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Chapter - 133
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 15:37:28 +0000 UTC[Title : [The Hangover] Release (2)]
….
The screen faded to black, signaling the end of the film.
For a few seconds, the room was still, except for the hush of AC, and a few empty popcorn bags crinkled faintly.
A few scattered laughs echoed as people leaned toward each other, whispering favorite moments.
Then, without warning, the screen lit up again.
….
On the screen the wedding reception day was playing out.
Doug stood at the edge of the reception hall beside Tracy, his arm around her waist.
Both of them were glowing - her in a sleek white gown, him in a fresh tux, finally home, finally safe.
Across the room, the doors swung open.
Phil, Stu, and Alan walked in - looking like they had survived a storm. Their jackets were wrinkled, their ties loosened, their eyes slightly glazed. But they were grinning.
Doug’s face lit up. “You guys made it.”
Phil clapped Doug on the shoulder with a sly smirk. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Stu adjusted his tie, still twitching a little like he was recovering from something he hadn’t quite processed yet.
“I might need a vacation after this, though.”
Alan stepped forward last, proudly holding up a small digital camera - scuffed, dusty, and vaguely sticky.
“Hey. I found this in my pocket. It’s got pictures from last night.”
The group paused.
Phil tilted his head. One eyebrow raised.
“…Do we want to see them?”
Stu winced. “Maybe just once. Then we delete them.”
Alan gave a solemn nod, like they were making a pact. “Agreed.”
They all glanced around, then huddled together behind the camera.
The screen froze - then cut to black.
…..
By now the theater was chaotic - but not the loud kind.
More like a strange, unified stillness, pierced by the kind of laughter that came in wheezing gasps, scattered coughs, and tear-wiping snorts.
The lights were still down, the credits rolling past like a blur, but the crowd hadn’t moved a muscle.
They were exhausted, not in a bad way, just... drained.
A shared kind of disbelief.
Some of them clutched their sides. Others leaned back in their seats with a slack-jawed grin. A woman near the front fanned herself with the popcorn tray.
Someone toward the back muttered breathless. “Holy shit… how did that keep topping itself?”
As the final scene faded out, the lights stayed dim. For a moment, the crowd assumed it was over, and tried to relax - leaning, sighing from the emotional high.
A few clapped softly.
Then—
FLASH.
The screen burst back to life.
As it transitioned into a bunch of photographs.
A montage? Audience realised.
Immediately, the crowd goes silent for the first few images.
As the photos get more outrageous.
The first image was simple enough - Keanu - as Phil - squinting at the sun, shirt partially unbuttoned, one arm raised with a champagne bottle in hand, flipping off a Caesar statue like he had a personal vendetta against ancient Rome.
However, the comes - Alan naked, Stu missing a tooth, the tiger in the car - the entire theater reacts the same way:
Uncontrolled laughter, gasps, covering eyes, leaning forward.
Inside the premium row, the cast leaned forward. Their eyes flickered - shock, confusion, and dawning memory.
?!!They weren't aware that something like this was planned.
Another photo.
Alan, played by Zach Galifianakis, shirt pulled up over his stomach while sloppily smearing suntan lotion across himself, riding someone’s shoulders through a fountain. A woman in a bikini, absolutely horrified, is caught in the frame, mid-scream.
Stu (Paul Rudd), groaned through a laugh.
“God. It’s worse than I remember.”
Phil (Keanu) smirked, crossing his arms.
“You remember any of that?”
Zach leaned in, squinting at the screen.
“Is that me… on top of Mike Tyson’s bodyguard?”
It was the scene from the movie - and even though he is not Mike Tyson, Regal simply kept the name.
FLASH.
Then came Stu - Paul Rudd's charm-turned-chaos - making out with a stripper, lipstick all over his forehead, his glasses bent sideways and crumpled dollar bills spilling out of his breast pocket.
On the image, in a thick black Sharpie: "I do."
A collective gasp broke out in the room.
Paul laughed helplessly, hands over his face. “I am never showing this to my kids.”
Zach elbowed him. “You are assuming your kids aren’t already watching this online.”
Another snap. This time Ben Azelart, Doug, hunched in a hotel closet, sleeping while duct-taped to a luggage cart, a wig stuffed on his head and someone’s bra tied across his eyes like a blindfold.
People burst out laughing again, but Doug (Ben) didn’t. His eyes were glossy, even as his lips curled into a smile.
Paul glanced sideways at him and smirked. “Aww… look at Doug. You gonna cry, man?”
Zach leaned in mock-sincerely. “Should we get him tissues or just duct tape his emotions too?”
Paul (Keanu) chuckled slowly, then gently nudged Doug(Ben)’s shoulder. “You okay, Doug?”
Doug didn’t say anything for a second. Then, voice soft. “It just… hits different when you are seeing it as someone who lived it.”
Another beat passed. The screen didn’t slow.
One of Paul (Keanu) holding a fire extinguisher, spraying it wildly in what looked like a strip club dressing room.
Behind him, Alan was dancing with a boa constrictor around his neck. Everyone around them had either drinks or looks of absolute panic.
Next image played out.
Stu, completely passed out, tattooed on his cheek with the words ‘PROPERTY OF CANDY’ in neon-pink sharpie. His pants were missing.
By now, at least a third of the crowd is laughing so hard they miss the next photo.
It’s chaotic, but in a communal way, and no one feels like the joke is on them - it’s shared madness.
And just then - just as the laughter reached a crescendo - came the one nobody expected.
Ross.
Yes, Ross.
He hadn’t even been in the Vegas parts of the film.
Had zero dialogue, and was never shown in any scene in the city.
Yet there he was, front and center in a dimly lit suite, holding a mic and drunkenly trying to sing karaoke with what looked like three Elvis impersonators and a half-eaten cake.
His eyes were glazed, tie tied around his head like a bandana, clearly mid-‘work’ as Regal had apparently called it.
The crowd lost it.
Even the stoic ones.
"Wait - what the hell was he doing there?" Someone whispered, laughing so hard their voice cracked.
And right after that?
Regal and Keanu. The only two in the whole montage who looked remotely put together.
They were sitting on a hotel balcony, shirts open, laughing over drinks. Two women leaned on their shoulders - confident, casual, like they belonged there. The night skyline of Vegas lit up behind them, glowing gold.
Then it was again Alan halfway out of a limo window, mooning the camera while eating a banana like it was performance art.
Every image landed like a punch - raucous, embarrassing, somehow nostalgic.
Then… it slowed.
The final image was simple.
All four of them, Phil, Alan, Stu, and Doug, on the rooftop of the hotel, arms around each other. Sweaty. Bruised. Exhausted. Grinning like idiots.
The screen faded.
A silence followed.
They sat there for a moment, just breathing it in.
Then Keanu glanced over his shoulder - toward the exit.
And there he was.
Regal.
Standing still in the shadows. Just outside the circle of light. Arms folded, lips curled in the faintest of smiles. Watching not the screen anymore - but them. And the audience.
Keanu saw him. Locked eyes. Started to raise a hand—
But Regal subtly shook his head.
Keanu understood. His hand fell to his lap as he nodded once. A mutual, silent goodbye.
Behind him, Paul sighed, still staring at the screen as if waiting for more. “So that’s it?”
Zach glanced around. “No post-post-credits scene? Like we wake up in another hotel room or something?”
Ben laughed quietly. “Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me.”
The three of them nodded their heads as they slowly stood.
Still reeling.
Still unsure how to process what they just watched. It felt… final. Too final.
Then Paul broke the silence.
“…So. Uh.” He looked around. “What’s next?”
The three of them looked at each other.
Zach opened his mouth to joke - but stopped.
Ben finally wiped his eyes and smiled. “I think… that was it.”
A quiet hit them.
This wild, stupid, beautiful thing they built together - it was over.
And the room, once roaring with laughter…
And then the lights slowly rose in the theater. The audience began to murmur, file out, whispering, grinning, still emotionally winded.
Genuine, thunderous applause that cracked and rolled through the entire theatre like a shockwave. Cheers. Whistles. People standing.
The end had arrived.
And they didn’t even realize until now.
Like someone who had just made it through the wildest night of his life… and somehow lived to tell the story.
Keanu turned one last time to the exit.
Regal was gone.
Now stood, stretching their legs and collecting their things, a soft stillness settled between them.
They didn’t speak much.
Because nothing needed to be said.
It was over.
But somehow, that made it perfect.
….
The credits had just ended.
The screen went black. People were still laughing, still whispering, still trying to believe what they saw.
Stephen leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his face already halfway to a smirk.
Ross hadn’t moved. Still sitting forward like he was trying to blink the last photo off the back of his skull.
“…Don’t.” Ross said flatly.
Stephen didn’t say a word.
Just kept grinning.
Ross glanced sideways. “You are going to say something. I know that face.”
Stephen tilted his head. “Didn’t realize banana hammocks were your thing.”
Ross slowly turned toward him. “It was a towel.”
“Didn’t look like a towel.”
Ross muttered. “I had just come out of the pool and it was a wrap party.”
Stephen leaned in slightly. “You sure…?”
Ross looked forward again. “It was that brat’s fault. He said we were off-camera.”
“Did he?” Stephen feigned surprise. “And you believed him? You have known Regal longer than me. That’s on you.”
Ross didn’t reply. “....”
Stephen chuckled again. “Can’t wait for the action figure.”
Ross shot him a sideways glare. “You got jokes now, huh?”
Before Stephen could fire back, a quiet figure stepped into the aisle beside them.
It was Jr. Stephen - the younger one. But there was something off tonight. His posture was tired, his eyes dimmer than usual.
He gave Ross a small nod, formal but familiar.
Ross returned it silently, gaze lingering. He remembered those eyes brighter, sharper - from long hours on the [Death Note] set, where they had once worked side by side with a kind of focused fire. That spark was missing now.
“Gandapa.” - the young man said gently, addressing Stephen. Sr. “The car’s out front.”
Stephen. Sr., just nodded, no smart remark this time.
The boy turned and left, disappearing down the shadowed corridor.
Ross watched him go.
“…He looks different.” He muttered under his breath.
Stephen. Sr., let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Don’t even ask.”
.
….
[To be continued…]
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