Lance was enjoying himself for the first time in a very long time. His mood was better than it had been in ages. And he wasn't doing anything that he hadn't done on everyday off for the past five years, hanging out with the guys, just being themselves. He knew that they other guys had noticed also. How could they not when for the past few months he had spent his days off in his room, alone, working on FreeLance and associating with no one? He knew they noticed, but they weren't saying anything about it, and for that he was glad. He didn't want them to do anything differently. He wanted things to be like they used to be, before they got so big that they had no time to themselves.
He knew he couldn't have that, so he would settle for what ever he could get. He was loving this time he could spend with his friends, just being that. Friends. And in being just friends, hanging out with the people he cared most about, and having fun, like they used to, Lance realized something that he should have known from the beginning. His friends hadn't alienated him, he had alienated himself.
Joey, Justin, JC, and Chris were acting no different today than they had been for the past few months. Maybe slightly more concerned, ok, a LOT more concerned, but they weren't treating him any differently. He was having fun. He was being included. He was a part of the family. He always had been, to them. It was he that had distanced himself from them. Not the other way around.
'Why would I do that? Why did I do that? I can't live without them in my life, and yet I push them away for no reason. Just like I did Nicole, and my mother. How could any of them stand to look at me now?' Lance asked himself, suddenly disgusted with the person he had become.
'I know why you did it. It's because you're just a little bit on the demented side. You just can't seem to get it together can you? I wouldn't put up with you either if I were them.' Lance's little voice told him.
Lance rolled his eyes at the war waging in his head. His logical side bickering with his insecure and smart assed side.
'Well, guess what. You're not them and they do want to put up with me. So FUCK off!' Lance screamed internally at his subconscious 'friend'.
'Yea, they really want to be around you alright. Look around Poofu. Do you see them anywhere near this table? I sure don't. They aren't here. They don't want to be here. There's Chris and JC standing way over there on the other side of the club talking to each other, but are they talking to you. No. And have you even seen Justin and Joey since you got here? They took off for the girls as soon as you guys stepped through the door of this god forsaken night club.' His voice argued. Lance didn't even know why he listened anymore. It always come up with something wrong with the way the guys were treating. Lance knew he was insane for even listening to his little voice, but it always managed to implant that small amount of doubt, which, lately was all it took for Lance to completely lose faith in himself and his friends.
'Just shut up and leave me the hell alone.' Lance scolded his little voice.
'I can't do that.' The voice stated matter of factly.
'Why the HELL not?!' Lance asked, furrowing his brow as he held this conversation with himself. With himself. 'With myself.' Lance thought. "Oh shit. I really am insane." Lance said aloud.
"What's that buddy?" Joey asked, plopping down in the seat next to Lance. Joey's face took on a worried look when he noticed the scared and confused look on Lance's face. "What's wrong Lance?"
Lance looked to Joey, his eyes scared and haunted. "Joey, do you think I'm crazy? Do you think I'm insane?" Lance asked, his eyes pleading with Joey, his voice desperate. Lance didn't notice the other's coming to the table at the look on their friends' faces. He didn't hear the loud music or pay attention to the other people milling around the busy, smoke filled night club.
Lance was silently praying that they didn't think that of him. He wanted so badly to be told that he was fine. He wanted to be fine. He wanted the voice to go away. He wanted to be sane. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be like he used to be. He wanted to be himself again. He wanted his friends back. He wanted his life back. He wanted his Mom back. He wanted the love of his life, Nicole back. He wanted things to be like they used to be, but most of all he wanted to be assured that he wasn't insane. He wanted to be assured that he was fine that he wasn't crazy that he was sane and normal and loved and cared for. He wanted to be assured that he hadn't pushed his friends away.
"What? Lance, you're not crazy. We don't think you're crazy. Why would we? Talk to us Lance." Joey begged, anxious at the lost and alone look in Lance's eyes. It was if he wasn't even listening to what Joey had said, or paying attention to anything around him.
"Come on, Lance. We're taking you back to the hotel. Then you're going to tell us EVERYTHING." JC said, when Lance didn't respond to Joey's pleas.
Lance was lead numbly out of the club and to the cab that would take him and his friends to their temporary home.
~*~
"I'm insane." Lance said, staring blankly ahead while his bandmates stared at him. He was sitting on the bed in his room, his friends gathered around him. They had been sitting there for over a half hour, and the only think Lance would say is that he was insane. The guys couldn't figure out where this was coming from. Everything had been going great. Lance was hanging out with them. He was joking around. It was like old time. It was like their Lance, the Lance they loved was back. But now he was gone again, and in his place was a lost and tortured looking person that they didn't know how to deal with. He just sat there, staring blankly at nothing.
"You're not insane." Joey said, as he had every time Lane had stated that he was, in fact insane.
'Don't listen to him. You know you're insane. Other wise you wouldn't have been talking to ME for the past six months. They can't see it. They don't want to see it cause they don't want to see you. The real you. They don't want to know who you really are. But now they're seeing and look at them. They don't want to be here. They don't want to be around you. They can't stand the real you. And you're just sitting here, letting them look at you like you're a freak of nature. You're so pathetic.' The voice admonished him.
It was right. He was pathetic. He couldn't get the simple little voice, his own voice, in his own head to shut up. How hard could that be? And he was too weak to do it.
'That's right, you're weak. You're so damn WEAK. God, I can't stand you're being so weak. How do you live with yourself?' The voice asked, disgusted.
"God, make it stop." Lance begged, putting his head in his hands. His voice was pleading, begging, and so defeated that it tore at his friends hearts to hear it.
"Stop what? Lance, please tell us what's wrong." Joey begged again, kneeling in front of his best friend now.
"The voice, Joey. Make it stop. Please, God, make it stop. I don't want to hear it berate me anymore. I don't want to listen to it but I can't make it be quiet. Nothing is ever good enough for it. I'm so damn weak. I can't make it stop on my own. Please, make it stop." Lance begged his friend, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the larger, older man in front of him. Joey also had tears in his eyes, as did the rest of the group. Their rock, they pillar of strength was crumbling in front of them and they didn't know what to do to stop it.
"We're going to make it stop, Lance. I promise, we'll make it stop. All of us. Together. You're appointment is tomorrow. This therapist will know a way to make it go away. I know she will. And we'll help you. We're going to be there for you. You do NOT have to do this alone." Joey said, clinging to his friend as if his life depended on it. Lance knew his did. He didn't think he could live with the voice much longer. It was driving him to unmentionable thoughts. Thoughts of self destruction, self inflicted death, just to be able to mute the voice in his head that constantly told him he wasn't good enough.
Lance nodded his head, indicating to Joey that he understood and believed him. Joey hugged him again, placing a soft kiss on his brow. "Get some sleep, Scoop. You've got a busy day tomorrow." Lance nodded again and the guys slowly, reluctantly filed out of his hotel room, leaving Lance to his silence and his thoughts.
Resolutely, Lance began to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth. Changed his clothes, remembering the key around his neck, which triggered his memory of the journal buried deeply in his briefcase. Lance quickly made his way to the dark case, and removed the book that had brought him comfort earlier that morning. Lance quickly opened it and sat on his bed, flipping past the pages he had read that morning and to the next entry in the beautifully designed book.
Darkness, surrounding me. Choking me. A darkness, cold and so black. A void nothing but a deep chasm, empty of all light all heat, all emotion save two: fear of the unknown, and finality. It closes over me like a cold blanket, but not comforting. It's as if some large unknown hand reached up and plucked the sun from my days, the moon and the stars from my nights, along with the light in my heart. I feel robbed of my happiness, my sadness. I feel numb emotionally except for two: fear of the unknown and finality.
Lance closed the book and turned the light out next to his bed. He just knew that Dawn could read his thoughts before he had them. He just knew it. That was exactly how he felt now. He was scared. Scared of what he didn't know. Scared of what was going to happen and having no control over it. He was scared that it was final and that there was nothing he could d about it. Fear and Finality.