. mutant brain

[joseph mccarthy]

There's a change in Aisha's disposition from when they started till now. His eyes read the comments as they rush through the screen live and though there is more positive than negative, there are a few that make him cringe. He holds her closely and more securely, watching her feelings as they reflect on her face. Is he reading sadness or the guilt of an unspoken secret? It could be as simple as the 'poser whore' he saw on the screen. "I know," he responds to her without smugness, giving her his eyes instead of the screen. "Ah..ha," he pulls the fabric of his shirt down, "I just got into the gym, abs are new for me." He smiles as he listens to Aisha talk about his parents, nodding along in agreement as he grins. "We had a different upbringing, your parents aren't really... a family, so it's hard to give judgement like that. I've only met your mom once, she was nice. And your dad's a good guy, he really cares about you," he looks to her for reassurance before turning the phone to read. "New album will probably be out later in the year... no Lily, I can't cut my hair yet, I'm growing it out for cancer... where do we see ourselves settling? I think we have different answers. Ideally, I'll stay in LA as it's most convenient for the type of job I have. Eventually, maybe raise my kids in Palm Desert because it's close to LA but reminds me of home."

[aisha van buren]

She can feel his defensiveness of her and for a while she decides to indulge it, to allow herself to be the damsel in distress so desperately in need of his intervention. She can picture his reaction to the truth, the hurt and shock, how much he would stiffen and how long it would take for him to feel this protective over her again. For a second she even saw herself the way she was certain Isaac saw her, a wolf in designer clothing. Here Joe was protecting her from everyone else, when really he needed protecting from her. She felt sick. "Well, they suit you." She smiled faintly at his neat dodge of the question - another sign that he was raised well. If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all. She laughed as he rattled off replies, running her fingers through his overly long hair. She's surprised by his next answer and shows it. "What happened to New Mexico? Giving them the upbringing you had?" She narrows her eyes at him, full of faux suspicion. "Anyway, I'm happy with either New York, where I grew up, or LA, where I went to school. I'm not having children so that isn't a factor." Without missing a beat she moved on to the next few questions, "Is it hard watching him go on tour? Yes. Do I miss him? Yes, obviously. Did Elliott cheat on me, yes, also obviously. Have I met any of Joey's exes... no, I don't think so. Am I controlling? I don't think so, not any more than anyone else would be. Am I controlling, Joe?"

[joseph mccarthy]

He fixes his hair, tucks it back under his cap, and turns to meet her accusing eyes. "New Mexico's home and maybe one day, but California makes sense in terms of work. Have any of you guys been to Palm Desert? I know it seems like I'm piggy backing a certain someone's career, but all I want to be is to be a desert rocker," he returns her accusing gaze when she drops the no-children bomb again but decides not to fight it while in 'public'. "Controlling? No, you're particular, but I don't think you could handle me if you were controlling," He lifts the phone from her hand,"what do I think or Aisha's career or lack there of.. uhm, I think she'll figure it out. James Murphy was thirty when he figured out what worked for him. You'll figure it out, right?"

[aisha van buren]

For the umpteenth time, Aisha rolled her eyes at his fanboying. "I swear to god, if you were to cut him open all you'd get is sand. Not even sand, that awful desert dust that gets everywhere and serves no purpose other than to be annoying." She stretches out across him, turning to lie in his lap, her cheek against his denim clad thigh. "Mmm, that's true. Trying to control him would be like trying to grab a handful of smoke, it'd only leak through your fingers." Her face out of view, she smirked to camera as she spoke, her voice full of feigned stupidity, "who's James Murphy?" She giggles to let on that she's only teasing, before yawning. "He's being nice, he finds my lack of vocation extremely frustrating. Between him and my dad I have an endless stream of nagging to sort it out." She wishes she had another beer. Tired and scared of things turning sour, she scratched at his barely there stubble, deciding not to answer his question. Instead she took the phone from his hand, scrolling through swathes of questions that have either been answered already or are too boring to contemplate. "Let's wrap this up, we must be boring everyone to tears." Ignoring what was actually written on screen, she pretended she was reading aloud a question that was really one of her own. "What would Aisha have to do to make you fall out of love with her?"

[joseph mccarthy]

" So many similies, baby. Maybe you should try blogging.. wouldn't we be a great blogger?," he ruffles her golden hair, resting his hands on her crown to stroke her soft waves. "You know.. James Murphy, the LCD mastermind.. you know!," he clearly doesn't take a hint. He continues to pet her head as she speaks the truth, a smirk pulling his cheeks up."It can sometimes be hard for me to understand that someone sometimes doesn't appear to want to better themselves.. but only sometimes," his aim to be honest is being dimmed by his need to be gentle and not hurt feelings. He watches her fish through the phone for questions, his hand grabbing the beer and finishing it off. "My mom hating you wouldn't be cool.. or if you took some of my shit to sell on eBay, leaked any music.. sabotaged me musically in anyway. But mainly if my mom hated you, I don't think I could date you. How about you?,"

[aisha van buren]

She laughs, turning her head to narrow her eyes at him. So sly. "You think? Maybe I'll think about it, but probably not. Kind of a saturated market." His fingers running through her hair is almost hypnotically calming and she lets it go, even lets it go that he somehow thinks she can be bettered, in favour of enjoying the harmony. "Live and let live, McCarthy," she said, her even tone of voice belying her latent irritation at this line of questioning. She rolled her eyes yet again at his responses, though there was something sweet about their banality that made her heart ache. "Why would I sell your stuff?! You can keep your music. That's an evasive answer, what would I have to do to make your mom hate me? I hope she never does." She thinks for a minute. "For me to break up with you... you'd have to reveal yourself to be someone different to the person I thought you were." She drags herself up, her limbs suddenly heavy with tiredness. Somehow she finds the strength to pick her phone up, bringing the camera in close as she sat on his lap. "OK, I think that's enough sharing for now! Thanks everyone for watching, except the people who asked guitar questions. Catch ya later!" She blows a kiss to the screen before 'x'ing out, dropping the phone as soon as she has. "Well, that was fun."

[joseph mccarthy]

She grows tired in his arms and he grows tired with her. A slight state of intoxication magnetize his weight to wall and he leans against it. "I dunno, you asked how I would fall out of love with you. It's a made-up scenario. My mom would just have to not like you as a person, she gets vibes all the time.. but she likes you, so you're fine," he rambles again and lets out a fierce yawn. "My name is Joseph McCarthy, the guitarist of Cat's Cradle and professional paddle ball player, and this is me signing. Later, you fu-," his broadcaster voice is cut off by Aisha and he groans in retaliation. "It was fine," he snakes his arms around her waist and kisses the back her neck before he lifts her off his lap. "I would have rather another SPIN interview," he admits with a shrug, standing and heading over to the mini fridge.

[aisha van buren]

His sign off brings yet another smile to her face, though it fades with her sense of impending doom. Did she really have to tell him? She knew that she did, that it was a tumour that would only grow and grow until it devoured their relationship if it was left to fester. She really did need to lay off the metaphors. Ordinarily she would be pouring over the comments, desperate for feedback, checking all her social media stats. But it was the furthest thing from her mind. His lips against her neck leaves goosebumps all over her skin, and she can't help but watch him as he walks away. "Thanks for doing it," she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Gratitude was never really her thing. It would be easy to get up and go to bed now, but she wouldn't be able to sleep, and even if she could she would only be delaying the inevitable. With her eyes on her lap, she fiddled with the cotton hem of the t-shirt, looking even younger than her twenty-one years. "Joe, I need to tell you something and I really want you to try to not be mad at me."

[joseph mccarthy]

He opens the fridge and peers in, his eyes drifting towards the beer but his hand grabbing a couple of water bottles instead. "Mhm," he murmurs, tossing a bottle to her and cracking his own open. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy a little bit of it. He didn't feel like they'd exposed much about their relationship, rather he thought that the video perhaps clarified a few things. That he wasn't being personally victimized by Aisha Van Buren and what she felt was genuine. "Yea?" he wipes his damp lips with the back of his hand and looks down at her, the blonde sitting so innocent and tiny on the handwood floor. "Ah, the secret?" the secret has been probing his mind since she mentioned it, but he'd been hoping it'd been something small like getting a stain on a shirt she'd borrowed from him. But from the look of her big sad eyes, it was likely larger than a stain, "it's okay, I promise I won't be mad. "

[aisha van buren]

She almost doesn't go to catch the bottle, but her reactions are sharp enough that she just about manages. As soon as she takes a sip she realises how dry her mouth had been, though she's not finding it any easier to speak now that it's not. Her phone was visible from where she'd abandoned it on the floor, a whirr of different notifications making the screen flash on and off near constantly. She hadn't even had time to reflect on what a success that whole interaction had been, how vindicating it was for their obvious affection to be made public without any apparent sacrifice of privacy. Realising he wasn't going to come back and sit with her, he headed over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his t-shirt. When she spoke, her voice was mumbled by the fabric, "you have to remember that we're young and I panic, I was under a lot of pressure and you weren't there." She looked up at him, imploring him to understand something she hadn't yet divulged. "Can we go to bed? I want to lie down."

[joseph mccarthy]

His brows become harsh with concern and he watches her pick herself off the ground to come to him. This was a version of her that he hasn't yet seen. He'd seen her wallow to get her way and sad, which he'd seen when they'd broken up. But here she seemed delicate. When she comes over he folds her arms around her shoulder blades and holds her tightly, his chin rests in the top of her golden hair. "I'll remember," he says, squeezing her softly and nodding to her question. "Sure, do you want an advil or anything?" he's not sure what to ask and takes her hand into his, leading her into the next room. His New Mexico bedroom was bare compared to his home in Los Angeles. A stereo sits in the corner along with a cactus his sister had brought over for a studio warming. The navy sheets have been washed and made neatly on his bed, in anticipation of Aisha. He sits her on his bed, kisses her forehead like she's a child and moves to close the blinds over the sunlight. "Why don't you have a nap? Then we'll talk about it."

[aisha van buren]

Even now he was being so careful with her, it made her wonder how she could be so roughshod with him. If he was dangling some terrible secret over her head like this she would be absolutely losing her mind, probably throwing things around and demanding an answer at the top of her lungs. But here he was with his arm around her, firm in his affection. Again she wanted to cry and this time she was going to, hot tears pricking her eyes before she could wipe them away. She lets herself be led into the other room, wiping at her eyes as he went about closing the blinds. She didn't understand how he could be so measured in a situation like this, it made her feel like her total inability to handle situations wasn't a fleeting thing but a set, lifelong personality failing. "No, no, I want to talk about it now." She grabbed his hand and pulled him down on the bed next to her, wiping her eyes a final time as she turned to face him. Deep breaths. How to phrase it? All the most honest ways seemed so blunt, but she couldn't think of an effective enough euphemism. "It's not that big a deal... we weren't-- we aren't ready to be parents, are we? We both said it wasn't something we needed to think about, not right now." Her voice cracked as she spoke, her eyes locked on his, trying to gauge his reaction. "So I dealt with it."

[joseph mccarthy]

The New Mexico sunlight fights the blinds, pooling through the sheets of white cedar and landing on the ceiling. He takes another drink of water, it's icy as it hits his throat and he dries the bottle clean of it. He's a highly maternal and intuitive person. While most would feel awkward and not know what to do, Joseph grabs a couple of tissues from the dresser draw and sits next to her. He pushes the white tissue into her hand and rubs her back, speaking softly, "okay, we'll talk about it." But he's ill prepared for the conversation at hand. His brows bowed, he's willing the words out of her with concerned blue eyes. When she says it, it takes him a moment to translate and read between the lines. "Oh," he feels sick. His stomach churning with nausea and his hands leaving their spot on her thigh, "okay." It's irrational to be mad and he's not the type to boil over. But he is the type to run away, "there's advil in the bathroom, okay? I need a minute." His feet are heavy as he leaves the room and he doesn't look at her.

[aisha van buren]

Where usually they balance each other out, Aisha and Joey's differences come close to clashing in moments like these. Joe's gentle instincts do little to appease Aisha's upset, given that she hates vulnerability and kindness only makes her feel all the more exposed. She takes the tissue from him and presses it up against her face, willing the tears to stop. At least she had already taken her makeup off, the idea of staring at him with bloodshot panda eyes would be too much to bear. "Oh." There it is. She could pinpoint the second the penny dropped, the concern fading into something akin to horror. Regret rushed over her like a bucket of ice water. She didn't need to tell him. What a stupid, selfish thing to do. His hand leaves her skin and she feels instantly colder for it, the distance between them going from an inch to a mile in the space of that one little syllable. She grabs his arm, willing him not to shut down on her now. "I'm so sorry Joe, I should have told you." But he's gone, and she's left to collect herself. True to form, now that he's not mollycoddling her she can gather herself, actively turning her vulnerability to defiance. What did she have to be sorry for? Not telling him, that was it at most. It was her body, her decision. Repeating those four words to herself over and over, ran a hand over her hair, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. In pretence of going to find the advil, she leaves to look for him, leaning in the doorway when she does. "We should talk about this. Please don't shut down on me."

[joseph mccarthy]

Joe's weight tips back onto the door when he closes it, his brow so bent that he feels he might join Aisha in crying. There's a mix of emotions. The first that hits is heartbreak. His chest leaping so high and then crashing so hard it feels as though it's crumbling. He feels lied to and like he's been shut out in the dark. It's like she distrusts him, though he hasn't given her reason. Understanding is an emotion that conflicts him. He understands why she didn't tell him and he understands that it's her body, but he still feels ill. He leaves to go into the living room. The boys are away, it's their one last weekend for play before then bury themselves in the final couple recordings. He shakes his head when he hears Aisha calling him and reaches to light up a bong. He inhales and holds his breath, then exhales. "I'm not," he finally answers her, bringing the glass outside on the balcony with him. He turns his gaze to see her not far behind, and throws his eyes quickly to the New Mexico desert. "I'm not mad, I just need you to fuck off for a minute," it comes off more bitter than he means and he feels the need to repeat himself, "I'm not mad."