A/N: The idea for this lovely (?) composition was conceived while I was cheering a basketball game. What a coincidence, I know! I think if my fellow cheerleaders knew that this is what I do in my head during games, I might be disbanded from the team. Anyway, I hope you like this. I might add more at some point, I haven't decided yet. You can write me a review if you think I should
Abby is a photographer. She loves to capture raw emotion in the way only a camera can. No other form of art can preserve every single detail of a moment exactly the way it was. A photo will always be picture perfect. To her, there is something so reassuring about this. The world is full of so few perfect things; she likes knowing that she holds this one medium in the palm of her hand.
She took photography her first semester of freshman year, and now, as a junior, the dark room is her safe haven. It's quiet and secretive and full of potential. For a few years now, Abby's felt a little empty; empty like someone important left her. Sometimes she has the slightly crazy notion that the dark room understands this.
At the suggestion of her older sister, Cree, she started her own photography business of sorts and the school pays her to take pictures on Friday nights at the basketball games. This isn't Abby's favorite kind of photography, action shots of the players and photo-ops of the cheerleaders, but it pays well. She prefers to take candid shots of people, an unplanned expression forever immortalized by the click of a button.
Abby also likes the job because it places her on the outside. She doesn't fit into a group, not the team or the cheerleaders or the fans; she's just there, watching them all. She watches Wally Beetles, a tall, nice boy, as he demands the attention of the crowd with his no-nonsense plays. Ball to the basket ball to the basket ball to the basket. While he isn't an Einstein to say the least, that boy can play ball like no tomorrow. He is Abby's favorite player to photograph. There is something so familiar about his expressions. His face scrunches with frustration, head drops with embarrassment, teeth clench with rage, eyes shine with excitement. The simplicity of this boy astounds her.
The cheerleaders annoy her. Abby has never been very girly, she remembers that much, so they are just too much for her. She prefers to blend in, while they want to stand out. She is the background, while they are the focus. Kuki Sanban is one such cheerleader. However, when Abby looks at Kuki, she sees innocence akin to that of a little child. Kuki is always happy, but not because she has to be; it's because she truly is. Abby has never captured such pure joy in anyone other than Kuki.
There is one cheerleader who never asks to have her picture taken, so, naturally, Abby takes her picture most often. She doesn't know this girl's name. She has golden hair and brown eyes. There is a boy named Nigel in some of Abby's art classes and he paints this girl often, but he never does her justice the way Abby does with her pictures. Nigel is angry; Abby has become good at reading other people's eyes. His are full of rage and sadness, like he has seen more than any person should. He's bald too, an eerie baldness that makes Abby's hair stand on edge. She always feels the oddest twinge of guilt when she sees him. Abby can see in this girl's eyes that she carries a lot of weight on her thin shoulders. Abby can see that she holds back; there is so much untapped strength inside this girl. The strength of a leader.
Abby is only supposed to take pictures of the players and cheerleaders, but she can't help that sometimes her camera strays, to one boy in particular. She asked around, his name is Hoagie Gilligan. He's simply great to photograph. His carefree smile, his kind eyes, everything about him works together to create a masterpiece that Abby deems beautiful. When Hoagie is up in those stands, cheering for his best friend Wally, Abby can't help but take pictures of this boy.
He wears a pair of goggles perched on his head. They have yellow tinted lenses. She figures that the goggles are like her red hat, always present, even though she doesn't know why. There are a lot of things Abby doesn't know, like why she is drawn to this boy in the first place. He doesn't have raw simplicity like Wally, and he isn't radiant with joy like Kuki. He isn't filled with strength or rage. He's just…familiar. Familiar like a best friend, familiar like a forgotten roll of film, familiar like a red hat or a pair of goggles.