Starting Again (A Greyson Chance Fan Fic)

Prologue

Tilt head to the right, chin down a bit, point toes forward, and click.

I went over to my tripod to see how the photo turned out. Beautiful. The sunlight hit my dress perfectly that it created a white to pastel pink gradient. My eyes showed just enough fierceness to give off an enchanting feel. It was simply breathtaking. But it wasn’t breathtaking enough to be included in neither my modeling nor photography portfolio.

“You ready to go, Kara?” Mother asked.

“Uh yea. Just gonna take a few more shots. The lighting is just perfect.” I replied, not looking up from my camera.

“We’ll be in the car.” Mother said then walked away. I walked back to where I previously stood and took close-up shots. Again, the photos looked amazing, but not enough. I sighed and gave up, something I don’t usually do. It just felt so nostalgic shooting in my bare room.

The pastel pink far-end wall was free from prints of editorial shoots and magazine photography features. The corner where my small study used to be was now lined with dust. My glass chandelier left a dark circular mark in the center of the ceiling.

I slid the door next to where my bed used to be, revealing a massive walk-in closet. I didn’t need a walk-in closet, but some designers I modeled for were too generous I just had to take the clothes. Nowadays, you simply don’t get a RED Valentino lace dress for free.

Walking over to my balcony was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. My room was so vast, by the time I reached the glass doors, I was crying. I swore to myself I wouldn’t cry. Moving to New York would be best for me and my upcoming photography career. But The Balcony is where everything had started.

It wasn’t big and it wasn’t small either. It was the right size for a natural-lighted shoot and had just enough room to dance around with your date before prom under the glistening moonlight, a thing in my bucketlist that would never, ever, be crossed out. Everything is just too late now.

I let the tears roll down my cheeks as I stood to where I did before, while I was shooting my first self-portraits. And ever since then, my friends and I just went here for impromptu shoots because the lighting and the view (which was my grandmother’s garden, by the way) was just gorgeous.

Feeling nostalgic, I grabbed the box which contained the rest of my things and lingered before the white double doors that led to my room. I sucked in my tears and took in what was left of my room. In a few months, who knows what my Grandmother would make of my room.

Walking down the grand staircase, I thought about what I was leaving behind. A closet full of clothes, a seat at the A-list lunch table, the title as Batch Valedictorian, and a memorable senior year. I guess my friends would have to proceed with the senior prank we planned since we were freshmen without me.

As I got in the car, I began to think about New York and what it has in store for me. I know it has a lot of great things, but not all roads to a happy ending are happy.