The Greatest Showman #1037 – 1 Hype

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!"

The screams were deafening.

Rockefeller Plaza was caught in a whirlwind of excitement. The roars and cheers swept across the plaza like a hurricane, shaking the surrounding buildings. The energy radiated outwards from the center, a powerful wave that was unstoppable.

Even the office buildings around the plaza temporarily halted business to join the carnival. Everyone crowded in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring in awe at the scene below, jumping and shouting in excitement, as if it were the New Year's Eve countdown.

Renly's sudden appearance on stage caused a brief silence, followed by an explosion of applause and cheers. The energy was overwhelming—Renly could barely stay steady, feeling the tremors that reverberated in his chest.

A small smile crept up at the corner of his mouth. The fiery rush of emotion proved his existence, stronger than ever. The crowd's fervor was electrifying.

For the first time, Renly truly felt the power of being a public figure. He had always been an actor, dedicating himself to his craft. But now, he was something more. If his influence could help others, inspire dreams, and bring hope, then he had a responsibility to step forward.

He clenched his fist, the surge of belief growing stronger within him.

Renly raised his hands, signaling for quiet. But the noise persisted—shouts and screams continued to roll in waves, unstoppable like the wind through wheat. The grand scale of it made everyone feel small.

Three times, Renly pressed his hands down, urging the crowd to calm. The roaring subsided, and finally, he could speak. But when he opened his mouth, the heat in his chest made his voice heavy. He took a deep breath to compose himself.

"Thank you," Renly began. "About two months ago, I told a group of friends that I needed a hype. Yes, I'm starting a hype."

His self-deprecating tone made the crowd chuckle. After the infamous "hype gate," Renly, once the victim of it, now embraced it. His words were a playful jab at the situation, but there was sincerity in his voice.

"I had some ideas, some requests and expectations. Thankfully, I had the help of a lot of friends—including the whole 'Edge of Tomorrow' production team and the 'Today Show' team. We aimed to put this hype at the center of the world and maximize its impact. So..." Renly gestured to the crowd, "Thank you for being here, for helping to make this hype bigger than we could've imagined. Honestly, we didn't expect this. Perhaps we should've moved to a bigger venue."

His lighthearted remark sparked laughter again.

Renly paused, but as he looked out over the sea of people, he found himself struggling to express the emotions swelling inside. Months had passed, yet the wound from that time had not fully healed. Every time he saw the crowd's energy, he was reminded of that smile—the one that brightened the world and faded too soon.

The realization hit him hard again.

Jennifer Lawrence, standing backstage in the "Today Show" live broadcast room, felt the weight of Renly's words. She closed her eyes, holding onto the warmth of the memories, though the bitterness still lingered on her tongue. The emotions were too complex to express.

She knew how much courage it took to face the crowd, to stand on stage and bear those wounds in front of the world. She couldn't do it, but Renly had.

The entire crew of "Edge of Tomorrow" gathered in the fishbowl broadcast room, watching Renly, their eyes fixed on him with quiet anticipation.

Jennifer's emotions swelled. She felt vulnerable, torn between the pain of loss and the admiration for Renly's strength. She barely heard Paul Walker's voice, but when she did, he spoke gently. "Have you talked to him?"

Jennifer shook her head, her frustration and helplessness evident. "No, I don't know how to. I just... I can't..." Her voice trailed off, words unspoken.

Paul placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "None of us do. But we have to stay strong for Renly. We need to be his support, his strength."

Jennifer didn't reply, her eyes still locked on Renly. Her thoughts were heavy, filled with a deep sadness. They were all thinking about Heather Cross—thin, tough, and full of life, though now she was gone. Heather's absence was felt deeply by all, especially by Jennifer, who never had the chance to say goodbye.

Jennifer and Renly had never discussed Heather, never truly addressed the pain. Renly had been absent from the funeral, and Jennifer hadn't been able to attend either. Both were left to grieve in silence.

Over time, Jennifer had come to understand the meaning of "One Man's Concert" and the significance of Don Quixote's slogan. But it was only now, as she watched Renly on stage, that she truly grasped what it meant.

The Heather-Cross Foundation, founded by Renly after "One Man's Concert," aimed to support those with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS)—a disease that had taken Heather's life far too soon. Despite Renly's best efforts, the foundation's reach was limited. ALS patients were few, and their suffering often went unnoticed by the broader public.

Two months ago, Renly had decided to use his platform to raise awareness for the disease, hoping to garner more donations and support. He needed a hype—a big one. With the help of his friends, the Cross family's blessing, and the support of Warner Bros., they found the perfect vehicle for this effort: the summer release of "Edge of Tomorrow."

Standing before the crowd, Renly wasn't just performing for the spotlight. He was amplifying the cause, using his fame to raise awareness and give a voice to those who had none.

He took a deep breath and began again. "In February, I held 'One Man's Concert' for a girl named Heather Cross. She would be seventeen now. She should have been."

The crowd fell silent as Renly spoke of Heather. Her story, the story of ALS, and the foundation's mission became clear to everyone in the plaza. The audience's attention shifted, and even the bustling energy seemed to quiet as they absorbed Renly's words.

"Heather Cross had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, an incurable disease. It's a disease that robs you of your ability to move, to speak, to breathe—until it takes your life. And now, standing here, we are trying to make sure that more people know about it, that more people care."

As Renly's voice echoed through the plaza, Robin, standing in the crowd, felt his heart swell. He had never expected to hear such news today. His seventeen-year-old son was also suffering from ALS, and now, standing in Rockefeller Plaza, he felt the full weight of the moment. His son's life was at risk, but perhaps this foundation, this cause, could help prolong it.

Tears filled his eyes, the weight of the news almost too much to bear. He had been trying to find a way to help his son, to give him a chance to survive, and now, Renly's words gave him a glimmer of hope.