"𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗵𝗲𝗿."
𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒, the greatest rock band the generation has ever seen, the bona fide rockstars of their time.
𝐌...
this chapter was genuinely difficult to write because of Maia and Irwin, bits of sensitive topics as well (ie. drug overdose, sa). they're not explicit but it is implied. I hate writing it but it was important to her character and therefore I had no choice but to make it sad and horrible.
warning: you will absolutely fucking hate Irwin, if you haven't already.
another (good) warning: we're getting closer to the Liam train.
now, pretty pretty please vote and comment (or not..) but to those who are disappearing after the Noel and Maia downfall.. watch your backs.
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✧ 24th June 2002 ✧ Los Angeles, California
CHILDREN attain a designated scent for how they venture past the narrowed isles of their impermanent days, fruitful and skied with purity. In a way, it urged them to see the world how their innocent flares see fit. It should be illustrated with illuminating sun glares and a boisterous appreciation for the little things. Nothing else mattered then.
All except the desire to rush off to the local park and spot one's adoring friend, to play footy, which soon progressed to smoking blunt behind the trees late at night, and gasping with lust, it would have jumped to heated and sloppy kisses against the trunk of the tree—––quiet and breathless moans slipping into one another's mouths, a boy's hand risking its way up to her breasts. She would desperately pull the boy closer to her body, hardened cock and sensitive core resorting to burning friction through their denims.
Anybody would recall a similar and universal experience. A moment that ends no soon after one turns eighteen, and the whole world shuts blind. The innocence and ignorance regarding realism no longer come into play, one is met with the knocks of the real world. One can never return to being twelve years old, and in any case, sixteen years old.
But Liam Gallagher and Maia Harket were the exception. Their concealed night together in London battled them back into the old periphery of childhood rowdiness and innocence. They were back to being kids and scribbling the buildings around them with animated graphics, the half sun drawn on the corner of the page. They were twelve and shy. Those unsubtle temptations, the eager pinkies reaching out for love, and the instant lookaways whenever caught staring dazedly. They were sixteen and desperate. Stolen glances left and right, the flashing images of kissing one another as though the night would have cried had they not done so, to speak about their lives and establish that they had found their soulmates.
Twenty two and wild and naive.
Now they were morose and discontented and most importantly, lonely. They were lonely without Liam and Maia. That one night in London integrated the greatest love story of their time, they were Liam and Maia, and now they were merely Liam and then Maia.
