Smashed Pianos ~ Liam Gallagher

TIMES HAVE CHANGED

A/N: Wowzies it's been a bloody long time since I've updated any of my books!

The new school term has hit me like puberty hit Scarlett Johansson and I'm currently being snowed in by - and no, not literal snow - by books. Masses and masses of text books. In fact, this year has been so mental, I actually got handed an A3 photograph of trench foot in my history lesson on Tuesday. Trench foot. And for what purpose? 'To help me emphasise'. I don't see how making me feel violently ill before lunch is being empathetic to be honest.

Anywho, here's a little part :3

~ Sam

By morning, Liam has gone, only a crumpled up blanket left smothering the sofa to prove his stay. Not that I have anybody to prove it to, mind.

I feel seemingly empty, as though someone has just drained my soul turning me into an emotionless void.

I sit in his place, blanket pooling at my feet. It has his scent, musky and stuffy but also with that same hint of subtle innocence. I bring the blanket to my nose and inhale, still that empty feeling, still that blank stare and still no idea what I even want.

Birmingham. He mentioned Birmingham. Some interview or something... I can't quite remember, but if he was to go anywhere, surely it would be to where the band are?

Before I can really logically think through what I'm doing, I'm out of the front door in my scruffy pyjamas and lifeless slippers, the harsh edges of concrete digging into the soles of my feet. I ignore the stares, drivers swiping a double take, children in pushchairs mocking me with their naïve eyes. But still I run, all the way to the train station, only to be met with a board informing me that the last train to Birmingham is leaving in under two minutes, and to make my life even harder, it's on the opposite platform to which I'm stood.

The station is far too busy and crowded for people to even give me a small glance, no one seems fussed unlike out on the streets, people too busy thinking about their own lives, meetings, appointments, conferences, their families awaiting their late arrivals at home this evening, friends counting on them to make it back in time for after work drinks. People living their lives on every platform in very different - but comfortable - ways.

I pass a busker on my way to the third platform, a battered acoustic slung across his chest. Normally I would stop, plant a crumpled note in the case, but today, I have nothing on my person accept my pyjamas. Not even a bra for fucks sake. I'm a woman on the edge.

Platform three feels safe underneath my feet and I breathe a sigh of total relief, only to have my heart sink all the way down to my toes when I see the train in the distance, having just collected all of its eager passengers and now beginning the lengthy journey to Birmingham. Too little too late.

My shoulders slump and I hold back the tears. Some things just aren't meant to be I guess.

The train leaves a trail of airy dust behind it, making me splutter and step backwards. The entire platform is swarmed in the sandy grains and my eyes begin to itch viciously.

I look so stupid. I feel it too.

Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I sniff and allow my eyes to dry up and rid themselves of any tears before pivoting and making my way in the opposite direction to which the train just left, taking a mass of passengers, including Liam, with it.

The busker looks at me with sympathetic eyes as he sees me nearing, however, as the dust begins to settle and the platform comes into focus, I notice a hunched over figure sat on one of the rusted benches lining the station floor.

Liam.

I wasn't too late.

I keep my walk very neutral, a slow pace, keeping my eyes ahead of me whilst I wander up beside him and take a seat on the bench, but still my heart thumps violently in my chest and my palms grow clammy, however, he doesn't even look up from the floor, shaggy hair forming a protective blanket over his eyes.

"I thought I'd missed you." I manage to blurt out after a while, hands pressed firmly against my thighs because I'm slightly nervous to say the least.

He looks up at the sound of my voice, frown replaced by a cautious smile. "You're like God." Is all he says, a cheeky grinning forming on his face.

"How?"

"You're everywhere."

I laugh at this, bringing my knees up onto the bench and drowning out the sound of the busker's average guitar playing coming from behind me. "I didn't think you were religious."

"I'm not." Liam continues, "But there's got to be somethin'. You know?"

It's always struck me as slightly odd how we can go back to talking like this, just like we did eight years ago when everything was simple and everything seemed easy. It shouldn't be this natural but it is.

"Why'd you come here?" Liam queries, tugging the cigarette from out of his mouth and stamping it out onto the littered ground beneath us.

I shrug, "I couldn't leave things like that Liam."

He turns to face me now, eyes burning into mine. "And how do you want to leave things?"

I groan out loud and throw my head into my hands, "Why do we have to even leave things in the first place? You always make things seem so final and I'm bloody sick of it."

Liam smirks, "I like it when you get mad."

I knock my shoulder into his at that comment, "I'm trying to be nice and you're making it very difficult." I admit.

"Okay, okay," Liam sighs, tilting his head up and resting it against the back of the bench, proudly showing off the violent bruise to his jaw as he does so. "First things first, you need to get out of your pyjamas," he says with a smirk before continuing, "And then we'll see. Deal?"

"I thought I was in charge." I pout gingerly.

"Times have changed."