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Just one—good luck."
Renly dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "Appreciated."
The door opened. A wave of heat, thick with excitement and charged with an almost tangible intensity, rushed in. Renly stepped out, his polished shoes making contact with the plush red carpet. He buttoned the top of his suit jacket, eyes sweeping across the electrified scene before him.
And then—it happened.
Thunder.
"MASTER!"
The single word cracked through the air, a roar so fierce and unrelenting that it shook the very foundations of the evening. The call was like a shockwave, rolling through the gathered masses, gaining momentum, feeding on itself. One voice became ten, then a hundred, then five hundred—until it was a tidal wave of uncontainable energy.
"MASTER! MASTER! MASTER!"
The sheer force of it was staggering. It was not the polished applause of an awards show, nor the refined decorum of Hollywood's elite. This was raw, unfiltered, electric—a fever pitch that could only be born from unyielding devotion.
It spread like wildfire. Six hundred voices. Seven hundred. The number surged as spectators, caught up in the fervor, joined the chant. Nine hundred. A thousand. More.
The entrance to the Kodak Theatre had transformed into an arena. The sound, the passion, the singularity of purpose—it was unlike anything the Oscars had ever witnessed. A moment that defied expectations, shattered precedents, and inscribed itself into history.
Renly lifted his gaze.
He had arrived.