The boy quietly watched Anson. Despite Anson's constant smile, the boy could sense a faint sadness hidden within the bright and radiant exterior.
Was it an illusion?
"What's your dream?" the boy asked.
Anson was taken aback. "Ah..." he sighed softly, memories tracing back through the long river of time. The memories of his youth felt so distant, making it hard to distinguish between what truly happened and what his mind had constructed.
His dreams had long been scattered across the endless flow of time.
"My dream is to be like you," Anson said—
To love life despite being scarred, to move forward despite being trapped, to hold on despite falling into the abyss.
The boy didn't understand.
Anson was only nineteen, about the same age as the boy, yet there was a profound sense of loss and fragility emanating from him, a contradiction of time's weight falling chaotically on his shoulders.
The boy thought for a moment. "Do you want to go back to the past?"
"Yeah." Anson nodded gently.
The boy asked, "What do you miss most about that time?"
Anson didn't immediately respond. He brushed away the fog in his mind, digging up the deeply hidden memories of his past life. As he thought, a smile unknowingly spread across his face—
Those pure and simple days. He thought he would miss those happy moments, but that wasn't the case.
"I miss the worries."
"Worrying about unfinished homework, about doing poorly on exams, about getting caught passing notes in class and having the teacher call my parents, about planning to go out with friends on the weekend but not knowing how to ask my parents…"
"Worrying about messing up the school play, about getting caught sneaking in video game time, about the girl I had a crush on not liking me back…"
Back then, they thought those worries were the most terrifying and awful things in the world. But as they grew up, they realized that those worries were a form of happiness.
The words lingered in the air, the sound crisp and disappearing in a blink, but the hidden sadness and loss spread out.
The boy held his breath—
He understood. He completely understood.
This was the life he wanted. He wanted to have those adolescent worries, to experience a normal teenage life.
Clearly, Anson was someone with a story. They both had their own stories, like two parallel lines that intersected at a certain moment.
Anson noticed the boy's gaze, a bit embarrassed. He hadn't expected to open up so easily, the words naturally spilling out; but he knew that in the boy, he saw his former self.
Sincerely, Anson hoped the boy could completely escape the shadows and truly live a teenage life, worrying about those trivial troubles.
*Ahem.*
Anson cleared his throat to cover his expression. "Maybe you could become an actor. You could try out for the school play."
The boy's eyes lit up. "Really? Do you think I could be an actor? Just like you?"
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh, you recognized me?"
"Hehe." The boy chuckled. "Not just me, my mom recognized you too. Let me tell you a secret: I've watched 'Spider-Man' four times. I want to be a superhero like you and take on the responsibility of protecting my mom."
Simple words hid many, many scars.
So, this is the power of movies—
Far more than just a form of entertainment.
Anson nodded lightly. "If you're interested, you could try acting. I'm here in Portland to shoot a project, and the director might hold auditions at your school. If you're interested, I can recommend you to the director."
"Really?" The boy's eyes widened in excitement as he looked at Anson. "Can I really become an actor? And act with you?"
Happiness surged.
But only for half a second. The boy's face quickly dimmed.
"No, I can't."
"I—uh, if I became an actor, it would reveal me and my mom. I don't want to be found, at least not yet, not until I'm able to protect my mom."
"Maybe next time, maybe there will be another chance."
Anson saw the struggle and hesitation on the boy's face, but the words of persuasion remained stuck in his throat.
Maybe there were many ways to solve this, but it was ultimately the boy's life. As an outsider, Anson could only see the tip of the iceberg, only offer help within his capabilities, but the final decision and steps forward had to be taken by the boy himself.
At least they had left New York and started a new life, which was a good thing. The rest could come step by step.
"This time, while we're shooting here, you're welcome to visit the set anytime. You can see if you're interested; making a movie is very different from what you might imagine."
"Afterward, you can sign up for the school play and see for yourself. It's Shakespeare, after all—who wouldn't want to take on Shakespeare?"
With just a few words, the boy's expression brightened again.
"Yeah, yeah, exactly!" The boy couldn't help but leap with excitement. He was about to say something more when the school bell interrupted him.
The boy showed a sad expression. "Ah, the troubles."
"Haha." Anson couldn't help but laugh.
The boy smiled again, taking off toward the classroom. Just a few steps away, he stopped and looked back.
"Anson, I'm really happy to see you again."
"Thank you, I just want to say, thank you!"
The boy called out to Anson with a blooming smile, just as a ray of golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, landing on him and outlining him in gold—completely different from the dark and gloomy encounter on the streets of New York.
"Hey!" Anson called out, stopping the boy in his tracks. "We've met twice, but we still haven't introduced ourselves. That's not fair."
"Haha, sorry." The boy scratched his head.
He stopped, turned around.
The boy looked at Anson, and from a distance, he confidently extended his right hand, straightened his posture, and loudly announced:
"Jake-Forest."
"My name is Jake-Forest, very pleased to meet you."
So bright, so sunny—this must be the real Jake.
No more words were needed. With just an introduction, a smile had already formed on Anson's lips. He followed Jake's lead, extended his right hand, and pretended to shake hands across the distance.
"Wood. Anson-Wood."
"Hey, Jake, very pleased to meet you."
The two stood ten meters apart, even having to shout to converse; but they completed the handshake in the air, even giving an imaginary high-five, a silent bond forming between them.
Then, Jake didn't linger any longer, waving as he walked backward.
"Anson, good luck with the shoot!"
Watching Jake's retreating figure, Anson remained standing, as the playground fell silent again. The students had all gone into their classrooms, and the noise and bustle faded away.
Anson stared in the direction Jake had left.
"It's really, really great to see you again."