cw: miscarriage
* in the time since I initially wrote this, I have not figured out how to get music in my bulletins, but it's based on this song.
Everyone on stage makes a swift exit as the flames from the previous song are extinguished and the crowd starts to simmer down. The lights dim briefly, and when they come back up, there’s only Casey on stage, sitting at his piano. The crowd bursts into a frenzy. Casey waits a few moments - allows the screaming and cheering to consume and fuel him with a smile on his face before he finally decides to move things along. He touches his fingertip to his lips, makes a ‘shhh’ sound that isn’t heard because he isn’t near the microphone, but it’s seen, and everything starts to quiet down, lights dimming to an extent - just enough to see what he’s doing, but no more. It’s all about the mood, he would say if he had the strength to joke around.
But there’s no joking with his heart hammering like it is. Not once the adrenaline settles down and reality sets in. Not with the way his chest burns. Once Casey has the floor, it’s like there’s a rock in his throat, one he can neither breath nor speak through, let alone sing through. But he knows he has to. The song has been a set list tradition ever since it was written just after Savannah was born. In light of losing Amelia, Byron had suggested cutting it out, but Casey refused. As much as it pained him to sing it during practice, it didn’t feel right to omit her from memory when he should be commemorating her.
When he looks around, he catches a glimpse of Jacob, Isaiah and Byron behind the curtain. Byron gives him a thumbs up, eyebrows raised, as if to silently ask him if he can make it. Casey gives him a nod, takes a deep breath, then finally starts to speak into the mic as his fingertips graze the piano to find the right keys. “This song is, uh… it’s one that’s very important to us. It’s a tradition on our set lists for many reasons, but the most important one…” He takes another breath before he chokes again. “Is because we all have someone, or a few very little someones in our lives that we want to protect. That we want to hang onto, and never ever let go of. If I could ask one thing… is that you kinda bear with me on this one.” Casey’s request is met with another wave of cheering, which brings a soft smile to his face as he starts to form the melody on the piano. “I’m gonna make it through it, this one’s just a little hard to sing right now.”
When everything is quiet again, he finally starts to sing. “Just lay down, and let your worries sleep…” Casey remembers all the times he sang the song while laying on Sarah’s stomach, feeling the idle wiggling and kicking. He remembers teaching it to Savannah, and Savannah promising to teach it to Amelia. He tries to swallow that rock in his throat, but it won’t go down, leaving the melody strained and cracked. But he pushes on. He knows he has to push on. “Don’t think now of waters dark and deep. ‘Cause you know that I’ll love you and never let go… you know that I’ll love you forever -- love you and never let go…”
There’s a pause - an unexpected intermission as Casey’s fingers fumble around on the keys. He’s lost his footing. Tears start clouding his vision as he hangs onto the last threads of his composure. He remembers fighting against Byron's proposal to cut the song and wants to slap himself. His gaze flickers up. Byron looks about ready to jump from behind the curtain, swoop him off his piano stool and drag him off stage. He avoids looking him in the eye, and goes back to focusing on the piano, taking another intermission to find his voice for the final piece.
“You don’t have to ask me, do I love you? As I hold you it says how much I do, I’m yours until, forever is through…” Although the song normally calls for more power, it’s too much for him to muster, and what should have been the powerful breakdown of the song, becomes shrill and shaky. “Anytime I stand for you, I know I lay my life down for you, I’ll never let - not ever let - sh*t.” Casey suddenly backs away, the last word nearly inaudible as he turns his head away from the mic.
There’s an idle hum coming from the audience, people starting to talk and whisper. Byron comes rushing from behind the curtain and kneels down in front of the piano bench, a hand placed firmly on Casey’s shoulder. “Hey… you good? You gonna make it?”
Casey shakes his head, covering his face with his hand, more out of embarrassment than anything. It’s entirely unlike him to be rendered unable to finish a performance - to be able to do the one thing he knows he’s good at. To be so incapable is a harsh reminder of how broken he is, and how broken everything else is. “Case,” Byron says more firmly, raising to meet him at eye level. He pulls the stubborn hand from Casey’s face so they can look at each other.“Do you need to stop?”
Casey finally looks at him. He doesn’t want to. He’s been so adamant, but the idea of continuing on has him on the verge of a panic attack.
“Do you need to stop?” Byron repeats, but Casey doesn’t crack. He still can’t say a word; he can only shake his head and hope it’s understood at that point.
And it is. Byron's expression softens. He pulls Casey into a long hug, then starts to stand. “Go on,” he ushers Casey off, then makes his way to the microphone. “Thank you guys for being patient. Give us five minutes and we’ll be back out!”
Byron catches up to Casey backstage, where he sits on one of the benches with his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he mutters, speaking to the band as well as Byron “You were right, we should have cut the song.”
“I wasn’t right to ask you to cut the song,” Byron answers, coming to sit beside Casey. “I wasn’t right at all.”
“Yeah you were, I couldn’t even finish it.”
“Yeah, but you still tried. You gathered up all your strength to sing about something very important to you. Doesn’t matter that you didn’t finish, you tried to. And that’s a hell of a lot better than running from it all together. YOU were right.”
Casey shakes his head, not convinced.
“Maybe what you need, though, is a little more time.”
