The Greatest Showman - Quietly Exit
Yet, beneath that laughter, Renly saw something else—Edith was nervous. Her shoulders were slightly tense, her eyes flitting between Chris and himself. The movements were small, almost imperceptible, but to Renly, they spoke volumes.
She was worried, afraid of an outcome she couldn't control. Perhaps no one else could see it—not even Elf—but Renly could. He knew Edith truly liked Chris, with a passion that burned dangerously close to self-destruction. Like a moth to a flame, she was slowly shedding her disguise, exposing her raw, unfiltered emotions.
And Renly liked this version of Edith—the one who was vulnerable yet fearless in love. The one who was real and alive.
He hesitated for a moment, words forming at the edge of his lips, before shaking his head lightly and chuckling to himself. Instead, his gaze shifted back to Chris, his expression still poised and elegant.
"There's one thing you should know," he said, his voice steady, his smile composed, "I'm really not a friendly person. Don't be fooled by appearances."
Though his tone remained calm, a cold undercurrent laced his words. Like a hidden needle beneath silk, his statement pricked sharply yet subtly, sending an almost imperceptible shudder through the air.
Chris snapped back to reality. The initial shock of Renly's unexpected revelation dissolved into something else—unease. Fragments of past conversations rushed back:
I looked into Chris's friends.
I can be very evil.
Especially with certain people...
The words replayed in his mind, each syllable echoing ominously. And then there was Renly's gaze—composed yet piercing, a silent force that wrapped around his throat like an invisible noose, tightening just enough to remind him who held control.
For one absurd moment, Chris believed Renly had the power to ruin him completely if he so wished.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the icy sensation vanished. Like a receding tide, the tension ebbed away, leaving Chris gasping for breath. He blinked rapidly, feeling the weight of his own heartbeat, and finally, his jaw—locked in place—loosened slightly.
That's when he noticed: his back was drenched in sweat.
Beside him, Sebastian eyed the interaction with wary confusion. Something had shifted in the atmosphere, though he couldn't quite grasp what. Clearing his throat, he ventured cautiously, "So... what should we call you?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he shot Chris a look that screamed: I'm trying to help, but I have no idea what I'm doing. This is Renly Hall we're talking about!
The simplicity of the question made Renly chuckle. A flicker of lightness crossed his otherwise reserved expression.
"Renly. Just call me Renly," he replied smoothly. Then, turning to Sebastian, he added, "Seba."
The deliberate use of the nickname made Sebastian stiffen. Renly had seen through his attempt to defuse the situation.
Then, shifting his attention back to Chris and Edith, Renly's smile lingered. "Edith, I forgot to mention—Arthur is here tonight. I just ran into him. He's... well, let's just say he's in rare form."
The message was laced with meaning only Edith would understand. With that, Renly nodded politely. "I need something sweet. Excuse my rudeness."
Without another word, he turned and left.
The secret was out. But for Chris and Edith, the real challenge was just beginning.
Would Chris accept the truth? Would he falter? Would he walk away? Would Edith hold firm, or would she bend? Would she face the storm head-on?
That was for them to decide. Renly had no intention of interfering.
Chris, still standing frozen in place, took a moment to catch up. Then realization struck. "Wait—what did Renly just say? Arthur? Who the hell is Arthur?"
Edith, having regained her composure, glanced at Chris with a knowing smile. A glint of mischief danced in her eyes.
"Another Hall," she said simply.
Chris' brain short-circuited. Another?
Amidst the chaos and glamour of the night, Renly walked calmly, slipping away from the spotlight with practiced ease. He maneuvered through the hotel's back garden, dodging eager guests hoping for a conversation, his presence gradually fading from the center of attention.
By the time anyone noticed, Renly had already left Oscar night. And no one knew.
Even in the brightest of lights, he remained just a flicker—brilliant yet ephemeral. And when that light dimmed, it left no trace behind.
Which, at this moment, was exactly what Renly wanted. He needed space. A moment of peace.
The back door of the Sunset Tower Hotel led to a narrow alley, opening toward a parking lot. To the right, the street stretched toward Santa Monica Avenue; to the left, a small park nestled in a residential district. Neon-lit guitar sculptures lined the pathway, embodying the gritty yet vibrant essence of Sunset Boulevard—decayed yet dazzling, chaotic yet harmonious.
Across the parking lot, a cluster of paparazzi loitered, cigarettes dangling from their lips. They weren't trying to be discreet. Their eyes flicked toward the back door, cameras at the ready, prepared to snap any figure that emerged.
Even the hotel staff taking out the trash wasn't spared. It was always better to capture too much than to miss something valuable.
So, when Renly stepped out, flashes erupted instantly.
But the excitement was short-lived.
He was alone. No girlfriend, no entourage—just a man taking an evening stroll. And he wasn't in a hurry, nor did he look fazed by the cameras. Instead, he waved at the paparazzi with an easy smile and walked in the opposite direction of the parking lot, heading toward the park.
Confusion spread among the photographers.
Was Renly just... taking a walk?
Should they follow him? Was this worth tracking?
Renly was one of the biggest names of the night, yet his behavior defied expectation. The paparazzi exchanged uncertain glances. Why couldn't Renly ever follow the rules? Why?
"Renly!"
The hesitant call broke the silence. Elliott Court, a veteran paparazzo, instantly regretted speaking.
Over the years, Elliott had crossed paths with Renly numerous times—each encounter ending in frustration on his end. To put it plainly, Renly made his job a nightmare.
For months, Renly had been tucked away on set, unreachable. And now, standing face to face with him again, Elliott hesitated. He considered letting the moment pass. But his mouth moved before his brain, and now he was stuck.
He prayed Renly would just ignore him and keep walking.
But, of course, Renly stopped.
He turned, his gaze questioning.
Elliott wanted to disappear. But there was no escape, so he filled the silence with the first thing that popped into his head: "Uh, where are you going?"
A dumb question. A very dumb question.
Renly smiled, ever so polite. "Just grabbing a bite across the street. Want to join?"
Elliott panicked. "No! No, I, uh—I have work! Yes, work!" His laugh came out awkward and forced. "But... thanks for the invite."
Renly chuckled, then walked away.
Elliott exhaled, muttering under his breath, "I need a new job."