; all goes quiet

[lily mccarthy]

LILY settles back further in her seat, surrounded by mostly familiar faces. At one end the members of her band debated the merits of a bottle of sake, the other had Taylor and Niko dueling with the chopsticks from their place settings. Joe sat quietly on her other side, the kind of calming presence that felt nice for a night like this. A way to further dispel the heightened energy that came from being on stage, catching up on the bits and pieces of his life she didn't have an update for and carefully avoiding the elephant in the room. Or not, physically, too busied by the connective web of the guests this evening to ask any further questions. She likely didn't want to know the answer anyway. Instead she buoys herself with seeking questions, a jolt of surprise coursing through at another connection slowly revealed. "Oh, no way!" Lily's attention swivels from Aaron to Samira, oblivious to the tense undercurrent. "The world works in mysterious ways." She almost goes to press for further details but the table is again laden with food and Sylvia's seeking her out, nodding her head at Aaron's departure and taking it as a queue to take an empty seat further down the table. Closer to her good friend, Jack the easy presence to Sylvia's desperation to gossip and catch up about the rest of the tour she hadn't seen. Lily keeps her focus narrowed, stealing rolls off of shared plates and enjoying the moment, missing when another seat at the table was suddenly vacated. SAMIRA times it right. Waits for Aaron to fully disappear, for Lily to drift further down the table. For everyone to be entranced by the refresh happening in front of them, the filling wine glasses, before she squeezes Drew's arm and excuses herself down that same hallway. She feels insane for doing this, then foolish for not knowing, breath hitching at the turn of a lock and suddenly finding herself devoid of words. What does one even say in this situation? That she's going to leave, that it's clear he's made his choice? Everything falters when he notices her there, arms crossing subconsciously over her chest. "How long has this been going on?"

[aaron eklund]

Aaron grounds himself with the rush of water to his hands, wringing soap throughout his fingers, wishing his errant thoughts would disappear down the drain with the bubbles. In the mirror he takes a shuddering breath, shoulders rotating in his reflection, releasing tension he didn’t realize he had accumulated. Rarely did he notice the subconscious steeling of his muscles, only the aches of them later on, manifestations of his stress or anxiety when his mind couldn’t process through it. All he wants to do is quiet his thoughts since they won’t sort themselves, as nebulous as the connections being talked about at the table. Maybe he could take out his phone and text her, try to give her more words than he’d been able to this evening, tugged between her appearance and Lily’s presence. He rounds the corner, stepping heavily with his shoulders so weighty—and there is Samira, waiting. In surprise he clears his throat, gaze flying over her head to survey just how much privacy they could claim, relieved to be out of sight. Privacy was a scarcity tonight with either woman, his back hovering against the adjacent wall, moving out the way of the bathroom door in case someone surprised them. Why did it feel like they were sneaking around? Was this all in his head? It’s a question first from her, no greeting or explanation, her body language radiating what he already knew: confusion, hurt, fear. A measured breath leaves him, shaking his head. “Jack fixed us up a few weeks back. Just been talking.” He can’t claim it’s platonic or that it’s nothing, exactly. He wouldn’t reach for lies anyway, still wrestling with labels and meanings and timelines in his own head. Still recovering from the tense conversations a few weeks ago, wondering if they needed time apart or firmer boundaries. If this could survive an uncertain wait. It was impossible to make promises or assume plans, too many moving parts to be dismantled while hoping the whole thing didn’t break down in the process. Aaron looks away then back at her, idle hands stuffed into his pockets. “I haven’t mentioned it to anyone because I don’t know what “this” is,” he continued, the word a cottony placeholder on his tongue for something he couldn’t elucidate yet. “We only just met tonight, Sami.” It feels like he’d been caught, twisting his tongue with an explanation to avoid punishment. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

[samira deol]

SAMIRA knows that she is at the core of this. The unscalable wall, the one thing holding them back from it being her hand laced in his at dinner tables or on dates. Unable to untether herself from the consistency of her current life, ebbs and flows of emotions only daring when they were together. She hadn't know how numb she'd gotten until Aaron came storming back into her life; tonight she felt it seep back in minute by minute, misty and dull, possibilities vanishing in the wake of his transparency. Because he wasn't rushing to reassure her. Not that she wanted that, per se, but it meant that this wasn't just something he was pursuing on a whim. "Not even Ish?" Samira finally dares, following his lead to draw further down the hall. The last thing she wanted was an innocuous question to give him an out, an easy break away from the awkward tension that started to build. She doesn't know what she say, or even what she wants to hear, shoulders pinching further near her ears. "Drew brought me along, her husband couldn't make it," she offers blandly. "I clearly did not know you would be here either." Samira's eyes shift warily away, trying not to blame herself for expecting his patience. Not when she didn't entirely deserve it, movements brief and infinitesimal. It didn't feel proper to fight either, posture finally loosening with a light roll of her eyes. Easier to jest than examine the heartbreak. "Who knew you would be the one that is in with all the famous people."

[aaron eklund]

Aaron shifts his weight, shaking his head. “Not even Ish,” he echoes, another omission from his friend that flips his stomach with guilt. The person in the world closest to him didn’t know what had been happening between him and Samira. Half a year of secrets and promises bubbling up between them since that day at the observatory, no one the wiser. Not his mother, and much to her chagrin, only recently his own therapist. His mind rushes to Niko and Taylor who had been strangely privy to both tales, trusted at first for their outside objectivity but now with Lily involved even that had become more muddied. And as much as he liked Jack, his eager and put-together friend was adjacent too much that he was a risk. As long as Aaron kept this to himself, he’d claim it was for their privacy and protection of Samira. But if he let it, his anger could take the lead. It would snap at her in reminder that she had someone to go home to at night, who loved her and warmed her bed. It would ask her where Ravi was, stare pointedly at the ring she twirled when it seemed to burn her in reminder. It would scream how unfair it was for him to be expected to be alone, that of course there were other women in the uncertain meantime—but the wedge between mind and body ran so deep they could only access him physically. That he didn’t just sit at home with his dick in his hand waiting for her change of heart. That Lily made him feel good and alive and the spark of connection was there…and even that vulnerability was starting to scare him. His throat bobs, trying to will a small smile at her comment. “Yeah, well. Once you let one in, the rest start flocking,” he gave in with a snort. The proximity to public attention needled him but had yet to reach him individually, though Lily’s fame was apparently something more. “I’m sorry for the shock,” he decides to offer, remembering the sink of his heart at the first sight of her tonight. How it had felt like a strange dreamlike state ever since, none of this explicable or real for how out of frame it was from his day-to-day. “But it doesn’t mean anything about us,” he continued, gesturing between them. “I’m still in this. I just.. get lonely sometimes too, you know.”

[samira deol]

SAMIRA doesn't know why she's joking. Why it feels like the right play, why trying to alleviate the haze of a situation that is complicated and painful is her first instinct. But that's how she'd always played it with Aaron - close to the heart, protective but open. Her engagement was one of the first things she'd ever hid from him; she wonders now if this is one of the first he'd ever kept from her. Or if there was more, silence and space unfurling, wanting desperately to hold on to him and promise more than she could offer. But it's not fair. This never has been, hating that he feels the need to apologize because at the end of the day he doesn't owe her anything. He could walk away at any moment, timeline lapsing, and never look back for her. It's sometimes why it scares her even more to unravel; she could break her entire life apart, only to watch Aaron walk away too. But the steadfastness in his promise soothes her, stance loosening as she too, leaned against the wall. "Don't be sorry," Samira offers, the hint of a smile on her lips honest but solemn. "And I understand. I can't..." she shifts, unsettled in her sudden clarity. "I-...see you with someone else once and it's hard. I can't actually imagine how you feel when you see it all the time." Her eyes dart to the wood paneled doors, the clean curves of the restaurant, the dim lighting that shrouds them temporarily. Not daring to touch but feeling the crackle between them all the same, the features she knew like the back of her hand when she looked to him again. "But I'm still in this too. "

[aaron eklund]

Aaron bites his tongue, thinking of the last time he saw Ravi and Samira together. Just like her engagement ring seemed to add gravity to a room, in his periphery he tried to keep the couple’s affections. The sight of someone’s hands or lips on her used to fill him with acidic concoctions of rage and envy that he bottled up and let rot him away from the inside out, usually until boyfriends exited Samira’s life one way or another. But he rarely ever returned the favor, keeping girlfriends and sexual encounters to himself, finding the topic of his love life easier to skirt altogether instead of explaining why none of them ever lasted. They weren’t her. It’s too much and too intense, he knows, wielding his love like a weapon. Very few managed to scale the walls he built up around himself, and even if they made it over, Aaron didn't stop with the other obstacles and armor in the way. So this was something they missed: seeing each other with someone else, double dating, talking about their partners. Admitting to loneliness makes him feel ill with vulnerability even if it is Samira, the safest person he can think of. “I didn’t know if it was something you'd wanna know about,” he offers, one of those stranger boundaries to butt up against and bridges to cross. Was it wrong to entertain other relationships while they hoped for their own? Was it selfish to be curious in the meantime, if that couldn’t happen for months or years? “It’s hard, yeah,” he budges at her observation, shoes she had never needed to try on before. Still Aaron was sorry for how it looked, how it came out, not on his terms as he would learn was a side effect of Lily’s fame. “I should get back,” he breathes, to Lily; all too aware of her warmth next to him and their proximity and how this might look if they were found. Planning their returns like a secret rendezvous. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he wonders, thinking of their phone schedule. Although suddenly part of him wonders if he would be with Lily then—maybe sleeping together, or meeting for breakfast, or seeing her tour bus off. He couldn’t yet know, throwing himself into whatever the rest of the night would hold.

[lily mccarthy]

SAMIRA's purposefully spun the ring under her finger, loathe to let the diamond facets catch a light and be scattered across what little light surrounded them. But they know it's there, a permanent reminder, much like the chorus of laughs that sounds from the room they were missing from. One that held someone else who wanted his attention, something unsteady in her chest as she shrugged. "I don't really like surprises." Like the impromptu planning party, taste still bitter in her mouth as he cues to return. "Yeah, of course," she promises weakly, though her head spins already at the emotions she'll have to sift through in the morning. The calm of the early hours, spent assessing if she was happy for him or gripping an invisible string. How to voice how she felt, how to process what this meant. Though good with instructions she often struggled with the in between, grey areas a cloud of frustration she'd prefer to clear up. But it's what she'd left him in now, a grey area with no indeterminate end, and it's that clarity that drags her away from him. "Enjoy your night, ok?" And she means it, honesty pained but there, stepping into the bathroom in his wake and dragging her hands over her face in quiet surrender. LILY barely feels the time pass, barely feels the ache of the evening pull at her ribs and the soles of her feet, barely acknowledges anything but the people in front of her. Those that rooted for her and stood behind her and tucked themselves into her corner so completely it almost felt shocking. Rarely did she feel like she deserved it but tonight was an exception, light and warm and grateful when she finally slid back into her seat next to Aaron. Letting their hands mingle under the table, then on top of it, trading stories that trended a little tipsy as the hours slipped by. It's only when she's fielding another yawn that it finally registers, eyes fluttering softly against her cheek before they snapped back open at the clatter of a plate. "Alright everyone, I might have to call it a night," she admits, waving away the dramatic groans as she could see everyone else was flagging too. Another day of travel loomed, a bittersweet goodbye to Los Angeles on the horizon, catching her manager handling the check down the table before she turned back to Aaron and leaned in. "Drive me to the hotel?"

[aaron eklund]

Aaron pauses in the shelter of their secrecy, holding her eyes with a soft nod. “You too, Sami.” It’s not long later until she and Drew head out, an excuse he can’t remember that was vague enough to avoid questions and still sound urgent enough that the group hardly put up a fight. Over time their crowd thins, people wary of the hours on a Sunday night, Aaron finding himself full of food and tapering off the wine in anticipation of a drive home. It’s easier to find himself nearer and nearer to Lily, content with their hands mingled, their feet or knees resting together, the focus on them eventually more expectant than surprised. Since it all revolves around Lily, naturally her departure signals the end for everyone else, too. It’s a flurry of hugs and wished luck on the road, promises to keep in touch, thanks and goodnights. “I can do that,” he nodded to her question, a hazy smile on his lips feeling her arm entwining with his. Back in his car he plays with the fit of their fingers over the gear shift, kissing her knuckle while they stopped at a red light. His thumb bumps against the steering wheel to the sound of the playlist filling the cabin, the backdrop to their meandering conversations about the night. Parked in front of the hotel, Aaron’s head tipped back against the seat, eyeing her. “Tell me you’re not leaving tomorrow,” he worried, counting these few hours they’d had. “Did you even get to step foot in your own house?”

[lily mccarthy]

LILY's head is tipped back against the smooth leather of her seat, eyes hazy with sleep and the silly spin of admiration that tipped her mouth up at the graze of his lips against her hand. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so light, buoyed by an evening of safety and friendship and kindling attraction. Standing steady in the present, not wading through the history of hurt and accusations, of confessions that felt like death tolls. It's why she's loathe for the night to end, a sentiment he seems to echo as she finally lolls her head to the side to look at him. Hotel lights wash his face in a warm glow, features cautious but open in their own way. Still mysteries to each other, knowing that somewhere it would get a little darker than these initial few weeks. But the prospect isn't scaring her yet and she leans into that, shaking her head on a laugh. "No, I don't. It might be better that way though...can't get comfortable only to disappear again." In her peripheral she catches valet headed to the car, making a call before she could truly think about it. "Do you want to come up for a bit?" Her skin heats at the offer almost immediately, trying to sort out how she felt or where her boundaries might lie in the quick seconds they still had. "That sounds presumptuous...look, I had a really good time tonight. I want to talk more before I'm off tomorrow and I won't be back for a while. I can't...I don't..." Lily presses her lips together to stop her ramble, embarrassed and caught out. "I'm just going to stop talking now."

[aaron eklund]

Aaron studies her under the bright hotel lights, trying to reconcile between the two-dimensional girl on the phone and the one materialized in his car seat. Trying to think of the last time he didn’t want the night to end, cautious between pressing for more and letting it settle. A strange version of lost time to make up for, an imposing distance that couldn’t be crossed. Until now, wishing to wind back the hands on the clock, steal a few more hours until her bus took off for more months on the road. Reminding him of his Army days, only this time he was the one staying behind. Whether he was going to see her off into the lobby or walk in with her, his fingers poise on the key in the ignition, ready for either outcome. There was no way to know how it would change the future, if this would be a last encounter or the one that tided them through until the next. How different it would be now that they knew the feel of hands and lips, the personal scents, the full weight of a gaze unhindered by a screen. A memory to hold and compare to, no longer a question of testing chemistry but containing the reaction. Sandwiched between security detail and incoming valet, Aaron felt the same urgency twist his tongue. Dare to keep this going, ask to come up. She beats him to the punch, Aaron palming the bundle of keys, jaw set to start moving until her voice filled the cabin. He chuckled at the onslaught of words, curious about this flash of nerves from the star of the night. “Yeah I’d like that. A lot,” he said easily, quieting her with a kiss across the center console, hovering close despite the people coming to gather expectantly around the car. “I’m not ready to call it a night. I just finally got you to myself.” Forfeiting his keys to valet, another oddity he wasn’t used to, loping around to the passenger side for her door. “Besides, I can’t let you leave town without gettin’ one of those bracelets for myself.”

[lily mccarthy]

LILY's words hang in the air, clumsy and hot, nerves spiking at the possibilities. It was rare these days to find her flustered, used to swallowing any stage fright and voicing her opinion, numb to the screams and the blindness of stage lights. But tonight felt blind in its own way, pixels turned to passive expressions, the fiddling of fingertips, the rush of her heart when he agrees. The soft of her sigh when he kisses her again. Lily's smile grows rapidly as her head dips down, ever aware of the possibility of someone shooting long lensed through the car window as Aaron looped around. Grateful that the hotel they'd booked was off the main drag and just private enough as he opened her door. Chivalrous, another quality to catalog, laughing as she twisted to collect the box in reminder. "We'll have to find you a good one." She can hear the beads rattle as they dip into the lobby. She can feel her heart in her throat as they spend the lazy seconds in the elevator staring at one another. Trying to remember if her suitcase was a mess and if room service still lingered, only to be greeted with a room that was surprisingly clean. "I'm going to be honest, it looked way more chaotic in here earlier," Lily admits, grateful for housekeeping as she waved in the direction of the couch. She grabs whatever she can out of the mini bar, cracking open another bottle of sweet tea as she settled the box and her newly acquired stash in front of them. "Alright, now's when I put you on the spot for your favorite song."

[aaron eklund]

Aaron followed Lily into the lobby, realizing some of the initial polish had buffed off. There were momentary reminders of her fame, and certainly more in her peripheral than he could even yet fathom, but even stronger than that was how grounded and normal she was. Not arrogant or demanding or expecting, courteous to the staff they passed—even though they could likely be bribed to snap pictures or divulge room details. She corresponded with her team and made sure they were settled too, taking care of the people who kept her going. And her hotel room looked lived in and not overly flashy, Aaron on her heels as the keycard lit up and the door swallowed them inside. His eyes roam out of curiosity, seeing what a handful of days equated to her. Couldn’t imagine the comfort of a big warm bath and sprawling out on a full-sized bed after her touring, either on the bus or on a stage. He pauses in front of the window, curious about the view before the couch calls to him, draping his jacket over a chair before claiming a corner. A night without a craving for nicotine, a night surviving a ghost, trying not to slip into his own head again as Lily settled next to him. The sight of the box makes him smile, his favorite type of gifts being functional and well-loved. His arm rested along the back of the couch, knees spread wide and foot tapping in thought. “That night after we FaceTimed the first time? I sat down and listened to the album from start to finish,” he admitted, a memory tucked away with a cup of tea and the curtains half drawn. Cautiously curious about indulging in her art, something private and intimate that she had invited. “You were right, ‘4:43’ is the saddest. I liked it though, cuts deep.” Probably a story for another day, what time and person she wrote about. “But ‘IKY’ was dreamy, might be my favorite. I listened to it a bunch while I was working,” he grinned, inspiring the very box he crafted. “Hearing it in person was somethin’ else… You are really amazing, you know. Feels lucky getting to know you in this order.” If only it could have happened sooner.

[lily mccarthy]

LILY crosses her legs over one another as she settles further into the couch, knee knocking against Aaron's thigh as she leaned further in to inspect her collection for the evening. She understood why the tradition was so well loved, and now that she had a place to put them all, carved specifically for this moment in her life...she can't help but warm to him further, digging through bright colors and keeping her eyes steadily downcast at his admission. Rarely did she have direct access to someone blind listening but it wasn't the time to press on every emotion and thought and high and low. Instead she keeps quiet, allowing him the space, smiling sadly when he mentions the hit that echoed her heartbreak. "We all know what it's like to chase a ghost, you know?" Her gaze lifts at that, staring briefly out the window before going back to searching. Not letting it wash over her, secrets kept for another time because what they had now was so finite. Deft fingers drag out a bracelet of varying blues, 'IKY' stark white against its setting as Lily fits it around his wrist. "Now it's yours," she says softly, adding an 'I ♡ Lily' rainbow one for good measure before she turns to face him, head falling against his arm above her. Intrigued at the comfort she felt in someone who'd been a stranger just weeks ago. "Thank you. It's all still a little surreal to me too, sometimes. I've just come around to allowing myself to be proud of everything." She drifts a hand through her hair, remembering when she'd needed others validation for her content to have worth. Now she had trusted her gut, this album a flurry of raw emotion and grief and acceptance and love and everything in between, and it had felt good. Never more so than when everyone was screaming it back to her. Or here, now, hearing it from inches away and knowing that he meant it. Lily propels herself forward, stealing another kiss before retreating to inspect the hand over her shoulder. She was unsure how much she'd want to push this physically tonight, knowing this was a delicate balance of dwindling hours and conversations not yet had. But it felt nice, being close, leaning into that as her fingers traced callouses and grooves. "I hope this hasn't been too overwhelming either...it's still wild to me how many people we know in common. How did you meet Taylor again?"

[aaron eklund]

Aaron catches her dark gaze, pensively tilting his head. “Chase a ghost or be someone else's, right?” he tests, part of deeper conversations they probably can’t broach yet, not when they were still celebrating the night. The kinds of topics shelved until heavier moods or after a few too many, the talks that felt like exchanging pieces of yourself you might never get back. He feels the cool plastic of the beads rolling over his wrist, smirking down at the sight of the two that come to adorn him, skin usually unadorned by jewelry but storied with marks and nicks from recent work or ancient history. Those fresh stitches still fading from view along the arm that draped her shoulders, feeling their bodies drift closer, the cushion dip beneath their combining weight. “Thank you,” he returns, warmed by the intimacy of the exchange. He hadn’t braved the majority of the crowd during the concert to participate in the rituals, but watched from his vantage point and understood how moving of a gesture it was. Making these little gifts, traveling with them, giving them to others without conditions. It was even more heartwarming that their leader herself took part. “Looks like I’m officially in the fan club… They have a name, your fans? Maybe ‘Lilies’ or 'petals' or something?” he teased, ruffling her hair with the hand she held hostage. His other hand ventured toward her adjacent leg, grazing shapes over the slope of her knee after pulling it over his. “Not overwhelming, no,” he reassured, still buzzing from her kiss. “Just different from the usual. Interesting. Memorable,” he reached for instead, traits he was already associating with her. “We met at an art class a year or so ago. I didn’t know who he was and the band wasn’t really on my radar, but we were the only two guys in the class. Ended up next to each other, struck up some conversation, started sharing other classes. Both looking for creative outlets, that sort of thing. Now we’re running out of ideas,” he chuckled, their novel options thinning and veering into odd or dangerous hobbies. “I’m not tryin to be the fifth band member, don’t worry. Seems I just find people in unexpected places,” he shrugged, soft enough as to not disturb her resting. Catching sight of her again muted his thoughts, conversation swirling away as he caught her lips again, slow and reserved, unhurried. “I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he wondered, another of those compliments she probably heard countless times a day, screamed and written and intoned so often they lost their power. “All your songs are…you. I don’t know, it's wild. I’ve never met anyone who reminded me of music itself.”

[lily mccarthy]

LILY smirks, echoing his movement. "Or both." Catching a thread neither of them likely wanted to pull tonight, heaviness avoided for a little more time. Maybe a late night down the road, or when nothing but the truth could make sense, confessions like that would slip. But she's now even more steadfast in the belief he really hadn't googled her, features jumping from solemn to scrunched as he ruffled her hair. "Very creative," Lily mumbles, smoothing it back out in a daze. Still transfixed by the nicks and scars she studied, knowing that hands held stories people often forgot to tell. Wounds, tattoos, worn fingertips, smooth palms...roadmaps of a lifetime, understanding what Taylor likely saw in him when they collided that day. Her eyes finally snap back when he mentions the band, groaning at the thought of him showing up to a studio with Cat's Cradle. What Isaac would think, even, free hand covering her eyes to block out her imagination. "Please don't, I get so much of them already." In actuality she would always be grateful to them, their blind support and advice and recommendations paving a way for her to make it how she wanted to. Making it possible to be here, now, kissing someone languidly in a hotel room in Los Angeles, thousands of miles still to run across the countryside. Savoring the calm, the steady, smile bright and uninhibited at his compliment. At the way his words strike home somewhere, leaning back in for another kiss because thank you suddenly doesn't feel good enough. Breaking away only to ask more questions, fill in gaps they'd been unable to across digital spectrums, conversations running like the water they drain from the mini bar. Losing track of time, of how many times they've kissed, of what train of thought bled into their next topic until Lily's opening her eyes suddenly, head now tipped quietly against his shoulder. "Oh no...did I fall asleep?"