04/11/2020 06:01 PM  drabble; no hope for us. Casey roamed the empty hallway leading to the master room, the framed photos of him and Sarah feeling like ancient relics; pieces of history, to be looked back upon, yet never revisited, gone before they were ever truly appreciated. Reminiscing felt forbidden under the circumstances. Missing old times felt downright obscene, but there he was. Was he allowed to miss their wedding day, when they both stumbled down the aisle drunk to piss off Sarah’s parents? To miss them sitting together at his piano, learning their favorite duets? All the shows they played together -- all the tours they travelled on together? Even further, was he allowed to miss everything that wasn’t pictured? The way she smirked and rolled her eyes every time he made an off-color comment, or how she strutted down the hallway when she wanted to show off her new outfits. The way she cared for Savannah. The way she had once cared for him. The front door clicked open, and Casey realized he’d been standing around way too long. It was too late to prevent coming face-to-face with her, the sliver of hope that Sarah might just pass him by without a word snatched from him in an instant. “Sorry, I thought you’d be out by now.” Her voice was horse from yelling, face still red and irritated. His chest ached at the sight of her. Casey didn’t know who he was if not Sarah Hudson-Caverly’s husband. He didn’t know what to do if not take her in his arms and comfort her until the tears stopped, but what was the protocol when he was the one who caused them? What was the protocol when they had become two entirely different people? Shaking his head, Casey went back to looking over the wall. “So did I.” “Well good, I can give this back to you.” Sarah pulled her wedding ring off her finger and held it out to him. “Take any pictures you want too.” Casey stared at her, then shook his head. “I don’t want the ring.” “Well, I also don’t want it, so you might as well take it. Give it to Christian or something, I’m sure he could pull it off.” Casey rolled his eyes. “Sarah --.” “Can I just know something?” She started fumbling with the ring, passing it back and forth between hands, sliding it on and off. “How long was that going on?” Casey turned away. “Look, I don’t --.” “No, I think I deserve to know,” Sarah snapped. “I deserve to know how long you were saying you loved me while you were with someone else.” She was right, though Casey didn’t want to admit it, neither to her or himself. He exhaled a sigh through his nose. “Since last Spring.” Sarah lowered her head, nodding. “So not that long after Amelia.” “Does it matter right now?” “I guess I just don’t understand why you couldn’t let me go first. It f***ing hurts enough having someone picked over you, but a year, Case? You guys were rolling around touring together, and I was here looking like a total idiot. How many people knew and just let me be in the dark?” “No one knew. Look, I’m not gonna do this.” Casey stepped in a bit closer, his arms folded over his chest. “There’s no point when I’m literally here packing my crap to go.” “So there’s no hope for us, huh?” Sarah looked over the wall. Casey traced her gaze to a multi-photo frame with their wedding photos. One where they were happy and smiling, another of them standing with their wedding party, both covering their faces with their hands, and one more of them falling down drunk in the middle of the aisle just after the ceremony. That was all gone. Recorded like a page in a history book. “Casey?” Sarah demanded. “Sorry…” Casey tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. He couldn’t even breathe past it, much less speak past it. “I don’t think so.” Sarah scoffed a little and then started to walk past him, brushing his shoulder on the way by. “I’ll let you finish packing. I want the wedding one, my parents gave that to me.” “Sure.” “And if you don’t take the ring, it’s going right in the trash.” “I know.” Halfway down the hall, she paused one last time. “You know, I’d have stuck by you, Casey.” Casey rolled his eyes, walking off to the living room where his cluster of boxes had been started. “I’ll be out as fast as I can.” 0 Comments

04/11/2020 05:59 PM  drabble; unthinkable. FT. christian thompson cw: domestic abuse, cheating Morning comes and Casey is no more at ease than he had been - so far away from clarity or resolution he’s beginning to give up hope on it. Maybe this is just how life is. Maybe it’s always confusing, and maybe it never will get better. He sits on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, staring out the window, thinking of Sarah back at home, nowhere near blissful but absolutely unaware. “You good?” Christian comes in from the bathroom. The intrusion breaks up the cluster of thoughts, scattering all the mismatched pieces so Casey will have to start all over again once he gets back inside his head. For the time, he abandons it, focusing on Christian for a second, then back on the window. “Who knows?” It’s impossible to decipher the feeling in his stomach when Christian sits beside him. Is the fluttering in his stomach comfort and infatuation, like a first crush? Or is it dread? Guilt? Is it the feeling of doing something utterly unthinkable? Casey feels entirely out of touch with himself. He internally debates whether to scoot away or move in closer, but ultimately remains still. “Look, maybe last night was a little weird...” Christian mutters, clasping his hands together in his lap. “A little?” Casey remarks, though he finally cracks a smile. “You don’t have to say anything about it.” “I mean, yeah, we could act like it never happened, but I think that just makes the problem worse, doesn’t it?” “I’m failing to see how it could get much worse.” “So, why’d you kiss me back then?” “That’s what’s bad about it.” Casey finally arrives at the conclusion that the churning in his stomach is, in fact, guilt. “I wanted to. I like you, and that’s a problem.” “Look, buddy, I’m as confused as you are. And you know I love Sarah, but -.” “Do you love Sarah?” Casey interjects, eyebrows furrowed. “You keep saying that, but that’s usually right before you say I need to break up with her. And now you’re using it to justify what happened last night.” Christian says nothing. Casey lets out a long sigh and turns his head away, running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry...” “You have every right to stand up for ‘er, she’s your wife, dude.” Christian shrugs, looking out the window. “I’m not saying what happened was right or anything, and I’m definitely not justifying it, but I am still saying you should get the hell out of there, even if it’s not with me. Everyone around you can see what she does to you.” Casey lowers his head, his lips pursed together. “I know it’s been hard on you guys with Amelia and all, but that really doesn’t give her a right to treat you how she treats you. She should be here supporting you on tour, not me.” “I’m glad it’s you,” Casey mutters. “I don’t know why I hang on either. It’s like we both know we’ve run our course, but we don’t know how to live without each other either. If I leave, I’m worried something’s gonna happen to her. S’ kinda stupid considering what I just did, huh?” “Not to me.” Christian smirks. “So, what do you wanna do then?” “Right now, nothing.” “Kid, you can’t just do nothing.” “Yet here we are.” Casey remarks. He finally breeches the invisible line separating them, leaning his head on Christian’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna think about home. Right now, I just wanna pretend this is home.” “And then when the tour ends, then what?” Christian muses, though he’s smiling as he brings an arm around Casey’s shoulder. “Don’t know,” Casey shakes his head, shutting his eyes. “That’s not a part of my life that exists right now.” 0 Comments

04/07/2020 11:32 PM  drabble; harmless goofball. The tension is heavy enough to sink an entire ship, but the kitchen’s occupants — fueled by otherworldly stubbornness — don’t speak of it, all of them at their ends of the table eating in silence as though the day had been completely normal. Nothing to talk about. Jennifer glances up at Allan who’s looking at Casey; Casey’s staring into his plate, running his fingertips over a bruised set of knuckles. Allan beat him to the punch on an explanation earlier, claiming it happened at school. Casey wishes he could be as convinced as Jennifer. “So, what did you guys do today?” Jennifer asks, mostly to Allan, as if she already knows Casey wouldn’t answer her. Allan plays along while Casey remains sunken in his chair with his lips pursed together. “Oh, nothin’ really. Kid’s been in his room since I picked him up.” Jennifer finally looks Casey’s way, her eyebrows arched, stare sharp — demanding, not inviting. “So what’re you doing punching walls at school?” Casey just rolls his eyes, slowly shaking his head. “You’re gonna get yourself kicked out if you keep doing sh*t like that.” “You’re lucky they didn’t make you pay for the damage,” Allan teases. Casey glares at him. In truth, he’d underestimated Allan in the beginning, dismissing him as another harmless goofball his mom was using to remain afloat. That was until Allan locked him in a hall closet for two hours and then lied about it — until Jennifer believed him. “Wow, nice touch, Allan,” Casey remarks, and then starts to gather his plate. “You deserve an Oscar for that one, dude.” “Hey.” Jennifer snaps at him. She snags him by the arm and he pauses, but doesn’t loosen up. His chest is on fire, every muscle locked tightly in place, heavy heart sinking the ship even faster than the tension of the previous silence. “You’re just gonna waste that?” Casey yanks his arm away. “It’s gross anyways.” It probably isn’t. Jennifer Caverly has very few talents, but she’s always been a good cook. It’s just that he can’t stand to eat anything she puts on his plate, especially if her presence accompanies it. More importantly, he can’t take another second of Allan, who stands up, feeling the need to cut in. “Don’t talk to her like that, sit down and eat your food.” “You really think she cares you’re defending her?” Casey slams his plate down on the table. Jennifer’s rubbing her temples in the background, trying to block them out. Casey finds himself trying to yell past a lump in his throat. His voice is already strained from all the yelling earlier, but he rages forward. “You really think she cares about you? She doesn’t even care about ME, she’ll ditch you in a second, so go f*** yourself.” “Casey,” Jennifer finally speaks. Her voice is low, but stern — stern enough to draw all the attention to her, even while her head remains ducked down. “Go upstairs.” Casey pauses. The whole room stops dead as Jennifer looks up from the table, eyes narrowed. Their expressions mirror one another. As much as Casey hates it, there’s not a single question where that signature expression comes from. “Don't make me tell you again.” Casey’s grits his teeth together. He glances at Allan, who looks infuriatingly smug, practically begging to keep the fight going, but Casey backs down. “Fine,” he gives. “Maybe you can actually tell her the truth while you finish dinner, Allan.” Jennifer starts to stand. “Casey, go! God damn it!” “I’m going!” Casey knows Allan won’t tell. He knows she’ll ditch Allan because he’s watched her ditch a dozen guys before him, but he knows it definitely won’t be for his sake. In his room, Casey can hear them carrying on like nothing happened. Allan will never tell, and Jennifer will never bring herself to ask. 0 Comments

03/03/2020 11:10 PM  drabble; no more fighting, pt. 2. cw: suicide mention The last time my grandparents and I shared the dinner table, I was the one on the verge of tears, but a botched attempt to kill myself had an interesting way of flipping things. I knew neither of them knew how to talk to me. I knew they wanted to ask about it, but they were afraid to, and honestly, I was afraid for them to. My therapist said reaching out as much as possible was healthy and good, but how did you tell the people supporting you why you disregarded it entirely and tried to off yourself in the room they spent so much time creating for you? I didn’t feel like they’d understand it. “Is your food okay?” My grandmother asked; it was a brave effort to steer us all from the elephant in the room, even if it did fail. The smile she forced didn’t hide the tears in her eyes and it made me sick knowing I was the reason for them. I looked down at my plate, completely untouched, shrugging. My stomach still felt like it was on fire. If I tried to force anything down there, I was gonna throw up. If I’d had a few more pills, would I have had to endure such an awkward dinner? If I’d gotten to my room sooner, would it have taken them too long to find me? “It’s fine, yeah.” “You sure? You haven’t touched it.” Grandpa pointed out. “Bill…” My grandmother jumped in, though I didn’t really think he said it because he was mad. “It’s okay if you’re not up to eating yet. Your stomach’s probably still upset.” She stood up and took my plate along with hers. She brushed her fingers through my hair and felt my forehead like I was a kid with the flu, trying to reduce it to something simple — something with clear rules, clear causes, something ultimately easier to talk about. She was probably wishing it was a flu and I was wishing she never found me. I was wishing it was nothing at all. “You should probably get some rest.” “I know.” We exchanged the same forced smile before she walked off with the plates, leaving me and Grandpa to sit in silence, continuing to avoid eye contact; him staring at his food, me staring out the window. He cleared his throat and I felt my whole body lock in place with strength I hadn’t been able to muster since being admitted. I didn’t know what was about to come out of his mouth, I just knew I was dreading it. “I know you probably don’t wanna do much talking, I get it.” He was right. “But your grandma n’ I, we’re here to support you. I hope you know that, especially now.” I knew the whole time, but that was the problem. I never asked them to be. I didn’t want them to be. I wanted everyone and everything to leave me alone. My grandparents were happy I lived, but they didn’t realize the agony of having to survive it — having to face everyone knowing what you did, what you’d failed to do. To continue on when you’d already proven you couldn’t. How was I supposed to tell him I’d do it all over? How was I supposed to say I wished I’d planned it better? Sympathy felt embarrassing. Confusion felt insulting. They’d have been better off leaving me alone. I couldn’t say all that. I couldn’t really say anything, so I just nodded. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but you got a lot to live for. Your music, your friends, us.” I didn’t feel like I had any of those things. I couldn’t write music anymore, my friends all lived hundreds of miles away, and my grandparents were inevitably gonna get sick of me if I kept screwing up. “We’d be devastated if we lost you, Casey.” I couldn’t manage anything above a whisper at that point, but I had to give him something. “I know…” “Just wanna make sure you do.” “I do. I don’t really wanna talk about it anymore though.” I admitted. “Right now I kinda just wanna go to sleep.” I was sure they’d turned my room upside down before I came home, looking for anything I could use so they could hide it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t cross my mind. It must have crossed his too because he suddenly got a really grim look on his face. “Go on to sleep then. But Casey?” I was already half-way out of the kitchen, truly thinking I was off the hook, but I knew I wasn’t in a position to ignore him when he called me back. “What’s up…?” “If you feel that way again, say something. Doesn’t have to be blunt or straight-forward or anything at all, just a heads up that you’re not feeling well so we know you need us.” “What, like a code word for ‘hey, I feel like downing a bunch of pills’?” Making a joke of it was the only way I could get through it, but it was clear Grandpa wasn’t that amused. He turned his head away, taking a deep breath. “Yeah… like a code word — like… sunflowers or somethin’.” Such a pretty word for such a morbid scenario. I kinda liked it for that. Whether I’d follow through or not remained in the air, but our code word at least made me smile for the first time since I got home from the hospital. “Sunflowers it is.” 0 Comments

02/08/2020 04:20 PM  drabble; 99 bananas. At midnight, Pahrump was like another planet. The city seemed to run on a timer; once the sun went down, all the lights went out at the same time. Mostly, you could only hear crickets and random animal sounds, anything else lost until the sun came up, save for that one random Tuesday when the entire city could probably hear me, drunkenly fumbling with my keys to get through the front door. Sydney’s parents weren’t home and we’d been sitting in his dad’s truck all night, sharing a bottle of 99 Bananas he stole from the liquor cabinet. When he got the call they were getting in earlier than expected, I had to walk my drunk self back home. An adventure in itself, and not one I’d ever sign on for again. I’d be picking tumbleweed pieces out of my hair forever probably. I didn’t know what time it was when I got to the door, and for a second, I questioned whether or not I was at the right place, but I got confirmation when it swung open and my mom was standing there. It was like waking a sleeping bear — the fury in her eyes, meanwhile she simultaneously looked like she was probably drooling all over herself asleep just a few minutes before I got there and ruined it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get in here.” She pulled me in by the arm. I jerked it away as soon as we were both inside. “You trying to wake up the whole damn town? What did you do to your face?” “I think you’re gonna wake up the whole damn town by slamming the door,” I blurted out, wandering over to the couch, plopping down on top of it. I didn’t want to tell her me and some kid at school finally settled our ongoing beef. More importantly, I didn’t want her to know I lost. I stared at the ceiling, watching it spin until it made me nauseous, then looked at her. I could see the moment it hit her, and I knew it wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t help but snicker at the way her expression changed — any sign of grogginess completely gone, the sleeping bear now a ravenous one. I couldn’t manage to wipe the grin off my face. “Noah Casey, are you drunk?” I was caught red-handed, but I didn’t have it in me to care. “No?" I muttered. “Get up.” My mom was suddenly hauling me up off the couch. “Get up, right now, and explain yourself — are you drunk?” “Stop, let go.” She had a vice grip on my arm, but neither of us were going anywhere. “What the f*** were you thinking?! What if someone caught you, huh? Who gave it to you?” I said nothing. She shook me as if to rattle my memory. It rattled my stomach more than anything. I needed to lay back down. “Who. gave. it. to. you?!” “Get off!” I didn’t feel it at first when she smacked me, I just heard the sound — a sound that silenced the whole room, silenced Pahrump again after I’d disturbed the peace of it. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears while we stared at each other with our mouths stupidly open, wondering what happened. “Hey, hey, hey…” My mom’s door opened up. Neither of us looked over. Richard stumbled out of the room, rubbing his eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Oh hell.” “He’s drunk,” my mom snapped, but she was kind of subdued from the shock of everything. She went from a boil to a simmer, folding her arms, receding. As much as I wanted to run, she did too. “So what, he’s drunk, ‘e’s got a black eye.” Richard motioned at me. I was gonna pass out. I watched them go back and forth about what to do, but at some point, I couldn’t even make out what they were saying. Apparently Richard won, because the next thing I knew, he was throwing his arm over me, leading me into the bathroom — and after that, nothing. After that, I was waking up on the couch, sweating my ass off and shivering all at the same time. The sun coming in through the window was like fire to the eyes. I rolled ove, heard a laugh come from the kitchen table and wished I never woke up. I wished I’d choked on my own puke or something. “Rise n’ shine, princess. Up n’ at ‘em. You about ready to work off that hangover?” I didn’t say anything. I buried my head into the pillow and shut my eyes, hoping he would leave me alone. I liked Richard, but I hated that he always felt the need to teach me life lessons whenever I got myself into trouble. I thought my mom smacking me across the face was a good enough punishment, and embarrassing enough to keep me in line for awhile. “You wanna eat some breakfast before we get started?” “No.” “You’re gonna regret that.” If I pretended to fall asleep again, I wondered if he’d leave me alone. “I don’t know why you’re trying.” My mom came out of the bathroom. I turned my head to look at her. Her face looked like it was gonna explode from all the insults she probably wanted to hurl at me, but she was holding back for some reason. Maybe smacking me across the face was enough for her too. Or maybe she just knew she couldn’t get away with it a second time while Richard was there. She went over to the kitchen, fixing her coffee. The smell of it made me sick to my stomach. “He’s just gonna be useless on purpose if you expect him to work. All I really want is to know what the hell you were thinking.” I wished I’d never looked up. I couldn’t pretend twice. “I wasn’t.” She huffed, rolling her eyes at me. I didn’t have a better answer for her. “Get up and get showered so you can help out.” 0 Comments

02/02/2020 12:59 PM  drabble; never let go. 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.” 0 Comments

02/02/2020 12:58 PM  drabble; i will come to you. based on this song. “When you have no light to guide you, and no one to walk beside you, I will come to you. Oh, I will come to you.” The lyrics are sung in a small voice, a muttering one not meant for performance, but for learning. Casey sings them over and over, each time with a different part played on the keyboard in the corner of his room. He’d gotten it as a gift from his grandparents his last birthday and he’s played it every day since. “When the night is dark and stormy, you won’t have to reach out for me. I will come to you. Oh, come to you.” Again, the part is played over and over, a switch in the keys. He stops to write a piece down in the notebook beside him, then suddenly tears it out, crumples it and tosses it behind him with his other failed attempts, then starts over again. He writes the part down again, with a few tweaks in he melody, then he finally moves along. “Sometimes, when all your dreams may have seen better days… when you don’t know how or why, but you’ve lost your way. Have no fear when your tears are fallin’. I will hear your spirit callin’. And I swear that I’ll be there, come with me.” He’s already perfected this part as far as he’s concerned. It’s the heart of the song — the origin line, and he’s been trying to build the rest around it for a whole week at this point. It has a melody. It has an instrumental part. It’s everything he wants, but the rest isn’t coming together as he’d hoped. He has chunks of lyrics and little else. “You wrote that?” A voice chimes in behind him. The process is ruined. He’ll have to start over. Casey grits his teeth together and turns his head to see Richard standing in the doorway, his arms folded loosely over his stomach. “S’ pretty good, kiddo.” “It’s not really finished.” Casey shrugs, looking over the papers scattered across the room, wondering how long he’s actually been sitting there. Richard steps into the room, picking up a piece of paper along the way, unfolding it. He reads over the lyrics with a nod. “I liked this one, but you tossed it out?” He kneels down, holding out the sheet, which Casey snatches from him with his face flushed. He wasn’t expecting anyone to hear it, or care about it. He wasn’t expecting anyone to pick his work up and inspect it. He scrutinizes the lyrics one more time, trying to decide whether or not Richard is just being kind. ( — We all need somebody we can turn to Someone who'll always understand So, if you feel that your soul is dying And you need the strength to keep trying I'll reach out and take your hand ) “I dunno.” Casey shrugs, then turns back to his keyboard, messing with some of the settings, shifting between different sounds. He’s given up finishing the song. “You don’t know?” Richard asks, unexpectedly — and annoyingly — fixated. He picks up another sheet. Casey grits his teeth together to keep from snapping at him. “Yeah, I wasn’t liking it.” “This is good too.” Richard hands him another sheet. “How come this one was bad?” “Because it was? Can you stop?” That one, he doesn’t look at. He just sets it aside, then goes back to doddling, his heart hammering in his chest, his body on fire from the inside out. Please let this end soon, he inwardly begs, but Richard sits down right beside him, as if to squash any hope he has of that. “Did you write this for someone?” Richard asks, picking up the notebook. “Dude, come on.” Casey snags it back. “It’s not for anyone.” “About someone then?” Richard assumes. “Friend? Girlfriend? …Boyfriend?” “No…” Casey looks over his newest page with his lips pursed together, shaking his head. Frankly, it isn’t about anything he’s ever actually been familiar with. Suddenly he realizes that’s why he can’t finish it. He can’t write about something he doesn’t know. To him, every lyric he’s written sounds insincere when he tries to sing it, because it it is, each line drawn from places he’s never ventured. Is it even possible to be that kind of shield for someone? To guide them when no one else will? He has no idea, but in a perfect world… The realization has him furrowing his eyebrows. He ultimately opts to throw the newest page away too after looking at it too long. “It’s not about someone I know, it’s more… I guess about someone I want to know.” 0 Comments

01/15/2020 03:38 PM  drabble; modern hearts. loosely based on this song.    MODERN HEARTS. “So, how are things?” Christian’s voice was staler than the coffee. They sat across from each other at a small diner just outside Franklin. It was fate they’d both been passing through Tennessee at the same time, but Casey had yet to determine whether that was good or bad. So far, bad. He stared out the window, watching a group of bicyclist travel along an otherwise empty road. Without looking over, he gave a shrug. “They’re great.” “How’s sh*t with Sarah, you all settled into your new place? You need anything?” It was obvious neither of them knew what to say to each other. Or, they knew, but didn’t want to open the door to a conversation that could further traumatize their friendship. Casey leaned his chin into the palm of his hand, shaking his head. “I’m all settled, I’m good, dude. Sarah’s… probably fine too, I dunno.” Christian nodded and took a long sip of his coffee. When Casey finally looked over, he caught a grimace, and smirked. “You’re right.” “This coffee sucks.” Christian’s nose scrunched up, and he scooted it away. “My bad.” Casey shook his head. “So, why’d you agree to come meet with me?” The question came out of the blue, abolishing the small hints of lightheartedness Casey had begun to take solace in. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was clinging to it until it went away, and when it did, he was reminded how vulnerable he was. Christian knew every part of him and then some. He’d seen him at his darkest, and his lightest. And regardless of whether or not Casey looked him in the eye, he could read him like a book. “What do you mean?” “You didn’t have to agree to come talk to me if you didn’t want to,” Christian answered. “From what I can see, you’re still pretty pissed.” “I am pretty pissed,” Casey blunted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.” Christian gave a small nod, then looked out the window. “I guess it was kind of a d*ck move, huh?” “Now are you starting to see my issue?” Casey rolled his eyes, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. Pissed off or not, he couldn’t deny the instant karma being somewhat comedic. All the years he spent running around behind peoples’ backs, causing trouble, and he never saw the consequences of it. Looking at the big picture, he knew he deserved it and probably even more. “I told you I was sorry though,” Christian pointed out. “And said we could still be friends. You said that was cool, and then never texted me back any time I tried.” “I was pretty clear I needed a break from you,” Casey reminded him. “I said that from the get-go.” “So, my question still stands then, why’d you come here?” “Because I don’t want that break anymore? What do you want me to say?” Casey’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked up at Christian, then out the window. “I just literally said I missed you, you want me to come grovel at your feet or with my arms around your waist or somethin’?” “Okay, okay.” Christian didn’t look at him. He just nodded slowly, continuing to stare at the empty road. He and Christian sat in silence, the clamour of dishes in the kitchen filling the gap their voices left in the air when they ceased. It was harder than he thought it would be. Maybe it was childish to think they could hug it out, and everything would continue on like normal, or something close. “You remember like a year ago, we met up in New York while you were on tour?” Christian asked, his voice almost completely concealed by the clamoring and the sounds of other voices as the cafe began to fill up. Casey registered it a few seconds late, but then suddenly looked over. “And I said I wasn’t gonna be the one who f***ed you up?” Christian continued. A fire ignited in Casey’s chest, the memory of it stinging more than he was prepared for. He went on lockdown, teeth clenched, posture suddenly straightening. “Okay, where are you going with this?” “I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” Christian held a hand out, urgent but tender. The sharp look in his eyes kept Casey from snapping at him. “I’m sorry I did anyway. I really am. I know how f***ed up that probably looked, and I get that. I thought I wasn’t afraid of what would happen, but I was, and when it all happened, I ran. Because that’s what I’m good at doing.” ”Running?” “Yup. Been doin’ it my whole life.” Christian rolled his eyes, smiling. “When things get hard, I take off. I always really envied you because you just tackle all your confrontations head-on. If someone comes at you, you stay, and you work it out.” “I’m not sure about that…” Casey mused, lowering his eyes. “I am. Maybe you couldn’t confront Sarah, but you didn’t really run from ‘er either. And when people were giving you hell, you stayed quiet, and you kept doing what you were doing. I can’t do that.” “I get it.” “You do?” “Sure. We have reputations to uphold, I get it. I got it from the get-go.” “Nah, it’s not just that, take your mental block off for a sec. I’m talking about me personally here. Not me, fame me.” Casey wanted to argue that there would always be a link there, but instead he decided to hear Christian out. “I run whenever anyone confronts me about anything, so when this came up, I couldn’t handle it. I usually don’t feel bad about doing that, but this time it hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. I hate what it did to you.” Casey pursed his lips together. He wanted to ask, but couldn’t. And Christian, again with his uncanny ability to read him, went on. “You would have never shut me out like this before, and I don’t blame you, but I hate that. You would have probably never ended up in the hospital, or any of that sh*t either.” “Guess that’s your karma,” Casey muttered. “And mine’s watching you move on without me.” “You’re saying there’s no hope for us?” Casey shrugged. “I wanna still be friends,” he admitted. “You’re one of the only people in the world I feel like I can tell anything to, so… I don’t obviously wanna let that go. But you’re right, we’d be stupid to think it could be like it was. It’d be naive to assume anyone would let us have that, huh?” “And it’d be naive to think we’d be above caring about our public image,” Christian jabbed, smirking. “Told you I get it.” “Yeah…” Christian looked out the window again. Casey breathed a deep sigh through his nose. “I do miss you.” “I miss you too, kid.” Christian smiled. “But we still got each other. Right?” “Yeah.” Casey started to stand, tucking his chair into the table. “I’ll pick up this,” he offered, motioning toward the coffees neither finished. “Thanks for taking one for the team.” Christian came around the table. When they hugged, it was like nothing changed. For at least a few seconds, Casey could close his eyes and pretend they still had time to fix everything, though the reality beyond that felt like a barren wasteland. “So we’re okay? Kinda?” Christian asked. “We’re okay. Kinda.” When they parted, Casey finally smiled. “I just needed a little time is all. Love you still, Chris.” “Yeah, you too. A hell of a lot. I’ll text you.” “Sure. I promise to actually reply this time.” 0 Comments

01/15/2020 03:38 PM  drabble; get it together. “ You can go, but I do want you to promise me something. You mess up or decide it’s not working out, you call me, and you come home. You finish school, and get stabilized. Deal? ” The promise to his grandfather before leaving Reno played over and over in his head. He thought about it all the time, yet when the time came to follow through, Casey sat there, staring at his phone in silence. He had nothing. He’d quit his job on the spot. His deal with Byron was up in the air, and his pact with Jacob and Isaiah was uncertain with Isaiah still in the competition. “C.C.!” Randy stumbled over to him laughing. The last few nights, they’d both been staying with Randy’s friend and drug connection, Tony. Casey was five shots in, still staring at his phone, vision hazy from tears he was fighting back. The last message from his grandmother said to call if he needed anything, and he did need something — a lot of somethings — but he couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t bring himself to admit she was right. “Casey. Dude.” Casey finally snapped out of his trance, smiling when he saw Randy standing over him. He’d huddled himself up into a corner of the living room while everyone else sprawled out on the couches. “Heyyy.” He waved, leaning his head back against the wall, sliding his phone away from him. “You good, dude?” Randy plopped down beside him. Casey ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m f***ed up…” “Uh, yeah, no sh*t.” Randy laughed. “How much did you have?” Casey shook his head. If he talked any more, he would either explode into hysterics or throw up. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, keeping his hand over his face. “Hey…” Randy straightened up. He hadn’t had enough to drink to ignore Casey like the rest of them, but Casey wished he had. “Dude, you good? You gonna throw up?” “No… I’m not gonna puke, maybe.” “Oh…kay, then what’s up? What’s wrong?” “Nothing, man…” Casey finally whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest, swiping furiously at his face. Only right then did he notice how close Randy was sitting to him, the rest of the room a blur. He could barely hear himself think, let alone talk, and he felt like all his words were just coming out like mush, but he couldn’t stop them. “I just feel like a f***in’ loser, you know? Like I had that one shot, and I blew it, so now what am I even supposed to do? And I told my grandparents I’d call them, but I don’t want to, I don’t wanna go back home — I don’t wanna go back home.” “Dude, it was just one avenue.” Randy lit up a cigarette between words. “It’s just ONE way of getting where you wanna be, but it ain’t the only way. And sh*t, if your grandparents are gonna support you ‘til you figure it out, let ‘em. Go home.” Casey shook his head. “I can’t…” “So, what, you’re just gonna sit around, get drunk and cry ‘til something happens? Because that’s not the way this sh*t works.” “Shut up, Randy…” Casey rolled his eyes, scoffing a small laugh. “I am not.” “Yeah? ‘Cause that’s all I’ve seen you do since you got kicked off, man. You gotta pick yourself up. Reapply at the restaurant, I’m sure Lia would gladly take you back. Get your sh*t together, and get goin’ again. You are way too young to be doin’ what these idiots are doing.” Randy pointed behind him at the huddle on the couch. “They’re gonna go nowhere and they’re too f***ed up to care about it. You don’t have to be that.” “Maybe I’d be happier if I didn’t have that kinda pressure on me.” Casey muttered, wiping his face again with the back of his hand. “If I was just happy being a loser, this wouldn’t suck so bad.” “That’s bullsh*t.” Randy took a long drag off his cigarette, then passed it to Casey. “You’re gonna die here if you think like that.” Casey took a drag off the cigarette, staring at the couches. They’d all done a lot more than drink. Casey wished he could be as numb as them, laid out on whoever without an ounce of concern. He wished he didn’t have to think about the show, or Byron, or his grandparents. He shook his head slowly. “I’m gonna die if I go home too.” “Then the solution’s obvious, bud. Take a few days, cry it out or whatever, then get the hell back to work. You didn’t get kicked off the show because they think you suck. Get your sh*t together like they told you. You went through therapy and all that sh*t. You got yourself all the way out here. The willpower’s there, let your pride take a back seat for a sec.” Casey rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna get rejected over and over if this is what you wanna do, so get used to that. I’ve had labels tell me I wasn’t worth sh*t, but I’m still goin’.” Randy took his cigarette back. “You can too. But the next time I see you doin’ this crap, I’ll take your phone and call your grandma myself.” “You never wanted to just say forget it?” Casey asked. He slid his back against the wall until he was laying on the ground, watching the ceiling. “The whole time, you never just wanted to do this ‘cause it was easier?” Randy laughed. “Hell yeah, I have. Which is why I’m telling you not to.” Casey was back and forth between listening and fighting for awareness, and in the midst of it, Randy’s point was becoming lost. “But it all worked out for you.” “I think it did.” Casey gave a small nod, bringing his arm underneath his head. He let out a deep breath to still his churning stomach. “I’m really f***ed up.” “I could see that the second I walked up to you,” Randy teased. Casey felt a tug on his shoulder, Randy starting to pull him off the ground. He hadn’t realized how out of it he was until he tried to stand, and it took both the support of Randy and the nearest wall to hold him together. Randy pulled his arm over his shoulder and started trudging toward the bathroom. “C’mon, if you throw up all over the place, Tony’s gonna freak. Think about what I said, though, I’m serious. I’m not afraid to heckle you sober too.” “I know, I know…” Casey muttered, but stopped walking. “What’sa matter, can you make it?” “Mhm.” Casey turned to pull his arms around Randy’s shoulders. “Love you, dude. Sorry I’m such a stupid idiot right now.” Randy laughed, pulling Casey into a tight hug. As he pulled back, he ruffled up his hair a bit. “You’re not an idiot. I get you, it’s why I’m not gonna let you do what I did.” “Well, thanks.” Casey laughed, swatting his hand away. “So you gonna get your sh*t together and move on?” Casey wobbled a bit in his place, leaning onto the wall with a lopsided grin on his face. “Yeah… yeah, after I finish throwing up, I’ll get my sh*t together and move on.” 0 Comments

01/03/2020 12:35 PM  journal entries. 0 Comments

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