The Greatest Showman #1038 - One More Light

Standing at the center of the stage, Renly gazed out at the tumultuous crowd, filling the entire Rockefeller Plaza. It spread like a vast ocean, spilling out along the surrounding streets. At that moment, the world felt both enormous and small, as if his feet were planted firmly in the center of the universe.

"Heather and I made a promise—to never give up." The smile on Renly's lips grew, delicate like a budding flower, basking in the warmth of spring sunshine.

They had once sworn to each other that neither would abandon their dreams. She would never stop fighting, and neither would he. She would hold onto the meaning of life, and so would he, relentlessly chasing hope. This promise was a secret shared between Heather and Renly, between Chu Jiashu and Renly, a bond that transcended time and space.

"Heather kept her promise. Now, it's my turn," Renly said, his voice soft but steady. The faint sadness that had lingered in his heart began to settle, replaced by a quiet sense of hope. "So here I am, standing on this stage. My promise is fulfilled. Heather Cross is my friend, and here, aside from me, no one should know her. But I hope she can be the start of something bigger—an awareness of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis."

He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak, but the words felt inadequate, unable to express even a fraction of the emotions he felt. Embarrassed, he stepped away from the microphone and made his way to the sofa. He picked up the guitar, sat on the high stool, adjusted the mic stand, and tuned the strings with care. The entire plaza fell into an expectant silence. Even the sunlight seemed to slow its descent, as if time itself had paused.

The world was still.

With a delicate touch, Renly's fingers brushed over the strings, accompanied only by the pure sound of the guitar. The notes were clear and crystalline, like a stream of water flowing through a hot summer day. It was as if the very music could flutter its wings, dancing between the golden beams of sunlight. Each note was like a soft thump against the chest, stirring something deep within.

The tune was gentle, yet hauntingly unfamiliar. It carried both warmth and sadness in the delicate flow of each note. It was as if the melody had come from somewhere beyond words, touching a place within that made everything seem bittersweet.

"Should I stay? Or should I go?

Would it be wrong to say goodbye?

Can I find the strength to let you know,

That I'll be fine, though I'm losing you?"

Renly's voice hummed through the air, his deep, hoarse tones carrying the weight of sorrow and loneliness. His voice trembled with fragility, as if barely holding onto the delicate emotions it conveyed.

Before he realized it, tears blurred Renly's vision. He hadn't cried—hadn't allowed himself to—but everything was so quiet, so still, as if he were staring at the stars in the night sky, overwhelmed by the vastness of the universe, and yet, aware of his own insignificance. Words failed, leaving only the silent reverence for the great expanse of life.

Life—birth, aging, illness, and death—was a cycle everyone must face. But no one can truly understand it. In the sea of humanity, life feels so small, so fleeting. The journey begins and ends before it has time to fully take form. Parting, unannounced, is inevitable, and comprehension eludes us.

"Who cares if another light goes out?

In a sky full of stars,

We see each one fade,

But I'll be here, I'll care,

I'll be here, I'll care."

Life and death are two sides of the same coin. The moment life begins, its end is already set in motion. Farewell is a certainty. And so, everyone strives, shines brightly in their fleeting journey, leaving traces of their existence behind. Yet, not everyone can truly leave a mark.

Every day, life is born, and every day, life fades away. But only a few will ever shine like stars in the night sky. Most lives are but faint lights, flickering quietly, their disappearance barely noticed.

"Yes, I care,

Even if it's just one light,

Fading into the dark,

I care, I care."

In Renly's calm, almost indifferent tone, there was an unmistakable loneliness, a sense of helplessness. It echoed through his words, settling into the stillness around him. In that brief moment, the world seemed to stop. That small light—one that no one paid attention to—had vanished, and with it, his world shattered.

Tears streamed down Renly's face, his heart breaking with the unspoken grief. Jennifer Lawrence, standing nearby, pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds of her sobs. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

Paul, standing beside her, handed her a handkerchief, but Jennifer could only take it in a daze, her tears flowing uncontrollably. She couldn't say anything, only wept in silence.

"Yes, I care." That simple declaration, once more, resonated deeply with her.

It was because she cared that she had built walls around herself, too afraid to speak, to open up, to hurt others. Yet the music, the melody, had left a mark, an indelible memory of their shared pain.

"The light goes out, but the stars remain,

In the darkness, we're never the same,

We care, we care."

In that moment, Tessa Britton was transported back to the "One-Man Concert" held in February. A concert for Don Quixote, a tribute to Heather Cross. Renly stood there, quietly pouring his heart into his performance, chasing his dreams, embracing freedom, running barefoot—like a child.

But Heather had left. She had gone, without warning.

Looking back now, Tessa saw it all clearly—the Grammy speech, the tough moments in the media, the emotional breakdown at the Oscars. All the anger, the frustration, the indifference—it all made sense now. Tessa finally understood what Renly had been through, what he carried within.

He was not just a "Don Quixote."

For the first time, Tessa saw the soul beneath the surface.

Tessa had always been drawn to Renly's appearance, to his charm, but now, she found herself truly falling for him—not just as a fan, but as someone who understood. She, too, had become Heather Cross. She, too, had become that small, insignificant light in a world so vast. She, too, was a Don Quixote, fighting for her dreams.

"Who cares if another light goes out,

In a sky full of stars,

We see each one fade,

But I'll be here, I'll care,

I'll be here, I'll care."

The starry sky over Rockefeller Plaza was breathtaking, a magnificent canvas stretching out in all its glory. The millions of lives on earth were but tiny drops in the ocean, insignificant specks in the grand scheme of the universe.

Yet, in Renly's song, every light shone brightly. Each one—small, faint, and ordinary—was still magnificent in its own right.

In the midst of the music, Renly saw Heather Cross once more. She stood in the crowd, small and fragile, but unwavering. Her bright eyes shone with determination, and her voice rang out clearly, "I won't give up."

She had said it, and yet, she had left.

As the melody played on, Renly's emotions surged. He closed his eyes, pouring everything into his voice. "Yes... I care..."

The trembling voice, full of raw emotion, carried the weight of his grief and longing. And as the song reached its crescendo, Robin, moved to tears, took out his phone, illuminating the stage with a beam of light—a symbol of the light in his heart.

Note: The lyrics of "One More Light" by Linkin Park are featured in this chapter.