….
The theatrical run of [The Hangover] had finally come to an end - closing out with an astonishing $620 million at the global box office.
That was $2 million higher than even the boldest industry forecasts.
In true Hangover fashion, it defied expectations until the very last dollar.
More than just a hit, the film had sparked something larger - it was a cultural jolt.
Suddenly, comedy wasn't the B-list genre studios churned out for filler content anymore. It was the main act.
Unlike [Following] or [Death Note] - both critically praised but risky territory no studio dared to replicate - [The Hangover] sent a different message: comedy was back, and it was bankable.
Studios, always hungry for the next easy win, began to take note.
Comedy was accessible, or at least it seemed that way.
Everyone thought they could pull it off.
The budgets were low, the returns absurdly high - it was a formula too tempting to ignore.
Whether they would succeed or crash and burn trying to replicate the magic was something only time could tell.
But tonight? None of that mattered.
Tonight was a celebration.
A private dining suite in one of Hollywood's upscale hotels played host to the victory lap.
The entire [The Hangover] crew - cast, creatives, and a handful of close friends - gathered for a quiet, high-end dinner.
The vibe in the atmosphere was pretty clear… Just the subtle joy of people unwinding after months of chaos, sharing a moment that belonged to them alone.
In a quieter pocket of the room, a small group lingered near the windows.
Keanu Reeves stood with Paul Rudd and Zach Galifianakis, joined by two notable additions - Andrew Gleeson and Timothée Chalamet, who hadn't been part of the film but didn't exactly feel like outsiders.
An invitation to an event like this wasn't just about cast and crew, it was about connections, friendships, and a shared respect for the craft.
Just a few steps away, Grace Violet and Nessa Quinn - who played Doug's fiancée, Tracy - chatted in their own circle, easing into conversation like old friends finally crossing paths.
Kristen Stewart hadn't made it, caught up with another shoot, but her absence didn't dim the mood.
…also everyone here had a drink in their hands… and some were already tripping a little as they moved.
Keanu leaned in, just enough to bump Andrew's arm with a playful elbow and a smirk tugging at his lips. "So… rising stars get weird interview questions too now?"
Andrew groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
The memory was still raw - embarrassing enough to sting, absurd enough to laugh at. Exactly the effect Keanu had hoped for.
They had that kind of rapport. Keanu always knew exactly which nerve to press.
Andrew had only just made it - showing up a bit late, hair tousled, shirt half-untucked from the rush.
He had spent the last several hours stuck in press interviews for his new indie romance film, shot fast, cheap, and now somehow already on a release schedule.
Up until maybe half an hour ago, he hadn't been sure if he would make it here at all.
But he had. Tired. Buzzing on soda and adrenaline.
The interview itself hadn't been bad, per se - mostly surface-level fluff - but there were moments. Questions designed less to learn anything and more to needle.
The press had stopped treating Andrew like a rookie. Now, he was fair game.
And Keanu, of course, found that hilarious.
Andrew shot him a dry glare. "What do you mean, 'stars'…?"
He exhaled sharply, weariness catching up. "The reporters were brutal… and now I have you continuing the harassment."
Timothée, sitting across from them, tilted his head, confused. "Why? What's wrong with being called a star?"
To him, the word was a badge. A symbol. A place you wanted to reach. He couldn't quite grasp why Andrew, of all people, would recoil from it.
Andrew glanced at him - then looked away and took a sip from his drink. His voice was soft, nearly lost under the low murmur of conversations.
"It's just… too big a word for me."
A pause.
"What have I really done…?" He muttered. "That word, 'star', it belongs to people like Keanu. Or Regal. Not me."
His tone was level, but the edge beneath it wasn't hard to hear. "All the cheers, the applause, the expectations - it doesn't lift me up. It just makes everything feel more burdensome."
The noise around them dipped. Even Grace and Nessa, deep in their own chat just a minute ago, slowed down, sensing the sudden shift.
Andrew let out a flat, self-deprecating chuckle. "Haha… maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I am just… venting."
Before anyone could jump in, a voice from behind quietly cut in, gentle, but firm enough to draw attention.
"I get it… Andrew—I mean, Mr. Gleeson—I understand what you are saying."
It was Ben.
He had approached unnoticed, drifting over from across the room where he had been chatting with crew members.
No one had even seen him move. Now he stood just a few feet away, hands tucked into his jacket, eyes catching the light in a way that suggested more than just casual empathy.
Keanu was the first to cut the tension. "Man, drop the 'Mr.' crap. We are not doing that tonight."
Andrew looked up, blinking, then tilted his head. "Wait - aren't you the guy Darren used to mess with? Damn. That must have sucked. Especially now that he is a line producer." He paused, then added. "Also, congrats. You crushed it as Doug."
Ben gave a modest smile. "Thanks. Yeah… it's Ben. And, uh, Darren and I don't exactly get along. But he's not petty. He wouldn't tank me or anything."
Keanu's grin widened. "Oh? Then why do you two always go at each other like rival cats in a bag?"
It was a genuine curiosity. Even on set, the bickering had been hard to ignore. Everyone chalked it up to harmless banter - like old friends teasing each other. But still, it was persistent.
Ben deadpan. "Because he is a stupid potential boy."
A silence settled.
"…I am sorry, what now?" Paul Rudd leaned in from his table, trying hard to look serious but already smiling
Ben sighed but nodded like he had been through this before. "It's a Regal-ism. He once said it about someone with talent who never uses it. I… borrowed it. Darren is not hopeless, just lazy sometimes."
He hesitated, then kept going, voice lowering just a bit. "He just doesn't give his best, and that is what gets under my skin - you see it in some people, right? The ones who could be great if they just cared enough to try… but instead, they coast"
Keanu nodded, quietly. He got it. More than he wanted to say.
Andrew gave Ben a sideways look. "You are talkative tonight. Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one?"
Ben's gaze dropped. "I just hate wasted potential."
He hesitated. "Almost a year ago… the first time I met Regal was during auditions. Watching him - just being in the same room. I thought he was a nobody just like me."
He glanced around, almost as if to make sure Regal wasn't in earshot. Then added. "And guess what? I am sooo wrong. On the contrary, he was like a light… the kind that shines too bright - it doesn't warm you, it burns if you get too close"
Timothée tilted his head slightly but stayed quiet, eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"I think I knew it then." Ben continued. "I just didn't want to accept it. So I did the only thing I could - I started pushing harder. I put everything I had into trying again."
Andrew gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his expression more serious now.
"No wonder Regal said your acting has improved… during [Death Note]." Timothée said after a pause.
"Haha, thanks…" Ben chuckled, rubbing his neck with that half-laugh that always came when he felt seen for a second too long. "But I nearly died from exhaustion"
"!!" Keanu leaned forward, suddenly alert.
Ben didn't flinch, just exhaled through his nose. "It wasn't even about effort anymore." He said, slower now. "It was the edge, the wall - the limit of what I could do, what my talent could carry, and that's where I hit it"
He rubbed the back of his head. "And when I saw that ceiling… when I knew that I couldn't break through… I thought, 'There's no space for me up there, not beside him'."
The words hung heavier than expected, enough to pull Andrew back into stillness - there was something raw in the air now, something that couldn't be laughed off.
"But." Ben said, voice lifting again, more certain. "After I started watching Regal closer… I noticed something"
He sat up straighter, no longer trying to keep his presence small. "He is not doing any of this for himself - not really."
He glanced at them like he was making sure they were still with him. "He is not some saint, obviously, he is too selfish for that - but he is doing it for us… the people beside him."
A breath of a smile touched his face. "And the funny thing is, that group just keeps growing."
The table was still now, drinks forgotten, posture leaning in without thinking
"He is just… cool." Ben continued, his voice steady. "Yeah, he is shining, and sometimes it hurts, but he is not trying to outshine anyone - he is trying to light the way."
No one interrupted, because nothing felt exaggerated, not the awe, not the honesty.
"I decided something." Ben said, quieter. "Even if I get burned by that light, even if I have to drag myself through the fire—"
"I will follow him."
Andrew stared at him for a moment. The whole table did.
And then Ben turned a little toward him, voice soft but sure. "So, Andrew… don't you think you are that kind of light too?"
Andrew blinked. Ben didn't stop. "The kind that shows people without connections, without privilege, that you can still rise… that it's possible."
Andrew clicked his tongue and reached for his glass like a man caught mid-truth. "Tsk… that's so unfair" He muttered, then knocked back the rest in one clean swallow. "If you say it like that, then I have got no choice but to run too, huh."
Everyone exchanged glances - and, slowly, smiled.
But just as the energy started to ease into something glowing, Ben tilted his head slightly, his focus shifting across the room.
"…Do you think Regal is okay, though?"
Keanu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Didn't you just call him a blinding sun like… ten seconds ago? Don't you trust him?"
"I do." Ben replied, eyes narrowing. "But… I can still worry, you know."
The others followed his gaze, and that's when Keanu spotted it.
Regal.
And standing with him - Ross.
The two men were facing each other across a low-lit corner of the lounge. Regal's arms were folded, and Ross's expression was tight.
Regal was introducing someone, gesturing sharply.
The energy between them was tense.
Not yelling but aggressive and the kind of charged stillness that made you lean in, just in case something happened.
Keanu let out a small sigh, leaning back. "You shouldn't worry about Regal…"
Paul leaned in, his voice low. "You should worry about Ross…"
Zach scratched the back of his neck, watching the interaction from afar. "Man, I get these petty old bones vibes from him sometimes. Imagine being stuck with someone like Regal? That's gotta mess with your ego."
Paul smirked, glancing over at him. "Yeah, no kidding. Just… keep it down, man. If Ross hears you calling him 'old bones,' your bones might be the next thing crushed."
Even Grace cracked a small smile at that one.
But still - no one looked away from the corner of the room, where Ross's face was tightening by the second and Regal hadn't blinked once.
And the guy standing between them, whoever he was, had just realized he had walked into a firestorm.
Ben murmured. "I don't like these tense vibes."
….
As all the actors Regal had introduced were drunk talking behind his back, he was busy dealing with other things.
"Huh? Stephen's not coming?" Regal asked, mildly surprised.
Samantha glanced at her phone. "Just got a text from his agent."
.
….
[To be continued…]
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