The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

          October for me was a time of learning how to balance, harboring both times of immense frustration and excitement. I was trying to adapt to being both a landscape and a portrait photographer, and I struggled as I tried to learn how to be both. Sometimes I felt distanced from the realm of passionate joy that my landscape endeavors held, and this made me feel resentful and consequently irritable. Ignazio was apt to pick up on my moods and respond to them. When I was agitated he tried to cheer me up, and he disregarded my sarcasm and attempts to distance myself from him. Sometimes he was able to restore a sense of merriment to me, if only for the little while he was able to play with me, laughing and joking and teasing.

Occasionally I was excited and cheerful, feeling confident that I had mastered my double-identity. These times were the most fun, and Ignazio was immediately ready to encourage me and assure me that I had indeed learned how to maintain both activities.

          At times the monotony of my day-to-day job reverted me to the listlessness I had experienced the month before, and I couldn’t help but observe Ignazio’s seeming alarm at my returned despondency. He was especially perceptive and gentle with me during these times, and he spoke carefully and soothingly, continuously offering his presence to keep me from slipping into further melancholy.

           Overall, October served as a period of teaching as I struggled to manage both of my photography endeavors. I had to be mostly dedicated to Il Volo, and only occasionally was I able to slip away and capture my landscapes. I had to be wary that I didn’t leave too often, or I would exhaust myself and lose my balance, as I did a few times during the weeks.

          Once I stole extra time to photograph Portugal, and ended up weary and agitated. Working that day was miserable and tiring, and upon returning from the boys’ concert in a rental car, I fell asleep, which Ignazio encouraged by putting his arm gently around me and inviting me to rest my head on his shoulder.

          When I had to go an especially long time without any landscape photography, I grew so frustrated that I started to cry on the balcony as I looked over the unattainable scene below. Ignazio caught me in tears, and shushed my embarrassment with an immediate, tight hug. Later he slipped a batch of fresh-baked cookies under the door, and I let him in to snack with me and view more of my past landscapes that he was constantly begging to see.

          Ignazio was bright-eyed and playful, and he was the constant source of my comfort, though there were a few times when I observed his own weariness at the fast, wild life of incessant touring and frequent shows. His usual energetic presence beside me allowed me to pick up on his moments of subdued fatigue. This unnatural demeanor unnerved me, and I took my turns to brighten up and try to restore him to his normal merriment. He would always smile at me and feign interest in whatever I was saying, but the usual brightness was dimmed in these moments. He was always revived, however, by a night of sleep, and the next day would happily take his place again as my personal mood monitor.

          Il Volo finally reached the end of the concerts in Latinoamerica, and we spent a few blissful days resting in Brazil, which gave me time to romp in the hills with my camera. Then we headed off to Canada, where we would spend the rest of October and the beginning of November touring.

          One afternoon in early November when were in Montreal, I had settled down in my hotel suite to manage the Il Volo social media pages. I uploaded photos and organized others, and responded to comments from Il Volovers. I browsed fanart of the boys and noted some good ones to share for the other fans. I read comments on my previous photos and took notes on what the fans noticed and liked, or what they didn’t like.