#1537 – Do Not Understand Romance

On the vast, endless sea, only a solitary lighthouse waits quietly. Starlight and moonlight provide the only illumination, while the sound of the waves and the rhythm of their heartbeats are the only sounds that fill the air. Behind them lies the endless darkness, swallowing all figures and noises, while ahead stretches a vast, open expanse. It's as though one could embrace the entire world just by opening their arms.

In this small private corner, the whole world seems to fade away until only the two of them remain. There's an illusion of being at the ends of the earth, and with each heartbeat, the sound of the waves grows clearer. In this intimacy, the warmth of their bodies, the rhythm of their breaths, and the throbbing pulse between them create a sense of connection that feels both profound and stirring. Even the sound of the waves feels different now—more intimate, more alive.

Rooney lifted her chin and studied Renly's profile. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "So, according to the cliché of romantic movies, shouldn't we be doing the 'Titanic' pose right now?"

Renly turned his head, meeting her gaze with a serious look. "Wait, am I misunderstanding something here? Are you implying that I should do something romantic? I thought you didn't like over-the-top gestures, especially those cheesy scenes straight out of movies."

Rooney's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "You're half right, half wrong. Not all movie romance is bad. I actually really like the 'Before Sunrise' kind of love story. But yes, I don't like the contrived romance. We've had our moments in the limelight. If we start acting out those staged, overdone scenes in private, it'll be a disaster."

She said this with a scientific detachment, as though they were discussing a research project. Renly, as always, didn't respond immediately. Instead, he simply watched her, his gaze filled with that familiar warmth. Rooney blinked in confusion and shrugged. "What? What's going on?"

Renly's eyes twinkled with a playful light. "So, 'Before Sunrise,' huh? Was that when it all started for you? I never knew you were into me back then."

Rooney stared at him, speechless for a moment, before her face morphed into a look of disbelief. "You know what? I thought you were different from other guys, but it turns out you're just the same. As for when I started liking you... well, that doesn't matter. Seriously, not in Telluride, at least—don't even try to pin it on that."

Renly smirked but said nothing, which made Rooney laugh in frustration. "It's not what you think. Don't make a big deal out of it. Seriously."

"Uh-huh. Sure, sure. But now that you've mentioned it," Renly teased, "Why are you so flustered? Are you worried about when it all started?"

Rooney turned to look away from him with an exaggerated disgusted expression. "Ugh, not that. I should have known you'd be this way. And anyway, what's the point of focusing on that right now?"

Instead of answering, she changed the subject. "How did you even find this place? It feels like the end of the world. Who would think you could find such peace in Venice?"

Renly smiled, his tone softening as he reminisced. "When I was younger, we came here with friends. One night, we were drunk, driving aimlessly across the sea. We got lost and ended up here, lying on the deck, staring at the stars. That was when I first realized just how beautiful the sound of nature could be."

Rooney sighed, half in awe. "You Europeans really know how to enjoy life. In New York, the best vacation we get is sitting on the beach at Long Island, sunbathing. That's it. Nothing special. The highlight is watching rich, middle-aged guys flaunting their bodies."

Renly couldn't help but laugh at the thought.

Rooney continued, unbothered. "No, I'm serious. Some of these guys have terrible bodies, but they love to show them off. And there's always a bikini girl beside them—like that's their greatest asset. Occasionally, you'll see someone with a decent physique, but they strut around like peacocks. It's as if Long Island is obsessed with them."

Renly laughed again. "They're probably more interested in showing off their yachts and jets than their bodies."

Rooney shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right. I guess I'm more suited for this kind of place anyway."

They both fell into a quiet moment of reflection, simply enjoying the peaceful silence.

After some time, Renly broke the silence. "Let's go. If we miss the last boat, they'll start worrying."

Rooney raised an eyebrow. "Did you bring your phone with you?" she asked, curious.

Renly shook his head.

Rooney grinned. "I didn't bring mine either. Well, then we should head back, or things could get out of hand."

Without hesitation, Rooney turned and began walking back.

But before she could go any further, Renly grabbed her right hand and pulled her back with a sudden, strong tug.

Startled, Rooney stumbled and fell forward—right into Renly's arms.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. The world seemed to close in as she was enveloped in the warm, comforting scent of Renly—woody, masculine, and unmistakably him. The feeling was overwhelming, and for a moment, all her nervousness melted into a sweet, lingering bliss.

Renly lowered his head, the energy between them palpable, and the space between them evaporated completely.

Moonlight bathed them in its soft glow, and the sound of the waves seemed to play a gentle nocturne as they stood in that perfect, intimate bubble.

Only when their breathing became ragged did they slowly pull apart.

Renly loosened his hold, but before either could move, Rooney whispered softly from his chest, "Just a moment. Let's stay like this for a little longer."

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart was steady and strong—comforting, like a safe harbor from the storm.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the sound of the waves, the bustling Venice night, the world itself. All that remained was the soft thud of Renly's heartbeat, steady and calm, matching the pace of her own.

Rooney tightened her hold around him and closed her eyes. The exhaustion of the long flight, the separation from everything familiar, the yearning for something she couldn't quite name—everything seemed to melt away in that embrace.

What should she do? Her heart swelled with affection, but she couldn't bring herself to speak.

"I... I don't think I can leave now," she muttered softly, her voice almost drowned by the beating of her own heart.

Immediately, her face flushed with embarrassment. She pulled away, her eyes wide with panic. "Forget I said that. I didn't mean it."

Renly quietly watched her flustered reaction, a teasing smile creeping onto his lips. "Don't worry, I didn't hear anything. But now that you've piqued my curiosity, why don't you repeat it?"

Rooney bit her lip in protest, then, in a sudden flurry of motion, turned and began to run. "Oh, god, you're awful!"

Renly laughed, watching her retreating figure. He called out after her, "Hey, don't run too fast. I might get lost."

And then, after a brief pause, he added, "I'm serious."

Rooney only stayed in Venice for one night.

The next morning, after a flurry of interviews with over fifty media outlets, she was on her way to the airport. The film's publicity team had been fully booked, with Renly taking on most of the responsibility. Rooney had to leave for Rio de Janeiro that afternoon, her filming schedule for Trash Boy taking priority.

Unfortunately, this meant she would miss the upcoming film festivals in Toronto and New York.

Now, the responsibility for Gravity's continued promotion fell squarely on Renly and Alfonso, with Renly handling the bulk of it. But after the intense media blitz at Cannes, Venice felt much easier to manage. Still, with Gravity's success, Renly knew Toronto might present new challenges.