he found the colors to paint her where the world had left her grey
"Closing your eyes and letting go won't kill you," he whispered to her, the soft pad of his thumb gently caressing her cheek.
"I'm afraid of it, Harry," she muttered, swallowing the...
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( a/n): hey just a note that when I looked at this chapter on the mobile app it didn't show all of it! so if you're reading it on the app you may or may not have the whole chapter. ok byeeee
"Ow, shit!" Harry said loudly, pulling his hand back quickly from the wood burner pen he was using. He clasped his hand tightly to his chest, breathing in quickly through his teeth. "Fuck, ow."
He never thought that he'd be so stuck that he would try a new medium. Painting and drawing had been the only mediums he'd used since high school, and at no point had he ever strayed from it. He had never needed to. Ideas for new drawings and paintings came to his head all the time. Not recently, though. Not since Mia left.
It was ridiculous of him to even spare a thought to the idea that all of his inspiration came from his marriage. Though, even through his divorce, anything he was feeling he could easily put into art. For whatever reason, now it felt like he wasn't feeling anything at all. Or maybe he was feeling too many things all at once and just couldn't decide between them. Either way, it was certainly no inspiration. Not like anything he'd had in the past.
He wanted to make a multimedia collage of some sort. He'd never been very good at it when he tried in school, but who was to say that it wasn't something that was a hidden talent? So, he'd borrowed some tools from the art department and brought them to his studio to play around with. It was evident so far that wood burning was not a talent of his.
As Harry rushed over to the sink and let the cold water run over his hand, he thought about all of his decisions that led up to this moment. If he was still married maybe he'd still be inspired. If he was a better husband maybe he'd still be married. If he was a better person maybe he'd have been a better husband.
Harry knew that he wasn't single now because he was a bad person, or even a bad husband. He knew that he was single now because the universe, or god, or whatever higher power he almost convinced himself to believe in knew that they weren't meant to be together. Even if Harry thought differently. There was some great force pulling them apart, and pulling Mia to another man. Harry had always wished that he had fought harder, longer, for things to work. He knew it wouldn't have been effective, but he could have at least tried.
He bandaged himself up fairly quickly, and decided that returning to wood burning may never be a good idea for him. He quickly put the tools back in the box they came from and set them near his things to take to the university. He wanted to create so badly, but he just couldn't force himself to do it. He craved for some kind of inspiration. Anything that might take him back to the good old days when he was creating every single day.
He doubted a simple walk would help much, but it could at least let him clear his head. With his fresh wound wrapped up and cared for, he was ready to get out of his own headspace and out of his studio. He felt almost trapped, like all of the paintbrushes and canvases laying around had created a cage for him. He pulled on his jacket over his dirty button up, the one he always wore in his prime days of painting. He thought maybe it might help him out.
