"Jack!"
Anson wasn't entirely sure.
A few months ago, while filming "Cat and Mouse" in New York, he helped a young boy and his mother escape a situation of domestic violence. At the time, he lost track of the boy in the chaos.
But now—
Was that Jack?
"Jack!"
Anson quickened his pace, a flicker of excitement crossing his face. He saw the boy hurriedly gripping the straps of his backpack, quickening his own steps as he kept looking back anxiously. The atmosphere immediately tensed.
Anson quickly stopped, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Jack, it's me."
The boy glanced at Anson, turned away in a rush, then looked back again.
Finally, he stopped. His beautiful eyes brightened with recognition and joy as he looked at Anson, his breath momentarily catching.
A pause.
The next second, the boy darted into Anson's arms like a bird returning to its nest.
Thud!
He crashed into Anson, hugging him tightly with all his strength, his arms clinging firmly as a low sob escaped from deep within his throat.
Anson was startled, completely unprepared for this reaction. Instinctively, he tried to pull away from the hug—
He still wasn't used to hugging.
But Anson quickly noticed the boy's trembling shoulders and quiet sobs, like a puppy soaked in the rain, clinging desperately to its lifeline. This softened Anson's heart, and he let out a small sigh.
In the end, Anson didn't push the boy away.
Anson lifted his right hand, intending to offer some comfort, but his palm hovered in the air, unable to settle.
He couldn't imagine what the boy had gone through, couldn't imagine how he had managed to escape New York and make it to Portland, couldn't imagine how terrified he must have been, constantly fearing his father would find him again.
But he knew what he himself had been through.
When life hits rock bottom, others can do little more than offer words of encouragement, like "hang in there" or "it'll get better." These kind words provide a small measure of warmth. Yet, sometimes—
Even a "hang in there" can become a burden.
Because even encouragement requires mental and physical strength, and in certain moments, when you lack the energy to even lift your head and look at the stars, those encouraging words can become the last straw that breaks you.
In those darkest moments, when you're on the brink of despair, what you need isn't a "hang in there," but just someone to be there with you.
So that when you finally have the strength to look up, you see someone quietly standing by your side, reminding you that you're not alone in facing the endless, dark night. And that's enough.
Here and now, it was the same.
So, Anson's gently raised hand didn't fall on the boy's shoulder after all.
If he needed a hug, then Anson would wait right there to give him one.
A hug that was both brief and endless.
It was the boy who eventually realized something was wrong, awkwardly releasing his grip, looking up at Anson with tear-filled eyes.
"Sorry, I…uh, I shouldn't have, I just…I just really wanted to hug you."
Anson understood. He understood everything.
So, he smiled. "I'm right here."
The boy blinked, then, seeing Anson's encouraging smile, he rushed back into Anson's arms, hugging him tightly once again.
Looking down at the boy whose head barely reached his shoulder, with his thin but stubbornly straightened shoulders, Anson could almost see the scars life had left on him, even though there were no visible wounds.
But—
No matter what, they had finally escaped New York. That was something good.
At last, the boy released his hold again, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his hand and trying to muster a big smile, his eyes shining brightly.
Anson's mouth curved up in response. "Are you in school here now?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically. "We left New York. My mom and I." He scratched his head nervously. "We've been on the run, always worried…worried he'd find us. We finally ended up in Portland."
"I thought about going to Los Angeles, but it seemed too obvious. I was worried he might track us down…so Mom said Portland was a good place."
In just a few words, the boy couldn't begin to describe the storms they'd weathered.
Especially his mother.
Anson knew how much courage it must have taken for her to leave that family.
When violence becomes a habit, over time, a person might start believing that this is what they deserve, that it's their fate, and they lose the courage to escape. They're too afraid to leave, even refuse to leave, letting themselves suffer in hell, like a rope binding them to a camel's back.
Thankfully, she had managed to escape in the end.
"You did great," Anson said.
The boy looked up slightly, his eyes welling with tears again. "Yeah." He nodded firmly.
Anson asked, "So, is high school everything you hoped it would be?"
As soon as he mentioned this, the boy started bouncing with excitement. "Of course! Of course, of course, of course! It's actually better than I imagined. Oh my God, I love it. I love every single second of being here."
"Did you know we did a real experiment in chemistry class last time?"
"Math is hard, really hard. I hate math with every bone in my body, but our math teacher is such a fun guy. I love the way he talks about the universe. He says that if you want to be an astronomer or an astronaut, you have to be good at math."
"Oh my God, why did God give me this trial?"
"Ah! And next month, the school's putting on a Shakespeare play. It's Shakespeare! I want to audition, but I'm not sure if I'll be any good."
He chattered away.
Anson didn't interrupt, just watching as the boy's face, full of youth, found joy and happiness once more—
Yes, high school should be a time when boys are free from worries.
After rambling on, the boy finally scratched his head in embarrassment. "Ah, sorry, I think I talked too much."
"Haha." Anson laughed. "So, is this the life you dreamed of?"
The boy nodded vigorously, his face glowing with joy.
The ordinary life of other children was his biggest dream.
Anson let out a breath. "So, do you have a new dream now?"
"Astronaut!" The boy's eyes widened, his clear pupils filled with hopes and dreams for the future, but then he quickly became shy. "I don't know if I can really do it."
Anson clenched his fist. "Of course you can. At your age, you can dream of being anything or anyone you want. Even if others say it's unrealistic, it doesn't matter. If you don't dream now, then when will you?"
As they grow older, reality grinds down their edges, making them ordinary and mediocre. They constantly convince themselves that this is what growing up is about; but in truth, it's the death of their true self and the loss of their individuality, until they can no longer find the shining person they once were.
If there's still a dream, then you should dare to dream it.
A little bit of craziness is okay.