Anson was not a naïve child unaware of the ways of the world.
He knew that bonds between people were not easily formed, whether they were familial, romantic, or friendships. This was true in everyday life, and even more so in the world of fame and fortune.
Looking for trust and connection in the realm of fame and fortune is a foolish idea.
Yet, Anson still held on to hope, a faint and innocent hope.
Even in the world of fame, it's still possible to find like-minded companions. Not because of foolishness, but because seeing everything too clearly and rationally makes life too lonely, like living without dreams.
Especially after experiencing the long darkness of a past life.
Anson realized that believing in dreams and hope was not foolish; it was about still loving life, standing in the mud while looking up at the starry sky.
So, cautiously, Anson chose to believe and to hope.
Today, Brad's appearance was a small surprise.
Anson could feel Brad's sincerity and helplessness. Although Anson didn't know what exactly Brad had gone through, he believed that what Brad had revealed was only the tip of the iceberg. But Brad's pain, confusion, and struggle were real—
Both he and Brad were ordinary people, prone to making mistakes, feeling regret, and falling down. More important than the mistakes themselves was the ability to change and improve after realizing them.
Those words of gratitude were sincere.
At least Brad proved that kindness in the world of fame wasn't all about foolishness.
However...
Things were not that simple.
Those hurts, those disappointments, those bitter moments, they all happened for real. They were so vivid and so real, leaving deep marks that wouldn't simply vanish with a few words of reconciliation.
Moreover, friendship isn't like Lego blocks that you can break apart and put back together without leaving a trace. Trust isn't something that can be easily restored once broken.
They needed time, and they needed space.
"But..."
"Brad, I don't think I can invite you to stay for a drink. At least, not right now."
Anson found it difficult to say, but eventually, he got the words out.
Brad was a bit panicked.
"Anson... no, I..."
"I promise, I won't act out. I won't behave like a madman and throw a tantrum."
"I won't keep talking about 'me, me, me.' I won't discuss work—either mine or yours. I just..."
Anson felt a twinge of guilt.
The Brad standing before him was like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.
But Anson knew that someone going through withdrawal—whether it's from addiction or ending an addiction—would desperately cling to any lifeline. Their words and actions couldn't be trusted easily.
Taking a deep breath, Anson kept calm.
"I know, Brad. I believe you."
"It's just that we both need time and space. Not just me, but you as well."
"What happened has already happened. There's no need to dwell on it, but we also can't pretend it didn't happen. We can't act as if everything is fine, as if pressing a reset button could make everything go back to how it was."
"I'm sorry, Brad. I don't want to hurt you..."
This time, Brad waved his hand, stopping Anson.
Brad sat quietly, shoulders slumped, looking a bit lost, as if he had been abandoned. But he took a deep breath and straightened his back again.
"No, no, no, I understand."
"I mean, I feel like a person who's been lost in the desert for too long. When I see a spring of water, I want to dive in. But the reality is, if I'm too eager, I might end up drowning."
"You need time, and I need time too."
It's not a difficult concept.
However, Brad still felt a wave of emptiness, standing there in a daze.
Life really isn't easy, and life in the world of fame and fortune is even harder.
When you're worth nothing, you long for overnight fame. But once you achieve that fame, you realize that the world wrapped in glamour is completely different from what you imagined. The harsh reality is that there's no going back.
Anson let out a long sigh.
"If this were a Hollywood movie, I should give you two hard punches on the chest right now, then tearfully see you off as you board a plane leaving Los Angeles. Then, I'd sit alone at the bar with a glass of whiskey, mourning silently, 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine.'"
Haha.
Brad couldn't help himself and burst out laughing.
Anson, still Anson—who would've thought a line from "Casablanca" would pop up here, changing the mood entirely.
"But life isn't a movie."
"Right now, for me, it's just not the time yet..."
Brad took a deep breath and waved his hands. "Don't worry, I understand. You're right. Besides, I'm always here."
"It's mainly because I have nowhere else to go. I can only stay in Los Angeles, so just pretend I'm still hanging around here, waiting for your call. And then, the paparazzi sneakily follow us, snapping photos of us heading to a bar for drinks. Chris will call, jealous, complaining that we went drinking without him."
Blah blah blah.
A smile crept up on Anson's lips.
The Brad in front of him had regained some of his carefree and unruly spirit from the past.
Anson didn't know how deep the marks left by the world of fame on Brad were, nor did he know if Brad could find his former self again. But at least, he was aware now.
That was a start.
Anson shrugged lightly.
"Although I can't invite you for a drink, since you've come all the way to Malibu, I can tell you that I worked on a movie with Heath Ledger. God, he's a real madman."
Brad's eyes widened. "Heath? Wait, the guy who competed with you for Peter Parker? Oh, my God, rumor has it he's so crazy he hits himself. Is that true?"
"I'm not sure if he hits himself, but I'm sure we got into a fight."
"You? You're joking!"
"I'm not."
"Jesus Christ, Anson, you've changed. I thought you'd never get into a fight. Even Chris, that goody-two-shoes, gets into fights, but you don't look like the type at all. I can't imagine you throwing a punch."
"Too bad you just apologized. Otherwise, I'd give you a punch right now, to teach you a lesson and let off some steam."
"Oh, Anson, you wouldn't want to try that. My fighting skills are dirty, all learned from street thugs. I only use cheap shots. You, the good kid, better not pick up bad habits."
"Monkey steals the peach?"
"Oh, my ears! God, my ears!"
Back and forth they went, laughing and joking. Somehow, it felt like the carefree, happy-go-lucky days of the past. They bantered and teased, and out of ten sentences, maybe one was true. The rest were pure nonsense, but these playful exchanges kept the laughter rolling.
In the end, Brad didn't stay long. After lingering for a short while, he left the villa with a smile. When his footsteps stood outside the wrought-iron gate, it seemed like the heavy burden on his shoulders was finally lifted.
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