Small Town Lover
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › N'sync
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,550
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › N'sync
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,550
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of NSync. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lance carried the last box
Lance carried the last box down the stairs of his parents' house, wondering if he'd ever be welcome back. They weren't even there, choosing not to stay and see him after the terrible scene last night.
They'd really had no choice but to tell his parents about his and Chris' relationship, after one of their friends saw them at lunch together. They'd never really hidden their relationship, except from Lance's parents, and it was only a matter of time before someone reported back to them of their son's extra-curricular activities.
They both took it extremely hard.
Lance's mother couldn't stop crying, and his father was so livid it was a miracle he didn't have a stroke right there at the kitchen table.
Lance had been honest with them, albeit omitting the gory details of his and Chris' begin together. He simply spoke of their love and deep affection for one another, and of how they kept each other "safe."
Lance hoped one day they'd be able to accept him as the man he was, and not the one they projected on to him, but he wasn't holding his breath or anything.
It hurt. It hurt to know that, no matter he was the same good son he'd always been, they couldn't love him. Couldn't love him for loving another.
Guess all those godly platitudes didn't mean a whole hell of a lot. All that talk of a "god of love" fell pretty flat. As he'd deep down known it would.
He shoved the Toyota's door open a little wider with his hip, shoving the box in next to his laptop case. At least they weren't making rules about what he could and couldn't take with him. Not that the computer would be an issue, since he'd bought it with his own money, but there were other items that he wouldn't want to leave. Like the numerous native Alaskan totems and sculptures his aunt had sent him over the years, and the football paraphernalia his cousins loaded him up with any time they could. Which wasn't as often as he'd like.
His parents weren't all that fond of his Aunt Patti and Uncle Robbie, for various reasons. The main one of which was his aunt's disdain for what she considered "organized religion," and the almost robot-like belief in their teachings that people have. She was of the opinion that a person's relationship with God is too personal to be spouted to them from a pulpit, and should be prayed about and studied on one's own.
He had no questions about where he came by his own rebellious attitude.
Needless to say, his parents, and their church, were NOT on friendly terms with his aunt. Which gave him an idea.
He stepped around to the driver's side of the car, stopping to take one last, long look at the house he grew up in. His heart clenched with grief for a moment, at the loss of all he'd ever known, but then a vision of Chris, sweaty and sated in their bed this monring, slid before his eyes, and he put this house and it's recent unhappiness out of his mind.
He head to his new home.
They'd really had no choice but to tell his parents about his and Chris' relationship, after one of their friends saw them at lunch together. They'd never really hidden their relationship, except from Lance's parents, and it was only a matter of time before someone reported back to them of their son's extra-curricular activities.
They both took it extremely hard.
Lance's mother couldn't stop crying, and his father was so livid it was a miracle he didn't have a stroke right there at the kitchen table.
Lance had been honest with them, albeit omitting the gory details of his and Chris' begin together. He simply spoke of their love and deep affection for one another, and of how they kept each other "safe."
Lance hoped one day they'd be able to accept him as the man he was, and not the one they projected on to him, but he wasn't holding his breath or anything.
It hurt. It hurt to know that, no matter he was the same good son he'd always been, they couldn't love him. Couldn't love him for loving another.
Guess all those godly platitudes didn't mean a whole hell of a lot. All that talk of a "god of love" fell pretty flat. As he'd deep down known it would.
He shoved the Toyota's door open a little wider with his hip, shoving the box in next to his laptop case. At least they weren't making rules about what he could and couldn't take with him. Not that the computer would be an issue, since he'd bought it with his own money, but there were other items that he wouldn't want to leave. Like the numerous native Alaskan totems and sculptures his aunt had sent him over the years, and the football paraphernalia his cousins loaded him up with any time they could. Which wasn't as often as he'd like.
His parents weren't all that fond of his Aunt Patti and Uncle Robbie, for various reasons. The main one of which was his aunt's disdain for what she considered "organized religion," and the almost robot-like belief in their teachings that people have. She was of the opinion that a person's relationship with God is too personal to be spouted to them from a pulpit, and should be prayed about and studied on one's own.
He had no questions about where he came by his own rebellious attitude.
Needless to say, his parents, and their church, were NOT on friendly terms with his aunt. Which gave him an idea.
He stepped around to the driver's side of the car, stopping to take one last, long look at the house he grew up in. His heart clenched with grief for a moment, at the loss of all he'd ever known, but then a vision of Chris, sweaty and sated in their bed this monring, slid before his eyes, and he put this house and it's recent unhappiness out of his mind.
He head to his new home.