A/N: Hi! I recently watched the movie La La Land (and loved it), and I couldn't help but think how well suited the story was for Bella and Edward! Obviously I'm going to be changing many, many things from the movie (especially the ending because that was a heartbreaking ending, and I'm pretending that it never happened). But I hope you enjoy it! Also: spoilers if you haven't seen La La Land. I'll try to make it to a minimum though. :)

DISCLAIMER: Do not own Twilight or La La Land

Bella – Winter: Sunday, January 17th, 2010

It was another bright, hot, sunny day when Isabella Swan sat in her old 1963 Chevy pickup truck, listening to the sounds of angry car horns blaring at each other as the traffic was at a standstill. Tapping her fingers lightly on the wheel of her car, she managed to drown out the cacophonic sounds with her own thoughts. In her head, she dreamed up stories, scenarios, and characters to distract her from the mere plainness of reality. She needed to escape for a little while before she was forced to serve snooty actresses and big shot producers their gluten free Danishes and non-fat, soy lattes at the coffeehouse in the Warner Brothers lot.

Bella, as she preferred to be called, had moved out to the glamorous city of Los Angeles straight out of college; with a big dream to write scripts and see her creations erupt to life on screen. Just the mere thought of seeing her words transformed into movies, television shows, and plays, helped her get through the four years of scriptwriting at the local university in her hometown of Forks, Washington. As soon as those four years were up, she packed her things and moved out, driving her trusty truck all the way to L.A.

Her love for scriptwriting, or 'obsession' as her mom called it, began when she was six years old, and her father, Charlie, had shown her some old films to occupy her. She watched Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Funny Face, etc. Her father was a nut for old films, particularly those from the fifties, and she was, in turn, influenced by him and these movies. However, Bella never wanted to be an actress, oh no. Ever since starring in the Nativity play as Mary when she was seven-years-old, she knew she was not comfortable on stage. Bella wanted to be the one to create these amazing, intricate stories for others to enjoy, and she wanted those stories to be immortalized on film. In her childhood, she would write plays and scenarios for her friends to act out, and she happily watched them. Her mother, Renée, never encouraged her, but Charlie was all for it.

"I want you to be happy, Bells," he said to her at her graduation. "And if being a screenwriter, living in L.A., makes you happy then…go for it." His words gave her courage, and so she left to chase her dream.

But that dream was forced to be on hold, for no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get anyone to pick up her scripts. After using two-thirds of her savings, or what was left of it after going to college, she managed to find an incredibly small apartment in one of the rougher parts of L.A. Her head firmly stuck in the clouds, Bella would go to a café on the Warner Brothers lot, and write; staring out the window to see actors and actresses film out someone else's words and plots. After a few weeks of, essentially, living at the café and only going to her apartment to sleep, she realized that she needed to get a job and fast. Paying for food, rent, and gas was depleting her meager savings. Thankfully, the café she frequented always needed more employees, since many quit because they finally got the chance to do what they wanted. Once she was hired, she met Rosalie, a struggling actress who was trying to make ends meet. They became fast friends, and Rosalie, who was about to get kicked out of her own apartment, decided to move in with Bella. Now that she had a roommate and a steady job, Bella felt more stable in her new life in the big city of stars.

One year passed, then two, then three, four, five, six. And every year, Bella's passion for writing burned strong. But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, rejection was taking its toll on her. She began to question whether or not she was talented enough. Not only were none of her scripts being picked up, but the time she had to write and polish said scripts were lessening as she picked up more shifts to pay the bills.

But as Bella looked out of her car, her brown eyes staring past the gigantic cars and their angry drivers, she caught a faint glimpse of the Hollywood sign. Seeing the sign, she was reminded once again of why she was there. Why she decided to chase a seemingly impossible dream.

"It's hard to shine brightly in this city of stars," Bella mumbled to herself absentmindedly. Once her words registered to herself, she quickly grabbed her phone from the seat beside her, where it was charging. She began to type in the words in her phone note, titled "Possible quotes for script." A loud horn blared behind her, and she dropped her phone on the floor of her car in surprise. She stared at the car from her dashboard mirror. The driver of the silver Volvo behind her gave her the universal "what-the-heck-are-you-doing?" motion. He jerked the wheel of his car and switched lanes, moving his car right next to hers.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he yelled at her through the open window of his car. She barely gave him a glance as she stuck up her middle finger at him. She heard him huff as his tires screech away down the highway. Other cars began to honk at her as she bent down from her seat to pick up her fallen phone. Once she grasped her phone, it began to buzz. Bella snuck a look at the caller ID; it was Rosalie. Sighing, she answered it and placed it on speaker phone as she drove her car forward.

"Hello?" she said with a hint of exasperation.

"Where are you?" Rosalie hurriedly asked.

"Sorry," Bella sighed. "I know I'm running a bit late. I forgot to set my alarm last night and I was up late writing. That and the traffic is terrible, as usual. Can you tell Jessica that I'm sorry, and I'll work an extra shift whenever she wants me to?" She pressed her foot on the gas pedal, pushing her old Chevy truck to go faster than it was actually capable of.

"Fine," Rosalie replied. "But I'm just warning you, Jessica is not impressed. You better get here soon, I need you to replace me. I have an audition at four." Bella checked the time. It was two-fifty.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she told her.

"Okay, see you."

"Bye."

Rosalie hung up and Bella tossed her phone on the passenger seat. Placing both hands on the wheel, she pressed the pedal further, speeding her way down the highway.

Bella stared at the clock from her till. It was only five, but nevertheless, she was more than ready to go home. Her foot started to tap on the pristine checkered floor of the coffee house. The chatter of those around her blending into one melodious hum, as her brain thought of a million ideas to be written down later. She had recently started a new script, considering she had finished her other one a few months ago and had sent them out to multiple companies. She was trying her hand at writing a romantic comedy but didn't know how to start it. To prepare, she had started watching old romance movies that she vaguely remembered watching when she was a child. She knew she needed to get as much inspiration as she could.

"Excuse me," a nasal voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked at the person in front of her, her eyes taking a moment to focus. But then she froze. It was the famous screenwriter, Tanya Buring. She had won three Oscars for her films Courage, Finding Mr. Jones, and Sing, Laugh, Cry. She was an idol to aspiring screenwriters since she had written her first script, Courage, when she was fresh out of university, and it was picked up immediately by a major studio. The movie had been an instant hit, with its leads becoming stars overnight, and it also won all the major awards.

"I would like a non-fat vanilla soy latte with two espressos and a hint of cinnamon," Tanya said, breaking Bella out of her awed silence. Bella blinked twice and shook herself out of her stupor. But before she could say a word, her co-worker, Sam, slid the drink to her and said, "Free of charge." Smiling, Tanya took the cup and dropped a one dollar bill into the tip jar. She walked away and Bella was left staring at her retreating figure with admiration. How she wished she could be like Tanya: successful. Suddenly her emotions took a dive as reality checked back in with her. She was not a successful screenwriter like Tanya, she was just a barista in the coffee shop on the Warner Brothers lot – failing to achieve her aspirations.

With a sigh, Bella absently grabbed a rag and began to wipe the counter. She felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. The notification stated that she had a meeting with an executive to pitch her latest script at five forty-five. She gasped and dropped the rag. She had forgotten about the meeting! Ripping off her apron, Bella grabbed her bag from under the counter and rushed to head out. Before she could even walk out from behind the counter, a hand reached out to stall her, grasping her wrist. She was forced to turn around and face Jessica, her hell-demon of a manager.

"Where on Earth do you think you're going?" she demanded. Bella stared at her pleadingly.

"I just remembered that I have a meeting with an exec about my new script at five forty-five," she said. "I'm so sorry. I know that I was also late, but I'll make it up to you, I promise. You can work me like a dog after this is over." Jessica stared at Bella with narrowed, blue eyes, trying to figure out what she should do next.

Finally, with a sigh, she said, "Fine. You can go. But you're opening the shop at five-thirty in the morning tomorrow. And you have to take over Rosalie's closing shift on Friday."

Desperate to leave, Bella agreed to everything and turned around to run out the door…when she bumped into a firm, human chest. The front of her shirt was soaked and cold with the coffee that was accidentally dumped on her by the person she bumped into. Horrified, she looked up. Holding an empty plastic cup was the rude man in the Volvo from the highway! He stared at her soaked figure in an uncaring manner.

Bella angrily stared at him. Everything about him annoyed her. His messy bronze hair, his sunglasses (really, who wears sunglasses indoors?), and his nice-looking brown suit. Momentarily, she debated whether or not she should give him a biting remark, but with a glimpse at the clock, she realized that she was going to be late if she didn't leave at that exact moment. Giving a little frustrated growl, she pushed past him and ran out of the door.

At midnight, Bella walked into her small apartment dejectedly. She took off the blue jacket she had worn to cover her coffee stained shirt and threw it absentmindedly onto the coat rack by the door.

"Hey Bells!" she heard Rosalie call from the kitchen. "How did the meeting go?" Ignoring her, she walked straight into the bathroom and slammed the door. Sitting on the toilet seat, her head hung into her hands. Breathing deeply, she thought back to the disastrous meeting. It seemed to be going well but then the executive stopped her midway into her explanation of the script and dismissed her. He said that script was, "too cliché," and "way overdone." He then "kindly" recommended that she should go back to school and learn how to write, in his words, "proper scripts."

Suffice to say, she cried in her car for a good, solid ten minutes afterward.

"Bella!" Rosalie said, knocking insistently on the door from the other side. "Tell me how it went!" Bella sighed as she heaved herself off the toilet. She began to strip down. All she wanted in that moment was to take a long shower.

"It was bad, okay?" she huffed. "He told me that my writing was 'mediocre' and that I should go back to school to learn 'proper scriptwriting.'" She heard Rosalie groan faintly.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"Yeah, well. It's not the first time," Bella said bitterly. "I'm gonna take a shower now, Rose!" Once she heard her friend's soft footsteps fade away, she hopped into the shower and turned on the water full-blast.

She took one deep breath, then two…and then promptly burst into tears.

A blue dress was thrust at her once she left the bathroom in her pajamas and with her slightly damp brown hair rolled into a messy bun.

"What is this?" Bella questioned, raising one eyebrow. Rosalie stood before her, arms crossed. She was already all dressed up. She wore a tight fitting lime green coloured dress that only Rosalie could pull off with her curves and angular face. Her blonde hair was curled into tight waves and reached her mid-back. She was decked out in all sorts of sparkling accessories: earrings, bracelets, rings, etc. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You're coming to this party with me," she answered.

"I think you mean to say that you're dragging me to go networking," Bella groaned. Rosalie only gave a sly smile. Nowadays, Rosalie only went to parties to network; to make connections and whatnot.

"Ugh, Rose, you know I hate networking. I mean, as a scriptwriter, I don't really need to pitch myself to others. Just my stories. And I can do that through an email or a phone call. You on the other hand…."

"Oh come on, Bella," Rosalie cut her off. "I just think that you should go out and have some fun. Forget networking, then. Forget that asshole who wrote you off. Just go out, have a few drinks, dance a little, and then go home and cry all you want."

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes. "Rose, you know how I hate all of those things you just listed."

"I'm just letting you know that Aro Sheridan is going to be there," Rosalie interrupted again.

That caught her attention.

"Aro Sheridan? That new director who won, like, five awards last year?" Bella asked incredulously.

"Yeah, and I heard that he was looking for a new script…" Rosalie coyly spoke. "I mean…I'm just saying. You don't have to go unless you want to." Bella bit her lip, seriously contemplating and weighing the pros and cons. On one hand, she would be given a chance to pitch her script to one of the most successful new directors. But on the other hand, she hated going to parties. Especially those hosted by Rosalie's friends. They were all networking parties. Desperate actors, models, musicians, scriptwriters, etc., would all go to try to make connections to get an in with the might executives in the business.

"You're going to have to make up your mind soon though because Emmett's coming to pick me up in thirty minutes," she said. Emmett was Rosalie's boyfriend, who she had met when she did a modeling gig. The first time Bella had met Emmett, she had been absolutely awed by his looks. He had a boyish smile with a cute dimple on the left side of his face and was extremely muscular. His shiny black eyes and curly black hair, along with the dimple, gave him a young and innocent look, but that was far from the truth. Emmett, while being the most trustworthy person Bella knew, was also the crudest person she knew. His jokes were always varying degrees of inappropriate.

"I'm going to go get ready," Bella said, keeping a tight grip on the dress. She walked into her room and slammed the door. Quickly, she changed into the slinky, knee-length, deep cut blue dress. It had been a gift from Rosalie for her first birthday in Los Angeles.

"You need something to wear when you're out mingling with the powerful executives," she had said. "And your closet only comprises of work clothes and very ratty, out of style, outfits."

Bella had only worn the dress once to meet a studio exec for dinner and had felt beautiful in it. It was honestly the first time she had ever felt beautiful. Unfortunately, that feeling was ruined when her first ever script had been rejected for no reason at all. The exec had handed her script back in the middle of dinner, said, "No," and walked out. She couldn't eat anything else that entire night and had left not long after. The only plus of that night was that the exec had paid for the meal, otherwise Bella would have had to work extra shifts – which was even more depressing.

After applying a nude-pink lipstick and slipping on some black heels (she knew she'd regret this decision later), Bella walked out of her room to find Rosalie. Rosalie and her long-time model boyfriend, Emmett, were playing "tonsil tennis" in the middle of the room.

"Seriously?" she said disgusted, wrinkling her nose. Her sudden appearance surprised them into breaking apart. "Get a room."

Emmett gave a loud, booming laugh and detached from his blonde girlfriend's arms, reaching out to hug her.

"We would get one, Belly, but we have this huge party to get to. Plus, you'd only be complaining about the noise if we did," he retorted. Bella pulled away from the hug and crossed her arms across her chest, staring him down.

"I did not need to hear that," she groaned. Emmett gave another laugh and ushered the two ladies out of the door.

"Let's go, we're going to be late."

The party was not worth going to, in the end. Aro hadn't bothered to show up, so Bella was left at the party, by herself, because Emmett and Rosalie were off mingling. Bella awkwardly sat on a couch between two glamorous girls who were studiously ignoring her. She vaguely recognized both of them. They were probably extras on some TV show she had watched at one point in the past year. Awkwardly, Bella took a sip of the champagne in her glass and looked around her. People were dancing, making out, talking, swimming, drinking…all of the things Bella generally did not enjoy as much. Her entire being was screaming at herself to get out of there. Immediately.

The pulsing, loud, party music was also beginning to give her a headache. The lyrics were nonsensical and the beat was way too fast for her to even comprehend. She couldn't take it any longer. She needed to get out of the place.

Standing up, Bella began to search for Emmett and Rosalie, but they were nowhere to be found. Pushing past many gyrating bodies, she went to every floor of the place; searching through every crack and crevice for her roommate. Eventually she grew tired of looking and tapped someone on the shoulder.

Yelling over the music, she asked, "Do you know where Emmett and Rosalie went?!"

The person, a young, handsome male with dark hair and blue eyes, yelled back, "Who?!"

"Emmett and Rosalie? A tall, very pretty blonde, and an equally tall, handsome man with jet black hair and huge muscles?!"

"Nah, man! I think they left a while ago!"

Of course they did. They generally got…lost in each other once they were drunk. Too bad they were her ride.

Bella nearly ran out of the house and walked down the street, unsteadily, in her black high heels. Taking a deep breath, she thought to herself: "Finally, some fresh air." To be completely honest, she had no idea where she was, but she knew she had to make her way into the heart of the city; maybe even reach a bus stop. She didn't mind the fact that she needed to walk for long, it was an excuse to get lost in her thoughts and think of ideas.

She walked for a long time in the dark, passing by numerous houses. The streets were dimly lit with the yellow light from the streetlights. Slowly, the houses morphed into tall skyscrapers and apartment buildings and then into bars and restaurants. There was almost no one around. It made sense, however, considering it was past one in the morning, and she was in the more sophisticated area of town.

Walking through a nearly empty street, Bella began to reminisce about her life in the small town of Forks, Washington. It would be quiet and empty every night. The stars would be bright outside, and she would go stargazing with her dad once a month. He would teach her about the constellations and create stories about each individual star in the sky.

"That star is the soul of a woman who lived in the twenties," he once told her, pointing at a bright star. "She wanted to be a silent film star, but everyone rejected her because she just wasn't pretty enough. Eventually, she was forced to give up her dream and marry a man and have three children. However, her passion was never fulfilled for she lived as a simple housewife for the rest of her life. When she died, her passion was still strong, and her last words were that she regretted never following her dreams and trying harder to achieve them. I want you to achieve your dream, Bells. Whatever that may be. Don't regret it like that woman did."

All of her father's stories ran through the same vein and had some form of moral in them. Thinking back, Bella realized that her knack for storytelling mostly likely came from her father. She wasn't raised on storybooks like other children. Her father would come and tuck her in, and then tell her a story he made up on the spot.

Her nostalgic musing was put aside for a second when she heard the most beautiful music she had ever heard. She stopped in front of the entrance of a rather fancy looking restaurant and listened. The melody was intricate. It started off slow and heavy, its tone speaking of romance and possibilities. Hope. She was drawn in. Bella opened the door and walked into the restaurant. She found that people were ignoring the beautiful music that was playing, preferring to chat with the person they were with instead. But Bella listened.

A story erupted from the music she heard. There were two people, one appeared to be slightly inferior than the other, acting more as a support. But then the story evolved, the relationship evolved. They became equals and supported each other. The music swelled to a crescendo, and the tempo increased. Long and intricate scales were being played, and then…the story became slightly muffled. It disappeared. Bella became confused. What happened to the story? To the two characters?

Itching to ask the composer what happened, she looked to see who the player was, but then froze when she saw who it was. It was that guy! The guy from the highway who later spilled coffee on her! He was standing before the piano, breathing heavily. His long, curved fingers were pressing down on the keys, sustaining the note. His bronze hair looked slightly disheveled. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked in a dark navy suit, a matching tie, and a white suit. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. It was like the whole room darkened around her, the surroundings indiscernible, and a spotlight shone on him – only him. The look on his face was indiscernible, but Bella realized that this song was composed by him, on the spot – improvised. And it was completely personal.

Before she could go up to talk to him, a stern looking man quietly spoke him and dragged him aside. She watched curiously as the two had a serious conversation, before the (handsome) piano man, as Bella had dubbed him in her mind, stormed away from the stern man, grabbing his bag from the piano. Before she lost her nerve, Bella walked towards him.

"Hey, I heard you play and I just wanted to say that-" she started to say.

But he pushed past her, ignoring everything she just said.

Multiple emotions rushed through her in that instance. Anger, embarrassment, astonishment, but most of all…she was hurt. She frowned. Why was she so affected by this man?

Guess she'll never know.

NEXT: Edward's side of events.

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