. show off

[lily mccarthy]

As hard as it was sometimes, Lily tried her best to convince herself her dad was still with her. In whatever capacities he could be, there on clear days and upbeat shows, the ghost in an audience of voices singing something so personal back to her. Though she hadn't admitted it to anyone her first show she'd barely made her call time, sobbing in her dressing room because he wouldn't be there physically to see it. Just in her soul, carrying what she could of him and doing her best to make it last. She wonders what he'd think, now, in a car with someone that had always been trouble. An echo of her high school days, dating the wrong one for the right reasons. The flicker of scorn she felt compounded when he mentioned her publicist, Sammy, mouth tugging into a frown as she genuinely fished her phone out to text Jane. "He'll probably care," she admits, staring back out the window. Though her and Sammy weren't serious they'd been heading that direction, pulling her lip into her teeth as she contemplated how he might react. Probably ask for a little more clarity, something she'll handle another time as she silences her phone. Staying in the moment, as difficult as it was for her to do. "Baby shower, even," Lily adds, though she's only half serious. Hand falling away from his again as they receive their order. The attendants eyes are bright when Lily pokes her head down, offering a polite "thank you," you before they drive off. She immediately digs around for a french fry, knowing she ordered extra just in case. "Have you met his new girlfriend? She's really sweet, I like her."

[isaac mcavoy]

Though he doesn't have a leg to stand on it still stings to know that the sound guy would care. The idea that they had been indulging in a genuine flirtation whilst their pantomime was carrying on, that she had spent any of the last few weeks with him, all of it made his stomach churn. Of course he had been spotted with Kendra, but the truth of that sighting was that he was trying to make amends to her, offering her an in person apology to go along with the letter he'd sent her from the centre. There was also a key would there: will, not would. They were in regular contact, she would tell him about this. What was there to tell? How would she frame it? None of these questions are forthcoming and it doesn't seem like she wants to talk about it, so he drops the subject. He pulls up to collect the food, passing it over into her lap. It smells amazing and he immediately regrets not ordering his own. "Please no babies," he shakes his head at the idea, wondering if they'd ever tour again should that happen. He nods along, yet another smile spreading across his face. "Love her. It's nice to see him so happy." Isaac was at an age he knew would come, when those closest to him started settling down and building lives for themselves. He'd been terrified of this inevitability, so sure that it wasn't for him having been through one divorce by age twenty-six, but he had managed to learn how to be happy for other people. "He'll settle down for good I think, he's such a homebody. What about you, where do you see yourself in the next five years?"

[lily mccarthy]

She wasn’t going to bring it up, figuring Isaac would if there was anything to clarify, but she’d been sent the photos of him and Kendra. Her initial instinct had been terror, half convinced he’d fallen back into old habits after their tense “break-up”. But the look on his face in those grainy photos seemed more in line with the apologies he’d invested in, and the news of them hadn’t even hit the press yet. Her second instinct she’d tamped down, a cocktail of jealousy and anger and sadness. It wasn’t her, so she didn’t let it be. Much like she won’t let Sammy be part of this conversation. Her eyes flick over to him to confirm it, reaching for the ice cream she’d craved in the first place. "I think he will too, you know how long he’s wanted a family. After Aisha I’m happy to see him happier every day." She half expects him to propose soon, something so calm between the pair even though it hadn’t been too long. Her eyes cast out to the highway again, widening when he asks about her future and the thought crosses her mind is maybe with you. Busying herself with the bag she shrugs, contemplating a further answer as she offers him a French fry. "I don’t know, really. Ideally I’m still growing in my career, still touring and having fun. Staying passionate. What about you? Not settling down?"

[isaac mcavoy]

Joey was such a chilled person, it was sometimes easy to forget how much he yearned for the stability of family life. Most people wouldn't have guessed that the stoner musician was so obsessed with having a family, but Zac knew first hand how much his friend valued family bonds, as he'd given him hell during the Alessia scandal. Again, rightfully so. He nods along, thinking exactly the same thoughts as Lily: a ring could be in the not-too-distant future. It fills him with hope after watching Joe go through such a toxic relationship; maybe they could both get their lives on track. "It's like a switch has been flipped."  She's quiet for a moment as she considers his question, cars slipping by, their headlights leaving streaks of light in the darkness. Somehow it was nearing 11pm and he doesn't know where the time has gone. "Can't see you losing the passion in five years, not even fifty." The love of music was genetic for her and Joe, her family steeped in it. He considers the question, turning over possible options in his head, weighing up what he wanted with what was realistic. He takes the French fry, chewing slowly. "Not settling down, no. I'm not sure relationships work for me... or I don't work for them." It's something he's been thinking about for a while, and after his latest apology tour he had seen first hand the lasting damage he had done to some of these women. Until he could trust himself to behave, it didn't feel fair. "So making music, for sure. I don't want kids so I can rule that out too, happy to be an honorary uncle to Joe's."

[lily mccarthy]

Sometimes Lily realized how similar they were. How passionate they got when discussing something they loved, the mannerisms they'd stolen off one another on the tour, the anxious tension they could discuss without issue or fear of being judged. But there were also times when she remembered how vastly they could differ. This was one of those times, feeling the reality of his words as much as she heard them. Incredibly different paths standing out, even while looking at the same road. "Do you ever think you would get married again?" She asks the question honestly, voice levied to convey her optimism wasn't hanging on the answer. What her parents had had been beautiful, something she hoped to be able to replicate down the line for herself. Something she hoped to instill in her children one day, that there was a special kind of love out there for them, and to discover within themselves. Lily declines to divulge any of this though, the spiked thrill of the night wearing through her as the clock sped towards midnight. Instead she takes another bite of ice cream, watching the yellow light flick red ahead. "You'll definitely be the fun uncle," she eventually adds, imagining the countless adventures he'd surely plan when they were old enough. Her eyes find his again when the car stalls to a stop, trying to figure out where she wants to go next. "Do you talk to any of the other guys, anymore?"

[isaac mcavoy]

"Do you ever think you would get married again?"  It's a question that causes a knee-jerk negative reaction within Isaac, though he forces himself to stay neutral, considering the question. This was where he knew their answers would diverge, and usually he would have lied easily, said the thing that he thought would yield the best immediate results. But this was Lily, and he wanted to be honest - she'd knew if he wasn't, anyway. "I don't think so," he says finally, eyes on the road as a means of avoiding meeting hers. It's not the winning answer, though he isn't sure what gameshow he's competing in right now. It was a strange situation, to have confessed his love for someone and had it reciprocated, only to retreat back into their same old platonic dynamic without so much as a kiss. He's sure he's sealed their fate with that response, though to have said anything else would have been patronising. "Divorce really sucks. Obviously it was my fault, but I don't think it would have been any easier even if it hadn't been." Her next question is easier to answer and he nods his head, leaning back as they stop at a traffic light. "We still hang out from time to time. Things haven't been the same with Taylor since Kendra, but I knew that they wouldn't be going in." God, he was such an asshole. It was a miracle any of them bothered with him at all, given the myriad of times he had let them down. Times he hadn't shown up to shows or, worse, times they had to get hotel security to break into his room, finding him sprawled in his own vomit with a needle nearby, trying to usher out hotel staff before the scene could become a news story. The worst thing about it was that even thinking of those times and the pain they'd caused, he yearned for the thing that had caused it all still, and knew that if he could find one of his stashes he would use it, even now. So it was a fanciful way to pass the time, talking of marriage and kids like this, but the whole thing hinged on one central what-if: the question of whether he'd be around to see any future at all. "You were right to go solo, so much less complicated."

[lily mccarthy]

She half expects his answer before he says it, and is grateful when disappointment isn’t the emotion that floods through. Lily more so holds onto the fact that he’d been honest, even with the implications it wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear. "It’s cathartic to tell the truth sometimes,," she eventually answers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze again, a subtle way of saying it’s ok. The air noticeably lightens when they shift back to the band, watching his eyes brighten with affection even after all this time. "How’d those apologies go?” A knowing smile on her lips as she dives for another fry. As much as that group had been through, Lily knew there was an almost unbreakable bond between them all. Experiences impossible to understand aside from each other, new heights and fast tracks and breakdowns and impossibilities. Going solo felt quieter at times, contemplating how it could have been different if she’d been given the opportunity. "Luckily I had some pretty good mentors in my corner. Or at least a few of y’all who forced me to keep my head on straight."

[isaac mcavoy]

The answer goes down well and he lets out a relieved breath that he hadn't realised he had been holding in. She asks about his apologies and he shrugs, a half smile on his face. "Mixed. It's been a mixed bag overall, which is what I should have expected but honestly didn't at first... it's hard realizing you have to let people respond how they're gonna respond. You think you say sorry and people will be able to tell that you really mean it this time, but you've all been burned before." He casts her a sympathetic look, hoping she knows how grateful he is that she wasn't one of the ones to spurn his efforts, though she had as much right as anyone to be.  "Ah yes, you are in fact a nepo baby, I forget," he teases as he pulls into Joe's driveway. Parking up, he heads inside and groans at the mess in front of them, cursing himself for not cleaning as he went. "I'll deal with this tomorrow," instead he starts fishing around for the promised vape, eventually finding the fluorescent green stick under a pile of basil. One deep toke has the little light glowing, and he holds it for a few seconds before exhaling, passing it over to her. "Caffeine, weed and nicotine, the holy trinity." Surely those were permissible sins? "Well. What do you wanna do now?"

[lily mccarthy]

"Can I ask a serious question this time?" Lily knows she doesn't need permission but likes to give a warning its coming, shifting as usual to look directly at him though she knows he can't return the favor. Safety first. "Who, out of everyone, and excluding say me...or Joey, or anyone still consistently in your life, would you hope accepted that apology first?" She probably knows the answer but every once in a while Zac surprises her, not always the easiest to read when he doesn't want to be. He'd made it that way, over time, when his secrets got a little too big to hide. That was still a sore point when it came to his latest relapse. Because she didn't feel like she'd given him a reason not to trust her. Sitting on the other side of the brotherly dynamic for a while, collecting confessions in the vault that existed behind her smile. She still kept their conversations close to the vest, obvious in the situation now, pushing herself onto the edge of the counter and accepting the pen from his grasp. "Can't forget fast food and sugar," she reminds, shaking it in her palm before drawing her breath in deep, cloudy and sweet in her throat as she exhales. "I think we should take this and our munchies to the couch and find a movie to watch...and then I should probably go back to my place."

[isaac mcavoy]

"You can ask anything you want." Still, he braces himself for this one. When the question comes it's not as bad as he's anticipating, and the answer comes easily to him. "Chloe." Through it all, that was still the worst betrayal. Not just the cheating, which was terrible, but all of it... they had been a true partnership, best friends first and husband and wife second. She had soothed him so many nights when his anxiety had spiralled into panic attacks, he had supported her through every disappointing audition. One night they had been lying in bed, before his affair but on the cusp of his success, and he could still remember what she said to him, the exact cadence and tone of her voice: "Promise nothing's going to change?" It was the worst promise to have broken, and he's embarrassed by his own predictability as well as his cruelty. "You've been in LA too long," he says, waving away the valid suggestion that sugar and junk food should make the list. She hints that her departure might not be in the so distant future and he feels a twinge of panic, desperately wanting to spin this out as much as possible, though he doesn't admit it. "I'll drive you, just tell me when." He grabs a couple of Cokes out of the fridge and grins as sweet smelling smoke plumes around her delicate features. Soon they're on the couch, and though the TV is on, Isaac burns with questions he wants to ask her. So he does. Taking another deep inhale, he turns to face her better, his eyes locking onto hers. "Answer this question 100% honestly or I curse you to a hundred years bad luck... do you trust me?"

[lily mccarthy]

Chloe. It's who she was expecting him to say, many sweet moments spent with her over time as the trajectory of the band stuttered, then took off in an instant. Watching them become accustomed to fame, to heightened security, and eventually rumors that turned out to be true. Predictably, Chloe had disappeared after that, losing touch upon the realization that any connection to the band was still too close to consider. "Do you still miss her?" She thinks she knows that answer too. Lily laughs as he adds to their concoction of unhealthy options, reaching for the remote and flicking through the channels until something mindless filled the void. In essence she was stalling, very aware she couldn't be caught here tomorrow morning when Joe returned, but wanting to extend the comfort they'd settled back into after a tense while apart. That same comfort that allows her to sit up, mimic his posture (or had he mimic'd hers?), listen clearly and contemplate realistically. "Not all the time, no," she decides is the best way to answer, gnawing the inside of her lip as she chooses how to elaborate. "I trust you to keep secrets, but that means that sometimes you keep some of your own that you shouldn't." His mom on her front step, the first thought assuming he was dead, then a violent I knew it. A shudder rips through her, looking away to gain her bearings. "Do you trust me?"

[isaac mcavoy]

It's taken a long time for him to get to the point where he can think of Chloe without gut-wrenching regret. Though it was no excuse for how he had behaved, the benefit of hindsight went to show that they were better off apart. She had flourished into the best version of herself, forged by the hardship he had made her endure. She was engaged to someone and he suspected they'd have a baby on the way in the very near future, and he could honestly say that he was happy for her. So the answer is an easy one. "I miss that life, sometimes. But that life died the second we signed our contract, Chloe was a casualty." Maybe in an alternate universe he would still be with her, married with kids, settled down as a doctor... he couldn't really have ever seen himself earning that degree. Her answer is honest and expected but he still wishes it could be different. "I get that. I don't trust myself half the time." There was a wariness in all his interactions now. Knowing that her mind would jump to the worst case scenario, he made a point of texting his mom back as quickly as possible, of calling regularly and of letting her know when he was turning his phone off to nap or go to the gym. He posted regular stories to his close friends group on Instagram, mundane things he never would have bothered documenting before like a nice sky view, or his lunch-- really, just reminders that he was there, cognizant, sane. Her next question is another that's easy to answer. "Yes. All the time, never wavers."  He glances around the room, such a contrast to their cosy family home. In an attempt to lighten the mood, and because he genuinely wants to know, he turns to her again. "What were you like as a teenager? Real answers... you can't have been the perfect angel your mom says you were all the time."

[lily mccarthy]

It's nearing witching hour, Lily still reeling from the wine and shifts throughout the night. From tense admittance to burning confessions to this, quiet and content. She watches the flickers of color wash over his face as he answers, the way it illuminated so reminiscent of the side stages. Festivals to stadiums to local bars, she'd always been there in the wings. Excited and nervous and so happy for them, forever the ultimate fan, even when it fell apart. She thinks it's why she can sit here sometimes, look at Isaac and still consider him a friend. She'd witnessed the catalyst to begin with. It's what propels her to push when he says he trusts her, anxiously linking her hands together before she looped them over her knees. "Then why didn't you tell me when you relapsed?" It's stark, and she almost draws away in flinching avoidance but holds her ground. If they were laying it all out here he owed her that, tipping her head up against the back of the couch as she contemplates his next question. "I mean I wasn't perfect by any means...my ex boyfriend is great example of that enough. The "bad boy" at my high school," she air quotes, lolling her head side to side against the tough edge as she thinks of Xander. "But I don't know. I was quiet where Joe was cool. I went to my fair share of parties, did all the high school things but I just never felt like I totally had to hide it from my parents." Her heart pangs at the memories, at how her dad would sometimes greet her, drunk and silly, with a PB&J and a hug. Lily slowly releases a breath, biting back tears before she finds the nerve to look at him again. "You wish your dad could see you now?"

[isaac mcavoy]

"Then why didn't you tell me when you relapsed?" It's a question that provokes an instinctive reaction, an 'are you serious' look that he quickly tries to pull back. Its simpler cousin, 'why didn't you tell me?', was a recurrent question faced by addicts, and its answer was so obvious he was surprised she'd ask it too. But it betrayed an innocence that he was glad she had, a question that only seemed obvious if you had been on the receiving end of it. "Lily," he starts, sighing slightly and rubbing his eyes. Sometimes he was surprised by his own ability to still feel shame, a resource that seemed infinite no matter how many times he dipped into it. But he had to push through, had to be honest. He looks at her, offering her a dejected smile. "I didn't tell you because you would have tried to get me to stop."  It was as simple as that. The duplicity stemmed not from wanting to protect others, as he had previously lied to himself that it had. He didn't stash extra supplies; needles and tourniquets, little foil wrappers of poison, because he cared about others' sensibilities. He didn't fabricate alternate realities to explain his sudden weight loss or watery eyes, didn't suffer through hot days in long sleeves hiding track marks because he didn't trust his friends or family. He did it because he wanted to keep going, because every single time he relapsed it felt like the best decision and not a life-ending one. His loyalty had first and foremost been to his addiction. So he smiles as she talks about having a bad boy high school ex, remembering stories he'd heard before around the McCarthy dinner table. "Maybe you have a type." A grin spreads across his face as he steals some of her fries. "Joey's pretty quiet too, and you're cool. You're both quiet and cool." The weed has done its job and he feels more relaxed than ever, the words slipping from his lips with ease. As she speaks he expects to feel the familiar churn of grief in his chest, but all he feels is contentedness. "There's a lot I'm glad he missed." He reaches out to her, his hand finding her leg and giving it a squeeze. "Your dad knew you'd be something. If he were here right now, he wouldn't be surprised at all, I'd bet my life on it."

[lily mccarthy]

If there was one downfall to Lily McCarthy, it was that her world was eternally rosy-hued. Even in the wake of tragedy, of things out of control or situations that were out of her depths, she could gloss over them if she had to. Because if it didn't exist it wouldn't hurt her, and if it didn't hurt her everything was fine, right? It's a stark reality check when Zac's answer comes through, Lily's eyes flickering before she looks away in her own shame. Embarrassment, almost, if she could categorize it, because she should have known. Another strike on this situation; could she handle it if, or when, things got worse? "Sometimes my own choices surprise me," she murmurs hesitantly, room suddenly a blur under the steady high, slight buzz and her own reveries. It was rare that she ever chose herself - doing right by everyone felt expected, felt right - but in the end all it had done was seem to hurt her. The true solace she'd found had been in her music these days, the solid foot she'd put down after enough time of her label trying to categorize her. One of the rare few times she hadn't felt quiet, felt expected, the invigorating buzz slipping through her bloodstream at the thought. A smile flits on her face, hesitant, before the subject turns and it curves back down in serious contemplation. "I know," Lily whispers, swallowing thickly to withhold the emotions. It's fine, it's all fine. "I think they had more belief than I did in myself for a while. Maybe that's what I'm carrying now, y'know? Blind belief is kind of insane until it's magic."