femme fatale, noel & liam gallagher

𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐯. 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?

✧ 28th December 2002 ✧
Los Angeles, California

THE BIZARRE thing about emotions is that no breathing machine could move past it, no matter how hard one tries. Maia had been giving it her all to not enable the imaginary face of Noel's as he understood that he had been double-crossed by both his youngest brother and the deadliest sin of his love.

And deadliest sin was relevant, for he felt that he could have made things with Maia work, only had he controlled his thoughts and emotions and figured himself out. He regretted ever walking out the way he did, the Norwegian girl rubbing her reddened cheeks dried of any salty tears, her trembling hands uncontrollable and her poignant voice afraid to tell him to stay, to ask him to stay with her because she did not think that she believe that she deserved any more of him.

What Noel could not understand was her stacked piles of heart wrenching letters, all of which he spent hours and hours going through, days of lamenting and motionless figure, him, mundane and unspeakable. He was repulsed by how long it had taken him to put his cowardice and pride aside, to finally cave in and read each and every one of her letters. It took him over a year. A year as Maia Harket helplessly hoped that he was somewhere on the other side of the world, tracing his fingers along her writing and feel as though he was somehow connected with her, as if her words touched him in places nothing nor anybody else ever could. Maia accepted, however, that it was possible Noel had read it all and gave her no second thought. After all, she did what she had done. She simply held onto the hope that perhaps he would reach out, some day or another.

She thought of the possibility that Noel had read every word, all the vials of her tragedy and loneliness, the costly relapse of her addiction, Benson & Hedges, what should have been their family and future, Irwin——Maia did wonder if he had read them and shrugged them away. The mere thought of it caged her in a cell of suffocating rise of the ocean water, knocking her down the surface and making her choke at her own throat, her own tears as she realises that Noel Gallagher could not give one ounce of fuck towards her. But as degrading as it was for her, she continued writing, for she could never let go of their flames.

It had all been a grave misunderstanding. She had eventually sent him her final letter, bidding goodbye and forgiveness, that she was happy for his new family regardless of what he had named his daughter. It was certainly a slap in her face, much like he was saying fuck you and all of your dreams. He knew how much she clasped on to the name, she had told him of her fascination towards it and how it made her giddy and excited to have a daughter of her own. And now he had completely battered her in the face and covered them with spit, a huge fuck you for everything you have done to us. As if she had taken all of his happiness from the future away and in return, he wanted to do the same by ensuring that she could never live the motherly excitement she once had.

But that was not Noel's intention. He hadn't done it out of spite. He did not take away the name with the sole purpose of haunting her and making Maia see how he could be happy with somebody who was not her, and how he could make her unhappy by using their vows to name their daughter Anaïs if the opportunity ever came. Instead, he tore that vow apart and linked it to somebody else, another woman who was not her. It made her feel replaceable, and God how much that ached her. It may have appeared that way, when really it was not any of his intention. It was a silly and unwise choice, but faith in love had the ability to coerce him to act in such a way. He named his daughter after the name Maia wanted because it meant that the Norwegian would remain in his life, some way or another. They might not speak any longer, perhaps he could have gone on to resent her, and Maia the same when it came to him, but having his daughter named after that meant that Maia was in his life. That in spite of what had happened, he loved her still, and could not bear a day without having her in it——and the name was the perfect embodiment of Maia Harket. It was a promise they had, a shine on her dreams and future, it was fucked of him to have taken it all away but he had to be selfish too, he would have done anything, in particular, to keep Maia in his life. And if he could not have her as a wife, as a partner, a mother to his children, this, this would have to do.