Daddy issues || h.s

3.1

The building in front of her had once been white, but now graffiti graced the two first meters from the ground up, and above that, countless cracks were embedded deep into the façade. There were no windows on the first floor, only a garage door and an old wooden door with rusty hinges.

She looked down at the crumpled note in her hand, and then up at the address scribbled on the building. They were identical.

For a moment, she stood still, the only sound reaching her ears the sound of the still spinning wheels on her bike. It lay on the ground, having been slung there in her rush to find the right place. And now she had.

She took in a shaky breath and knocked on the door, the sound of her fist against the wood ringing out in the silent street. She scratched her knee in anticipation, but as the wounds were healed, no blood pooled under her nails, and she found herself scratching at old scars. 

She knocked again, swallowing the lump in her throat. For a while, no one came, but just as she was about to knock a third time, the door was thrown open, the rusty hinges screaming with the effort, as if they hadn't been opened for years. There he was. Standing 6 feet tall, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. His hair was messy, and his shirt was splattered in paint, but a smile shone upon his face and his eyes gleamed like the stars.

"Fancy meeting you here," He said and leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah, it's almost like someone left me a mysterious note telling me to come here," Adelaide said and laughed. 

"I wonder where they got the inspiration to do that from," he raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. And suddenly he couldn't keep himself away from her any more, so he wrapped his arms around her in a hug so tight it took her breath away. "I'm so glad you came."

"You know me, I cant resist an adventure," She whispered in his ear, and hugged him back. 

"So, where are we?" She asked when he let go of her. 

"Come in and see for yourself," he said and stepped aside, inviting her in.

The building was but one room, the walls stretching four stories tall without being interrupted by a roof. The only source of light was a cluster of light bulbs, hanging on wires from the roof beams twelve meters above them, and the sun that flowed through the windows, bathing the room in a soft, yellow light. Shelves lined the northern wall, and a wooden table was placed in the middle of the room, there was even a bed with white messy sheets slung upon it. But as her eyes swept across the room, it was not the architecture that caught her eyes, nor was it the interior; It was the paint.

Huge canvases covered in the most beautiful colours and motifs she had ever seen, lined the walls, while others rested on the floor. Easels were scattered around, every single one of them covered in old paint, as if thousands of paintings had been painted upon them. The wooden table was the home of hundreds of brushes and palettes, coal and pencils, while stacks of paper lined the shelves. 

"Welcome," Harry said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "To my art studio."

"I haven't been here much lately, but I used to spend hours in here, sometimes even staying the night because I felt like if I left, the images in my mind would disappear." His voice shook as he spoke, because in his lifetime, he had but invited two people into this room: Adelaide, and Him.  

Adelaide's lips were slightly parted in surprise, and her starry eyes gleamed in the soft light of the room. "Do you mind if I?" The words were too heavy for her lips to wrap around, and they fell trembling to the ground before she could speak them.

"Not at all," Harry said and squeezed her hand lightly.

At first, her steps were small, as if she was unsure as to where she should put her feet, but then, as she gained some confidence, they got more certain. She felt as though she was walking in a museum, his museum, where paintings from lost times were displayed for her to see.