Big Time Rush Turning On The Light

**a/n: hi there :) this is a really person piece to me, as it deals with feelings and emotions that i can definitely relate to - yet at the same time, it was partially inspired by a video i watched recently that also really touched me and was something i could relate to. and i actually cried a little writing this lol. so i really hope you all enjoy :) **

* * *

Kendall loved art.

He loved the way a single photograph could tell a story, he loved the way the paint swirled around on a canvas and come together in the single most beautiful creation, he loved the way his fingers were always stained black from sketching at the end of a good day. And he loved being an artist. He loved taking a bucket of paint and throwing it against a mural, he loved hanging from trees or climbing to the roof of his apartment to get the perfect angle for a picture, he loved being lost in a drawing or a painting for hours and when he finally came to, being surprised that the sun actually went down. He loved everything about art, and being an artist.

But lately, it was getting harder to love what he did. Being an artist was never easy - Kendall realized that when he was two and began finger painting for the first time. But it never seemed to get to him; yeah he had his bad days where he just wanted to destroy his canvas or throw his paints out, but he always tried to work through the bad days. And he learned to always love - or try to love - anything he created. But lately... that wasn't happening for him. It wasn't that he wasn't producing anything; on the contrary, he was taking more pictures and doing more paintings than he had ever done, but mostly just because he was hoping to find his muse.

The hardest thing was getting - and staying - inspired, and lately Kendall had been severely lacking in inspiration. And it wasn't just a one time thing; this has been going on for nearly a month. It was as if he didn't even have a reason to take photos or to sketch or do anything; and every day this went on, it was harder and harder for him. To say that this month was the hardest for him would be an understatement. It was almost like he was waking up without a purpose.

Art was the only thing Kendall ever believed he was truly good at; the only thing he was truly passionate about. It was the only thing that when he was doing this, he didn't feel like he should be doing something else. It was the only thing that gave him life. But with this creative block he was going through, Kendall felt... to put it quite simply, he felt lost. Because without art, he didn't really know who he was. Without art - without taking photographs, without painting, without sketching - Kendall just felt kind of like he was waking up in a darkened room and just trying to find his way out... like he was scrambling around in the dark trying to turn the light back on.

To anyone else this probably just seems a bit overdramatic, that his creative slump wasn't a big deal; but they just didn't understand. To Kendall, this creative slump was quite literally ruining his life. And he just wanted his light turned back on.

* * *

It was early in the morning when Kendall woke up, the sun barely rising along the horizon but the birds were singing good morning to the world. Kendall always loved sunrises. He thought it was one of the most beautiful things nature had to offer - aside from many other aspects of nature that he found beautiful. Normally when he woke up this early, Kendall would jump at the chance to go out onto the balcony of his apartment to snap some photographs or even do some sketching, but today, he just laid there. While part of him still wanted to get out there and get to work, another part of him thought, what's the point?

Thoughts like that definitely scared Kendall, because one day he was always worried he was going to listen to them. It was like he had the devil on one shoulder, and an angel on another; and the devil was telling him to just give up, to quit but the angel was telling him that it was all going to be okay, that he was going to find his muse - but he wouldn't find it by laying in bed feeling sorry for himself. At the end of the day, Kendall always found himself listening to "the angel" but he was still afraid of the day that "the devil" got to him.

Nevertheless, Kendall forced himself out of bed and after making a cup of coffee and checking his Twitter feed, he grabbed his sketch pad and his Canon 60D, and made his way out onto the balcony.

He was definitely lucky to live in an apartment with a balcony, because it was one of Kendall's favorite places. He loved to sit out here and just... create. If the weather was nice enough, he found himself there all day. Sometimes even late at night, when Kendall was restless and his mind was going through dozens of different photographs that could be taken, he would leave the warm comfort of his bed and go out to create something. That was one of the things Kendall loved about being an artist - that anything, at anytime and anywhere, could become art.

And so here he was; seated on his balcony, trying to find something that could be art. Usually he didn't have to look his hard, but nothing was seeming to come easy to him lately. He sat outside for about an hour, snapping a few pictures of some trees and birds. And just when he was ready to call it a day and head back inside, she appeared.

For the first time in his life, Kendall felt like he was in a young adult novel, or some cheesy PG-13 movie - where the guy sees a girl for the first time, and she's THAT girl, the girl that will somehow change his life. Personally, Kendall always thought moments like that were a bit anticlimactic, but right now he would take all of that back in a heartbeat.

She was his neighbor, but that's all he knew about her. He had never gotten her name before, just exchanged a few "hello"s or "good morning"s when they saw each other in the hallway. He had seen her and talked to her before - so why was this moment so different?

She didn't notice him as she took a seat on her balcony, a pair of headphones over her head and a book in her hands. She draped her legs - oh god, her legs. She had the most amazing pair of legs Kendall had ever seen in his life - over the balcony railing and opened her book. And Kendall watched her read for a moment, and then he saw it.

He saw the way the sun reflected off of her, touching every base of skin and making her almost glow. He saw the way her hair fell down her shoulders in perfect waves, resembling the way the ocean kissed the shore as the tide rolled in. He saw the way her lips were pursed together as she read, her long eyelashes almost hiding her big brown eyes from him. He saw the veins in her hands, though barely visible they flexed a little as she held onto her book. He saw the way her head lightly bobbed to whatever music was filling her up. He saw the way she licked her lips, the way she crossed her ankles over one another, the way she slouched down in her chair a little.

Kendall saw beauty in motion when he looked at her.

And then it hit him. He saw art when he looked at her.

He had to think fast; Kendall hadn't felt this inspired in a while, he didn't want to lose his momentum. He wanted to snap a few pictures of her, but he couldn't do that - she'd probably call the police on him. And he didn't want to ask her for her permission either - he didn't want her to move an inch from this position. So immediately, he started sketching. He grabbed his pencil and opened his sketchbook to a clean page, and he immediately got to work. Though he was working fast - he had no idea how long she was going to sit out here - he put in every single little detail that he could in this picture. He captured the fullness of her lips, the waves in her hair, the slight curl of her eyelashes. Kendall's hand was moving so fast, he was sure he was developing carpal tunnel but he didn't care. When he finished the picture, he looked at it and he could almost cry.

It was beautiful.

Of course, it was probably because he had such a beautiful model, but this picture... it was almost like looking at a black and white photograph. He glanced up at at her and back at the picture, and Kendall felt his heart swelling with pride. He finally felt like an artist again.

When he realized that she was still seated out here, he went right back to work. He drew close ups of her hands holding the book, close ups of her face while she read - he basically spent his entire morning drawing every inch of this girl. After a while, he was able to draw her without even looking up at her for a reference; her face was engraved in his memory, and he drew her in different scenarios and situations. He gave his girl a story, he gave life to his drawings of her and he turned this beautiful stranger into art.

After a while, she closed her book and removed her headphones from her head, sliding them around her neck. He noticed her getting up to head back inside, and she looked over at him. And she gave him a bright smile and a small wave before disappearing inside of her apartment.

That smile. What a smile she had. And before he could lose the mental image, Kendall rushed inside, grabbing his easel and his paints and he painted this girl. And he couldn't stop smiling. For the first time in... he couldn't remember how long... for the first time in a long time, he was finally feeling inspired. All thanks to this girl whose name he didn't even know.

* * *

_Sometime Later..._

"Chamomile!" Camille looked up to see her roommate, Lucy, walking into her room, leaning against the doorframe. "You got plans tonight?"

"Just studying," Camille replied, motioning to the open textbook on her bed.

"Do you wanna go out with me?" Lucy asked. "My friend Kendall's art got put into a gallery, and I wanted to go and support him."

"Oh, sounds cool," Camille smiled. "Yeah, I'll go."

"Good because I already got you a ticket," Lucy said, handing her friend the ticket to get into the museum tonight. "We leave at seven sharp!" she called over her shoulder as she left Camille's room.

Camille looked over the ticket, reading a mini description of the museum they were headed to, as well as the room they would be spending the majority of their evening in. A name was across the ticket - Kendall Knight. Didn't sound familiar, but that didn't surprise her. Though Camille and Lucy went to the same school, it was a large school and they both had different majors; they didn't really have the same friends. But regardless, Camille always found Lucy's art friends fascinating, and she loved art as well.

There was just something about art that made her... happy. It was almost breathtaking to see someone else's creations, whether it be in a museum or on their school's website. But as much as she loved art, she also hated it a little. Because in a way, seeing someone else's creations struck a nerve of jealousy in her. Camille wasn't necessarily artistically challenged, but she was no artist. The closest she got to being an artist was stealing her mom's friend's camera and snapping a couple of pictures of everything and anything. She had always wished to be able to create something like these people could. Call her bitter, but that always made her hate art just a little bit.

But regardless of her feelings, Camille closed her textbook and started to get ready for tonight. Because even though she didn't know this Kendall Knight fellow, she was happy to support him.

* * *

Camille definitely felt out of place tonight. Even though she looked the part, donning one of her best dresses and a pair of heels like the rest of the people at this black tie function, she was not like any of these people. Everyone around her was talking about art and critiquing the pictures that were hung on the wall - all Camille could say was whether she liked something or not, and truth be told she kind of like everything she saw. And everyone else kind of just rolled their eyes at her, and it was doing nothing to make her feel like she belonged. Of course Lucy tried to include her, but when it came down to it, Camille just felt like a fish out of water.

For a little while, she contemplated leaving; these weren't her friends or her type of people, and she didn't even really know this Kendall guy. She was sure he wouldn't miss her if she left.

As she was finishing her glass overpriced wine, she heard a shy, tentative voice speak out, "Can - can I have your attention please?"

The room quieted and Camille looked towards the front of the room. There before her stood a tall and lanky blonde boy, his hair brushed to the side of his head as if he was trying to prove to everyone that he was as sophisticated as the rest of them. His hands were wringing nervously together as he spoke to the crowd. "Um, I'm Kendall Knight, but you already know that - probably. And this is my collection. Over the past few months, I've been putting all of this together, and it really means a lot to me. You'll notice a recurring theme with these pictures, but there's a reason for that," he cleared his throat, awkwardly. "See, for a while, I was feeling uninspired. And because of that, it was almost like I didn't have a purpose to be an artist anymore. But then one day, I saw this girl... the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in a while. And it took seeing this girl that made me realize that really am an artist, and that I do have a purpose. Even though this girl and I barely said two words to each other, she sort of became my muse. And this won't really make sense to anyone, but in a way, she turned my light back on." he smiled widely at the crowd. "And now that you've heard my sappy story, please look around and I hope you enjoy what I've come up with,"

At that moment, Camille was glad she stuck around because even though she didn't know this guy, or know the girl who had inspired him, but his story touched her. The crowd dispersed, but Camille stood there looking at the artist, and there was a moment when they locked eyes. And she swore that Kendall's entire face lit up.

"It's you," he whispered.

Raising an eyebrow, she asked him, "Do we know each other?" but her question was answered as she looked around the gallery and saw his pictures.

They were all of her.

"Oh god, this is embarrassing," Kendall laughed awkwardly, walking over to her. "Um, I probably look like such a creep to you right now."

"Um," Camille was speechless looking around the room. There were various paintings and sketches of her, and it was like she was seeing herself from someone else's perspective. And it was almost strange for her to say it, but these paintings were beautiful. And after hearing that she had inspired him in such a dark time for him was... she couldn't describe the feeling.

"I'm the girl you were talking about earlier?" she asked him softly, awestruck as she spun around in a circle, trying to take everything.

"Yup, that's you," Kendall nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"How?" she asked, looking at him. "How did I inspire you to make something so... beautiful?"

"Well it wasn't that hard once I got started, seeing as you're so beautiful," he told her honestly. She blushed a little at his words. "But, um, I don't know. I was out on my balcony one day, and I was trying to find something to inspire me. After months of having no inspiration, I just felt so lost and helpless. But then you came out onto your balcony, and you sat down with your book and your headphones," he paused to point to the painting from that day. Camille looked at it; it was weird, it was like she was looking in a mirror, but at the same time, it wasn't. "This day," he told her. "When you came out, and when I got that first look at you, I was..." he looked at her. "I was amazed by you." she looked at him, their eyes locking and Camille swore that she felt her heart stop.

"Me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, and pointed to another picture. This one was a close up her, the background shades of bright yellow mixed with white and orange; her face in black and white, except for her smile, which was painted a brighter white than the rest of the portrait. "This one's my favorite, because it really describes what I was talking about," he explained to her. "See, when I wasn't painting and when I had nothing to inspire me, I felt like I was in a dark room, just searching for a light to turn on to help me see where I was going. Then one day, I saw you, and you looked at me and smiled. And I had your smile engraved in my memory for the rest of the day. And well... that's when I knew that my light had been turned back on."

"I don't, I don't even know what to say," Camille said, almost breathlessly.

"You don't have to say anything," he told her, not looking away from the painting. "It's funny, because even when I was in that dark time, I still knew who I was; I knew that I was an artist. I just... I guess I just forgot for a little while," he turned to her and smiled. "Thanks for reminding me,"

Camille felt like she could cry, her heart swelling in her chest and all she could do was reach out for Kendall's hand and give it a small squeeze - her way of saying, "You're welcome,"

Lucy appeared at Kendall's side, took a look at the painting, then turned to Kendall and with a wide smile she said, "Looks like you've got your light back on, Knight."

"Yeah," Kendall hadn't taken his eyes off of Camille as he said softly, "I do."

* * *

**a/n2: incase you were wondering why i said this was personal to me, it's because like Kendall in this story, i'm kind of an artist. only the art i create isn't with paint - it's with words. i'm a writer, and the worst thing in the world is the creative block that i was describing early on in the story. and that's why writing this sort of hit home for me, because i know what it feels like to have your light turned off, like you don't know your purpose anymore, and to be in that slump where you're sort of like "why am i even doing this?" and it's scary and hard, but the important part is to just never give up. like Kendall in the story, i didn't give up even when i wanted to; and like Kendall in the story, i got my light back on :)**


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