cw :: domestic abuse
This is beyond Casey’s typical — at times even comedic — stage fright. He’s been sitting there too long, frozen in the dressing room, staring at the mirror. Not at himself, but seemingly through himself, at nothing in particular. He’s wondering how he’s supposed to get from point A to point B when he can’t haul himself from his chair.
How can he sing when he can’t even speak?
How can he walk when he can’t even breathe?
He’d almost been booed right off the stage by a group of Sarah’s friends at their first show back on tour in San Diego; even though they were promptly escorted off the premise, the lingering possibility of it happening again’s had him weary of every show to follow, and now the uncertainty’s beginning to suffocate him.
His own head is the only place he can hide, though there’s no solace to be found there. He’s been rendered a prisoner — of his mind, of his home, of the tour he thought might help him escape. He’s stuck.
“Casey!” Byron barges into the dressing room, then pauses, eyes shooting open. Casey doesn’t move. The urgency in Byron’s voice makes him wonder how long they’ve been looking for him, how many places they’d looked before realizing he’s still locked in his dressing room. “What are you doing?”
“You act like you just caught me jerking off or something,” Casey remarks with a half-hearted smile, turning his head away. Despite his lax comment, his hands are still fidgeting in his lap, lips pressed tightly together, eyes swimming — drowning.
Byron pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, that might be more understandable than you just sitting here while everyone’s waiting for you.”
“You think so?”
“Alright…” Byron comes inside and shuts the door so it’s just the two of them. The look on his face makes Casey’s chest tight; he glances at the door, assessing his ability to make it through without Byron stopping him, and determines the odds are completely against him. “Look, I love you kid, but you’ve been a nightmare this whole tour. What’s going on with you? You’ve been storming around barking orders and snapping at people all day. You tore Isaiah a new on for being late to sound check and now it’s five minutes past show time and you’re the one who’s nowhere to be found.”
Casey lowers his eyes. He can hear people scrambling around outside, an impatient roar from fans taunting him in the background, yet he still can’t bring himself to stand.
“Is this maybe too soon for you?” Byron finally asks him, taking a seat beside him.
Casey’s eyebrows knit together. “Too soon?”
“You and Sarah just split up. Maybe you’re not ready for a tour yet, Case… and that’s okay, but I wish you’d told me a little sooner because this is gonna look really bad.”
“I’m not canceling the tour,” Casey argues. With his chest aching like this, it’s hard for him to muster up much more than a whisper, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. “I was never gonna cancel the tour, I just didn’t think it would be like… this.”
“Like what?”
“This… intense, I guess. I can’t think right. I haven’t slept in like three days. I just feel bad, I feel like sh*t.”
“Casey.”
“Byron, people were literally waiting in front row to boo me off stage and she just gets to hang back and soak up all the sympathy from it, it’s bullsh*t. I shouldn’t have to be the one canceling anything.”
Casey runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a deep breath in the hope of pushing some weight off his chest, but it doesn’t work. “I don’t mean to yell at everyone, or be a nightmare or whatever, I’m just frustrated right now, I’m so f***ing frustrated.”
“Casey…” Byron steps forward off his chair, stooping down in front of Casey so he has no choice but to look. “You need to take a deep breath, okay?”
“I just said I can’t breathe, dude, that’s part of the problem!”
“Hey. Do you see and hear yourself?” Byron raises his voice, as if to overpower any interruption Casey’s planning. “Do you see what this is doing to you?”
Casey had once prided himself on adaptability. He was fine at ten years old when he was forced to live in a hotel. He was fine when his classmates in Reno beat the hell out of him. Fine when he had to live in his car for a year. Even during the nastiest period of his relationship with Sarah, he’d been able to maintain his composure enough to get on stage, but right here, in front of Byron, he feels himself unraveling. He sits in silence, arms folded tightly over his stomach.
“Casey, do you want me to call it off?”
Casey’s sickened by the words he’s about to say —words he never, in a million years, thought would come out of his mouth. “I want you to call it off.” The immediate crack in his voice makes his eye twitch in annoyance. “I can’t go out there, I want you to call it off.”
