Art Deco - An Evan Peters Fanfiction

3 - Solitude

words: 1491

[Celeste POV]

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And here I was again, the same place I had spent years of my life alone. The same apartment, the same streets, and the same people I had grown used to. No new excitement just back to my modest lifestyle. Yes I know I was only in Paris for a week but that didn't matter, it was the feeling of starting on a blank slate that I craved for years on end.

And even in that short span of time, I had made so many unforgettable memories, one in particular. Meeting that man in the museum was one that outshone the rest, and no I didn't fall in love with this man after knowing his for just a week, I just longed for the conversations we created throughout our walks along the main streets of Paris, the somewhat deep talk we had during a night out at one of the local bars, the jokes we told each other, and the moments we spent together admiring art work.

I yearned for all of those things dearly. But the longer I though about it the more it hurt, he lived hours away from me, and he was probably a busy man with a busy schedule, at least that's the vibe he gave off, a hardworking man with a love for his family and friends. I remember at some point in our drunken conversation I had asked him about his love life, and during I had found out he hadn't dated many people since he was too shy to ever ask anyone out properly, which I wasn't expecting considering his looks and his affectionate personality. He then asked me about mine.

I had never been successful in the love compartment in my life to be honest. I had asked a few people out back in my college years, many of which politely declined or on the rare occasion, accepted the offer to later tell me they weren't ready for a relationship yet. I did have a partner at one point but I had caught them cheating on me in my own apartment, after that I broke it off with them, kicked them out and ended up getting wasted in order to try drown away my sorrows, which unfortunately didn't help but give my a headache the next day.

I had never really opened up to anyone that much in my life, especially not to someone I had met to someone a few days ago, but something about him was different. 

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I had awoken to find myself in my bedroom curled up in my bed, still wearing my outfit the day before. I found my phone placed under one of my pillows, probably put there in my drowsy state from last night. I checked it as I usually did when I awoke from my sleep, no new notifications. I mean what was I expecting.

I then got up and started getting ready for another dull day back here in London just like I did most days. I had made sure to text my boss that I felt better and that I'd be back in work as soon as possible, but until then I decided to take one last day off just for myself which included no social interactions, that rule also applied to my friends. 

I was planning on going down to my favourite art shop as well as a small book store that had opened up a while ago to see if I could pick up a book or two that piqued my interest. As I  walked into my kitchen I took a granola bar out of one of the many drawers, and started heading towards the doorway, when I got to it I made sure to take my satchel and keys. I took my headphones out and plugged them into my phone while I closed my door. 

I started heading towards the apartment lift while one of my favourite songs started blaring through my ears, all too well by Taylor Swift. I finally got into the lift, luckily it was because god, I can't stand the awkwardness of standing next to someone in a secluded space. As the Lift doors closed my mind randomly went back to thinking about Evan, I wonder what he was doing now. I mean possibly not much since I was sure it was nearly night for them. I could be wrong though since I wasn't fully sure on the time difference , I'd have to do some research on that later.

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[Evan POV]

Looking down at Los Angeles from above was quite graceful if I do say so myself, it's not how I'd usually describe the so called 'City of Angels' though. After living here for so long you start to see the unpleasant side of it, I mean you can perhaps say that about any place after living there for a while. 

I had just taken a trip to Paris for a while to somewhat take a break from everything that was going on around me, the talks of me coming back for another season of American Horror story along with a few other potential projects. A lot of my friends and family had been worried about me recently and had recommended I get away for a bit and spend a bit of time by myself.

To be fair, even I myself had realised how much and impact all these roles had taken on me, don't get the wrong idea though, I loved playing these roles but once you start playing multiple killers, psychopaths, and depressing characters it starts getting to your head. I had then booked a flight to Paris for a week and a half for the following week, I was quite excited about it, I had been to France before, but that was ages ago, this time I was going alone.

And now I was flying back from that little getaway, and to be honest, I felt more relaxed than  I did beforehand. I had gone to see some of the landmarks in Paris, went to a fair share of local cafés, took strolls through many breath-taking parks, and I had even made a friend throughout my trip. Her name was Celeste and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel nervous when I first met her back at the Musée D'orsay.

I had always been interested in art, but I never knew where to start learning about it. It seems like such a complicated topic when you know barely anything about it. I did own some pieces of art back at my house but never bothered to understand the meaning behind any of them. Unlike Celeste though who seemed to know almost everything about every piece, I mean she had told me that she had always wanted to come to the art museums in Paris and that she did research on a ton of these pieces back in college, and that now she was a tour guide at the National Gallery in London.

One thing I remember fondly was the glimmer she had in her eye as soon as we reached the rooms where Van Gogh's paintings were in. She looked so fascinated in each one of those pieces and took her time analysing each and every single one with euphoria on her face. I swear that I had even seen a tear of joy roll down her beautifully shaped face as she stepped towards one particular painting, The Starry Night Over the Rhone. I remember her briefly mentioning it to me as we started the tour, but seeing it in person seemed to really seemed to touch her heart.

Celeste was definitely one of the very few people I was actually glad to meet in my lifetime, but I did have to face the fact that the chances of seeing her again would be slim since she lived over in London. I do remember she had told me about how she had grown to despise living in London during a drunk conversation that occurred at one of the local bars in the centre of Paris. Celeste had mentioned how she had been thinking about moving quite a bit over the past year as she yearned for the feeling of starting at point zero, I understood how she felt very well.

I would make sure to keep in contact with her as soon as I got home, I couldn't bare to lose someone so perfect so soon. Before I knew it the plane had landed at the LA airport safely. I sprung away from my thoughts as I started getting ready to make my way back home.

But I couldn't get her out of my head, no matter how hard I tried, she just seemed to linger in my thoughts. The thoughts of the what if's and the maybe's. God, I only knew this woman for a week and I already couldn't get her out of my head. This is going to be hard.

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