The Greatest Showman #998 - Pressure Relief

"Hu... Hu..." Hot, ragged breaths surged from behind, sending waves of air rushing toward him. The noise was thunderous, but when he turned around, all he could see was boundless darkness, the ominous, blood-red mist creeping closer with each step.

Running, madly, desperately, he pushed himself forward, trying to escape the relentless fog, the sensation of a monster chasing him, an unending nightmare. But no matter how hard he ran, his legs felt like lead, the haunting fear and crisis closing in. His lungs burned, gasping for air, but the oxygen seemed to drain away, suffocating him in increasing panic.

Suddenly, his foot found no ground beneath it, and with a sharp jolt, he was falling. The impact of the free fall slammed into him, and his entire body screamed in agony. But the next moment, he was on stage. The crowd surged before him, all standing, clapping enthusiastically. The applause rolled through the air like thunder, crashing into his ears, the sound echoing over and over, a sensation both overwhelming and intoxicating.

"Drink," he gasped, waking with a start. Renly sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as he drew in sharp breaths. The cold air filled his lungs, washing away the burning sensation that had been choking him. For a moment, he just stared into the quiet, realizing it had all been a dream.

Sweat clung to his skin, his hair matted to his forehead. His head was heavy, his body drenched in cold sweat. A chill ran through him, and he shivered involuntarily, his muscles aching, his entire body drenched in exhaustion.

He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, his fingers aching with weakness, almost dropping it. But he managed, bringing the water to his lips and drinking it down in one long gulp. The cool liquid filled him, reviving his senses, grounding him back in reality.

Shivering, he swung his legs off the bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water, letting the steam rise, filling the space with soothing heat. The warmth of the water relaxed his tense muscles, eased the tightness in his nerves.

Pressure. It always came back to pressure.

Performing on the West End—London's famed stage—came with an immense weight. Every performance demanded 100%. There was no room for error; one misstep could cause the entire show to falter. The sheer length of the six-hour performances was exhausting enough, but the real burden lay in the fact that the entire play rested on Renly's shoulders. His character's themes, emotions, and struggles drove the entire narrative. That responsibility had become heavier than he'd anticipated.

Renly was a perfectionist. When it came to acting, he demanded excellence not just from others, but from himself. Beyond the external pressure, he piled even more pressure on himself, seeking to continually outdo his own performance. Every show became a test, a measure of how far he could push himself. After two weeks of non-stop performances, there had been no time to rest, no moment to recover.

His body was growing more and more fatigued, and the toll on his spirit was wearing him thin. There were moments when it felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe, as if his very energy had been drained.

After last night's performance, the sudden release of tension had left him feeling vulnerable, and he had fallen into a restless sleep full of strange dreams, blurring the line between reality and fantasy. The echoes of last night's applause continued to reverberate in his mind, pulling him back to the stage, back to the crowd.

The hot water poured over him as he sank deeper into the tub, the heat stinging his skin at first, but soon it felt soothing, as if the warmth was loosening the knots in his body. The fatigue started to lift, his mind slowly settling.

Lying in the bath, his body relaxed completely, and sleep began to tug at his consciousness again. He drifted, floating on a cloud, the tension finally slipping away, the weight of his exhaustion slowly melting.

And then, in his mind, the applause rang again. The audience, on their feet, clapping in a thunderous, endless rhythm. The sound filled his ears, his blood rushing, the memory of that moment flooding his veins with energy.

The pressure was inevitable. But it was also what kept him going, what motivated him to push harder, to reach higher.

If he could do it all over again, Renly would still choose the West End. In the past two weeks, he had learned more than in the past three years. The greater the pressure, the more he gained from it. He still had two and a half months left on his contract, and he was determined to savor every moment, to embrace the stage with everything he had.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, satisfied with the clarity that was beginning to return to him.

Knock knock. A sound from outside the bathroom door broke his reverie. It was Matthew's voice, concerned but calm. "Renly, are you awake? Are you okay?"

Renly leaned his head back, letting the hot water lap against his skin. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice steady. "I just need a glass of hot milk."

He chuckled to himself, realizing how childlike the request sounded. "Matthew? Has the guest arrived?"

"Don't worry," Matthew's voice came back with a hint of amusement, "You've got plenty of time."

Renly took a moment to enjoy the solitude of the bath before stepping out. He dressed casually, throwing on a loose sweater and jeans. His jawline, still covered in stubble, was a reminder of the night he hadn't bothered to shave. The fatigue was still there, but for now, he had to face the day.

As he descended the stairs, Renly couldn't help but be surprised by the sight before him: the apartment was bustling, full of familiar faces. It felt like a Sunday morning gathering, a scene that could have been lifted from a Parisian café—people chatting, relaxing, laughing, and wasting time in the best possible way.

"Renly!" Bill and Tom stood quickly, as if they were soldiers saluting a superior. Their sudden movement made Renly smile, amused by their formality.

Alfonso Cuaron, sitting at the dining table, also stood, though his gestures were more restrained, his smile cautious but warm. He was clearly trying to maintain his composure.

Paul chuckled from the side. "Relax, Alfonso. You don't need to stand up for him."

Renly raised an eyebrow at Paul and shook his head. "Really? You make me sound like a monster." He looked toward Meadow, who was trying to hide her shy smile, and laughed. "Come on, relax. I'm not some kind of creature."

Renly's casual demeanor, dressed in a comfortable gray sweater and black jeans, was worlds apart from the polished figure on stage just the night before. His unkempt hair and lazy, almost playful vibe made him seem like an entirely different person, and yet it was clear: this was still Renly, just without the intensity of the stage.

He made his way to Alfonso, taking a seat beside him and offering a friendly greeting. "Director."

Alfonso hesitated before sitting down as well. "Please, call me Alfonso."

Matthew emerged from the kitchen, holding a glass of warm milk. He set it on the table, its milky surface reflecting the warm glow of the room. Renly picked it up, taking a sip, feeling the warmth spread through his body.

"Sorry I'm late," Renly said, taking a bite of bacon and eggs. "I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting."

Alfonso waved it off. "No, no, it's fine. Just... are you feeling okay? Resting well?"

Renly smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Perfect. Although, I wouldn't mind just sleeping all day."

The group settled into easy conversation, the atmosphere light and comfortable. Renly, ever the gracious host, gestured to the balcony. "How about we talk outside? The weather may not be great, but a little fresh air is always refreshing."

Alfonso nodded, eager to continue the conversation.

Renly turned to the others, still gathered in the room. "Feel free to make yourselves at home, guys," he said with a grin. "Matthew would kill me if I told you that, but I'm sure he won't mind."

As Renly and Alfonso made their way to the balcony, Bill stood frozen in the hall, struck by the surreal normalcy of the moment. Within minutes, Renly had gone from guest to host, and it felt as though they were all close friends.

Tom and Meadow exchanged glances, a shared look of surprise on their faces. Bill couldn't help but laugh to himself at the absurdity of it all.