Slow Motion

Chapter 1: Tourism

Los Angeles had always been like a second home to him. He'd made friends there, frequented the nightlife, indulged in the abundance of coffee shops. It was a place he was always eager to return to and when offered a recording studio for his next album, he was easy to jump on it.

He'd been recording for weeks now and his voice was quite tired as it tried new melodies and sang different words. It had been exciting in the beginning but had dwindled down as he found he no longer had much to sing about that he hadn't already done before. He was never one to sing about parties or drugs, it was always about love. Love that inspired him, that broke his heart in the most painful ways.

It had been a while since he'd fallen in love with a person. He loved places, experiences, the world in its entirety, but that was nothing compared to the love he could hold for someone. His songs were old and tired as he repeated the same love he had before, and he'd found himself frustrated with it all.

Harry decided to take the day off from songwriting and spend a day by himself. He enjoyed solitude but most days were filled with extravagant dinner dates with his other celebrity friends. He was never one to think much about money, probably because he'd had enough for years to never think of it as a problem, and so he allowed himself to take advantage of life's luxuries.

Today was different though as he stopped himself from calling a friend. In all his years of returning to LA he'd never once been a tourist in it. There were museums to be seen and he found the idea of being surrounded by art to bring him a sense of happiness and hoped it would provide him with some inspiration.

Despite the warm weather that Los Angeles offered he chose to cover up with a beanie, sunglasses and a simple pair of shorts and t-shirt. His goal was to remain inconspicuous in an effort to have a quiet day, although he knew he was bound to run into a fan at some point. So far he had been successful, having entered the Broad museum without causing much of a fuss. He'd spent the past hour looking through the paintings and sculptures they offered but found little inspiration from it all.

He caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision before a voice spoke, the first person to talk to him directly that afternoon.

"The art came to see more art, huh?"

Harry turned, a slight grin playing on his lips as he looked at the girl who stood next to him. Her eyes were set on the painting in front of them as her arms crossed, the fabric of her dress swaying softly. The floral embroidery resembled a field of flowers and he couldn't help but think that she looked like the embodiment of spring.

"Pardon?"

She turned her head slightly and met his eyes, a sparkle of mischief gazing back at him.

"You really should try a little more with your disguises, Harry," she smiled before turning back to look at the painting. "It's not very good."

"It's been working just fine so far," he chuckled, slightly amused at the way the unexpected conversation was going, "until now, anyway."

Silence passed through them as they both observed the art on the wall. Harry found this piece to be particularly interesting as it depicted a woman in tears holding onto a man with quite some force. He thought it looked a bit sad, like lovers saying their goodbyes.

He could have left then. He should have, really. But there was something about the girl beside him that struck him as oddly intriguing and so he chose to pick her brain instead.

"What d'ya think of this one?" he asked her as he nodded towards the painting.

"I think it's quite happy," she replied. "What about you?"

"Happy?" he was surprised by her answer, "what makes you say that?"

"Well, the way she's holding onto the man reminds me of the way you hold a friend or a lover when they've been gone for a long time. It seems like a reunion to me," she cocked her head as she turned towards him, giving Harry her full attention. "What did it seem like to you?"

"I thought the opposite. A goodbye of some sort."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, art is subjective. People see what they need at the moment. I see a reunion, something happy, while you see a goodbye. Perhaps it's reflective of something you currently feel, but I don't think it matters really. I don't think either of us is wrong."

"What makes you say that?" His curiosity had been sparked. It'd been a long time since he'd had an actual conversation with a fan that didn't involve some sort of compliment or praise from their end and he found it to be refreshing. Although, he wasn't really sure if she was a fan to begin with.

"Art is subjective," she repeated, "People see what they need and once a piece is out there it's open to interpretation. I think that's something beautiful. To let a piece of you out into the world and see it shaped into whatever sort of comfort someone yearns for."

Harry nodded as he took in her point of view. He knew his own art and the way he meant it to be perceived, but he also knew how it was viewed. His songs were personal, and yet people could relate to them across all levels. He pondered over this fact for a while, oblivious to the fact she had begun to walk away from him.

"You're leaving?" Harry called out as he realized she was no longer beside him.

"I've still got the rest of the museum to explore," she gestured to the rest of the building with a bright smile. "And I assume I was intruding on what was meant to be a personal day."

"I don't mind some company."

The words slipped his lips before he could truly understand what they were offering her. A day spent with him, with no one else to bother their conversation as they wandered through the rest of museum. He wasn't really interested in seeing more paintings if he was being honest to himself, but it had been a long time since he found someone who intrigued him so much.

"You sure?" her voice sounded calm but the look in her eye made butterflies in his stomach explode, promising him adventure if he only dared to accept it.

"Yeah," he replied almost breathlessly. Her smile was blinding as she waved him over.

"Well, come on then. Much to do, you know."

He followed behind her with equal enthusiasm and decided to accept whatever it was the universe had thrown at him. Besides, he'd found his muse in the sparkle of her eyes.