From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Huff!

Uncontrollably, Lucas cut off his breath, the hesitation and confusion hidden within Anson's words leaking a hint of fragility.

The impenetrable defenses finally showed a crack, prompting Lucas to lean forward slightly, attempting to get closer to Anson across the railing and window, yet also fearing to startle him.

He opened his mouth, filled with urgency yet carefully guiding.

"Anson, you can do it."

Lucas said.

"Anson, I believe in you, you can find it."

"Calm down, observe carefully, examine Jack - Priest in front of you from head to toe, don't miss any detail."

"Slowly, hold your breath, observe carefully."

"All illusions have flaws.

They are very, very close to reality, but they are ultimately not reality.

It's just that we are often deceived by our own brains, and we miss those contradictions and oddities if we are not careful, treating illusions as reality and falsehoods as truth."

"But, flaws exist, as long as you calm down and try to find them, you can discover them.

This is the only way to distinguish reality from dreams, illusions from truth."

"Anson…"

"I am here waiting, no matter how much time it takes, no matter how much effort it takes, I am here.

Jack looked well-behaved, constantly dangling his legs, remaining silent, patiently waiting, then turning his head and giving Anson a big smile.

"Is the communication over?

Looks like, they are very worried about you."

Real, definite, indistinguishable.

Anson looked closely at Jack's eyes, not finding any flaws.

The only thing he could be sure of was that Jack should not be in Folsom Prison.

"…You, are an illusion.

Lucas wouldn't lie to me," Anson said.

Jack didn't mind, and burst out laughing, "Haha, so Charles' words are true?

I am actually you?"

Anson: …

Slightly stunned, with a slight frown, Anson noticed a detail, "Why would you know about this?

You were at the overpass when Dad said these words."

A hint of confusion also appeared on Jack's cheeks, tilting his head to look at Anson, "But, how is that possible?"

"I am me, how could I be you?"

"I can't be you, look at our appearances, they are completely different."

"I do wish I could be like you, experiencing a life of ease just by relying on looks, but unfortunately…Anson, why would I be you?"

Light, cheerful, with a hint of playfulness.

This seems like Jack, but also doesn't seem like Jack, but the important thing is that Jack didn't answer his question, which made the confusion in Anson's eyes even greater.

"Jack…" Anson was upset, "I need to go to work, the whole crew is waiting for me, we'll talk next time."

However, Jack jumped down, stood on the ground, and actively approached Anson.

"Anson, they are lying to you."

"When you were being beaten, when you were crying for help, everyone pretended not to see or hear, turning a blind eye."

"People simply don't care about kids like us.

Domestic violence?

So what?

Internet violence?

Commonplace!"

"In real life, there are such children appearing every day, being beaten, despised, disappeared, and forgotten, but no one cares, one after another after another."

Again and again, Jack's voice rose, as if he was accusing, which made Anson's temples throb faintly, almost unable to breathe.

In his mind, thoughts roared, and Anson felt he needed some fresh air.

However, just as he was about to stand up, inadvertently, Anson's gaze noticed the ground—

Jack's feet.

Scarred, bloodied, without socks or shoes, barefoot, the wounds could be clearly seen, and the bloodstains had not even dried.

This, is not right.

Following his feet, Anson's gaze slowly moved upwards.

All of Jack's other clothes were normal, neat and tidy, which made his bare feet appear even more strange.

Wait, no—

Clothes.

White shirt, blue jeans, everything was the same as what Anson was wearing when he first met Jack in New York…exactly the same, never changed.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, all year round, always the same.

Usually, it falls into the eyes, so normal and ordinary, completely unaware of the abnormality; but now, goosebumps crawl from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

Anson stared at Jack, finally looking into Jack's eyes, quietly watching the reflection of himself in those clear pupils, completely stunned.

Jack looked up, looking at Anson with admiration and worship, "Don't turn a blind eye to me, Anson."

Anson hesitated slightly, "…Jack, how long have we known each other?"

Jack shrugged lightly, carefully recalling for a moment, "Two and a half years, almost three years, right?"

Anson, "So, Jack, what grade are you in now?"

Jack, "Ninth grade."

Anson: …

Suddenly, an invisible hand strangled his throat, Anson couldn't breathe, and the memories in his mind surged in and devoured him.

That year, he was filming "Catch Me If You Can" in New York.

When filming the scene of the Abagnale parents' divorce, it awakened his nightmare-like memories from his previous life, and he couldn't breathe.

He left the set without regard, running all the way, but encountered a woman and child being violently beaten by a man on the street.

That, was his first meeting with Jack.

At that time, Jack was wearing this outfit; at that time, Jack's feet were scarred and bloody, running barefoot on the asphalt road in New York to escape.

However, at that time, the paparazzi took photos of his conflict with the truck driver, but no paparazzi took photos of him beating Jack's father.

Also at that time, the NYPD restored the ins and outs of the incident through surveillance video, proving that he did not beat the truck driver, but there was no surveillance video of Jack's family of three.

The thing, clearly happened, but never happened.

Later, in Portland, they met again at the school where "Elephant" was filmed.

He learned that Jack and his mother had finally escaped the clutches and were all well.

At that time, Jack was in the ninth grade, and at that time, Jack was also wearing this outfit and his feet were covered with scars and blood.

Later, in San Francisco, in Los Angeles, in New York, in Las Vegas.

Every time they met, Jack was wearing the same clothes, and his feet, unprotected by shoes and socks, were covered in blood and exposed to the air.

The scenes in his memory surged in, like a torrential rain pouring down.

Normal fragments that had never been noticed, normal fragments that had never been noticed, now slowly emerged from the memory fragments deep in his mind.

Those details disrupt time and space incongruously, and the memory world begins to collapse.

Rumbling, rumbling—

School.

Cinema.

Hospital.

Theater.

Street.

Etc., etc., the buildings and scenes in his memory are gradually disintegrating, illusions and reality are completely intertwined and chaotic, all intertwined together.

Indistinguishable.

"Run, Jack, run!

Don't look back!"

He, shouted, shouting heart-wrenchingly, punching Jack's father again and again, but at a certain moment, when he inadvertently looked back, he saw himself—

He, Anson - Wood, nine years old, barefoot, running all the way on the streets of New York.