Soft singing, quiet murmurs, that pure, crystal-clear voice floated effortlessly through a silky melody. The scenery of the river of time flowed gently in the heart, like a quiet stream.
On stage stood a man, so at ease, so free, and so unrestrained, as if dancing lightly within his own musical world, thoroughly content with himself.
Even without an audience, it didn't matter. He stood at the edge of time, singing his heart out.
His presence, carried by the soft glow of the lights, spread like mist, transforming the atmosphere of the entire bar. On a night of biting cold and snow-covered streets, it brought a quiet peace, a careful kind of warmth that expanded like the aroma of hot cocoa by the fireside.
This wasn't Anne's first time watching Anson perform—
Putting aside his band August 31st, Anson had already showcased his voice in The Princess Diaries.
But this was still a version of Anson that Anne had never seen before.
A single guitar. Wandering the world. The weight and majesty of time gradually unfolding in the melody—not with roaring waves or dramatic storms, but in the simplest, quietest storytelling. A savoring of every moment of life.
So simple, yet so captivating.
She couldn't take her eyes off him.
Who could have guessed that Anson had such a side to him?
So different, yet so... unmistakably Anson.
"Anne?"
A voice beside her startled her. She quickly masked her expression, afraid that her awestruck look might betray her thoughts. She glanced over, feigning calmness, only to find that no one seemed to notice.
Jake Gyllenhaal leaned in slightly, turning his gaze to the stage for a closer look.
"That's Anson, isn't it?"
Anne: ???
In an instant, the enveloping atmosphere vanished like smoke, and Anne was pulled back to reality.
Though she didn't know why she was nervous or what exactly was making her anxious, her heart pounded relentlessly, as if it might leap out of her chest.
Ryan Phillippe, seated nearby, perked up the moment he heard the name. Following Jake's line of sight, he asked, "Where?"
Recently, Reese Witherspoon hadn't stopped talking about Anson—
Anson thinks we should feel the music, not just the melody but also the lyrics.
Anson thinks we should dive into their lives to understand their choices.
Anson is road-tripping—can you imagine? By himself, no companions. Oh God, I could never do that.
It was always Anson this, Anson that. Though Anson had never actually entered their lives, Ryan feared their lives had already been overtaken by a stranger.
And now?
He came to New York for a movie audition, went out for dinner with actor friends, and still couldn't escape the shadow of this man. What was going on?
Left, right—Ryan scanned the room but couldn't spot Anson. He began to doubt his own sanity, wondering if he was hearing things.
Ryan retracted his gaze and looked at Jake. "Did you just say Anson?"
Then he turned to his side, seeking confirmation to ensure he wasn't imagining things. "Claire?"
Claire Danes, seated to Ryan's right, was on a completely different wavelength from the group. Cool and composed, she sat still, seemingly pondering whether to order a cocktail or go straight for dinner.
Yet, upon closer observation, one might notice that Claire's gaze occasionally swept the bar. She couldn't help being curious about Anson.
After all, Hollywood had been abuzz with comparisons between Anson and Leonardo DiCaprio—not just in popularity and accomplishments but also in looks and charisma. Everyone said Anson was the second coming of Leonardo.
Claire, who had not only worked with Leonardo on Romeo + Juliet but had also nearly starred with him in Titanic, couldn't help but feel intrigued.
Ryan's question startled Claire, and her expression briefly turned awkward.
But Claire didn't deny it. Instead, she played along. "I didn't see him. Jake, are you sure you weren't seeing things?"
Jake blinked, his first reaction being self-doubt. Had he made a mistake?
Then, shaking his head, he dismissed the thought. There was no way he could mistake someone like Anson. He was too distinctive. But how to explain it?
Jake glanced between Claire and Ryan, noting the doubtful looks in their eyes. He sighed dramatically, raising his hands in exasperation and waving them as if trying to catch Anson's attention.
"Hey, Anson!"
The shout cut through the room like thunder in a clear sky.
Anne was stunned.
Was he really that direct? The performance was still ongoing! Was this even okay?
The sharp, piercing gazes of the crowd immediately focused on them. Anne's shoulders tensed as she inwardly prayed for Anson, fearing the worst.
Yet, Anson on stage remained calm, entirely unflustered.
"Shh."
"The performance is still going. The Fox network's reunion show is around the corner."
Light, humorous, a gentle quip that instantly drew chuckles from the audience.
The crowd hadn't caught the content of the shout—only the disruption. Their first instinct was annoyance at someone breaking the performance's order, wanting the troublemaker to leave.
But with that witty remark, the tension eased, and attention returned to the stage. Nobody pursued the issue further.
Jake, however, wasn't satisfied.
"This isn't Carnegie Hall," he muttered under his breath. "We don't need to be so uptight. And why am I being singled out when everyone else is whispering? What's their problem?"
Still, Jake begrudgingly fell silent, though his eyes remained locked on the stage, glinting with excitement.
"That's Anson."
"Look, that's classic Anson. The guy's got a full beard now, looking like some vagabond."
"But I'm sure that's him."
"What's he doing here? Doesn't he have a band?"
Jake's incessant chatter left Anne exasperated. "Jake, the performance is still happening. Can we at least show basic courtesy?"
Jake spread his arms wide as if ready to take flight. "This is how you enjoy music in a bar!"
Claire shot Anne a glance before addressing Jake in a measured tone. "Llewyn Davis, didn't you see the show's poster outside?"
"If it's really Anson, it means he doesn't want to be recognized."
"And judging by the crowd's reaction, no one has recognized him."
"So, let it go. You're making things unnecessarily complicated."
Jake wasn't fazed. He pulled a face and replied, "What's complicated about it? Do you think that guy can stay unnoticed for long? Everywhere he goes, he stands out. If he wants peace, he should try Africa. I bet it's quiet there."
Despite his quip, Jake finally settled down, refraining from causing further commotion.
However, when the performance ended, Anson casually packed up his guitar, slung the case over his shoulder, and began walking straight toward them.
(To be continued)