Well, here it is... my first Big Time Rush fanfiction.... Enjoy :)
She had always been a dreamer.
There are all different kinds of people in the world. Creators, destroyers, dreamers, realists, no one is the same when it comes to imagination.
She grew up with her head in the clouds, always making up random stories with magical creatures and odd shapes. She didn't need her parents to read her bedtime stories; they were too boring for her liking. Instead, she spent her time before bed entertaining her family with the latest tale she had come up with, and sometimes it wasn't always a princess getting rescued by her Prince Charming from a high, far away tower. That was never the case, actually.
Her English teachers loved her. Each and every one of them. Most of them only assigned creative writing homework just to read and see what she could come up with in only one night. While most kids turned in a paper scribbled from front to back, she would hand in clumps of papers neatly written and stapled, the idea she was to write on highlighted at the top of the first page.
No one ever saw her without a pencil in her hair, within reach for whenever she felt like jotting something down. Anything and everything around her inspired another story, and she would fill journal after journal after journal with creative words and dialogue.
She could never remember when the exact age she started writing was. It had just become such a big part of her that it seemed almost natural for her to just take out a pencil and scribble down groups of words that sounded perfect as they flowed together easily. As she matured, so did her writing, and by the ago of thirteen she was writing full on novels, causing her parents to buy her a laptop so that she wouldn't keep wasting money on more journals.
Soon not only was she writing stories, but songs as well. Teaching herself the ways of the piano, the house was soon flooded with beautiful compositions accompanied by an enchanting, soothing melodic voice. Not only had writing become her life, but music too.
Family nights were spent by the piano in the living room, surrounded by the family she loved, singing classics while teaching them her own creations. Her grandfather said that she had great potential, and that it wouldn't surprise him when he saw her name printed all over newspapers and flashing on every television screen in Florida.
She was everything. Beautiful, funny, energetic, adventurous, creative, talented, loving, raised by a loving family. She was the one who always had the beautiful white smile on her face, even as her parents separated, as her family was slowly falling apart.
She made it her job to be the glue, to keep everyone together. Being a dedicated, headstrong individual, she assumed she could do everything. Control everything. Be able to handle everything.
But slowly, people started to notice that the smile was dimming. Her bright green eyes were slowly becoming a dark emerald, clouded with sadness. Her face no longer glowed, and her beauty was hid under a dark hood.
The music stopped. The old piano in the living room sat there for years to collect large amounts of dust. The pencil disappeared from her hair, and her stories were never the same.
No new files were added to her hard drive, and eventually she found herself sitting with her laptop on her lap in the middle of the night, a blank document before her, the small vertical line blinking, begging her to type something. But her fingers never found the right keys. Her brain never formed the right words.
She had disappeared, along with her creativity and imagination. All that was left of her was a beautiful ghost, gliding along through life.
Her mother worried, and her father inquired, but she barely ever answered truthfully.
Her family hadn't seen a real smile in years, never heard a genuine laugh. The beautiful harmonies she created were never heard of again, closed off from the outside world. The closest she had ever gone to singing once more was humming her favorite lullaby from her favorite movie. Their favorite movie. She soon found the dancing bears with painted wings impossible, only a sign of what she believed in so long ago. The phrase "Once Upon a December" had become only words to her, the promise no longer meaning anything.
And yet, she still found the melody to be echoing in her head, making its way to her vocal cords, forcing the hum out of her. She let it take over, and she invited the only memory of one she loved so dearly to overwhelm her being.
It was just a regular day in Florida. Hot, humid, and tiring. She came home with a heavy backpack full of books, pondering over what she was possibly going to do about her English homework. She had already missed four assignments, and if she wanted to pass the class she was going to have to write something.
Tossing her bag to one side, she made her way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. As usual, she paid no attention to where she was going, her mind thousands of miles away, trying to come up with something.
Her foot collided with a box.
Pulling herself back to earth, she looked down, coming in contact with a regular dull brown box, open and full of books and picture frames. She could've sworn that the same exact pictures were sitting on the coffee table over the weekend.
That's when she noticed that there were more boxes. All over the place. Closed and piled on top of each other in the corners, open and on the kitchen table, waiting with an open mouth to envelope more belongings.
"Oh, hi honey," she looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway of her bedroom, another box in her hand. Her hair was wrapped up in a red bandana, casual and comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt.
"What's going on?" she questioned at once.
"What do you mean?" her mom stalled, setting the box down on the kitchen counter and taking a swig from a bottle of water. "Oh, the boxes?"
She nodded, her eyebrows raised.
"Oh, um… we're moving." Her mom said in a rush, not meeting her daughter's surprised gaze, grabbing the box and moving among the house grabbing random things and packing them carefully.
"What do you mean 'we're moving'?" she repeated, following the woman around the house, hoping that this was some sick joke. "We can't move, Mom. We've lived here since I was five. We can't…"
"The house is in foreclosure, Haydelynn." Her mother interrupted her, sighing.
She froze. "What?"
"I can't afford the mortgage anymore, honey. After getting fired from work, I found that there wasn't enough money to feed you and keep the roof over your head."
"So where are you planning on going?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
"I have a friend in California; she said she might be able to get me a job there."
"Might? So we're moving across the country, even though you don't even know if you'll be able to get a job?"
"I'm going to get the job, baby, and when I do, we'll be able to get a discount on the rent of the apartments there." Her mother promised, packing more things.
"How long do we have?" Haydelynn sighed.
"A week, I already talked to your school, so that way you can stay here and help me pack."
Well that solves the whole English paper dilemma.
The last thing Carlos Garcia expected was to be in a boy band.
One minute, he was one of four hockey players from Minnesota, and the next, he was in a recording studio getting yelled at by Gustavo Rocque.
No one ever really understood what the meaning of the constant helmet wearing was for. Even when living in Minnesota, that helmet was practically glued to his head. Back then it was for the love of the game.
He had always been the crazy one. The one that was usually getting in trouble for destroying something. He ran into everything, he broke anything, and he could always make up some kind of new game with a random subject.
Most people thought of him to be the stupid one, but Carlos Garcia was not stupid. He just loved having fun, and you can't always be graceful when you mess up. Though sometimes he had his moments… like jumping into a pool with a non-waterproof camera, or stuffing his face in a pie in the middle of class. But everyone had their moments right?
That's the solution he eventually came up to as he climbed out of the pool, fully dressed, his clothes seeming to weigh much more than they actually did.
Above him, Kendall, James, and Logan laughed as he removed his helmet, a new pool of water splashing down on his head.
"Yeah, you guys are hilarious. Very funny." The Latino rolled his eyes, snatching a towel from a chair and trying his best to dry off so he could go inside without being yelled at.
Hope you liked it! Please R&R!