Chapter Text
2000
It took less than an hour to move Liam’s life into Noel’s house.
They only had Jonny — Liam’s chauffeur — and Mike — Noel’s gardener — helping them. Both Jonny and Mike moved around the Marylebone house like a man trying not to trigger a landmine, keeping their heads down on a Saturday. No one was speaking.
Whenever Mike held up a taped-up box and looked at Liam, Noel found himself cutting in before Liam could even open his mouth.
"In the kitchen," Noel said.
Then came the heavy box. Jonny was hauling it out of the boot. Liam, looking smaller than he ever had in an oversized jumper that couldn't quite hide the curve of his midsection, stepped up. He reached a hand out.
Noel’s hand shot out, fingers pinching hard into the meat of Liam’s arm, jerking him back a step.
"Get inside." Noel’s teeth clicked together.
Liam didn't fight him, but his arm went tense under Noel’s grip. Noel let go, blew a sigh through his nose, and walked past him. He wasn't mad for it. He fucking hated manual labor, hated the damp, hated the fact that his private sanctuary was being breached box by box.
From across the avenue, the clack-click of a telephoto lens cut through the quiet. A pap. Noel hoisted his side of the box, and raised his left hand, shoving a middle finger directly to the street.
But his balance was off. His foot caught the lip of the stone step, his ankle twisted.
"Fuckin— hell!"
"Fuck. You alright, Noel?" Jonny dropped his knees to brace the bottom of the box before the untaped flaps could give way and spill Liam’s clothes all over the gravel.
Noel was already swearing under his breath. His ankle was throbbing.
He heard trainers coming. That familiar scent of Liam. He looked up, and there was him, hands reaching down to try and grab the loose top of the box.
He wanted to rip the box right out of the air just to keep Liam’s fingers off it.
Noel forced himself up. "You fuckin’ get back inside now," he spat. "Now."
Liam’s hands hovering an inch above the cardboard. "I only just wanted to help, man."
"You’re not fuckin’ helping," Noel stepped into the doorway, using his own shadow to block Liam from the street. "Inside."
Liam stared at him. It was a funny look — not his usual glare, but something narrowed, trying to read the tightness around Noel’s eyes. He looked like he was trying to figure out if Noel was being a cunt or if Noel was feeling something else.
Without another word, Liam turned on his heel and vanished into the dim hallway.
It’s tea time. Noel had been dreading it all afternoon. It was that hour where you couldn’t pretend to be busy with boxes anymore. You had to sit. You had to look at each other.
At least Susan was still there. She was currently at the sink in the kitchen next door, her washing up providing the only shield against the silence of the dining room. Noel had zero appetite. He’d actually ended up paying Susan double his usual rate just to ensure she’d come in for every single mealtime now, mostly because he couldn’t be fucking arsed cooking, but also because the house felt less like a tomb when there was an outsider in it. Susan had told him, in that maternal way of hers, that he didn't need to pay her a penny more. It was taking the piss out of him, really, because her kindness just made him feel like an arsehole. So he insisted on the money. Everything was a complicated mess now; every gesture felt heavy, every transaction loaded with things they weren't saying.
Noel looked down at his plate, then glanced across the table.
Liam’s plate was overflowing compared to his. Susan had followed the typed-out dietitian’s notes Liam had handed her earlier — perfectly grilled chicken breast, sweet potato, steamed broccoli, and a side of avocado. It was packed with all the vitamins and nutrients that Liam’s lifestyle usually ignored.
Noel’s plate, on the other hand, looked bare. He’d taken the exact same menu but stripped it right down to the bare minimum — a single piece of chicken and a miserable spoonful of veg. It took a while to ‘argue’ with Susan, but she gave Noel what he wanted eventually. He really couldn’t stomach the rest.
Noel hadn't said a word to Susan when the notes were handed over. Liam had just shuffled into the kitchen, dropped the medical paper on the counter, and mumbled something about "they said I need this lot." Noel had just shrugged from the doorway, and said, "Yeah. Just cook whatever’s on there, love."
But watching Liam eat now — watching the way his brother cleared the plate, lacking any of his usual animalistic gusto — Noel made a mental note to give Susan a tip at the end of the week. If this pregnancy was going to turn out to be a really fucking expensive habit…
Liam pushed a piece of broccoli around with his fork. "Susan’s a good skin," he mumbled.
Noel didn't look up from his chicken. "Yeah. She’s alright."
"Food’s decent," Liam added, chewing.
"Mhm.” Noel’s fork scraped against his own nearly untouched plate.
Liam let out a breath through his nose. He took another bite of the sweet potato, his shoulders hunched. Susan turned off the tap in the kitchen.
Noel didn’t like that Susan was finished with her job.
The only sounds left were Susan approaching from the kitchen, the muffled chew of Liam working his way through the sweet potato, and the electricity inside Noel’s own skull.
"Everything alright, boys?" Susan asked. She was just checking in before heading off.
Liam looked up, and gave her a soft nod. "Yeah. Fuckin’ brilliant, Suze. Best tea I’ve had in months, proper sorted me out."
It was a sweet comment. Too sweet.
Before Susan could even smile, Noel cut in, looking up to her. "Can you stay here tonight?"
"What do you mean?" Susan asked. "Stay here tonight?"
"Yeah," Noel said. "So you can make us some scran in the morning. Keep things moving."
He could feel Liam’s eyes burning holes into the side of his face. Susan looked at Liam, taking in his hunched shoulders, before her eyes drifted back to Noel.
"You know I can’t do that, Noel," she said. "My husband’s waiting for me at home. And our contract says nothing about overnight stays."
"Well, I’ve paid you double, didn’t I?"
"What the fuck’s wrong with you?" Liam snapped.
That earned a raise of Noel’s eyebrows. Noel didn't look at him, though. He dropped his gaze back down to his unfinished food, staring at the cold broccoli like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, ignoring his brother's existence.
Susan cleared her throat. She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, professional boundaries back in place. "Well, I’ll definitely be here in the morning, so you shouldn’t worry. I might come a bit later than usual, though, to get the proper groceries for you and your little one," she added, her tone softening as she directed the last part straight at Liam.
Liam gave her a grateful little smile. "Nice one, Susan. Tarah."
"Goodnight, Liam. Night, Noel," she said.
Neither of them answered as her footsteps retreated down the hall. The front door opened, let in a gust of the damp night air, and then clicked shut.
And then there were two.
Noel ate. He took a few bites, and then a few more. Liam was already finished with his, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Why the fuck would you say that to her?"
Noel kept his eyes back on the chicken, chewing more. "Like I said, didn't I? So she could make us some scran."
"Yeah, but threatening her with her pay? You're takin’ the piss, mate."
Noel then looked up. "I didn’t threaten her."
"Did you fuck," Liam spat. "Fuckin’ cornered her, you did."
Their eyes were on each other for a while. Noel didn’t say a thing, just staring across the table at his brother. Liam’s face was a bit chubby now, a soft fullness settling under his skin, but he’s still handsome. Pretty. His longer hair framed his face in a way that made him look softer, making him look even nicer despite the scowl.
Noel looked down again and ate.
Liam let out a sigh, looking at the tablecloth, before saying, "you’re being..."
"What?"
"Nevermind," Liam said, his voice dropping. "Forget it."
He then stood up away from the table and grabbed his empty plate. Noel immediately stood up too, his chair creaking as he reached across, took his own plate, and grabbed Liam’s too right out of his hand.
"Fuck— what— Noel.”
Noel made sure to grab the utensils.
“You haven’t even fuckin’ finished yours," Liam said, staring down at Noel's half-eaten veg.
But Noel was already walking away, his back turned. "You go sit down."
"‘r kid—"
But Noel ignored him and went straight to the sink. He put the plates down almost loudly. He might not be a good cook, but he knew how to do chores, something he was used to doing back in mam’s house when he was young. He washed the plates. He washed them thoroughly, scrubbing the grease away, and threw the rest of his own food into the bin. Usually, it was Meg who did the dishes, or they would just wait until the morning when their cleaner would come, but it’s a different house now — no Meg anymore — and he’d rather do anything than sit in his own thoughts. Sit with Liam.
He felt Liam walk into the kitchen, but Noel kept focusing on washing the plates.
Liam then said, "‘s like back at mam’s, innit? You’re fuckin’ good at doin’ the dishes, you."
Noel knew at this point that Liam’s trying to push past the silence. Noel couldn’t. His chest felt too tight for it. There were two glass cups left, and he had to wash them too, setting the first one down on the counter.
Then Liam, staying right in his spot by the frame, tried again. "Any update from Ignition, then? Marcus phoned?"
Noel grabbed the second glass and smashed it on the floor.
Liam jolted.
Shakily, Noel’s breath coming unevenly, he turned more to Liam and pointed a finger at him. "Don't fuckin’ talk to me," he murmured. "Don’t fuckin’ talk to me."
Not a word was said from Liam. This whole thing changed him too, when, before this, Liam would’ve screamed bloody murder at Noel for doing something like that. He would've thrown a punch or smashed a chair. But he’s more careful now. Vulnerable.
Feeling like he’d done something out of control, Noel’s eyes looked around the kitchen and then down to the floor before dropping to his knees, picking up the shards for no reason.
"Fuck, Noel…" Liam swore before he started walking closer, trying to walk around the shards.
Noel felt empty. He hissed through his teeth when a shard cut right into Noel’s finger, the bright red blood prickling out fast and smearing against his wet palm. He felt his t-shirt being pulled from above by Liam, and then Liam's hand wrapped around his arm, hauling him up as best as he could.
Liam grabbed Noel’s hand. When he saw the blood swelling out from the middle finger, welling against the wet skin, he hissed softly.
Noel wanted to get out of Liam’s space, to yank his arm back and tell him to fuck right off, but Liam was too quick. He dragged Noel back to the sink. It was weird. It was fucking doing Noel’s head in because Liam was being...
"Hold still, kid," Liam murmured.
He shoved Noel’s hand under the rushing water. The cold hit the cut, but the blood was still dripping fast, clouding the water pink before it could even hit the basin. It wouldn't stop bleeding. The red smear against his skin was making Noel’s head spin.
Liam watched the water fail to wash the red away.
He brought Noel’s index finger straight to his mouth and sucked the cut.
Noel’s almost jolted, but there’s warmth. There’s tongue. It was an old-school thing — something their mam used to do when they were little lads hurting themselves.
Liam pulled back, spitting a smudge into the running water of the sink. His lips were wet with it. He looked down at the cut again, his thumb wiping a drop of red from Noel's knuckle.
"Still running a bit," Liam said. He didn't look embarrassed. "Where’s the first-aid box kept, then?"
Noel only looked away, yanking his hand back before shuffling a bit to the long cabinet beside the fridge. He reached up to get the plastic first-aid box down.
The kitchen felt too small. Noel’s flat stomach bumped right into Liam’s bump — just a friction — and the contact made Noel feel even more sour inside. He could feel Liam moving, looking away to give Noel a bit of space, but not entirely. They were still pressed together in the tight gap by the counter, a closeness that was so familiar from a lifetime in a cramped bedroom and hidden sex, but it felt wrong now.
"‘s this how you gonna act all year with me, ‘r kid?" Liam asked. "All fuckin’ frozen out?"
Noel focused on tearing open a plaster with his teeth as he tried to fix his own finger, wrapping the fabric tight to crush the bleeding.
"Baby’s comin’ out in five months.” Noel’s eyes finally snapped up to look straight into his baby brother’s.
"That doesn’t even fuckin’ matter, don’t it," Liam said under his breath.
It didn’t to Noel. "Marcus phoned, by the way."
Liam looked at him. "Yeah? What did he say?"
"Said you’re out of the band."
There was silence. The water from the tap was still dripping into the basin with plip... plip... plip.
"I don’t think it works like that," Liam said. He swallowed hard, continuing, "Marcus told me they could still make it work, right. ‘m only gonna stay out of the band until the babe’s out, and then I should be straight back in. That’s what he said."
"You’re out of the band," Noel said.
"What?"
"You’re out of the fucking band, Liam."
There was silence again. It hurt to say it, but Noel couldn’t care less right now. He could see how Liam’s lips parted, his jaw working as if he was about to start a row, but then he just closed his mouth. The fight wasn't there.
"Did he really say that?" Liam asked quietly. "Or are you talking out your arse?"
"He did, yeah. It’s done."
Liam’s eyebrows furrowed.
"You decided on that yourself, did you?" Liam asked again. "You told him to log me off?"
Noel only shrugged. He kept his eyes on his wrapped finger, but there was a lump forming in his throat when he noticed a sheen of gloss catching the light in Liam’s eyes.
When Liam spoke again, there was a crack in his voice. "You own the band, right. You’re the one who writes the tunes. You can talk it out with him, yeah? Tell him it’s fine, ‘r kid. It’s fine. I’ll be good.”
Noel only frowned and shook his head, a gesture as if he didn’t know.
"Noel, c’mon.” Liam stepped right back into Noel's space. He grabbed Noel’s arm, forcefully stopping him from fixing his finger. "Noel. Look at me. You fuckin’ own the band, man. You own the band. You own me—"
"Yeah, and I said you’re out of the fucking band. How many fuckin’ times d’you want me to say it?"
His chest ached.
Liam didn't drop his grip. "You're a dickhead."
"Well if you can’t fucking stand my decision, leave then," Noel snarled. "Go back to Mam’s."
"Can’t.” Liam frowned, and the sheen in his eyes was thick now. "You know I can’t.”
Noel tried to yank Liam’s arm away. It’s like telling Liam to leave him and play with his own toys. "Then find a fucking hotel."
"Can’t," Liam’s voice cracking down the middle, his hand tightening over his belly. "I'm skint ‘cause of Pats...”
"Then sort it out!"
"Well I’ve got fuckin’ nowhere else to go!”
The shout echoed against the kitchen tiles. Liam was panting, his shoulders hunched inward as if he was trying to make himself smaller.
Noel stared at him. The desperation in Liam's eyes should have made him stop, but the terror of being the only thing standing between his brother and total ruin made him panic. He felt cornered in his own gaff.
And that was when Noel blurted the thing he shouldn’t.
"Then stop acting like you’ve got a fuckin’ choice. As long as you’re in this house, Oasis are done for you. End of.”
He backed away, swept the shards away with his shoe. He walked to the stairs. “Ungrateful slag,” he murmured under his breath. “Fuckin’ stuck with this. Some other fuckin’ cunt’s kid…”
He then, loudly, announced. “You sleep in my spare room upstairs.”