femme fatale, noel & liam gallagher

𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭-𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧

✧ 19th June 1995 ✧
London

THERE ARE days in which Maia Harket would be gravely certain did not occur, only a painted vision of black and white, entirely vague and lacking of any vivid picture.

The night before she left for the tour was one of them.

She wasn't sure what she was thinking when she agreed to work things out with Liam Gallagher, to knot a tie of attachment with him and hold on to each other even when they were off on two different tours, in two different continents.

The Maia Harket she had known would have never done such a thing, but it seems that guys like Liam Gallagher had a way of manipulating her marble and cold heart.

That morning, she woke up with Liam's arm around her bare body, his face pressed tenderly into her hair, Maia being held tightly into his embrace. It wasn't something she was familiar of, and it made her nerves twitch at the sudden change in her lifestyle, she had no idea if she was fond of the idea or if it only added weight to her doubts.

Because she was truly doubting her own choices now.

Maia spent the rest of the early morning making sure she didn't stir Liam awake. She took a long and cold refreshing shower, so as to wake her up from any irrational thoughts and to act accordingly, she pondered under the water, asking herself if this was the right thing to do. If she even had it in her to start something up with Liam now that they both agreed to give it a try.

And though they didn't say that they were dating, it was implied that it was exclusive, and that it meant that they had to stray away from any temptations from other people. That she could do, perhaps. And Liam, also perhaps.

When Liam woke up, he felt his heart drop at the emptiness of the Norwegian's bed, her lack of presence destructing the room. And he scanned around hazily to find that her packed suitcase from last night was no longer occupying the floor of the room. He was then convinced that she had left for the tour without another word, not even after they have agreed to work things out together—–and this, surely, was not the way.

To say that he was infuriated would be foolish, because words could not describe the emotions he was feeling.

Liam stormed out of Maia's room, pushing himself into the living area with a locked jaw, merely slumping in relief when he sees her by the kitchen. He approaches her in an instant, taking notice of the bottle of whiskey she was actively sipping from, looking like she had everything and nothing on her mind.

"Mai."

She lifted her eyes up at him, blinking, almost like she had forgotten that he was still at her place. Or the fact that he had slept over, in spite of Liam's sleepy hair tousled in every direction, the heaviness of his hazed eyes, and the morning voice he had on. "Morning." She says.

Liam pointed to her suitcase. "Were ye just going to piss off?"

"You were sleeping." Maia defended, proving Liam's assumption to be correct. And yet, she found nothing wrong with that. She thought it was rather considerate, knowing that Liam didn't always get much sleep. She figured that he needed some rest if he was going to head off to Bath for the pre-Glastonbury practice, and then doing the festival. Even if the underlying intentions were simply that she didn't exactly want to face him——afraid, and unsure of her very own decisions. She really did want to try and start things up with Liam, she knew very well that she had grown to become very fond of him, that she always wanted him around. Maia, though she was yet to say it out loud, was aware that she thoroughly liked Liam Gallagher, and that the nervous feeling was progressing into becoming something more and more. This all frightened her, and she began to ponder if she had it in her to do all this after all. "I didn't want to wake you up."