âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Liam Gallagher (II) •

Happy New Year! I hope you've all had a great Christmas/holiday period! I have finally been struck by inspiration and motivation, so please enjoy this piece. As per usual with this strange man, quite a lot of swearing ahead! 📢

--☆--

"D'ya know what?" Liam said through an exhale of smoke. "I reckon this is the best cigarette I've ever fucking had."

You'd been lying back looking at the stars, but at his voice breaking through the comfortable silence, you pushed yourself onto your forearms. Liam had laid his coat on the grass for you to lie on, and your elbows slid slightly on the plush orange lining. "You said that about the last one."

"Yeah," he conceded, "but this one's well better." He was sat up against a large, wizened tree, breathing smoke out into the night like the dying embers of a campfire. You could only just see him through the dark.

Liam had managed to secure a little bit of weed through a friend of a friend and instantly called you to sneak into Cringle Park with him to smoke through it. Untrusting of his friend's dealer, you'd declined the pot but happily agreed to sit with him in the darkness. He'd long since finished it but was now gaspingly chain-smoking regular cigarettes as though they would prolong his high.

"It's more," he paused, staring down at the cigarette in all-consuming thought. "spiritual."

There was a silence, during which you looked at him with a smirk, and he tipped his head back to exhale another lungful of smoke, the pale column of his throat illuminated starkly in the spot of light from his cigarette.

"You're so fucking high," you said after a beat, unable to conceal your laughter as he grinned over at you.

"I am so fucking high," he giggled.

Shaking your head, you shuffled back to lie down once more on his coat.

"Oi." Your unsuspecting shoulder was suddenly poked by a muddy black Adidas trainer. "Don't go back to sleep. I wanted you here to talk, and shit, y'know," Liam said, jabbing you once more with his foot.

"Piss off," you said, slapping out at his foot and missing it by a hair's width. "I weren't asleep." Somewhat reluctantly (and stifling a yawn), you sat back up once more, leaning back on your hands as a cold gust of wind brushed at your cheeks. "Anyway, you haven't said nowt apart from how good your cigs are."

"Hey, that's fucking important conversation." He sniffed conspicuously, blowing smoke purposely your way. You huffed out a long, visible breath of air to break up the cloud, and as it dispersed, you stared at him, waiting for him to make this awe-striking conversation.

Liam avoided your eyes, watching instead the adventure of a squirrel that had emerged suddenly into the one and only street lamp in sight, on the path a good few feet away. With that warm glow, you could only just make out the silhouette of Liam's nose, the jut of his eyebrows, the ends of his shaggy hair.

When he didn't say anything more after his whining, you shook your head, straightened out his coat, and lay back down, shutting your eyes. The summer had been warm, somewhat of a rarity, and you had attempted to make the most of every minute of it. It only hit you then, in the muggy darkness, how tiring making the most of every minute of it had been.

You couldn't be certain if you had truly fallen asleep or if you were just dozing, but the first light drops of rain caught you by surprise. There hadn't been a cloud as you'd watched the heavens only a half hour before, so the first splash on your face made you jump.

You looked up to the sky and, when the fresh, cold droplets began to hit your skin in quick succession, you balked. Instantly, you struggled to your feet, and hurried under the tree Liam was currently hiding beneath, grabbing his coat as an afterthought.