Smashed Pianos ~ Liam Gallagher

MORNING FURY

A/N: TWENTY YEARS SINCE 'BE HERE NOW' WAS RELEASED!

That's mental to be honest, especially since it was my younger sister's tenth birthday today - the album is twice her age!

It's also probably my favourite album currently because it's just so bloody obscure... And maybe even my favourite Oasis album? My personal favourite on the album is Fade In-Out mainly as it is so all over the place you can't really keep up and Liam's voice is insane.

I'm late for work and slightly hungover. I've just got back from Southampton and haven't even slept yet. I'm wearing the same clothes as yesterday, same makeup and same sticky hairspray, but I've cleaned up quite well in my defence.

Sat on my opaque desk is a piece of faded lined paper covered in scrawny handwriting. I sigh and scrunch it up in my fist, about to throw it away when I stop myself and gather my thoughts, not wanting to act rashly like usual and then regret my actions.

I gingerly flatten out the creased paper and clear my throat even though I won't be reading the note out loud, a stupid habit I suppose.

But of course it's just Liam grovelling and apologising halfheartedly; I can almost imagine him writing this hunched over the sink in the ladies' bathroom and not even rereading it or batting an eyelid.

This time I do throw it in the bin.

:-:-:-:

My apartment feels slightly less lonely, especially since Ruth has given me tons of photo frames full of faded Polaroids of the two of us. It must've taken her ages.

I've already hung up the frames all over the apartment, lining each and every wall. It looks more like a home now, less like I'm under house arrest.

I slam down my keys, shrug off my jacket and quickly shower and change into some fluffy pyjamas before settling down in front of the television to watch some drippy reality show I only watch hungover. I'm feeling too queasy to even eat, the sight of a simple glass of water turning my stomach all funny and squishy, and when the television break comes on and there's an advert for discount prawns, I actually think I might throw up.

I hold back the urge to vomit all over the new cream carpet and shimmy down into the brown squashy sofa, yawning as the show comes back on, two celebrities screaming at each other and one throwing a vase full of suspiciously yellow liquid at the other. I squirm.

August's issue is sat opposite me on the coffee table; it was printed a couple of days ago and will be ready to ship in a few more. Normally when I take home the first copy I read it straight away (occasionally finding the odd printing error which infuriates me - bloody editors) but this time I can't bring myself to hold the glossy paper in my hands, not wanting to even look at page seven and see him again.

I kick the magazine off the coffee table lazily with my toe and turn my attention back to the two celebrities. It seems security had to get involved and one of them has a cruel gash to the nose gushing burgundy blood all down their cashmere jumper. I feel bad for her. Cashmere is expensive. But what makes me feel even worse is how I know all the trouble Liam has been in recently, he's faced prison sentences, he's assaulted people, been fined and all. I can't believe I fell for him, and it makes me feel bloody stupid. I could've gone for anyone, a pleasant guy with a secure job who doesn't smoke or get too drunk, but no, I have to fall for the lunatic in the weird coat.

A knock at the door makes me groan, and at first I ignore it, but the person persists, their knocking getting even louder and more angry sounding, so I trudge up from the sofa and amble to the door.