Backstage teems with movement. Techs shouting counts. Guitars being tuned in standby. Drum cases stackedshoulder high. I roll my neck once, feel sweat already forming. Padraig stands a few feet away, sticks loose in his hands, wrists easy.
No pacing. No edge. His stillness unsettles me more than nerves ever could.
“You ready?” I ask warily.
He looks up and smiles. Calm. Certain. “Aye.”
Linus stands off to the side with Avonna, not directing or watching screens tonight. He’s soaking in the moment too. Sloane and Quinn have their headphones on. Avonna kisses them both and adjusts her in-ears and meets my gaze.
No hype. No pep talk. “You good?”
“As long as you are.”
She nods once. No need for more words, she understands how emotional this is for me.
We climb the stairs to the side stage. The lights drop. Our intro sound detonates and the sponsoring radio announcer thunders into the mike, “Ladies and Gentlemen hometown heroes,Firrrrrrrrebaaaaaallllllll!!!”
We step into it and the roar slams through my chest, rattles my ribs, buzzes my teeth. Avonna moves straight to the lip of the stage and the crowd surges forward in response. Her voice slices clean through everything, strong and unflinching.
I hit the opening chord.
Padraig locks in behind me, every hit lands with purpose. No waste. No hesitation.
The first song lifts and the room moves. Irish flags wave somewhere beyond the lights. Hands rise and fall in time. Sweat runs into my eyes. My fingers burn on the strings.
I don’t slow down for a fucking second.
Between songs, breath ragged, I glance back. Padraig grins, already counting the next entry.
We tear through the middle of the set. It’s going by too fast. I feel twenty years collapsing inward. Small clubs with sticky floors. Vans rattling through rain. Missed birthdays.Fights screamed and swallowed. Reconciliations built on sound instead of words. Every sacrifice a thread beneath the notes.
Avonna sings and the crowd follows. Cheering. Listening.Receiving.
During a quick interlude, I lean toward Padraig. “Still good?”
He laughs. Loud. Free. “Never better.”
Something shifts then. Not fear.
Recognition.
He isn’t bracing. He isn’t clinging. He’s present in a way I haven’t seen onstage since our college years.
By the time we reach the final few songs, my body vibrates with exhaustion and release. Avonna closes her eyes and opens the last song softer than expected. Forty thousand people quiet at once. I feel the pause ripple outward, a held breath shared by strangers, friends, and family alike.
The chorus hits and the crowd gives it back to us. Every word. Every note.
Padraig lifts his sticks high on the last beat.
Silence.
Then the noise breaks open.
We stand shoulder to shoulder, arms hooked, out of breath. Avonna laughs through tears. I scan the seats, see families blurred together, faces lifted, voices gone raw from shouting us back into existence.
Padraig steps forward and bows. No speech. No signal.
He doesn’t need one.
