1989 and The Art of Soul-Searching, a big time rush fanfic

Hi everybody!

It's been a looong while since I've thought of coming back here on to write something, let alone a BTR story. Haha. Anyway, I thought of doing this story inspired by Taylor Swift's "1989" album for a while. The way she told her stories in this album was fresh and exciting, and it was something I needed if I intended on writing something again.

Plus, any excuse to write a new Cargan fic that doesn't involve rabbit holes and manic tea parties (which I still intend to finish one day).

Anyway, here it is: my "1989"-based fanfic. Enjoy everyone! And don't forget to review :D!

Overture: A New Soundtrack

Logan POV

FLASHBACK

10:55PM, Union Station. I held my Amtrak ticket for the California Zephyr tightly. I didn't want to lose it since it did cost me money. I stood alone on the train platform in the cold darkness of a Los Angeles evening, waiting for my train to arrive and wishing it would whisk me away. Through some sort of divine intervention, my prayers were answered.

Out of the darkness, two spots of light flashed from a distance. The lights were getting bigger and bigger as they approached the station. I could hear the sound of wheels gliding on the rails. The train was coming, and the closer it came to the platform, the louder my heart beat. In fact, it became the only thing I could hear and it was getting more deafening by the second. I blinked and found that the train has not only stopped already, but its doors have opened, waiting for the passengers to swarm in and find their seats and rooms aboard the Amtrak train.

My breathing was rather unstable at this point. I could feel my heart wanting to beat its way out of my ribcage. My feet were urging me to turn away from the platform and run for it. I was too damn nervous for my own good. It was going to be the first wild thing I've ever done since forever. It was something outside of everything I've ever planned for myself. I've basically planned out my whole life. Running away to a city I never dared to go to, however, was not part of the plan. What a great way to top off being in my twenties, eh?

"Hey kid!" I snapped out of my momentary trance to find the source of the sound and saw a middle-aged man with brunette hair, wearing a white dress shirt, a navy blue tie patterned with silver squares, navy blue slacks, black leather shoes, and a hat that says, 'Amtrak Conductor'. "Last call for the 11PM ride to Chicago, Illinois." He was looking clearly looking at me when he yelled out his announcement. He probably noticed that I had my ticket in my left hand and my luggage and all of my other stuff on the right.

Oh! In case you're wondering why I'm at a train station, let it be known that I, Hortense Logan Mitchell, am running away from Los Angeles to New York City. Why? Let's just say my life has turned into a whirlwind of chaos, and it was a whirlwind that I had full intentions of running away from at this point.

I took a deep breath and finally boarded the train and didn't look back. The moment in stepped in, I could hear everything around me again. My heartbeat seemed to have return to its normal pacing. I walked All of my stuff was with me. Hell, every important aspect of my life right now was going with me to Penn Station in Manhattan, New York.

END FLASHBACK

Three days later. 8:00PM. Penn Station, New York. I was right to expect that I'd get text messages from my friends back in LA, asking me about where the hell I am and if I wanted to hang out with them in this sketchy-ass dive bar somewhere downtown. I get the occasional text messages from my parents asking me if I'm okay on the train. Now, THOSE messages I reply to because I promised them I would. After all, they're the only ones who know that I've left. I update them on my safety, where I am, which stopovers I ended up at, what food I ate on the train, to name a few. As soon as I'm done looking through all the texts, I decide to open my music player to check out this new album I downloaded for the hell of it.

"'These songs were once about my life. They're now about yours.'" I silently read to myself from my phone this particular line from the digital booklet in the new Taylor Swift album, 1989. I was slightly taken by surprise. Was Taylor Swift trying to pull a fast one on me or is she actually going to make me experience everything she went through in this era of her life? I don't even know with the world anymore. Actually, I don't even know what entity thought that it would be a good idea to possess me into getting Taylor Swift's new album when my music taste leaned more towards Miami Horror, Imogen Heap, Mumford and Sons, U2, and several rock bands.

With nothing better to do, I decided to put the album on shuffle in my phone. Funny enough, the first song that played was "Welcome to New York". It was funny because I was already here in New York, the one place I never dared to set foot in. But hey, if you were on some sort of "Eat, Pray, Love" spiritual, soul-searching journey shit, you'd probably do the same thing anyway, running off to some new terrain and go internally ballistic over the feeling of getting lost and mugged because you don't know what the hell goes on here in this city. I put on my Senheisser earphones, stood up from the floor near the Staples entrance, picked up all of my belongings, and headed straight for the escalator. As soon as I got to the top, the world seemed so much brighter and blinding. I was really here now in New York.

Walking through a crowd
The village is aglow
Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats
Under coats

Everybody here wanted something more
Searching for a sound we hadn't heard before

Here I was, walking along 7th Avenue, marveling at the sights and sounds before me: buildings bigger than life itself, the loud conversations of every cluster of people, the brightly-colored and inviting advertisements just lined up on billboards, the glory of Madison Square Garden, and more. How I could even describe everything around me was nearly impossible, as you could tell. My description may not have done all of this justice but it is indeed one of the most breath-taking sceneries I've ever seen. I took a deep breath and exhaled with a smile just forming on my face.

"I really can't believe I'm here." I uttered to myself.

And it said

Welcome to New York
It's been waiting for you
Welcome to New York
Welcome to New York

I immediately stuck my hand up as a way of getting a cab driver to pick me up. Soon, a bright yellow vehicle pulled over to the curb, allowing me to hop into the taxi cab and settle my things. The driver, a middle-aged black man in a khaki jacket, green ginghams, blue denims, and a red cap, turned to me and asked, "Where to, kid?"

Immediately, I said the only address that I knew of. "90 Bedford Street."

In an instant, the cab was already on the road, passing through 7th Avenue and the amazing things I've seen like the Gotham Comedy Club, the IL Bastardo, and the Village Vanguard. Even if the buildings were tall and intimidating, the warm glow of the lamp posts made everything seem so… comforting. And I liked it. It was already growing on me and I liked it. Who knows? Maybe I might like it here after all.

It's a new soundtrack I could dance to this beat, beat
Forevermore
The lights are so bright
But they never blind me, me

Welcome to New York
It's been waiting for you
Welcome to New York
Welcome to New York

If you're wondering about why I remembered 90 Bedford Street, it's the same address to the apartment of an old friend of mine whom I haven't spoken to in years ever since he transferred from UCLA's Design Media Arts program to Parsons' Communication Design program. I actually still wonder why we lost contact ever since he transferred. Since my old friend was also my neighbor back at home, I asked his parents where he was staying in New York, saying that I was hoping that if I could, I'd take the opportunity to visit him. I never was able to. I got caught up with everything else in my life to even try.

But now that I'm alone and free of any form of responsibility and obligation, maybe now I could try and see him. And if I play my cards right, he could let a homeless person like myself stay at his place until I could find an apartment of my own.

When we first dropped our bags
On apartment floors
Took our broken hearts
Put them in a drawer

Everybody here was someone else before
And you can want who you want
Boys and boys and girls and girls

"So," my train of thought was broken by the cab driver who asked me, "Are you one of those kids that run away from their homes to make it big on Broadway or something?"

I raised an eyebrow and replied as politely as I could, "Uhm, no. I… just came here for a break."

The driver smiled a little and laughed. "A break from what? From life?"

My eyebrows scrunched up and my mouth went agape, appalled by this cab driver's frankness. "Don't judge me." I blurted out, offended.

"Listen, kid." He stopped the car the moment the traffic light flashed red. He turned to me and continued, "Let me give you a piece of advice as a fully-grown adult who's had his fair share of horse shit flung right at him by life itself: there's no break from life. The only break from it is death. You can't do anything about it. And if you try to run away from it, it'll come back to haunt you, and then bite you in the ass."

I took a deep breath, afraid to admit that he was right: I was running away from my life. I wanted to find a new one and start over. I hated what I've become: some nerdy-ass overachiever to whom everyone's placing their hopes upon and had no time just for himself. I've never had a decent human connection that wasn't with the some guy from the hockey team I once dated or the girl with the almost unattainable 4.00 GPA that I had a crush on. I had everything a guy like me could ask for: loving and accepting parents, old money, a happy relationship, amazing grades, job opportunities, and so much more that I felt like I've been blessed since birth; but it was never enough for me. I never had the breathing room that I wanted. That's why I came to New York: to find my breathing room and myself.

It's a new soundtrack I could dance to this beat, beat
Forevermore
The lights are so bright
But they never blind me, me

Welcome to New York
It's been waiting for you
Welcome to New York
Welcome to New York

"But look outside." The driver smiled at me through the rear-view mirror.

I obeyed and looked at the view of all these beautiful and well-lit buildings with colorful and vibrant people walking through the warm glow of the 7th Avenue lamp posts.

I looked back at the driver who added, "This whole city here, in all its splendor, glamour, cruelty, madness, and life, has met losers like yourself…" I am going to pretend that I did not hear that 'loser' remark and just keep my composure. "…and it's changed so many people for the better. You absolutely need this place, kid."

Like any great love
It keeps you guessing
Like any real love
It's ever changing
Like any true love
It drives you crazy
But you know you wouldn't change
Anything, anything, anything…

Welcome to New York
It's been waiting for you
Welcome to New York
Welcome to New York

"We're here." The cab driver said as the taxi parked in front of a brown building of five floors and a ground floor that housed a café with a red exterior called 'The Little Owl.' I hadn't even noticed how fast we were in getting here. Damn. I reached for my wallet in my jeans and pulled out a twenty and handed it to the driver, mentioning that he could keep the change. "Thanks." He said as he reached for the money. He opened his door and got out of the car to help me with my luggage. It took me a while to get out, still contemplating on whether or not this move is a good idea or not.

But I realized that right now, it's too late to turn back. I'm nearing the point of no return here. For the first time in my life, I'm finally in control. I'm finally getting the chance to own my life. And I'm not going to give all that up. Not now. Not when I've come so far. I opened the door, got my bags, and exited the vehicle. The cab driver was waiting for me and handed me my luggage.

It's a new soundtrack
I could dance to this beat
The lights are so bright
But they never blind me

Welcome to New York
New soundtrack
It's been waiting for you
Welcome to New York
The lights are so bright
But they never blind me

"Good luck, kid." He patted my shoulder and smiled. He tipped his red cap and added, "Now go and find yourself." He walked by to the driver's seat, shut the door and drove off into the night.

I smiled and turned towards the steps that led to the main entrance of the building. I pulled up all of my belongings all at once and went up the steps before I was face to face with the brown door with a glass pane and a gold '90' above it.

I was about to go in but something in the back of my mind was stopping me. There were questions running through my head like, 'Do you honestly think you'll find what you want in New York?', 'What if it doesn't work?', 'Are you even sure that this is what you want?' All I could think of was that conversation with my parents talking to me, trying to convince me to stay and resolve my life back in Los Angeles. Even they knew that the chances of me being successful are almost slim to none. But I knew it was something I had to do.

Welcome to New York
So bright
They never blind me
Welcome to New York

I took one final deep breath and let my right hand reach for the silver door knob. "Apartment 27, 4th floor, 90 Bedford Street, Manhattan, New York." I uttered to myself, making sure that I still knew where I was going to seek refuge and hopefully be granted sanctuary at. This is it. I'm going to do this. I'm—

"Logan?"

I quickly turned around and found myself eye-to-eye with a young man of 22, with short raven hair, caramel skin, and brown eyes. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, a plain grey t-shirt, dark gray jeans, and some white Addidas kicks, with a black Gibson messenger bag from Herschel to complete the look. I swear he almost dropped that large coffee cup in his hands when he saw me. All the blood from his face seemed to drain out fast as he looked like he just saw a ghost or a murder. It wasn't the look I was expecting from him but at least he acknowledged my presence, I guess?

But it was him. It really was him. And he remembers me, which is good. Even if we never stayed in touch after his transfer to New York two years earlier, he still remembers me. I was relieved deep down inside, but I was nervous to find out what his next reaction would be to all of this.

We maintained eye contact for a few more seconds, both of us unsure of what to say next.

He broke the silence for us and uttered, "Oh my god."

Welcome to New York!

So there we go. Chapter one of this fanfic has ended on quite a note... for Carlos and Logan, anyway.

The song used here is the opening song to the "1989" album, 'Welcome to New York'.

Normally, I'd ask a question or few to hear about what people think and I fully intend to do it here too. Tell me:

1) What do you think made Carlos move to NYC in the first place?
2) What song from the album do you think is the next chapter going to be named after?

Sooooo give me a holler and tell me how I did by giving me a review. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Leave me a review, have a great day, and don't forget to try playing the album while reading this fic. It may amplify those feels. ;)