The Greatest Showman #938 - Focus

Emmys, Golden Globes, and Grammys; Berlin, Toronto, and Sundance. In just three years, even though he hadn't seen a hundred battles, he was no longer dazed by them. More importantly, he had neatly stepped away from the Oscars the previous year, without a shred of regret. The golden statue's significance no longer held the allure it once had.

Renly thought he wouldn't be nervous.

But being in the thick of it, truly experiencing it, felt entirely different. It was surreal yet undeniably real, a conflicting sensation that echoed in his chest. His heartbeat drummed loudly in his ears, a constant rhythm that reverberated, amplifying the tension and anxiety in the air. The heat made the anxiety nearly suffocating.

Unconsciously, he folded his fingers, the smooth texture of his skin brushing against the warmth of his palm. The pulse in his veins seemed to thrum through his fingertips, his blood boiling with each beat. He reflexively extended his fingers, realizing how tense he was, how the anxiety had seeped into him despite his earlier belief that he didn't care about the outcome.

Clearly, his true feelings had betrayed him. After all, the Oscars were different. No matter how the Academy's PR efforts had dulled its shine, how commercial compromises had undermined its authority, or how the awards season had drifted from its original course, the Oscars remained one of the most prestigious honors in the film industry.

Once, Renly thought his life had come to an end. But now, he had a second chance. He had doubted his talent, yet he persevered, stayed true to his dreams. He had fallen into confusion and despair, but eventually, clarity had broken through the clouds. The stage, once a far-off dream, was now within reach.

Two lifetimes—thirty-two years and twenty-two years—half a century of struggles and reincarnations, and now his dreams seemed to be within grasp. His fingers trembled as he realized just how far he had come.

And still, he wasn't immune to the nerves.

Once he recognized this, Renly exhaled with relief, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He took a deep breath, followed by another, feeling his nerves gradually settle. He clenched his fists again, the muscles taut with tension, his arms stiffening as a slight ache began to surface.

Turning to his side, Renly saw Jessica and Ryan, both even more nervous than he was. Their tension was almost comical.

"Man, you okay?" Renly lightly bumped Ryan's arm. Ryan looked like he might burst, his nerves nearly spilling over. Renly worried that the awards ceremony might trigger a medical emergency. Should he call for help?

Ryan blinked, his focus snapping back to reality, but he looked like a malfunctioning robot. Renly couldn't help but laugh. "Relax, relax. This isn't the end of the world."

Ryan swallowed hard, his wide eyes reflecting pure panic. His lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out. This wasn't Ryan's first time at the Oscars, yet he seemed more anxious now than ever before.

Why is it that bystanders are always more nervous than those actually involved?

Renly patted Ryan on the shoulder, a little exasperated. "Don't explode."

It was a joke, but Ryan nodded seriously, his expression now an earnest reflection of the gravity of the moment. Renly nearly choked on his own laughter.

When Renly's gaze returned to the stage, his nerves had shifted to a cocktail of humor, helplessness, and apprehension. Distracted for a moment, his focus was momentarily drawn to Natalie Portman standing below the spotlight.

The Kodak Theater fell into a hushed silence. Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish, leaving only the pulse of hearts beating in unison. The stillness felt surreal, as if time had slowed. In the distance, an inaudible vibration filled the air—a sound only felt, not heard.

The oppressive silence weighed on Natalie, making her slightly stiffen. The tension in the room was crushing, threatening to turn her into nothing more than a fragile piece of paper. She smiled, attempting to break the tension, but her eyes betrayed her nerves.

Despite the pressure, Natalie's poise returned. "Thank you for this honor of introducing the five nominees for Best Actor. George, you make everything look incredible."

Her words were both a compliment and a performance. The audience chuckled at the mention of George Clooney, the "ordinary" man who somehow seemed extraordinary.

"Your performance in The Descendants is subtle yet powerful—your portrayal of grief and sadness will last forever," she added, as George's clip began to play on the big screen.

The introductions continued. Jean, Brad, and Gary all received their due praise, each one building towards the inevitable. And then, it was Renly's turn.

"Renly, it's hard to believe you're only twenty-two. Your youth astonishes the world, but your talent makes it stand in awe," Natalie said.

The words sent a wave of silence across the Kodak Theater. Outside, thousands of fans watched intently, some even camping outside to catch a glimpse of the live broadcast. The tension had reached a boiling point.

Hope-Bates, sitting among the crowd, bit her lip, tears blurring her vision. She couldn't contain her excitement. Her ears rang with shouts of "Master! That's the master!" as the camera zoomed in on Renly. She gazed at him with rapt attention, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her eyes remained fixed on his face, every detail etched into her memory. Renly, elegant yet vulnerable, a smile playing on his lips, the perfect blend of nervousness and grace.

"In Crazy in Love, you play Jacob—a boy lost in love. Your performance is delicate and rich, capturing the essence of longing, struggle, and heartbreak with subtlety and depth," Natalie's voice echoed.

As Renly's clip began to play, a scene unfolded: Jacob and Sam in a quiet confrontation, the weight of their breakup palpable. Renly's eyes conveyed more than words ever could—loss, heartbreak, and an unspeakable depth of emotion.

The audience was moved.

Edith, watching from London, shook her head in awe. "He's truly a genius," she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness. "Why can't they see it?" She smiled, but it was a bittersweet expression.

The clip ended, and the camera returned to Renly. He lowered his eyes for a brief moment, masking the brief flicker of unease. When he lifted his gaze again, his smile was serene, confident, and the applause that followed was thunderous.

Natalie opened the envelope.