Note: It's been a few years since I've written this. I've moved onto original work and fanfiction isn't something I do anymore. However, it doesn't sit well with me to just leave everything as it is, as badly as it's written and as sloppy as the plot is.

So, to begin, I've changed a few things about Allen. First of all, a number of things I had him be talented in is unrealistic and unreasonable. So, I've cut them down and also cut down his ego BIG TIME.

You might have noticed that I've changed the description and cover. I felt like the description gave too much away and made it less enjoyable.

I hope you guys who read the last version and those of you who just began reading will be patient with me as I focus myself on editing the chapters I have and creating new ones as time goes on.

Anyway, here's the new first chapter.

Every edited chapter will have an {Edited} at the top

Moving had to be Allen Walker's least favorite thing to do.

Plenty of people had given him the 'Oh, you'll love it! You'll get to see all kinds of new things and people! Isn't that just great?' spiel.

No, it was not great.

He'd left his entire family and career behind him in England. Everything he loved.

Yes, he could get a new dance teacher. But he didn't want to. Yes, he could make new friends. But he didn't want to. He could do plenty of things to mimic normality, but he didn't want to.

He didn't want to break his back over boxes and he didn't want to redecorate a new house just for Cross to break things in an alcohol-induced haze.

Allen groaned, abandoning the box in his hand in favor of plopping onto his new bed. He rubbed his gloved hands up and down his face, his tired silver eyes peeking up at the bare white ceiling.

'My old room had a blue ceiling...' he thought bitterly.

Sure, his room wasn't all that bad. He got the biggest room in the house, so that was a plus. But it just didn't feel like home.

There were no fond memories of his dance teacher, Anita, coming over to cook him dinner when Cross never gave left groceries in the fridge. No pictures on the walls in remembrance of Mana. No tick marks on the walls for Cross to complain about when Allen had insisted on checking how much he'd grown when he was younger.

Nothing. This wasn't a home. This wasn't his home.

His home didn't have light blue and cream walls. His home didn't have a back porch or a porch swing. His home didn't have spotless bathrooms or even plural bathrooms!

his home had muddled beige walls. His home had a muddy backyard he loved to play in, much to Cross' dismay. His home had all sort of odd stains in the bathroom. Not the mention the cracks in the wall.

His home was in England. Not America.

Of course, when he'd brought this rant up to Cross, the man had just waved it off saying, "It'll be fine. You can do your gay twirling thing there too."

Allen didn't know why he thought Cross of all people would understand the sentimentality of that old rickety house at the end of 5th street. All he saw was a place to crash when his ladies wouldn't open their doors to him.

Surely he would see this house as the same.

Allen's phone buzzed, his screen lighting up to show Cross had deposited this month's salary.

He snorted, he had thought the booze-loving bastard had already forgotten about his charge's existence.

Guess not.

He heaved himself off of the bed, his hands on his hips.

He had more work to do before he could sulk.

It was well into the evening by the time he'd finished bringing the heavy boxes in from the rented move-in truck. Which, legally, he wasn't allowed to drive, but with a guardian like Cross, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Now the issue was getting everything where it needed to go, and head out to the grocery store before it got too late. God knows he'd starve if he didn't.

He couldn't count on two hands and two feet how many times he'd forgotten to go shopping on an off day and had passed out during practice.

Anita always scolded him for not eating right, then went on to scold Cross for not giving him what he needed. Cross never listened, of course, just flirted some more.

Lecherous snake.

He debated for a moment going out back to light Cross' boxes and just take care of his, but then decided that Cross probably had liquor in at least half of his boxes, those of which upon finding Allen scrunched his nose up in distaste for, and he didn't want to have the fire department at his house on the first day. The first week, however, he could deal with.

That being said, the first box he needed to open would be the one filled with his albums.

While photography, admittedly, wasn't one of the things he was exceptional at, he did quite enjoy it.

When Mana had picked him off of the streets, all he had was the clothes on his back and tears on his cheeks. The very first thing Mana had given him was a camera.

He'd told him that it was important to always have a camera on hand just in case he saw something beautiful he wanted to cherish forever.

Allen had asked him what sort of thing could be so great because he'd certainly never seen anything beautiful enough.

Mana pointed to a purple flower growing on the side of the road and said that that was something worth cherishing.

Allen had just raised a disbelieving brow, asking why he didn't just pick it if he loved it so much.

mana then said, and Allen had never forgotten the exact words he'd used, "When you like a flower, you pick it and it dies. But when you love a flower, you water it and help it grow. You take a picture because a flower is a delicate thing with such fleeting life. When you take a picture, you capture its life for the rest of eternity."

Allen remembered being so intrigued by the idea of something living forever in something as insignificant as a camera and taking pictures of every living thing he walked past. Every person, bird, plant. Everything.

He also remembered being really proud when Mana hung up every single one around the shack they lived in together.

He'd been hooked on photography ever since.

A fond smile graced his thin lips as he looked down at the first flower he'd ever taken a photo of. A Hyacinth, Mana had called it.

It was curled at the edges, water damaged in various places, and burned on the back, but it was still Allen's absolute favorite.

'This one is going into my room.' He thought with a smile.

The rest could be dealt with later.

Okay! Wow, it's short. I would have made it longer, but the way I wrote it 3 years ago didn't leave much room.

I'm now going to go on to edit the second chapter. If any of you wanna read the old chapters (As I'm taking them down in favor of editing) comment and I'll make a separate story for it.

Also, if any of you are up on wattpad, hmu. My new user name is TriggerXFinger and I'll be starting an original book on there called The Chronicles of Beck and Eli sometime this month.

Anyway, thanks for reading and expect a longer update soon.