The Greatest Showman #1135 - Tacit Understanding 10 Feet

"Rooney?"

The voice called her name, snapping Rooney from her thoughts. In the brief moment that Alfonso had turned to leave, she had unwittingly fallen into a quiet trance. She had been staring at Renly, her mind blank and void of any thought or emotion, simply lost in the moment.

When she became aware of it, Rooney flushed slightly and quickly lowered her gaze, pretending to focus on the source of the call. It was Edward, the drama manager, standing in front of her.

"Rooney?" he repeated, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Rooney straightened her back, her face composed but her heart still racing. "What's wrong?"

Edward's smile lingered, but he held back his teasing. "Are you ready for the next scene?" he asked, his tone softening slightly. "Or would you rather...?"

Before he could finish, Rooney swiftly interjected, "I'll stay here." Her voice was firm, and she repeated herself. "Don't worry about me, the hardest part is over. The rest is easy. I'm fine here."

Rooney's next scene didn't require her to be on camera, only for her to voice her dialogue. So, she could've easily removed the bulky spacesuit and taken a breather in a more comfortable environment. However, she chose not to.

Edward opened his mouth, probably to persuade her to rest, but then he saw the determination in Rooney's posture. The lines of her profile, sharp and confident, showed that she wasn't backing down. With a nod, he accepted her decision.

"Alright," he said, and left the set, motioning to the crew to continue as they were. Whispers rippled through the staff, some were relieved, others surprised, and a few were simply curious.

In the month since filming began, the light box had become a love-hate symbol among the crew. While it offered a groundbreaking ability to control lighting seamlessly, its cramped and stifling nature made working in it an endurance test. For the actors, the experience was grueling. The oppressive heat and the heavy spacesuit drained their stamina, and each day of filming felt like a marathon under extreme conditions. But Rooney, against expectations, chose to stay.

The staff who had bet on this outcome exchanged looks, then leaned in with a smirk. "I told you. They're both crazy," one muttered, but before finishing, they cleared their throat and added, "Dedicated actors, very professional. They put work first."

They couldn't help but wonder if 'crazy' was a more fitting word.

Rooney's gaze stayed locked on Renly as he spoke to Nathan, her focus never wavering. She noticed the subtle shifts in his posture, the changes in his expression—small details that made all the difference. He was the same, yet not the same. It was an odd, fascinating feeling.

Her mind wandered back to her first day on set when Renly's unorthodox approach had completely upended her expectations of what it meant to be an actor. His confidence, his energy, had shocked her. Even now, she could still vividly recall the blinding light that had bathed his sweaty face as he walked onto the set, followed by his unforgettable grin.

At first, she had been taken aback, but soon, admiration and curiosity replaced her initial surprise. She found herself drawn to his commitment, his focus, and his depth. And as an actor, she couldn't help but search for similar traits within herself—his talents, his dedication, his intensity.

Watching him now, in his element, was as riveting as it was inspiring.

As the conversation with Nathan ended, Renly felt Rooney's eyes on him. There was something intense about her stare, as if she were studying him like a work of art in the Louvre.

Their eyes met.

Rooney didn't flinch. She smiled openly, acknowledging the fact that she had been quietly observing him. Her unfiltered, candid gaze caught Renly slightly off guard, before a smile spread across his face in return.

"So, aren't you going to leave?" Renly asked with a chuckle. "Everyone's trying to escape this lightbox, including me."

Rooney's smile didn't fade. "But if it's for the performance, you'd stay here forever, wouldn't you?"

Renly took a moment to think. Then he nodded, his tone serious but playful. "Yeah, I would."

Rooney raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Then I have work to do. I'll stay."

Her words shifted the focus to the next scene, one that would require her full attention. "You know how difficult this next scene is, right? I need this environment, and I need Ryan's presence for it."

Renly nodded slowly, assessing her carefully. After a pause, he responded. "Breathe. Take a deep breath."

His advice was simple but profound. The change in Alex's thoughts was already expressed in his look, and now it would be conveyed in the way he spoke. He didn't need to say much—just enough to capture the essence of the scene.

The first meaning of his words was to help Rooney relax and maintain focus. The second meaning was for Alex: to breathe, as the oxygen dwindled, the situation grew more dire.

Both actors had their minds in the scene now. As the cameras began rolling again, Renly slid seamlessly into character.

Ryan's body floated aimlessly, adrift in space. His movements were slow, strained, as he desperately clung to the space station, trying to regain his balance. His breath came in shallow gasps as his oxygen supply dipped below 1%, and the carbon dioxide warning began to blare. His mind grew foggy, and survival instinct kicked in, but his body betrayed him, unable to process what was happening.

Alex, floating away from him, noticed Ryan's struggle and called out to him. "Ryan, can you hear me?"

But Ryan's response was slow, disconnected. Oxygen was running out, and his body was giving up. The connection between them, once so strong, was now strained, like a faint thread pulled tight.

Ryan's vision blurred, and he could only see Alex's silhouette—a small dot in the endless black of space. The space between them was no longer filled with words, but with the silence of imminent death.

After a long pause, Alex's voice came again, steady but urgent. "Ryan, I need you to calm down. I need your focus. I need you."

The words struck a chord. In the vast emptiness of space, they bridged the gap between them. Ryan shook his head, forcing himself to stay conscious. His focus snapped back into place, and his eyes fixed on Alex, little by little, the will to survive sparking back to life.

The camera captured the essence of their connection—the silent understanding, the unspoken bond, and the desperate fight for survival.