The Greatest Showman #1469 - Little Fool

Rooney turned her head slightly, trying to glance at Renly's face, but it was hidden in the shadow of her shoulder. She could only vaguely catch the end of his eyebrows, and it was impossible not to imagine the eyes beneath them—slender and bright, like hidden hot spring water that occasionally reflected the brilliance of distant stars. It was breathtaking.

Everyone says Renly is an attractive man. People magazine named him the "Sexiest Man in the World." Countless women across North America fantasize about Renly as their dream lover. But to Rooney, Renly's real charm wasn't in his appearance—it was in his soul.

She remembered Renly arguing passionately on the street about whether The Shawshank Redemption was truly a great movie, or whether Forrest Gump deserved its Best Picture Oscar.

She remembered how deeply moved Renly was after watching Dreamless Heart. It wasn't just about the quality of the film, but about the emotions behind it.

She remembered him sitting alone on the aisle of a supermarket after the Single Concert, finding solace in his solitude amidst the overwhelming weight on his shoulders.

She remembered Renly on the set of Gravity, quietly playing his guitar and softly singing. At that moment, he seemed so distant, yet so vulnerable. The pain in his voice told a story of wandering, unknown to anyone but him.

She remembered how, after the Oscars, Renly gazed up at the starry sky with a lonely expression, asking in a quiet voice, "If they say, who cares that another light goes out under the billions of stars, flickering, flickering...?"

She remembered how Renly, lost in his role, gave himself completely to the performance, forgetting the crew around him. It was as though the world was just the resonance between him and his character, forming an entire universe.

She remembered him huddled on a street corner, powerless against the barrage of paparazzi, yet always wearing a faint smile, as if to say, "It's their job."

She remembered the Grammy stage after Heather's death, when Renly sang, "So when you're weak, when you get down on your knees, I'll do my best for the rest of the time to protect your oath alive and true."

She still remembered the light brown eyes filled with heroism and madness, hiding the vulnerability and helplessness within. He said, "This is the only way to prove my existence."

Rooney wished she could stand by his side, walk with him, be his support when he was tired, lifting the weight from his shoulders so his bruised, scarred soul wouldn't have to carry the burden alone.

Not out of sympathy or pity, but because of the resonance she felt—she saw her own shadow in him. She saw the parts of herself that were incomplete, parts that she admired and longed for.

Unconsciously, Rooney raised her left hand and gently traced the outline of Renly's eyebrows, over and over. Her fingertips began to tremble, and her head, heavy with emotion, rested on his shoulder. The faint warmth of his body against her skin, the fluttering of her heart—everything felt overwhelming.

She quickly gathered her fingers, but her hand still lingered, unwilling to pull away. Slowly, she slid it down the bridge of his nose, finally resting on the armrest of the sofa. There, she noticed Renly's left hand, his fingers stained with blood from practicing the drums for hours. Faint traces of the past were still visible.

Rooney's fingers hovered by his left hand, hesitant to move further. She felt the warmth on her skin and quickly withdrew, as if burned by the touch. Her heart raced, almost leaping from her chest.

Time seemed to slow at that moment, like a quiet stream flowing through her fingers.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, Rooney softly hummed the tune of Deep Water, the song Renly had played during the filming of Gravity. It was always in her mind, like the cry of his soul, a refrain she couldn't escape.

Her left hand reached forward again, tracing the scars and calluses on his palm. The lines of his hand resembled the peaks of an electrocardiogram, mapping a labyrinth that mirrored her heart, a maze she willingly got lost in.

God, she was such a fool.

At the touch of her fingertips on his knuckles, her whole body tensed, the powerful joints feeling like rocks beneath her touch. But before she could pull away, Renly's hand grasped hers firmly.

Startled, she tried to break free, but he wouldn't let go. Despite his weak body, his fingers clung to hers, locking her pinky in a gentle but unyielding hold.

Rooney froze, staring at their intertwined fingers. Her heart pounded, and emotions surged within her, like fireworks exploding in the night sky, turning darkness into day.

A mix of numbness, shyness, sweetness, and tremors filled her as she watched their little fingers entwined. The warmth from his touch seeped into her soul, and her whole body tensed in the most beautiful way.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and she dared not move, as if any motion would shatter the delicate moment between them. Slowly, she relaxed, leaning her head gently against his.

God, if only time could stop right here.

But time moved forward, relentlessly. Rooney knew that, even though she wished to savor every second, Renly was determined to give his all to the film. It was time for work.

"Renly?" she called softly, shaking his shoulders gently, careful not to be too loud.

He didn't seem to hear. She called again, "Renly?"

When there was no response, she was about to call once more when she caught a slight curve at the corner of Renly's mouth—his smile, faint but warm. He had been playing a prank on her all along.

Opening his eyes, Renly said, "So, do you want to wake me up? Or don't you want to wake me up?"

Rooney's cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down. "You're asking like this, so it means you're awake and feeling better. What other answers do you need?"

Renly didn't respond, and Rooney lowered her head slightly. She could still see the smile at the corner of his mouth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the slight hint of childishness in his voice, "Just a moment, just a moment."

It reminded her of the boy on Telluride Street—a little plea hidden behind his words.

Rooney stayed silent, simply enjoying their shared time.

Before long, Renly opened his eyes, stretched, and sat up, letting go of her hand. "Thank you. I needed this break, even if it was just five minutes."

"Renly. Your body…" Rooney said hesitantly, still worried.

Renly grinned but didn't answer her question. Instead, he stood up, looked at her with a playful smile, and bent down without warning to place a kiss on the top of her head. "I need to get back to work. Little fool."

"Wow," Rooney's cheeks flushed pink, her usual cleverness and calmness slipping away. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, and she couldn't find the words to protest. Only quiet murmurs escaped her as she watched Renly turn and stride out of the lounge, leaving her in stunned silence.

As she stood there, helpless, she muttered, "Who's the little fool?" But her words sounded more like playful teasing, something she'd never shown before. Realizing this, her cheeks burned even hotter.

She covered her face with her hands, hiding the smile creeping up the corners of her mouth.

God, she must look so silly right now.