#birdoncrowtree

Noel seems taken aback by this. “Quiet? With you around? I don’t believe that,” he says with a small chuckle. He holds Liam a bit tighter. “You talk like a—“

“I didn’t talk,” Liam interrupts. His voice now lacks the emotion it once had—flat, and monotone, and gravelly. “I just didn’t. Not at home, anyway. There was no one to talk to here, at home. You know that? With you gone I had no one to talk to.”

Sighing, Noel feels a twinge of annoyance. “Lee, that ain’t my fault—“

“I know.” Liam sighs, too, pulling away from the hug and sitting himself on the edge of the bed, next to Noel. “I’m sorry, I ain’t…. Blaming you. I just, I couldn’t talk ‘bout this all, not with the lads and not with Mam and not with Paul… I really missed you, Noely.”

And there’s that shame again. Creeping up Liam’s throat and making him want to vomit. It’s so strong his hands are trembling and his lip quivers. He feels disgusting, and evil, and damned, and he’s never quite believed in Hell but he’s almost certain that’s where he’s going to end up. And he doesn’t know why all of it is until Noel starts to speak again.

Slowly, his voice lulls Liam into a sense of security. A sense of warmth, familiarity, comfort. Noel’s voice made him calm, it always could.

But now, it was also making him unbearably, indescribably devastated.

“I missed you too, kid,” Noel replies softly, and there’s a hand on the bottom of his neck, now. Warm, and calloused, and comforting, and Liam just can’t take it anymore.

When he does kiss Noel, it hurts more than anything Liam’s ever done. He’s all wet lips and desperation, and he knows Noel can feel the anguish.

Strangely, Noel kisses him back. Calmer than Liam, as if he’s following his little brothers lead, letting him work whatever’s in his system out. Liam wraps his arms around his older brother again, more shakily this time, holding his pajama shirt so tightly in his fists he feels he might rip the fabric.

His dishes drop and vomit rises in his throat he can barely keep down. He starts to wonder.

What was he doing, now days?

Was he thinking about Liam, too? Is that why he felt like he was going to throw up? He presses a hand to his mouth. Toes the broken dishes away so he can lower himself safely to the floor. His ears ring and his vision goes hazy. The floor isn't felt beneath him.

Gene and Lennon would be rushing downstairs now. Even in a big house, when it was as empty as it was the sound would travel. The teens were like twins. They always came down in a pair.

God, Liam was going to be sick.

Does Noel ever feel like this, too?

Liam can't breathe. He hears the shouts of, "Dad! Dad? What's going on?" Vaguely too he can feel the kids shaking him. He doesn't know which one instructs the other to Call Mum.

He remembers when he and Noel were like that. So close they were almost telepathic. Maybe his kids weren't like that. He hoped to fucking God his kids weren't like them.

But then maybe.... There were good times, as well. Times where Noel would show him a new song, or stand in the kitchen and lean on the counter and they'd talk for hours. He remembers the laughter. He remembers how Noel's hands felt and how it was to kiss him with a smile and giggle. All the inside jokes he would never hear again. All the sound checks they slept through laced together like twine, but now Liam could hardly close his eyes—

"Dad, Mum's on the way, okay? It's alright. We're right here, Dad."

"He won't breathe," one of them says.

"Dad, just breathe, it's gonna be alright.."

So he tries. And slowly, each breath gets easier to suck in. He starts to feel the hardwood beneath his bum and his son's hands holding his, on his shoulders, patting his back.

There was a reason it ended. There was a reason, even if he couldn't see it now. He didn't have to go back to learn the same lesson twice. He was better, now. He wasn't a beaten dog with a cruel owner.

The pattern had to break.

The cycle had to end.

Liam had to keep it up.

His eyes blink back into focus, he finds himself staring hard at the cabinets. His hand squeezes Lennon's.

It was going to be okay again.

He whispers it, as if its a secret, hidden behind his propped up notepad.

Across from him, sitting at the same science table, Guigsy squints in disbelief. "No you didnt," he accuses. He doesnt bother whispering, just says it into the classroom. "No girl wants you." Liam rolls his eyes at his friends attemp to be funny.

"Im serious....." He shifts his eyes. "But .... She...." It feels wrong on his tongue, "she was older. And.... I dont think i like having sex. I dont wanna do it again. Is that weird?"

Guigsy's face twists in confusion. "Older? How old?" And he can tell his friend is starting to believe him.

Liam hesitates. But he does end up spitting it out. "Ah... T-twenty."

Guigsys tired eyes shoot open. "Twenty!?"

Immediately, Liams shushing him. "Jesus fucking Christ, dont shout it to all of England," he hisses. And before he can stop and think about it, he confesses, "I dont think I even wanted to do it."

His life was a mistake. A third child they shouldnt have had, with trouble in his eyes from a young age. It was his fault this all started in the first place.

Liam sniffs, a tear running down the tip of his nose. "This is all my fault," he says into the air. "I never should have....." He doesnt know how to finish that.

Wiping his eyes, he digs his cellphone out of his pocket, vibrating silently in his hand. He doesnt look at the caller ID—whoever it was would have to talk Liam off this ledge or else rewind time when he jumped. It was unfair, he knew that. Mistakes are often unfair.