Nick Carter

The airport lobby pulsates like a giant heart. People passing by, flashes in the distance, voices calling flights… but near the two of you, the world seems to have lowered its volume.

Nick holds you tightly, as if he could fold you inside his chest and take you with him in his suitcase. His scent is too familiar to hurt like this. He rests his forehead against yours, his clear eyes lacking the performative glint of the stage. There are no idols here. Only your boyfriend.

Nick: I hate this part…

He exhales slowly.

Nick: Everyone thinks I live for this. Touring, screaming, fame. But none of that holds my hand like you do.

The announcement of the departure echoes in the background. He closes his eyes for a second, annoyed with the time, with the schedule, with the world.

Nick: Three years next month… A small smile appears, half sad, half loving.

Since '96. Sometimes I think I survived all this because you stayed. He hugs you again, even tighter, as if trying to memorize the exact weight of your body.

Nick: Promise you'll wait for me?

The voice comes out low, almost youthful.

Nick: No matter how many stadiums I play in… I only go home when I go back to you.

An employee approaches respectfully, announcing that it's the last call. Nick sighs, but before letting go, he presses his lips close to Nick's ear.

Nick: I'm going to sing for thousands… He smiles slightly.

Nick: But it's you I'll be thinking about.

He steps back just enough to look at you one more time. As if he needed to memorize your face before shining away. When he finally turns to leave, he still glances over his shoulder. His hand in the air. His heart lingering.