….
Two full weeks had passed since the accident.
The same day he should have been holding up awards with the world watching, through Dolby Theatre - he was instead pacing a hospital corridor with no sleep, his phone off, and his hands shaking for an entirely different reason.
And now, that storm has passed.
Seren was stable.
Keanu, though still in recovery, sat beside him in a wheelchair, looking far better than Regal remembered from that dreadful night.
Regal exhaled.
The hallway of the private hospital floor was unusually calm.
Gwendolyn was seated a few chairs down, watching him occasionally.
Simon, Darren, and Samantha had stationed themselves outside, managing the press, the fans, the inevitable waves of chaos still trying to find their way in.
But at this moment, it was just Rock… Gwendolyn… and Keanu.
Regal's eyes fell on the wheelchair again.
He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face.
"I need to get my shit together," he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.
Then, without warning, he stood up.
The sudden motion startled Gwendolyn, but before she could say anything, Regal turned and flashed her a small, warm smile.
The first real one in days.
"It's alright." He said softly. "I just need some air, Keanu, you up for something? A soda maybe?"
Keanu grinned faintly. "Thought you would never ask."
With that, Regal wheeled him down the corridor.
Regal bought two soft drinks, cracked one open, and handed it over.
He splashed cold water on his face in the nearby washroom.
When they returned to the hallway, the energy had shifted.
Regal crouched beside Keanu, resting a hand gently on his arm.
"I am leaving now, she is going to need someone with her, and I can't think of anyone better than you."
Keanu's eyes met his… he felt a bit weird.
He wouldn't have minded if Regal just started hating for what he let… happen to Seren.
But instead Regal was willing to trust him again?
…and he can now do was to not let him down again. Never, ever again.
He nodded once, firm.
"You can count on me," he said, and there wasn't an ounce of hesitation in it.
Regal straightened up.
"Rock." He called. "Let's go, Gwendolyn - you too, get some rest, we have got things to do."
The doors slid shut behind him, Keanu leaned back in his wheelchair, eyes lingering where Regal had just stood.
"Guess he is back." He murmured.
Gwendolyn, still watching the empty hallway, replied with a quiet certainty.
"He is."
And in the days that followed, the blur returned - this time not from grief, but from momentum.
Regal moved like a man whose clock had been rewound.
One meeting after another, calls, legal follow-ups, quiet apologies and careful media appearance.
The world had waited for his explanation.
And now… he was ready.
The first thing he did was to finally release an official statement from his side… addressing everyone, his wellwishers, fans and those who are none.
====
[I wasn't there to accept the awards you all worked for - and I wasn't there when the world watched something we built win its place in history, that's on me. I didn't plan it, I didn't want it, but I don't regret leaving.
Because in the end, a film is a story, and so is life.
Some things matter more than cameras, lights, or applause.
I am proud of what we made, and I am grateful.
To everyone who stood by it - and stood by me]
— Regal
====
The next day was Award Collection
It started with a call from the Golden Globes committee.
"Mr. Seraphsail, with the due respect to your situation - the awards must be formally accepted or returned."
He could have had someone else collect it or just refused out right… But then it would become a story again, he hated stories, so he went.
The private event was deliberately low-key.
Just a quiet entrance through the side doors of the Golden Globes HQ building, an hour before the press arrived for the day's post-event interviews.
Samantha had handled all the arrangements ahead of time, Rock stayed in the car, parked just outside.
The receptionist was flustered when he walked in - it wasn't every day the man who didn't show up to collect six Golden Globes without cameras or entourage.
"You don't need to rush, sir." She murmured, trying to shuffle papers. "The, uh, display room is ready."
Just a few select photographers, studio execs, and the award committee, all gathered to do what they called 'the right thing'
Because he hadn't just missed a win.
He had missed everything.
====
Golden Globes Winner (Musical or Comedy): [The Hangover]
Best Motion Picture - Red Studio, and LIE Studio
Best Original Song - [Right Round] – Ludwig Göransson, Rio Flame
Best Supporting Actor - Zach Galifianakis as Alan
….
Golden Globes Winner (Drama): [Death Note]
Best Director - Regal Seraphsail
Best Screenplay - Regal Seraphsail
Best Original Score - Ludwig Göransson
Best Cinematography - Mathew Hord
Best Visual Effects - Red Studio, and Unique FX Studio
====
Eight major wins.
A sweep and nothing short of a miracle.
And that was just the Golden Globes.
As for the Oscars?
Once everyone understood Regal's circumstances for not attending the event, they were heavily criticised for backing out his name.
They even released a public apology through the media, and even offered him voting seats in multiple branches recognising his talents.
Still when an image of Regal having eight Golden Globes was released on the internet - it became a moment to be remembered for years - except the one person who should have stood at that podium never got to hear a single applause for it.
Now, they had arranged for him to at least… accept.
Regal didn't say much.
Didn't ask for a speech opportunity, request a reshoot or video message.
Just posed, once, for a group shot with all eight trophies lined up like some surreal museum exhibit.
Everyone there could tell: he wasn't proud, he wasn't thrilled - he was tired.
Not just from the past few days, from everything.
….
The cold air bit softly at Regal's cheeks as he stepped into the backyard that was lit unevenly, half of it dim and flickering under the weight of tangled fairy lights Rock had strung up at the last minute, while the other half glowed orange from the fire pit burning near the folding tables.
Somewhere in the distance, someone set off an early firecracker that fizzled mid-air. It was loud, chaotic, and kind of beautiful.
The first person he saw was Seren, bundled in a thick blanket that nearly swallowed her whole.
He had just been discharged a week ago….
She sat on a plastic lawn chair like she belonged there, a mug of cocoa pressed to her lips, her eyes wide and glassy, like she hadn't stopped smiling for the past hour.
Regal's gaze lingered.
God, she looked okay.
Regal glanced around, he hadn't planned for any of this.
In fact, he had told Simon flat-out that he wasn't doing anything for New Year's.
But Simon had a different idea.
"Hey, man." Simon called out, waving a beer bottle and grinning like a man who already had two. "You're not disappearing again after the toast, alright? Sit, eat and exist with us."
Regal rolled his eyes. "Was that poetry or a threat?"
"Bit of both." Simon smirked.
Keanu, still in his wheelchair with a flannel blanket over his lap, raised his phone and snapped a photo of Seren laughing.
"Okay, I got it." He muttered. "Candid, cozy, and emotional, now no one can say I didn't contribute tonight."
"You're not contributing unless you're drunk." Gwendolyn said flatly, approaching with two mugs of mulled wine, she handed one to Regal. "Drink, no excuses, you owe us this."
"I don't owe anyone—"
"Oh, shut up and drink."
He drank.
The air was cold, the fire pit was warm, and soon the little backyard was filling up.
Not with celebrities or studio execs or anyone Regal expected, just… people.
The costume designers, makeup artists and Unique Studio VFX kids.
Even the old props guy who built Hogwarts' miniature tower from foam and cried when it was painted.
"Boss." Regal greeted, half-laughing as the man walked in with two six-packs and a confused expression.
There was only one man alive who could get that title out of him - boss.
Jordan.
The supermarket manager he worked part time before all of this took shape - the same man whose wife had walked out years ago, taking half his confidence with her.
Jordan gave him a look that was equal parts mock-offended and amused, cradling a half-crushed beer can in his palm.
"Why the hell are you calling me that now?" He grunted, handing him a beer. "You are a damn Golden Globe winner or something."
Regal took the can. "Doesn't mean you are not still the guy who made me clean vomit off aisle six."
Jordan smirked. "Still can't believe I used to yell at you but you turned out okay."
"I wouldn't argue on that...."
They stood in silence for a second, then Regal said, seemingly out of nowhere. "You getting married anytime soon?"
Jordan blinked, then scoffed. "Why would you ruin a perfectly nice evening with that nonsense?"
"I dunno, felt like asking."
"Jesus Christ." Jordan rolled his eyes, then, after a beat, leaned closer. "You know someone? Set me up… Seriously."
Regal snorted. "What's your type?"
"Anyone who doesn't throw my socks out the window when she is mad."
"Well, that rules out… all the women in the world."
"I heard that." Jordan scuffed.
"Did you now?" Regal smirked.
People were laughing now.
Even his new shy assistant girl, Lena, who barely spoke during shoots, was trying to teach Rock how to salsa dance on the patio.
Keanu kept blasting early 2000s hip-hop from a Bluetooth speaker.
Regal shook his head and smiled faintly, sliding his hands into his pockets.
He walked deeper into the backyard, slowly, taking in everything.
Darren was manning the tiny barbecue like a man on a mission, tongue poking out as he flipped something half-burned.
"Don't touch the hot dogs yet!" He yelled without looking. "They need to suffer first."
Jordan now… leaned against the railing of the patio deck with a beer can, watching the chaos unfold like a dad who'd been tricked into babysitting.
Seren stood slowly, wrapped in her blanket. "Guys, guys…. It's almost midnight."
Everyone turned.
Regal, who had started this night expecting to be alone, looked around at the mess: spilled beer, someone's scarf tied to a tree, a fog machine from the Quidditch shoot inexplicably wheezing smoke into the corner.
And he smiled, just a little.
They counted down together.
"Ten!"
Rock slipped on a bean bag but recovered.
"Nine!"
"Simon, don't spill the champagne!"
"Seven! Six!"
"Gwen, are you crying?"
"Five!"
"Okay, yeah, I am crying - shut up!"
"Four!"
Regal looked up, fireworks were already beginning in the sky.
"Three!"
He found himself slowly smiling.
Seren bumped her shoulder into his. "Say it with us, grump."
"Two!"
He reached out and grabbed Seren's hand.
"One!"
Happy New Year.
Someone popped a confetti cannon too close to Keanu, who cursed and laughed.
Regal didn't move much, but his hand reached out instinctively, brushing against Seren's, she slipped her fingers into his silently.
As the sky lit up in gold, Regal stood still in the heart of it all.
And for the first time in months, maybe even years, Regal didn't feel like he had to run.
He was right here, with them, with her and with all of it.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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