The Greatest Showman #1459 - Silent as a Cicada

The full, surging drumbeats pounded in everyone's ears, a hurricane of sound tearing through the entire practice room. Initially, the rhythm was steady, even, but gradually, it spiraled out of control. Even a layperson could feel that the once-controlled beats had turned chaotic. The power behind each strike became a blur, and the changes in tempo distorted the boundaries between rhythm and madness.

With a savage, brutal strike, Andrew's right hand crashed into the hanging cymbal. The entire drum set rattled violently, shaking both up and down, left and right, as if the whole kit was on the verge of crumbling. The physical force collapsed with the ferocity of a wrecking ball.

This was clearly not the right way to play a drum kit.

But Andrew didn't stop. He was consumed by the music, lost in the ecstasy of his violent drumming. His strikes, relentless, swept forward with no hint of confusion in his gaze. His eyes were fixed on the drum set with an unwavering intensity, revealing layers of dark obsession that shimmered with an eerie, chilling madness.

Was this improvisation, or just a reckless onslaught?

Andrew's frenzied rhythm entered a strange, almost mystical realm. It sounded like a monotonous beat repeating endlessly, but with increasing speed—like a car with failed brakes hurtling toward disaster. The driver grips the wheel tightly, trying to maintain control, but the car races faster and faster, veering dangerously off course.

Perhaps an experienced Formula 1 driver could control such high-speed chaos with ease, but for a novice, the risk of destruction was high.

And what of Andrew?

He was like a gifted driver, full of talent and inspiration. He could push the limits of speed, but the experience was still beyond his control. His performance teetered on the edge, like a young racer forcing their best effort while battling the limitations of inexperience. The result was a volatile mix of irritation, nervousness, and an eventual loss of control.

The process of "gradual derailment" was evident to all who watched.

Everyone in the room, even those with no knowledge of drumming, felt the tension. Hearts tightened in collective unease as the performance unfolded. The air seemed to grow thicker with each reckless beat, building toward an inevitable collapse.

It was clear that Andrew's music reflected more than technique—it was an expression of his soul's turmoil. Like all art, his performance mirrored the struggle within him. While disasters may torment people, they also give birth to the most lasting art.

Watching art being created, especially with such raw intensity, was a rare privilege. Each observer felt a different emotion, but no one could deny the powerful impact of the moment.

Among them was Paul Walker, who, hands clasped over his chest, watched intently. The frenetic performance had gone on for three minutes, yet Andrew still showed no signs of stopping. For a brief moment, Paul seemed to see past the act, remembering a time when Renly's wounds had bled beneath the bandage—a detail he had buried in the past.

Paul's fists clenched unconsciously, his fingers digging into his palm, the sharp pain breaking through his tense nerves.

"Clap, clap."

A light tap on Paul's shoulder broke his focus. It wasn't forceful, but gentle, like a cautious reminder, as if someone needed to pass a message without disturbing the flow of work.

Reflexively, Paul turned, only to find an unfamiliar face. He blinked, momentarily confused. This wasn't his crew, and he couldn't fathom why anyone would be approaching him now.

"Hey, Paul. I'm Melissa. Nice to meet you." The woman offered a big smile and extended her hand for a handshake.

Paul stood frozen, unsure of how to react. His mind was too clouded by the performance before him to register what was happening. Normally, he would've greeted the stranger politely, but in this moment, everything felt off.

Instead, Paul stayed silent, his eyes returning to Renly. He chose to ignore the interruption, his gaze locked once more on the drum set.

Melissa, surprised by Paul's cold response, hesitated but didn't give up. She tapped him again, a bit more insistently this time. "Are you here to visit the set? It seems like you and Renly are really close."

"Shh!"

Ryan Gosling's sharp hiss cut through the room, his angry expression making his displeasure clear. Even without words, his glare felt like a wall of fury, leaving Melissa momentarily dizzy.

Her face flushed with confusion, but she bit her lip, trying to calm herself.

To Ryan, her attempt at defusing the situation came off as pathetic. He wasn't interested in her apologies; the set was focused on the work, and her interruption threatened to derail it.

Ryan glared at her, silent but fierce, signaling that she needed to stop. He turned his attention back to Renly.

Melissa lingered for a moment, then sighed quietly, still staring at Renly, but resentment now evident in her expression.

"Boom!"

The sound of a crash startled everyone. Melissa instinctively raised her hands to cover her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief.

Andrew, now resembling a force of nature, swung his fists down onto the drum with the power of a transformed Hulk. The first strike, then a second, and the tension in the drum head finally snapped, like paper torn by raw strength.

The sound of destruction echoed through the room—loud, chaotic, and yet oddly beautiful in its release. The jazz drum, once pristine, was now a mangled wreck.

Andrew's muscles tightened, his entire body like a taut bowstring ready to snap. His frustration grew with each failed attempt to regain control. The music, once rhythmic, was now an uncontrolled explosion of anger.

With one final, thunderous punch, the drum head shattered, and Andrew's fury spilled over. He didn't stop, continuing to smash at the wreckage, his hands raw and trembling. "Damn it! Damn it! I'm going to break you! Break you all!"

His rage filled the room, a storm of sound and emotion that left everyone in stunned silence.

Melissa, wide-eyed and dazed, could do nothing but watch as the chaos unfolded before her.