From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“Humph… … Humph… …”

Quietly, softly, Anson hummed, as if standing in a no man's land at the end of the world, his light and gentle singing seemed to shatter at a touch.

He was just cautiously huddled in a dark corner, doing his best to hide himself, scarred and broken, trying to send out a cry for help—

However, no one knew, no one cared, just leaving that lonely and fragile soul in the endless darkness, letting him live and die on his own.

“There is no end here… … There is no farewell… …”

“Disappearing… … Fading into the night… …” (Note 1)

In the soft humming, sorrow was injected into the notes, and the helplessness and confusion revealed between the fragments of words drifted in the wind, unable to grasp a center of gravity.

Suddenly, Lucas's heart curled up fiercely, and that fear was more clear than ever before—

He seemed, about to lose Anson.

“Anson… …”

Lucas squeezed out a hoarse voice from his throat, calling out again and again, gently knocking on the window, trying to attract Anson's attention.

Unfortunately, Anson still didn't respond.

Anson was just murmuring and humming, “Time passes… … Time passes… …”

It was too late, everything was too late, missed was missed, there was no more time and no more chance, parting was destined, just fading into the night like this.

No!

“Anson.”

“Anson!”

Lucas called out again and again, he was afraid, more afraid than ever before, childhood nightmares attacked his heart again, one turn and he could no longer find Anson, he stood in the surging crowd, constantly calling out and constantly searching, but he never found Anson's figure, just missing him like this.

“Anson, wake up! Anson-Wood!”

Finally.

Anson crawled out of his empty shell, raised his head following the sound, and found that face between the iron window bars, familiar yet unfamiliar.

Lucas clenched his hands tightly, trembling slightly uncontrollably because he was using too much force, constantly forcing himself to remain calm.

He needed to be calm.

“Anson, look at me, it’s me, Luca.”

“Tell me, what do you see? Anson, talk to me, I am here, and I have always been here, no matter what happens, I will not leave, do you hear? Anson, I am here, I am here with you.”

Anson was slightly stunned, looking at Lucas, a little dazedness revealed in his eyes—

He, why did he appear here?

Right, Johnny Cash, they were preparing to shoot the last scene of the Johnny Cash biopic, Johnny's first performance at Folsom Prison.

He thought those wounds had already healed.

However, they didn't.

They were still there, like ghosts, telling him again and again:

You are not worthy. You don't deserve it.

Those applause, those cheers, and those loves, all of them were like this.

The stage was close at hand, the applause was rolling in, but he began to be afraid.

Afraid that he was not worthy.

Fear, tension, and anxiety were burning in his stomach, he just wanted to destroy himself.

Just like himself.

In his previous life, he spent ten years finally getting rid of the shadow left by his father, having a stable job in the crew and cautiously embracing his dreams; however, when he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn't help but doubt that he didn't deserve—

Didn't deserve dreams; didn't deserve happiness.

He was just an ant that was abandoned, forgotten, and ignored, insignificant, no one cared about his pain, his despair, and his loneliness.

“… … Anson!”

The shout came again, pulling Anson back to the ground.

Suddenly raising his head, Anson saw Lucas's face, full of anxiety and worry, the sadness and pain between his brows were struggling, but he couldn't shout out.

“Anson,” Lucas took a deep breath, “Did you see Jack again?”

Anson was stunned, and was about to deny it, but when he raised his head, he saw Jack sitting at a table in the meeting room, his feet dangling, showing a smile to Anson.

Anson's head paused briefly, looking left and right:

Jack, why would he appear here? This is a prison, how did Jack get in?

Lucas noticed Anson's pause, the hesitation and surprise in his expression, that deep fear grabbed his heart tightly, Lucas could hardly breathe.

Following Anson's gaze, the meeting room was empty and there was no one else, but Lucas could feel Jack's existence from Anson's eyes.

This scared him.

But Lucas still forced himself to calm down.

“Anson, listen to me, Jack… … doesn’t exist, Jack is just an illusion.”

“Look clearly, look carefully, you can find that Jack is just a product of your misperceptions and contradictions, he is a nightmare, a wound, a kind of fear.”

Heh.

Anson smiled, he wasn't angry, but felt that Lucas was especially cute like this, “Luca, Jack really exists, what nonsense are you talking about?”

Lucas held his breath, clenched his fists again, barely controlling his slightly trembling body, “Anson, think carefully, every time Jack appears, it is when you are facing pressure and facing harm, he can appear in any place, any corner, he can appear at any time, because he is in your mind.”

“We are the real ones.”

“When Jack appears, observe carefully, what is illusion and what is reality.”

“I am real, the moment when we played guitar and created music at the entrance of the Angelica Film Center is real, the moment when Mom and Dad argued in the ward because they were worried about you is real, the moment when we teased the paparazzi and fought back against Sony Columbia together is real, the moment when you stood at the entrance of the Wilshire Theater surrounded by the audience is real, the moment when you and the August 31st band members sang to your heart's content at the Staples Center is real.”

“They can not only be seen, but also felt, felt with the heart and soul, those heat waves, those cheers, those dreams, those dizzying things are real.”

“But Jack is not.”

Anson was slightly stunned, and his gaze fell on Jack again.

So real, so vivid, without any flaws.

“Luca, this is not funny… …” But this time, the smile on Anson's lips had just started to rise before it subsided again, and a surge of unease surged in his heart.

He still didn't understand how Jack got in.

Obviously, this is not a place where just anyone can come in casually.

So, is this a dream? Is he now in a long dream, where truth and falsehood are indistinguishable, otherwise how else to explain it?

Anson was not sure.

“Jack is clearly in front of my eyes, why do you always insist that he doesn’t exist, I don’t understand, what is illusion and what is reality, how should I distinguish them?”

Unconsciously, Anson let down his guard, and the thoughts in his subconscious poured out, and then Anson quietly looked at Jack in front of him, sinking into a cloud of confusion.

Note 1: “Waiting (Wait—M83)”