Nick stuffed more clothes into his bag, he was never one for organization, and most of the time his Mom did it for him, which wasn’t an option right now. Walking around his room he got more clothes and tried to fold them and put them in his suitcase, then headed into the bathroom, gathering up his toiletries and bringing them out. Now, what was it that his Mom did? She put them in a ziplock bag or something if he remembered right, Nick couldn’t remember if he had any. Dropping the stuff on the bed, he walked out and down the stairs to the kitchen, searching through the now bare cupboards and shelves. Making his way over to the spacious closet, he opened the door and grinned, grabbing the box of ziplock bags and made his way back upstairs, funny, he didn’t remember buying them. Walking into his room, he gathered up the things from his bed and pulled out a bag, stuffing them in and tossing them into his suitcase, this packing thing really wasn’t that hard.
Looking over at the clock, he realized he’d have to be in bed soon, he had to get up early to leave and he wasn’t looking forward to it, he was a self proclaimed grouch in the morning if he didn’t get enough sleep. The trip ahead of him was long, and he’d be able to sleep on the plane, probably the last decent sleep he’d have for the next month. Part of him was really looking forward to this, but another part wasn’t so much. He was always so run down when he got home, he never really ate properly away from home, couldn’t sleep well in a foreign bed. The constant go, go, go and never stop was draining, interview after boring predictable interview, screaming fans and groupies. Too much too fast. Just thinking about it made his head hurt, and it wasn’t like it all mattered anyway. His first album hadn’t done as well as he hoped, everyone else was more interested in a certain someone else and as much as he hated to admit it, it pissed him off.
No one ever took him seriously it felt like to him, not his parents, fans and the guys most of all. All the shit he’d taken when he wanted to do this album and for what? He’d barely gotten airplay and it was like he had never even released an album, it hurt, it hurt like hell. It was really hard to hear over and over again how his voice wasn’t strong enough, how it wasn’t anything special and how it didn’t have the kind of power that made him stick out amongst the rest, and yet, he kept going. Figured he’d prove everyone wrong. What a joke. Here he was now the one with egg on his face, unreal. He must be a glutton for punishment though because here he was trying to do it all again, only this time he’d take a different approach. Again this wasn’t without causing some controversy, particularly amongst his fans who were now calling him a sell out. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. The fucking album wasn’t even released, not even recorded and already he was already labeled a sell out. How in the hell was that possible?
Walking over to his suitcase, Nick double checked to make sure he had the necessities before closing and zipping it up. Heading over, he grabbed his other bag and closed that up as well. Reaching out, he grabbed his passport from off his dresser (which he found incidentally with his itinerary, where he figured he’d put it so he wouldn’t lose it. Go figure.) Putting it in his mouth, he picked up his suitcases and walking out the room making his way down the stairs carefully. Setting the bags by the door, he placed his passport, and itinerary on one of the bags so he wouldn’t forget them in the morning while he was half-asleep. Nick hoped he remembered everything, it’d be just like him to get on the plane and remember he forgot to pack underwear.
Yawning, he made his way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and checking to make sure he’d thrown out all perishable stuff. The shelves were practically empty; it was a depressing sight. Nick had already been through the cabinets so he knew those were ok. Walking towards the back of the house, he made sure all the doors and everything were locked, he wouldn’t have time in morning to do another check, so he had to make sure everything was set now. Nick started down to the lower level to do one last check, when his thoughts drifted to the letter he’d sent.
It’d only been a few days, but for some reason he was anxious for her to get it, part of him actually wished he could be there to see her reaction to it. Chances were though, that she wouldn’t believe that it was him, and he could understand that. Sometime later in the week she’d have it and maybe she write him back and he’d have a letter waiting for him when he got home at the end of the month, maybe not. There were more important things, but that letter from her seemed to be hanging on in the back of his head for some reason. A silly letter from someone in a different state with a different life…what was the big deal? Only he couldn’t seem to answer that question cause he really didn’t know. He knew nothing about her, her letter gave him nothing to go on other than she was a fan of him and of the Backstreet Boys. That was enough he supposed…
Giving the living room one final look, he made his way up to his room. Finished and still yawning, it was time for bed.
