One second, you were laughing, the barricade behind your back, with a special pass around your neck, reserved only for his guests — the people he loved, the people he trusted — and the next second, the world started tilting in a way that wasn’t normal.

You blinked hard, grabbing the rail, trying to steady yourself.

The music thundered in your ears, the lights too bright, too fast. You shook your head, hoping it would pass, but it only got worse — the colors melted together, your hands trembled violently, and your knees buckled before you could call for help.

Damiano was mid-verse when he saw it.

You collapsing against the barrier like a ragdoll, people around you shouting, waving, screaming for security.

He dropped the mic without thinking, so fast it slammed against the stage floor with a painful squeak.

Security was already scrambling, but he jumped down from the stage himself, ignoring every single rule, every piece of protocol.

"Move! Move, goddamn it!" he shoved past the guards, pushing through the people until he reached you.

You were shaking violently now, eyes fluttering, body unresponsive.

"Baby, hey— Hey, look at me!" he dropped to his knees beside you, voice shaking, hands hovering helplessly over your convulsing frame.

Someone was yelling something about an ambulance.

Someone else was trying to pull him away.

He didn't move.

"I'm here, I'm right here, amore. You're gonna be okay," he kept whispering over and over, brushing the hair off your damp forehead, pressing frantic kisses to your temple.

"Stay with me, baby. Please. Please."

When the paramedics finally took you away on a stretcher, Damiano was right there, holding your hand all the way into the ambulance, refusing to let go even for a second.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until one of the EMTs handed him a tissue with a small, sympathetic look.

They murmured something about seizures, about epilepsy — something you maybe never knew you had — but all he could think about was how small your hand felt in his, and how he couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.