Prelude
She was nervous. She was nervous anytime she got on stage to sing, but this was the legendary Bluebird Café, so that just added an extra jolt of anxiety. She knew this was the rite of passage though, to start off small and build a following, sharpen her performance skills. The Bluebird was for songwriters, so she'd had to spend some time trying to write a song. She'd kept journals since she was a pre-teen – her mom had given her her first journal on her 11th birthday – but she'd never thought about using that as a jumping off point until Mr. White suggested it. She shared a couple of rough lyrics outlines with him and he'd seemed to gravitate to one she'd written about her feelings after her mom had died. He'd seemed particularly drawn to it and she wondered if maybe he had experienced loss like that. She'd never ask him though. He had helped guide her through refining the lyrics and creating the music for it and she felt good about it.
She was sitting at one of the tables along the side wall, watching as the performers ahead of her shared their music. Butterflies started filling up her stomach as she compared herself to them and she started to feel a little nauseous. She was afraid her little song would sound stupid or immature or not polished (which it probably wasn't). But unless she was going to jump up and run out of the building, she was committed. And Mr. White was there, and she was sure he'd turn his back on her if she did that. She reminded herself then that this was her dream, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. When they called her name, she picked up her guitar and walked up to the stage.
When she stood in front of the mic, situating her guitar in front of her, she looked out into the room. She glanced at Mr. White and gave him a tiny smile. The room wasn't completely full, so that felt less daunting. And then she saw him across the room. She tried later to think how she would describe him and the only words that came to mind were 'rustic cowboy'. Truthfully all she really saw was his face and his eyes, eyes that seemed to be the eyes of a very old soul. He was easily the handsomest man she'd ever seen, which wasn't necessarily saying a whole lot, since, at 16, she didn't run in the kind of circles where she'd be around many men. What she realized was that, when she dreamt of falling in love – either in a daydream or a night dream – he was who she saw. She fell in love with him the moment she saw him and while she maybe should have been bothered by how he seemed to stare at her, she wasn't. When he got onstage and started to perform, she was transfixed. She wished she could have stayed for his whole performance, but she was just 16 and she had a curfew, and she was already going to be late. So she slipped out, hoping her father wouldn't catch her. But something happened inside her that night, and she was forever changed.
He was standing by the bar, watching everyone who was at the open mic before him. He'd gotten in just under the wire, racing across town from the studio apartment he lived in over in East Nashville. It wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, but he'd grown up able to take care of himself pretty well. He thought he'd try his luck at the Bluebird Café that night, a step up from the other places where he'd performed. Everyone who appeared on stage was good. Good lyrics, great music, some had better than average voices. But this was a place where you wanted people to hear your songs and he had notebooks full of them.
She was the 6th person to get up on stage and he was captivated instantly. She was young and pretty, with her red hair and creamy skin. When she started to sing, he was enchanted with her voice. The song she performed was about love and loss and while he could tell she wasn't a skilled songwriter, he thought she had promise. From the moment he laid eyes on her though, he knew she was the one. She was the one who would be in his dreams. She was the one who would stay under his skin for a lifetime. The thought startled him at first. He didn't even know her, knew nothing about her. He had a girlfriend. It was crazy.
As he listened to her, the sense he'd had grew stronger. He realized he hadn't paid attention to her name, so he hoped she would be there at the end of the night. Except that that was crazy. What would he say that wouldn't make her feel like he was a stalker or something? It was also clear, just by looking at her, that she came from a different place than he did. She's out of my league, he thought. But he just couldn't shake the idea that she embodied everything he'd ever hoped to find. He found a pen, grabbed a napkin, and started to write.
She'd been there when he'd gone on stage, but she was gone before he finished. He'd seen her leave and hoped it wasn't because she thought he wasn't any good. Although that was nuts, he decided. She probably hadn't noticed him at all. As he drove home, he hoped he'd see her again.
A/N: I wrote this a while ago and have been thinking about expanding on it and building it out. I've got a general idea for how it would play out. Deacon and Rayna still see each other for the first time at the Bluebird, but instead of meeting around that time, they end up going off on different journeys. I know there have been some other stories that have them meeting at a later time, and this is sort of that, but the very beginnings of their story start with what we know to be canon. They each carry the memory of that meeting through the years, until fate brings them together in the future. I'm hoping there's still people interested in reading Deyna stories! Let me know what you think.