The Greatest Showman #944 - Under the Stars

"Are you sure?"

Renly's words were simple, just a rhetorical question. There were no extra words, no elaboration. And yet, Rooney found herself tongue-tied, attempting to respond but realizing her refutation was impossible. She paused to think about what she had just said, immediately recognizing her contradictions and mistakes. She couldn't help but laugh.

Everyone has their own way of navigating the world—some rely on charm, others on smooth words, cynicism, or even sophistication. But Renly's style was something else entirely.

For a man known for his gentlemanly demeanor and impeccable manners, Renly had suddenly transformed. He spoke with a warmth that seemed to fill the air with sweetness, his words laced with a palpable, almost intoxicating energy. His body language too—closer, more intimate—had caught Rooney off guard. She could feel the moment, the wave of it; it was so rich, so smooth, that it left her trembling, a mix of surprise and discomfort creeping under her skin.

Her eyes met his, catching a glint of humor and a teasing, almost mocking light in his gaze. There was something playful about it, something mischievous that made her cheeks heat up. Yet, this time, she didn't shy away. Instead, she met his gaze head-on.

"A real gentleman knows what to do when he sees it," she said, the words slipping out with a newfound confidence.

Renly's smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds, his eyes lighting up in that rare, genuine way. The world seemed brighter in that instant. Rooney shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. It was as though she had glimpsed something more in him—a side that was youthful, exhilarating, and impossibly charming.

But Renly didn't reply. He merely nodded, polite, almost apologetic, as if he were offering his agreement without saying a word. Then he turned his attention back to the starry sky, and the conversation naturally ended. There was no awkwardness, no tension—just the peaceful ease of shared understanding.

Rooney followed his gaze to the stars, but she could still hear his voice, a soft chuckle escaping him.

"I'm not a gentleman. At least, I hope I'm not."

She wanted to laugh, to counter his words, but when she turned to look at him, his profile—still smiling, still easy—was shadowed by something she hadn't noticed before. A flicker of sadness, a momentary vulnerability. It was gone almost instantly, but it left a quiet sting in the air.

She thought back to the speculation about Renly's background—the whispers and gossip that always followed someone so enigmatic, so poised. No one truly knew where he came from, but everyone was curious. At only twenty-two, his calm demeanor and polished sophistication seemed almost out of place, as if he had been shaped by years of life experience that no one could quite pinpoint.

Rooney, herself from a well-established family, understood that pressure. The expectations that came with the name, the weight of history that shaped everything you did. It was what had driven her to leave New York years ago. But now, here she was, finding herself drawn back to it.

And now, she saw something similar in Renly. She wasn't sure what it was, but it felt familiar. The quiet battle beneath the surface. The longing for more than just what the world saw.

She pulled her gaze away from him and gave a small smile.

"You're a gentleman, but not one trapped by your family's expectations. You've carved your own path. So, you're both... and neither."

Renly didn't respond. Instead, they fell into a comfortable silence, each of them looking up at the sky, listening to the quiet hum of the world around them. There was something serene about it, the quiet stillness that enveloped them both.

The melody of a song—soft, melancholic, almost nostalgic—drifted into the silence. The tune lingered in her mind, each note like a fleeting echo. She recognized it, a rhythm she had heard before. It was as though it was meant for moments like this: quiet reflections under the stars, moments where the world felt just a little too big.

Renly hummed the melody softly, his voice low, almost lost in the wind. It was the same song she had heard before, that soft, haunting tune about the fleeting nature of life and light. About how one small star's light could fade without anyone noticing, how even the smallest of souls could slip away unnoticed.

"Under a sky full of stars, does anyone care if another light fades out?"

His voice, soft and almost melancholic, broke through her thoughts. It wasn't a question for her, but for himself, a silent pondering about the nature of existence, of legacy, of fame.

Rooney's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Yes, I care."

She didn't know why, but the words were true. She met his gaze with a quiet strength. "Without even the smallest star, the sky wouldn't be the same. It's all part of the bigger picture, and yes, I care."

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, they understood each other without needing to say another word. The smiles that tugged at their lips were the same. Then, they both turned toward the distant Hollywood sign, their steps in sync.

Rooney chuckled lightly, breaking the silence. "So, are we still abiding by the two-day rule tonight?"

"Of course." Renly shrugged, his expression playful. "We've communicated it before. I'm a serious 'time nerd.'"

"And I seriously hate time nerds," Rooney teased. "Looks like we've come to an agreement. It's always easy to communicate with smart people."

Renly smirked. "So, this is still not a date? You only came out because you were following me?"

"No, no. You're standing here, and you're not waiting for me on purpose?"

"Pure coincidence," he replied with mock sincerity.

"A coincidence? Yes, I agree." Rooney grinned, raising her fist in agreement. Then she paused, her expression turning serious. "By the way, congratulations."

"Thank you," Renly said, accepting her congratulations with an uncharacteristic calmness.

"Where's your trophy?" Rooney glanced around. "Most people can't stop clutching it after they win. Even Meryl Streep's no exception."

"It's with the manager," Renly said casually, dismissing the question. "Too heavy, too much trouble. I just wanted some fresh air. Besides, carrying it around sounds too... pretentious."

Rooney laughed. "Yeah, I can see that."

Renly shrugged, his tone mockingly philosophical. "It's like one of those Italian or French films where the protagonist clings to their highest honor until the very end. Not for me. I'm not interested in that dramatic, philosophical kind of ending."

Rooney chuckled again, but the laughter faded as she turned her thoughts inward. "So, how did it feel? The moment on stage?"

Renly thought for a moment, then smiled, self-deprecating. "Honestly? I can't be exempt from all of this, can I?" His rhetorical question broke the tension, and Rooney laughed. "But really, if I didn't care, I wouldn't have left London, and I wouldn't be here, chasing this spotlight. Deep down, I'm still trying to prove myself. To earn my place."

Rooney nodded in understanding. "But you're an actor, not a star. That's where the difference lies."

"Actors and stars are still different," Renly agreed. "It's about inner persistence, the pursuit of something greater. That's what truly defines us."

He paused, then added thoughtfully, "It used to be simple: just keep running, keep striving. But now... I'm not so sure anymore. Is winning the Oscar enough? Am I really a good actor? Have I truly touched the next level of my craft? Now that I've reached this point, I'm left with new questions. This world, this industry—it's not what I thought it was."

Rooney was quiet for a moment, then nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "To live or to die, that's the real question, isn't it?"

Renly smiled faintly. "Exactly."