Chapter Text
"Ten minutes, Baylee!"
Swallowing a grumble as the person hurried past the doorway, Baylee Littrell attempted to sink deeper into the cushions of the couch he lay upon, all the while half-heartedly tugging the bill of his faded hat further over his eyes. The overhead lights in the dressing room made his head ache and his stomach swarm with a dull rolling nausea. All he wanted in that very moment was to just shut the world out and make it all go away. If he could sink further...just a little further...and maybe then he could convince the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Ten minutes.
There was never enough time, it seemed, and way too many people demanding him. Every part of him. Baylee needed to do this and Baylee needed to that. People are depending on you, Baylee. It's up to you now. It left Baylee feeling cold and hollow. Bitter and angry were the best of his companions in the darkest of moments, but no one knew. How could they? Baylee had perfected his smile, that mask that kept the worst of his demons locked away while he held onto whatever last shred of his faith remained. It was the only thing Baylee could do; his survival depended on it.
Ten minutes.
The last thing Baylee wanted to do in that moment was to gather his wits about him and walk out onto the stage that was awaiting his arrival. To imagine the sea of people eagerly waiting to catch glimpse of him made him want to curl in on himself. It made him sicker to his stomach than the idea of the clock counting down. His nerves had nothing to do with it. Not in the way one might readily assume. Considering Baylee had all but been raised on the stage in the shadow of his famous father, performing was as close to second nature for him as breathing. Baylee used to crave the rush of adrenaline, used to eagerly welcome the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps as he learned to discover his own path, but now...
Baylee silently willed his breath to remain steady as the torrent of memories flooded his exhausted mind the way they so often did as of late. Silence brought about haunting echoes of memories Baylee used to fondly recall, and sleep...sleep tortured him with the nightmare of the reality he had to wake up to. Every day was a nightmare. His mother thought he was coping, but deep inside, Baylee felt like he was drowning.
Exhausted, cold, and empty. A shell.
Exhaling a sharp breath through his nose, Baylee forced himself to sit upright on the edge of the couch. The springs of the frame groaned under the weight of his body as he leaned forward and delicately rested his face in his hands.
Outside the room, the bustle of people hurrying to finish last minute preparations became harder to ignore. Baylee cringed at the rate some spoke, while others' jovial anticipation made him hateful inside. How could they so easily carry about their business when Baylee felt like he was falling apart? How could they expect him to do the same? They were depending on him, though. They all were. And if Baylee's father ever taught him one lasting thing, it was that he always had to follow through on his duty, no matter what.
"When people are depending on you, bub, you step up. You fulfill your duty, even when you don't want to. And especially when you don't think you can. You're stronger than you think."
It was easy for Baylee's father to say that and sometimes, especially now, Baylee wondered if maybe his father had had a little too much faith in him. Who was Baylee to think he had any business trying to follow in his father's footsteps? That passion was long gone now. Now, Baylee just wanted to forget, to forget who he was, to forget the past, and to forget the nightmare of his future.
'I hate you for this,' Baylee thought bitterly. 'I hate you.'
Knuckles rapped against the door, drawing Baylee's attention out of his silent morose. With the irritation swarming his system, he dug the palms of his hands against his eyes, mostly to subdue the wet sheen he felt surfacing. "Ten minutes! I know! I heard you the first time!" he snapped without second thought.
"Uh...who the Hell pissed in your Cheerios?"
Baylee's head lifted at the familiarity of the gruff voice and swiftly turned in the direction of the open doorway. His voice nearly failed him at the towering figure leaning against the door frame, but he managed a meager response. "Uncle Nick?"
"Think maybe you need to check your attitude there," Nick Carter responded before finally pushing away from the door frame to step into the room. He took a long moment to sweep his gaze around. "Something got you running on a short fuse?"
"Not that you would know anything about it," Baylee grumbled, rubbing his hands wearily against his face.
Nick fought the urge to cock a harsh brow in the young man's direction, instead opting to situate himself against the edge of the refreshments table. "You look like Hell, kid," he mustered, hands digging deep into the pockets of his jeans.
"Like you care." Baylee huffed the response as he yanked the hat off his head. It wasn't until a moment later that he realized he was angrily twisting it in his hands, warping further the shape of the already twisted bill.
"It's good to see you too, Baylee," Nick sighed. He studied Baylee's appearance, really studied the way it appeared as if the weight of the whole world was weighing upon his shoulders. But was that observation really so far off? Baylee's entire life as he knew it had been turned upside down only months prior. The kid had every reason to hate the world around him. And it showed in the dullness of his gaze. Nick didn't blame him. In fact, Nick found himself hating the world right along with Baylee.
Baylee snorted under his breath. "Right."
"Right..." Nick echoed just above a whisper. He could feel the tension in the air thickening and it made him uncomfortable. "...Baylee-"
"Why are you even here?" Baylee interrupted him sharply. His accusing stare was all too familiar and full of so much pain, that it made Nick wince.
"Because I made a promise."
The answer infuriated Baylee and he made no effort to hide that fact as he stood from the couch and flung his hat to where he had been sitting. "Some keeper of promises you are," he chuckled sarcastically. Turning frustratedly in place, he looked around for the cowboy hat he was known for wearing during his opening number on stage.
Nick took a step towards Baylee, cautious in his movements while still wanting to yank him into a protective embrace all the same. He hadn't sought Baylee hoping for a warm welcome. Nick had expected the kid's anger and part of him had even hoped for it because it justified the raw pain Nick felt festering on the inside.
"Give him a chance," Lauren had offered Nick encouragement earlier that morning in their hotel room. Sweet Lauren, ever understanding and patient with her husband's emotional detachment that had gone on for months. "He needs you right now as much as you need him. You owe this to yourself, just like you owe it to him."
"I know you're angry-" Nick started to say but Baylee was quicker to whip around on him and it was the visible tears in Baylee's eyes that had the breath catching in Nick's chest.
"Angry? It's been three months!" Baylee's voice broke as it rose. "Where were you?! I needed you and you weren't there!"
"I know," Nick whispered.
"Why weren't you there?!" Baylee demanded. The first of the tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "You left me too!"
Nick was at Baylee's side in a split second and yanked the kid into his arms as Baylee finally broke down into sobs, sobs that were in need of obvious release. And when Baylee clung to him desperately, Nick found himself struggling to keep his own tears at bay.
"I'm sorry," Nick told him with a voice that wavered. "God, kid, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you."
"Um..." An awkward clearing of a throat in the doorway caught Nick's attention and he glanced to see one of Baylee's stage assistants standing there, unsure of how to approach the situation. "...They're ready for you, Baylee."
"They can wait. He needs a few more minutes," Nick responded. The stage assistant looked down at her watch nervously and for a moment Nick pitied her because it was obvious she was new to the gig. "Just a few more minutes," he reiterated.
The stage assistant nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment, and ducked out of sight without further word.
"There, I bought you some time," Nick awkwardly chuckled, though the attempt at humor was lost to the moment. He pulled back from Baylee and held him at arms length. The guilt for all the extra heartache he had caused Baylee hit Nick immediately. Baylee couldn't even look at him, let alone muster an answer. Nick hadn't been there for him when Baylee needed it the most. He hated himself for it because Baylee had trusted him and Nick had let him down.
Baylee sucked in a shallow breath and tried to push Nick's hands away from him. "Just go away, Uncle Nick. I don't need you here. I'm fine without you. I've been fine without you."
"You're not fine, kid," Nick answered him. "Not even close."
Yanking away from him, Baylee twisted on his feet and lowered back onto the couch in defeat. He swiped an angry hand across his eyes, now bloodshot with his show of sorrow. 'Real mature, Baylee' he thought, 'You've turned into such a joke. Dad would be so proud. Get your crap together.'
Nick hesitated a moment before sitting beside him. "You have reason to be angry at me right now," he murmured, his gaze steadily fixated on his hands. "I don't blame you for hating me. I've given you every reason to. There's no excuse."
Baylee's right foot tapped nervously against the ground, the sound muffled against the fraying fabric of the carpet. His mind swayed in one direction and then the other, distracted by the commotion outside of the room and the emotionally charged nature of his uncle's statements. Baylee could think of a million and one things to say and yet, he couldn't get his voice to project to say a single one of them. How could he express how Nick's abandonment had broken him further? Or that he hated his father so much, he wasn't sure he could ever forgive him?
But most of all, how could Baylee possibly admit that he truly was not okay, just like Nick said?
"I'm not okay either," Nick spoke again. His shoulders rounded forward, his back arching slightly as his posture slumped. "I haven't been okay, not since the-" He cringed as his voice fell silent prematurely. "...And I don't know when I'll ever be okay again, Baylee. But I should have never let that keep me from being there for you. I made a promise that I would be and I failed at that, because seeing you...it made me hurt even more."
Baylee clenched his eyes shut, his bitter bravado dissolving rapidly. "I hate him so much," he sputtered.
"I know you do, kid," Nick nodded, still unable to bring his gaze back to the young man beside him. It took all he had within him to keep from visibly crumbling. That was the last thing he wanted to do; he owed Baylee more than that. "But you have to let go of that hate. It's not his fault."
"He broke his promise too," Baylee accused.
"He didn't want to," Nick countered. "He never wanted to."
Baylee shook his head. "Yeah, well, he could have tried harder. But, he just gave up."
"Hey," Nick interjected. His hand came to rest firmly on Baylee's shoulder to secure his attention and when the young man's eyes met his own, Nick had to steady himself from allowing his own agonized tears from falling. "No, he didn't just give up. He never stopped trying. Do you understand me? He kept fighting, for you and for your mom."
Baylee stared back at him, weakly shaking his head.
"I know it may seem impossible to accept, but one day you'll understand."
"I can't do this right now, Uncle Nick," Baylee stammered. He pushed Nick's hand away from him and jumped up from the couch, pacing away. "I don't even know what I'm doing here! I have no business going out on that stage tonight!"
Nick blinked in surprise. "...Are you kidding me? Baylee..."
"I don't think I can do it! Just tell them I can't do it!"
"Whoa, speed racer, slow down." Nick was on his feet swiftly, but kept a comfortable distance between him and Baylee. He didn't know what the Hell he was doing in that moment. He didn't know how to calm himself down lately, let alone pull a grieving kid off a very small ledge. "Listen, I get it, okay? You don't want to perform tonight. You don't think you can. If you want to run out that door and leave, then do it. I won't hold it against you and I'll do damage control for you here. But just wait a second and hear me out first."
"Why? Just so you can tell me everything is going to be okay?" Baylee quipped.
"No." Nick shook his head. "That's not it at all. But I know you're not a quitter. Your dad didn't raise you to be one."
"You don't get to tell me what my dad did. It doesn't matter anymore what he did."
"That's bullshit," Nick snapped before he could stop himself. He softened his expression. "Baylee, you know as well as I do that that's not true. What he did matters even more now."
Baylee slowly turned to face Nick again.
Sighing, Nick reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small white envelope. It had a crease down the center from being folded and unfolded and was wrinkled with wear from all the times Nick had pulled it out of safe keeping to stare at the familiar writing on the front of the envelope that spelled out Baylee's name. He held it out to Baylee. "Here."
Baylee's brows furled. "What's that?"
"Your dad asked me to give it to you when I felt like you needed it most," Nick explained with a small shrug. "I've never opened it, so I dunno what's inside. But I know it was important to him that I gave it to you. And...I think it's important that you take it."
"Whatever," Baylee muttered as he snatched the envelope out of Nick's hand. It was surprisingly heavier than he had initially expected and he could tell there was a small solid object within it. Of course the curiosity began to well in him, but the thought of finding out what was on the inside made his stomach turn.
"I think maybe you should open it before you make any decisions about tonight," Nick suggested. "Take some time. Read it. Your fans will still be waiting for you when you're done."
Baylee looked down at the envelope in his grasp with a barely visible nod. "...Okay."
"We'll talk later, when you're ready to. But I'm here now; I'm not going anywhere." Clearing his throat, Nick moved to step past Baylee in the direction of the door to give the kid some privacy, only stopping long enough to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "He loved you, Baylee, more than you'll ever know."
It wasn't until Nick had left the room and shut the door behind him that Baylee finally released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. The silence in the room was thick and oddly deafening and if it was possible, felt even more suffocating than it had before Nick's arrival. Baylee's knees were suddenly weak as if they'd forgotten the importance of balancing his weight to keep him upright. He carefully reclaimed his previous seat upon the couch and studied the envelope with uncertainty.
Did he even want to know what was in it? Nick may not have known what it held, but he was sure as Hell certain it was important. And so, holding his breath once more, Baylee turned the envelope over, tucked a finger beneath the flap, and pried it open. Reaching in, he withdrew a tri-folded sheet of lined paper along with a familiar silver and diamond-studded cross necklace - one of his father's favorites. The cool metal felt comforting in Baylee's hand, beckoning him to squeeze it tightly as he willed himself to unfold the sheet of paper.
Swallowing thickly, Baylee allowed his gaze to fixate upon the sight of his father's familiar handwriting, although it didn't take long before he had to blink to clear his vision as he felt the angry tears threatening to surface once more. And then, Baylee began to read the words his father had written, allowing himself for the first time in months to confront the demons of his grief.
"Dear Baylee..."