Re: Another shortie from yours truly- Out Of Here -- The Realm Of NSYNC Fiction

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Subject: Re: Another shortie from yours truly- Out Of Here

Author:
Kira

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Date Posted: 19:28:09 05/14/02 Tue
In reply to: Gina Z. 's message, "Another shortie from yours truly- Out Of Here" on 09:26:40 05/11/02 Sat

*stomps foot*

I don't want Lance going to space.

>I wrote this one about two months ago in about two
>hours. Hope ya like it.
>
>Out Of Here
>by Gina Z.
>
>Lance had woken up that morning with a renewed sense
>of what he was doing. For once in his life, nobody was
>telling him what to do, nobody was trying to sway his
>mind in one direction or another, or trying to tell
>him what was best for his career. There was no record
>company around, no managers, nobody affiliated with
>Jive Records or the music world in general to
>influence his decision at all. This was why, he
>figured, that on that morning of that day, he was
>going through with it.
>
>At that moment, it was just Lance alone with his
>thoughts. The room he was in was nothing but white all
>around, and there was no furniture at all with the
>exception of one lone chair that was placed in a
>corner. Even though the chair was there, Lance chose
>to stand. There was nobody else inside the room, or
>the room next to that. If anybody was around, they
>were outside with everybody else. He didn't mind this,
>actually, he wanted to be alone, anyways.
>
>There were no windows in this room. There was a door
>for entry and exit, four walls to form the perimeters,
>and one simple chair as mentioned before. Most people
>would call this room a headache inducer it was so
>bright and empty, but Lance somehow managed to find
>peace within. He paced his way around the room,
>walking around with his head angled towards the
>ground. His eyes were closed, his hands were laced
>together, and the only thing Lance could hear clearly
>was the pounding of his heart. He used this time for
>peace and reflection, and tried to reach deep within
>himself to find a mean between all of the action.
>
>The guys were there, but they were outside, with
>everybody else. Lance knew he was not going to have
>the chance to speak with them, but it felt good just
>to know that they were there. His entire family was
>also there, too. His Mom, Dad, grandmother,
>grandfather, cousins, aunts, and uncles were all there
>as were his sister, Stacy, brother-in-law, Ford, and
>his best friend, Meredith. However, Lance shook his
>head. If he thought about the fact that every single
>one of his loved ones were in one place at the same
>time, he was going to question what he was about to
>do. At this point, that wasn't an option. He had to do
>it.
>
>Lance came to a gradual stop in the middle of the room
>and bent down, propping his elbows up on his knees.
>Burying his head in his hands, Lance took a deep
>breath in and let it out in one long sigh. He rubbed
>his eyes with both hands, ran his fingers through his
>hair, and put both hands behind him to sit down on the
>cold floor. Looking down at his outfit, he
>straightened out a crease in his pants when he
>realized his hands were unusually tense and very cold.
>When he saw his hands were trembling, only then did it
>really begin to set in.
>
>"Shit," Lance mumbled to himself, practically
>whispering. He didn't want to disturb the silence in
>the room, "What the hell am I doing?"
>
>He stood back up again and placed his hands on his
>hips. Could it be that now, after all that he'd been
>through, after all of the planning, after everything
>this took, he was beginning to have second thoughts?
>Once again, he shook his head. There was no backing
>out now. He couldn't just say he didn't want to do it.
>Who would he be fooling? He'd be letting everybody
>down, nevermind himself. He'd be letting his family
>down, the guys down, the record company down, and most
>important, the fans. It was all bout them. It was all
>about everybody else, he didn't care about himself.
>
>But as Lance thought about who was there and who'd he
>be disappointing, it dawned on him. Why was he
>contradicting himself? And wait a second, what was
>this all about after all? Was Lance doing this for
>himself, or for the press and the fans? Everybody knew
>the press was already in a tizzy. After this they'd be
>going absolutely wild. Was he just caught up in the
>moment when he decided that this would be the right
>thing to do? Or did Lance really want to do it?
>Honestly, he found it odd that he even had to ask
>himself that question.
>
>Maybe Lance was just scared. It's safe to say that
>anybody would be scared before they did what Lance was
>about to do. Anything could happen, and that was
>probably what had the now twenty-three year old so
>concerned. But as he stood in that room, on that cold
>day in late October, he was beginning to realize there
>was no turning back. So one question remained: did he
>really want to do it? Lance took in one more deep
>breath, and a smile of relief soon passed over his
>face. He nodded his head with confidence.
>
>"More than anything in this world," he squeaked to
>himself, chuckling lowly at his excuse for a pun.
>Glancing at his watch, he realized it was time.
>
>Lance took one more moment for a small pause before
>opening that only door and exiting the room he'd just
>spent two entire hours in. He took steps down the hall
>at a slow, calm pace, and as he approached that one
>last door, he knew that what he was doing would be
>okay. The clear, bright sun shone upon him with a
>welcome heat, and as he felt the wind brush past his
>face, he knew that it was all worth it. He could hear
>the sounds of everybody down below, but he couldn't
>see them, which was a good thing. It was better for
>Lance simply to know that they were there, rather than
>see them for himself. There were no fans there to
>scream and shriek and hold signs; simply his friends
>and family, and tons of other spectators. That was
>just how he wanted it.
>
>Lance slowed his pace and took a few seconds for the
>finishing touches. He zipped up his shirt, fastened
>his gloves on until he knew they were on just right,
>and he placed the finishing piece over his head. Now
>he knew this was it. He didn't care about anybody at
>that moment, except for himself. He loved everybody he
>was around, but to be blatently honest, he didn't care
>what they thought. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could
>change his mind at that point in time. He cared about
>other peoples' opinions, but when it came to this, he
>was going to follow his heart.
>
>And minutes later, as he sat in that chair, his heart
>pounded, his hands trembled, and he knew that he was
>doing the right thing.
>
>"I'm out of here," he whispered as the sounds of a
>second voice took over.
>
>"5, 4, 3, 2, 1...we have liftoff..."

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Replies:

Subject	Author	Date
Yeah well, I don't want him to go either.	Gina Z.	21:16:53 05/14/02 Tue