. isaac

[isaac mcavoy]

i s a a c   j o s e p h

"if you've lost your faith in love and music then the end won't be long."

[isaac mcavoy]

AS SOON AS I'M LEFT ALONE THE DEVIL WANDERS INTO MY SOUL Sweet perfume envelops Isaac as he stands behind Violet in the VIP section, his arms draped lazily over her shoulders, his chin resting atop her golden head. There had been a time he felt ashamed of this particular dalliance, once going to great lengths to keep it under wraps, but that time is long behind him now—abandoned somewhere alongside his willpower and the AA meetings he had tried to drag her to. He’s drunk now, clutching a glass of something-or-other in one hand, the ice clinking in the amber liquid as they sway to the music. The haze of alcohol is undercut by the line he’d done off Violet’s stomach just before they left, the cocaine still fizzing uncomfortably in his bloodstream, making him jittery and restless. Any lingering sense of shame he might still possess is struggling to break through the fog, spurred on by the dirty looks Taylor and Joe keep throwing his way. Joe, in particular, has decided to completely ice him out—a fact that shouldn’t surprise Zac, and yet still it does. Hadn’t he wanted him to back off from Lily? Whatever. Isaac tries to justify his presence to himself, to Violet, to anyone who bothers to greet them. “Good to see her live again,” he offers. “How could I not when I live so close? She’s a good friend, you’ll love her stuff, I promise.” But as he stands there, the lyrics he once helped workshop over late-night phone calls wash over him like acid rain, each familiar word stripping away layers of his composure. They’re sung in that gravelly voice he knows so well, but now they’re echoed back to her by a mass of strangers. It’s the first time he’s heard this album performed live, and while he knows he should feel proud of Lily, and he does, he can't help but feel exposed. For all the poetic transformation, for all the artistic license, it feels like she’s laying bare their intimacy for everyone to see. His skin prickles with goosebumps, a cold sweat breaking out along his spine. It’s not until the unmistakable opening notes of “4:43” crackle to life that Isaac fully grasps what’s happening. “Sorry, back in a sec,” he mutters to Violet, leaving her stranded in a sea of faces that barely hide their disdain, though it’s not her fault. He pushes through the throngs of people, their faces a blur even though he knows he’s bound to recognize some of them, leveraging his AAA pass to slip backstage and into the privacy of a bathroom. Once inside, he collapses against the door, his lungs tightening as he struggles to catch a breath. The walls close in around him, his heart constricting painfully. “You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re not dying,” he whispers to himself, but the music blasting through the room only makes it worse, amplifying his sense of dread. Eventually, the panic subsides. He sits there for a while, head cradled in his hands, letting the wave pass over him. Finally, on unsteady legs, he manages to stand. He finds his way back to Violet, leaning in to whisper urgently, “Let’s go. Now.” Without a word to anyone else, he shifts through the crowd, out into the cool night air, wishing he’d never come at all.