As Anson thought about heading to the cinema to spend ti with a group of strangers, sharing a mont of movie mories, his mood lightly lifted.
He felt a little excited.
It was even more exhilarating than the cheers and screams from the flash mob event; or perhaps it was just a different kind of experience, one that revealed new possibilities in life.
Anson didn't stay exposed in the center of the square for long. He moved to the side, found a bench, sat down discreetly, and quietly waited for Lucas to return with the tickets.
Shortly after sitting down, a figure appeared diagonally ahead, casting a curious glance his way.
Anson's heart tightened slightly, silently thinking, This isn't good.
If he were recognized here, the movie plans might fall through.
But Anson couldn't understand why. He wasn't doing anything special, just quietly sitting aside. How could he be recognized?
Hadn't they only seen the back of his head or a side profile? Could soone recognize him from that alone? AI facial recognition technology isn't that advanced, right?
That would be impossible.
It didn't make sense.
Maybe he was overthinking it, and there was a more reasonable explanation: The person was looking for a friend they were supposed to et here, but hadn't spotted them yet, and Anson wasn't recognized at all.
Anson cald himself a little and, just like at the airport earlier, maintained a composed and dignified deanor. If he stayed calm enough, he could bluff his way out of this.
So, Anson didn't avoid the gaze either. Like an average person sensing soone's stare, he naturally looked up.
"Anson!"
A surprised exclamation.
Anson: ??? Seriously?!
But the next second, Anson saw the figure in front of him and couldn't help showing a hint of surprise.
"Jack?"
Jack Forrest—the New York teenager who had fled with his mother from dostic violence—had appeared here.
But shouldn't Jack be in Portland? What was he doing in San Francisco?
Had Jack's father found them, or had they encountered so other trouble that forced them to leave Portland?
A flood of thoughts rushed through Anson's mind, leaving him unsure what to make of it. All that remained was a mix of surprise and joy.
Not only Anson, but Jack was also full of joy, his smile unconcealed. He even bounced in place a couple of tis and gave Anson a solid hug.
Anson's first instinct was to dodge—
A reflex ford from recent events, as his body had grown unaccustod to the constant waves of enthusiasm. He instinctively tried to create distance.
However, Jack, full of warmth, didn't mind at all. He took another step forward and embraced Anson with precision, laughter bubbling from his chest.
"Congratulations!"
"Congrats on the huge success of your latest project. You're a big actor now."
Anson's mood lifted as well. The tension and anxiety slowly lted away in the warmth of the hug, and before he knew it, a smile crept onto his face. His previously stiff shoulders relaxed, and outside of Lucas, he found himself again displaying his usual charm.
Anson deliberately put on a stern face, "So that's the reason you ca over to say hi?"
Jack froze, waving his hands repeatedly, "No, no, that's not it! I just saw you and got too excited. I... I didn't expect this at all... Sorry..."
He was flustered and tongue-tied.
Now it was Anson who felt a bit at a loss. Seeing Jack's cheeks flush as if he were about to cry, Anson felt guilty. He shouldn't have teased the kid, especially knowing what he had been through.
"Jack, Jack!"
"Sorry, I shouldn't have joked around. I didn't an to criticize you."
Anson called out to Jack a few tis, his clear eyes eting Jack's gaze, helping calm him down, though Jack still looked a bit uncertain.
Anson gave a reassuring smile.
"I an it. Honestly, I'm really happy to run into an old friend here."
Jack blinked in surprise, "Friend?"
Anson chuckled, this ti without any teasing. "Of course, we're friends. At least that's how I see it. I hope you see as a friend too, not just so actor you see on the big screen."
"Heh heh." Jack regained his smile, scratching his head, "That's kinda hard. I just finished watching your movie. The version of you on the big screen is so convincing, I can't see you as a regular person right now."
His honesty was simple but showed closeness.
Anson relaxed as well. "That just ans I did a good job."
Jack nodded vigorously. "It wasn't until now that I really realized you're an actor. Even though I saw you last ti in Portland, the big screen is different."
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly, "Oh, I thought you'd already seen Spider-Man."
Jack nodded. "I did." He said it with no hesitation. "But that was just an idol movie, wasn't it?"
So direct, yet so sincere—
As people grow up, they beco less fond of hearing the truth because truth often hurts. Then life gets wrapped in layers of lies until the real truth is no longer reachable, leaving people stuck in an empty space in between.
That's why truth is good—it reminds people that gravity still exists.
Anson felt like he'd been hit head-on, leaving him montarily unsure how to respond. After being surrounded by the dazzling, colorful world of fa for so long, suddenly being confronted with reality made him feel grounded again. This was exactly why he wanted to visit the cinema.
So.
"I can't deny it." Anson admitted with a candid expression, spreading his hands.
Jack, looking a bit embarrassed, scratched his head again, his mouth twitching as if unsure what to say next.
Anson continued, "But that's fine because the paycheck went through. They paid well for my work, and honestly, I like jobs that make things simple."
"Hey, why should we resist that?"
Anson's straightforwardness made Jack pause. He tilted his head and studied Anson until he was sure there was no joke or forced sentint behind his words. Then he opened his mouth in surprise. "I didn't know you could see it that way. In that case, maybe starring in a bad movie isn't that bad after all."
Anson shrugged lightly, "As long as the paycheck has enough zeros. Whether money can buy love is up for debate, but it can definitely buy a project."
"Haha." Jack couldn't help but laugh. "You're one of a kind. Haha."
His laugh was pure and genuine.
And it brought a smile to Anson's face as well.
He missed monts like these—chatting freely with friends, without a care in the world. Sure, Jack might just be a high schooler, seen by others as just a kid, but to Anson, he was a friend.
Then.
Anson suddenly rembered an important question—he had almost forgotten in the excitent. "Why are you in San Francisco? Did sothing happen? Is your mom okay?"
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