Lance woke the next morning, the light spilling through the open curtains causing him to grunt as he looked around the latest in this tours string of hotel rooms.
'But you're not on tour anymore.' his little voice reminded him.
'I don't know if I should be happy or sad about that.' Lance thought to himself. Lance moved to roll over, intent on trying to recapture sleep. He stopped when he heard the rustle of paper. Shifting again, he felt something hard jab his hip.
"What the hell?" Lance asked the empty room, sitting up. Looking beside him in bed, he found the tan colored paper from the night before. He picked it up, then moved to look on his other side, finding the journal that he had though was so beautiful.
He looked at both closely, scanning the letter again. He felt as if he were intruding by reading the journal, but that is what Dawn had wanted him to do, wasn't it? Dawn had asked him to read but not judge. He could do that.
After retrieving his glasses, which had fallen to the floor at some point in the night, he settled himself against his pillows and opened the journal. The first page was decorated with a picture, looking almost like a watercolor. On the second, Lance swore Dawn had been reading his mind.
The loneliness creeps in, uninvited and unwanted. It seeps in like a gelled substance, think, dark, and oozing into the deepest recesses of your mind. It embeds itself in the crevices, the ridges, and the parts of yourself where even the most vigorous scrubbing won't rid it from your soul. One small miniscule bit of the darkness buries itself in your heard, feeding off of your insecurities, growing like a fungus, or worse, a virus. Consuming your thoughts, your dreams, your hopes, your love, fueled by your fears, your unanswered desires, until it consumes your soul. It darkens your eyes, strips them of their luster and light, ridding you of happiness and life. It blackens your soul 'til you have not even that to comfort you.
The loneliness clouds your existence, drowning out all light until even the darkness of death is brighter than you faded existence. You try to talk, but no one listens. You try to reason, but no one understands. You try to dig your way to light, you try to breath, and it laughs hauntingly, as it chokes the breath of life from you body and closes the light out forever.
The loneliness. That is love. It loves you unconditionally. It wants you, all of you, just as you are, with all of your flaws and faults. The loneliness embraces you, comforts you, fools you into thinking it's the only one that cares. Tricks you into believing you matter. Then, before you've realized what's happened, you're the lone prisoner of the dark, dingy, molded prison that was your life. A life that used to be good, until you let the loneliness control you. A life that is now not even a shell of what it used to be. It is now a barren wasteland, void of all feelings, except the loneliness, and even that laughs at you now. A wicked, maniacal laugh that echoes through your hallow soul, until the only thing you have to look forward to is death.
Lance released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding since he had begun reading. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, begging to be set free. He had to take several deep breaths to get himself under control.
It was as if this person, Dawn, had been reading his mind, his heart, his soul. Like they knew exactly what he had been feeling and thinking. And was able to put it into words in a way he never would have dared.
Still lost in thought about this person, who seemed to know his every emotion, Lance started when he realized someone was pounding on his door.
"Coming!" Lance shouted, stopping the obnoxious banging. Looking around, Lance quickly jumped over his pile of letters and shoved the journal, letter, and key into his duffel bag. He didn't want to share that with anyone just yet. Eventually, yes. Now? No.
He pulled out his folder of contracts and threw it on the bed, as an excuse for taking so long to get to door. They scattered convincingly. He then, calmly, walked to the door, opening it to find Joey standing there, not so patiently.
"What took you so long? I was about to get security to open the door." Joey said worriedly.
"I'm sorry, Joe. I was going over some contracts. I was totally spaced." Lance lied, inviting Joey into the room, then shutting the door behind him.
Joey looked around the room, noticed the contracts strewn across the bed, and accepted Lance's explanation. "I was just coming to see if you were coming down to breakfast."
"Of course. When have I not? Give me about half an hour to get ready and I'll meet you downstairs." Lance said. Joey agreed, leaving the room. He didn't bring up the numerous times over the past months that Lance hadn't joined the group for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or anything else that wasn't Nsync related, meaning mandatory.
Lance quickly showered and dressed. The words from that first passage in the journal still were resounding in his mind. 'Dawn must really know something about being lonely, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to capture how it felt so perfectly.' lance thought to himself as he finished gelling his blonde spikes. He studied his reflection for a moment longer, searching his eyes, his soul for any trace of who he used to be. He thought he could catch a glimpse of that person from time to time, but not nearly as often as he would have liked.
Sighing heavily, Lance pushed himself away from the bathroom sink and walked into his home for the next two weeks. Taking his clothes from the previous night, Lance moved to his duffel bag, pulling out the letter, journal, and key, replacing them with his dirty clothes. Lance then placed the journal and letter in his briefcase, under his handy contracts.
Looking at the key, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. He hadn't locked the journal, but he felt the need to keep it close. Picking up a thin chain that held a small pendant that his sister had given him, he swapped the pendant for the key.
Clasping the chain around his neck and tucking the key inside his shirt, Lance felt comforted. He wasn't sure why or how that small, light piece of metal had that effect on him, but he was very glad that it did.
Taking a deep breath, Lance now felt ready to face the day, and oddly enough, he felt like it would be a good on. With that thought and a slight smile on his face, he left room, not feeling as alone as he had when he entered it the night before.