Dry your eyes mate (Open)

[Jack McCarthy]

Jack hasn’t moved from his spot at the bar for hours on end. Why would he, it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to be right about now…..
….Not anymore at least….
Onnie had broken the news to him that morning. Her father had taken ill, very much ill actually…


….she had to leave. She didn’t know when she would be back….
Jack didn’t want to be alone in the apartment...it was too, big too empty, too quiet. he had to leave that was certainly…..And he didn’t want to be sober, There were a lot of confused emotions going through his mind and he really couldn’t tell what direction was up or what was was down but that was certainly the truth….he just sat there staring at the wall nursing a beer totally observed in and focused on the wall in front of him, what was he on now? Was this his second? Third? Did it matter? If Jack could still count he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he wanted to be...he wanted to drink until judgement day. He wanted to stay here until he physically became apart of the furniture and his body just fused against this stool.
or until this big hole in his chest was numb and it physically became impossible for him to feel

[Layla Harlow]

Day number three at the bar and Layla figured she was merely replacing one problem with another. The idea was to get better, but she wasn't getting better, she was at a stalemate. Completely engulfed in her own drama, her own sick mind and how she intended on fixing it. Drinking wasn't going to fix anything, but socializing might....right? She wasn't social, she hadn't been for seven years because once she had a kid, there was no point in being social. She couldn't do anything, she couldn't go out and be a teenager or a young adult, she had to be a mom first. She had responsibilities. It was a wonder that in that time she'd managed to somehow catch someone's eye and then poof just like that it was over. The truth was, she wasn't over Isaac, she wasn't ready to be. So in order to make it somehow okay, she was either going to drink until she felt numb, or she was going to pretend she didn't feel anything.

Patch had been more than helpful with Nicholas, as well as his parents and he'd been happily spending time with friends from school so she was aloud to lack on responsibility for the time being. Once she could finally get herself out of this slump, she'd go back to being Super Mom, but until then, she was just going to be a normal twenty-two year old at a bar trying to drink and forget.

Upon walking in, Layla looked for an empty seat and the one she zeroed in on was next to someone all too familiar. Her heart skipped and she frowned. This was not how she wanted her first time of seeing Jack in so long. She didn't want him to see her as a mess of a person because she was supposed to be strong. But the closer she got to him, the more she realized that maybe she wasn't the only one drinking to forget something. He looked like she felt and her frown only deepened when she saw how empty his expression was. Hesitantly she placed her hand on his shoulder, "Do you need a nipple for that beer or are you going to drink like the Irish man I know you to be?" Perhaps she should have been more sensitive, but with Jack, it had always been sarcasm first, serious stuff later. "It's been a while, Jack-Jack."

[Jack McCarthy]

Jack has been known to go into a different mindset when he really got lost in his thoughts...or in his own little musical world, to be more accurate and he did that at the best of times but now? Now he was totally emerged in his mind, locked in with his own head a prison of clustered memories, a den of self-loathing and backwards thinking of it’s finest, he just went around and around over his head like some kind of horrible mental water torture that wouldn’t stop until Jack was rendered a weeping sobbing mess.


Thankfully before that actually happened he felt someone grab his shoulder and Jack quickly tensed up almost jumping a foot in the air in shock before tilting his head down ashamed of his tears wiping the back of his hand against his face hoping to shield his shame clearly distracted “Wait what? Oh yeah yeah yeah….long time no see, Larry...ummm...Layla” Jack didn’t say anything for a good long moment before he spoke up again “....You know anything about Africa?

[Layla Harlow]

Layla felt the way his whole body tensed as she touched him and it was like a violent shove into Mom Mode. He was clearly upset, pulling one of those discreet 'I'm not crying' moves by wiping his hand against his face. She'd done it all too many times to be convinced. Her and Jack were very similar all things considered and time had done nothing to change that. But from what she had heard of him, he had been doing well. Jack had beaten cancer. He had a girlfriend who was treating him well and who loved him. She hadn't had the chance to meet this girl, but Layla didn't feel that she needed to. So why had she found him a mess in a bar trying to drink until he forgot whatever was plaguing him?

Her eyebrow arched at the name flop and and even more so when he asked about Africa. What could he possibly want to go to Africa for? Part of her was scared, afraid that the cancer had come back and he was drinking because he knew he wasn't going to beat it this time, but she pushed the thought from her mind. He had beaten it. It wasn't coming back. This was something different, it had to be.

She sat at the stool next to him, her hand still resting gently on his arm, "Jack what's going on? Why do you want to know about Africa?" Layla had forgotten her own problems because that was what she did. It wasn't just the mom part of her that had made her that way. She always sort of had been. But the mom side definitely made it worse.

[Jack McCarthy]

Jack didn’t want to talk about this. Not in the least. The last thing he ever wanted. Was anyone’s pity. And he knew that was what he would get. People would feel sorry for him and tell him it was going to be ok and blah blah blah. If he had his own way no one would know. He didn’t want this getting out. He just wanted to live in some kind of magical wonderful forcefield that’ll prevent anyone from getting too close,


He just wanted to be alone…..


But of course, Layla being Layla just had to pry……


Jack knew that Layla wouldn’t give up anything soon...she might as well just tell her now….


“Onnie went back to Africa this morning...Were done”


Jack said this in a numb emotionless voice like this had happened to a distant friend of his and not him as he downed his drink with a grimmest staring down at the grimy table…




They should really clean up here….

[Layla Harlow]

Fuck. Layla cringed at his answer and really wished she would have just remained oblivious to his mood or perhaps ignored it and got him even more drunk instead of letting him wallow. She knew what it was like, heart break and the way it could make someone want to curl up and die or just forget. Of all people, she knew how bad it could be when you lost someone that meant everything. Only those who were lucky got to feel numb without self-inflicting a numbing agent. She'd drank her fair amount after Isaac and was still drinking heavily to forget losing herself.

And all because she was familiar with who he was and how she was about these sort of things, she didn't apologize. Apologies didn't fix anything. Sympathy didn't fix anything. It wasn't going to bring Onnie back to him or mend his broken heart. Having fun, letting loose and forgetting was what had helped her. Putting it off until she couldn't any longer. Maybe Jack just needed to get all of the drinking and sorrow out of his system by passing out half-naked by a dumpster or something?

The bartender came across them finally and Layla smiled, "Can I get two shots of the most potent liquor you have on hand?" Once he nodded and set two shot glasses down, Layla patted Jack's shoulder. "Wanna see who can outdrink who? As an Irishman you shouldn't be able to decline a challenge, but I understand if you're scared. I'm pretty damn good at drinking people under the table." She smirked and did her best to pretend that what he'd said hadn't actually been said out loud.