Sarah was curious—where was Anson? Given that Anson understood how to position the right people to keep the crew running smoothly, compensating for inexperience with professionalism, there was no reason for the producer to be late on the first day of filming.
After all, producers and actors are entirely different roles. A producer doesn't need, and shouldn't be, acting superior. Instead of wasting time on unnecessary fanfare, it would be better to focus on the crew's operations.
And, as if summoned by the thought, the devil appeared.
Anson had arrived.
Aaron noticed immediately.
White T-shirt, jeans, and low-cut yellow boots.
Clean, crisp, and without any added flair, he was like a refreshing breeze, adding a vibrant touch to the cool autumn day in Vancouver. Even the bright red leaves seemed to pale in comparison.
Aaron stared at Anson, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
Sarah also froze for a moment. She knew Anson was strikingly handsome and tall—his face and figure were everywhere, from print to film to TV. But only seeing him in person allowed her to feel that unique charisma.
One of a kind.
Sarah couldn't help but sigh; some people were just born to shine.
In her brief distraction, Aaron had already slipped out of her grasp and dashed forward.
Sarah: "Oh no."
A sense of dread filled her heart. "Aaron!" she called instinctively, but it was too late. Aaron had already darted forward like a swift panther. Sarah hurried after him but couldn't keep up.
*Thump, thump, thump.*
Aaron sprinted toward the figure, with only Anson on his mind. He wanted to tell him:
"I really, really love Spider-Man. I've watched it over a dozen times and still can't get enough. I even went out of my way to watch your other movies, like *The Princess Diaries* and *Friends*. Now I'm waiting for *Catch Me If You Can* to release. I hope that when I grow up, I can be a superhero like you..."
The thoughts were a noisy mess in his mind, a tangled bundle of excitement and adrenaline.
And then—
Aaron stopped right in front of Anson, his heart pounding as he skidded to a halt, words caught on his tongue. He looked up and saw Anson's eyes on him.
"You're so tall," he blurted out.
Anson blinked, then smiled with a slight lift of his lips. "Drink more milk and go to bed early."
Aaron's mind went blank. He simply stared at that face, then nodded obediently.
In books and movies, protagonists are often described as having an "aura" when they make their entrance. Aaron had always thought that was just a literary device, not something real.
Until now.
There really were people who carried an aura.
Sarah finally caught up, panting as she arrived. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wood..."
Anson stopped her with a smile. "Anson. Just call me Anson. I'm not much older than Aaron here."
Hearing his own name made Aaron feel an uncontrollable surge of joy. His face broke into a huge smile. "You know me?"
Anson: "Of course I know you."
The young man standing before him, now an up-and-coming Hollywood heartthrob thanks to films like *Kick-Ass*, *Avengers: Age of Ultron*, and *Nocturnal Animals*, had definitely made his mark. The 12-year-old version, though, was noticeably different.
Aaron's young face was still round, with soft pink cheeks, and his features hadn't fully matured. But his bright eyes were captivating and magnetic.
Before *Kick-Ass* turned him into a muscular heartthrob, Aaron's breakthrough role was in *Youthful Love*, a high-school romantic comedy where he played the lead singer of a school band. In fact, Aaron before and after eighteen were nearly unrecognizable from each other.
No wonder the entertainment industry often says that the best transformation is hitting the gym.
When Anson saw Aaron Taylor-Johnson's name on the casting list, he did a double-take. Was there another Aaron Taylor-Johnson out there? But that wasn't something to bring up right now.
"Of course. This is my movie and my cast; how could I not know you? Don't forget, we went through quite the process to find you."
This was the truth—
Marcia, in her search for the perfect actor to play Anson's childhood role, had scoured Los Angeles, auditioning over 400 kids, both seven-year-olds and thirteen-year-olds, to find the right ones.
Aaron wasn't a perfect fit either.
Since he was British, he had a British accent.
The *Butterfly Effect* cast had American accents, and they couldn't just swap everyone's accents for one role. So, Aaron had spent a month working on his American accent before joining the crew, just barely meeting the criteria.
Anson's casual comment stirred up a storm of emotions in Sarah's heart.
Securing this role had been a long, winding road. The Johnson family had come close to giving up several times, convinced that it would end like the *Harry Potter* nightmare. Each time, they had to readjust their expectations and brace themselves.
Luckily, the nightmare hadn't repeated.
Sarah looked up at Anson, who had no idea what his words meant to her. Her eyes filled with tears, which she quickly tried to hide, wiping them away hurriedly.
Aaron didn't think too much of it. His world was still simple, and he craned his neck until he almost broke it, staring up at Anson's face. He had imagined countless times what it would be like if Spider-Man appeared before him, but now that it was real, his mind was blank.
"I like you," Aaron said.
Anson looked over, surprised.
Aaron repeated softly, in his young voice, "I really like you."
Anson's smile blossomed. "Thank you! The pleasure is mine."
But Anson didn't treat Aaron like a child—
At seven, maybe that would be fine; at twelve, not so much.
Anson took a small step back, creating some space, then bent down to make eye contact with Aaron, extending his right hand in a friendly gesture. "So, let's work together and make something amazing."
Aaron blinked, meeting Anson's bright gaze. A smile spread across his face, radiant as the sun, and he took Anson's hand, his voice bursting with excitement.
"Yes, sir!"
Anson and Sarah both burst into laughter.
Anson straightened up and spotted Rachel McAdams standing nearby, who had paused to watch. She gave him a knowing smile and a playful salute, acknowledging the exchange silently. Unspoken understanding filled the air.
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