Summertime Madness

20 December 1990. Noel just came back home from touring with the Inspirals. It was supposed to be a short break for Christmas, and then they were leaving again — to Japan or Australia, or fucking Narnia. Far enough not to look back. The only direction Noel strove to go was forward. He would stay on the road forever if he could, always moving, never pausing. But sometimes he had to face the boring reality.

Exhausted, Noel lay on his bed, still wearing his jumper and jeans. It was properly freezing, the wind howling outside and throwing gusts of snow against the window. He burrowed under the covers for warmth, but sleep refused to come. After almost a year of hotels and tour buses, everything felt too familiar. It was dangerous to get too comfy. The times when this room was his whole world were over. He didn't want to remember what it had felt like — looking at the sliver of the sky and dreaming, writing shitty songs and sharing them with the one who wouldn't laugh.

When the hour hand crawled to 11, the door opened with a loud creak. Liam stormed in, bringing in the cold air and the heavy cigarette smell. He flicked the light switch on and stopped in his tracks, noticing that Noel's bed was no longer empty.

"What are you doing here?" he asked dumbly.

The sudden brightness was killing Noel's eyes, and he narrowed them until his brother became a blur.

"Trying to sleep, you daft cunt," he grumbled. "So shut the lights, will you?"

Liam flicked them off, opting for the bedside lamp instead. Noel stuck out his head from under the blanket and looked him over. The kid had grown. He was taller than he'd been the last time Noel had seen him; his shoulders were broader, and his hair was longer. His face remained stupidly angelic, though. In the golden orange halo, he seemed like an ethereal creature. Then he opened his mouth.

"The Rugs have finally sacked you or what?" he smirked, collapsing onto his own bed and turning to Noel.

"Or what. Why would they sack me anyway?"

"'Cause you can't do nowt, can you? They won't pay you for snorting lines and sucking dicks forever, yeah?" Liam drawled with a sleazy smile and a brief glint of disgust in his eyes.

"Oi, mind your fucking language!" Noel snapped. His cheeks flushed hotly at the remark. Maybe he had done it occasionally, all right. But it was just… perks of the job.

"Well, I know for a fact that you haven't lifted a fucking thing in your life!" Liam snapped back, the anger seeping into his voice. "So don't fucking tell me you're suddenly up for it now."

Noel pushed back the covers and propped himself on one elbow, leaning closer to his brother between their beds.

"You pathetic little cunt," he spat, the blood boiling in his veins. "Mam told me about your little band thing. You're thinking if you wail into the mic every Friday, you're a musician now? A rock star? A fucking know-it-all?"

Liam gawked at him, his gaze turning guarded and vulnerable at the same time, but Noel couldn't be stopped.

"So I'm gonna tell you something. You're no one, and you're not gonna be someone. You can't fucking sing, and your shite mates are useless as well, so shut your gob and leave me the fuck alone. Understand?"

Liam didn't reply. Noel flopped back onto the mattress and huffed. That's fucking why he hadn't wanted to come back. Liam and his fucking ability to turn him into a monster in a matter of seconds. Never a moment of peace with this fucking kid.

After a couple of silent moments, Noel heard a sniff.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, sitting upright and rubbing his face with his hands. "Are you fucking crying?"

Another sniff. Noel threw a sideways glance at Liam. He lay motionless like a mummy in a museum, his eyes turned up towards the ceiling. Great.

"Come on," Noel tried again. "Don't be a fucking drama queen."

"Fuck off," Liam said, waving him away and moving to lie with his back to Noel.

A pang of irritation and guilt pierced his chest. The truth was he had missed the kid. Missed him too much, actually, the intensity of it making him even moodier than usual. He didn't like the enormous thing he felt for his brother. He didn't feel anything like it for Paul or Mam, or his girlfriend. It was this exclusive, for-Liam-only kind of love and hate and longing.

Noel watched his back twitch with each quiet sob. He was always a cry-baby, unashamed to show his emotions to whoever was there. But when it came to Noel, he was almost shy about it, as if his weakness could become a weapon in Noel's hands. On more occasions than one, Liam was right.

"Hey, kid," Noel called, then walked up to his bed and sat down. "Don't cry, yeah?"

"Go away," Liam mumbled, shifting closer to his edge of the bed.

"I've only just come back," Noel joked, but it didn't land. He hesitated, then placed his hand on Liam's shoulder, the thick woolen jumper warm and rough against his palm.

Liam tried to shake his hand off, but Noel squeezed harder, muscles tensing under his fingers.

"Shouldn't have come back," he sniffled. "You don't need us anymore, and we… We don't need you."

Noel leaned in until there were only inches between them.

"Do you really think that?" he asked, his lips almost brushing the shell of Liam's ear.

Liam gave him a quick, quizzical look.

"Yeah," he whispered and held his breath, waiting to see what Noel would do next.

"Then you're wrong."

Everything around them went very still. The wind calmed down. There was no sound apart from their breathing and the clock ticking on the wall.

Noel pressed down on Liam's shoulder, and he gave in, falling back onto the mattress. Finally close enough to see clearly, Noel studied Liam's face. The stubborn line of his bushy eyebrows. The delicate flutter of his dark lashes. The slope of his nose, the faint stubble on his cheeks. His full, slightly dry lips. The kid was perfect. More perfect than perfection itself.

Staring into the wide, translucent blue eyes, Noel closed the gap between them and placed a tentative kiss on Liam's mouth. His brother froze, but didn't push him away, so he kissed him again — and again — until Liam moved, slipping his hands into Noel's hair and drawing him closer.

Noel didn't expect the soft whimper that escaped him when their lips parted and met again. The warmth of Liam's mouth was welcoming and all-consuming, making Noel dive in over and over. Kissing Liam felt like gently rocking on the waves, like having the best trip ever. It was relaxing, it was risky, it was wrong and it was right. It was everything Noel could ever dream about.

Eventually, Noel climbed into Liam's bed and snuggled up to him, letting himself put a hand around his brother's torso.

"So when's your gig?" he asked, nuzzling into Liam's chest.

"Dunno," Liam sighed and stroked his back lightly. "Next year probably. We need to write more songs. Will you come?"

Noel looked up and gave him a small smile.

"I'll try, kidda."

"It'll be better than the fucking Rugs. Better than the Roses even. It'll be fucking biblical, man," Liam said, and Noel believed him this time.

They lay like this for a while longer, chatting and laughing, their room once again turning into Noel's whole world.

When he started drifting off, he thought, I'm gonna remember this day.

The day we kissed for the first time.