Smashed Pianos ~ Liam Gallagher

BROTHERLY LOVE

Whilst I change out of my ratty pyjamas and into some comfy 'lounging around the house' clothes, Liam makes tea. Somehow he knows exactly where I keep everything, the tea bags in the cream tin with the painted teal carousel that Isabella gave to me after she moved house, sugar in the burgundy ceramic pot with the stiff lid, and the milk is fairly obvious.

Dumping my pyjamas in the wash basket, I join him in the kitchen, sitting up on the worktop and swinging my legs over the side.

"Why didn't you get on the train?" I blurt out, watching as he lifts the soggy tea bags and dumps them into the mug left my the kettle I use to store old tea bags, I use the old ones to make the waste disposal in the sink smell fresher (saw it in a rival magazine).

He levels off a tea spoon of sugar and tips one into mine, leaving his sugar-free. "Would you believe me if I said there weren't any spaces?"

I smile weakly as he passes me the mug of steaming hot tea.

Bringing his own mug to his lips, he hesitates before answering, "When I left before... I had no idea it would be another eight or somethin' years before seein' you again." He takes a sip of boiling tea, something I can never muster the strength to do. Growing up it always struck me as outstanding when adults would drink scorching drinks, and now I'm a grown up myself I still can't do it. "If I had known Arden, y'know I wouldn't have gone."

I don't know if I believe him. Genuinely. One thing I've learnt out of this entire haphazard experience is not to trust a Gallagher - at least not straight away anyway.

I don't answer, just stare directly down into my mug of coppery liquid, faintly seeing my reflection in the surface.

"How could I leave again? Eight years is a long time. I'm not waitin' that long again."

Sensing the awkwardness, I gulp down some very hot tea (rest in peace my throat) and slap my feet down onto the floor from off the worktop. "I don't know about you," I yawn, putting the mug into the sink for me to wash up later. "But I'm knackered." Yes it's not even lunch time. I don't care. That run to the station has drained me.

Liam eyes me suspiciously whilst washing up both mugs (hell yes).

"I'm going for a nap." I say, turning on my heels and walking out of the kitchen before briefly turning back, "Are you coming?"

:-:-:-:

When I finally awake from a very long nap, I find myself cocooned in his arms. He smells like Liam (obviously) - the faint air of petrol and fingers smelling of his cigarettes. He smells deep and musky, a scent I would appropriately associate with a rockstar, but also, rather oddly, the aroma of apples and lime clings to his hair (so not very hardcore).

I tilt up my head which is buried in the crook of his neck and find that he is already awake and staring directly at me with tired eyes.

"Morning." He yawns with his usual smug grin.

I peer over at the red circular clock hanging on the wall opposite. "Hardly," I mumble, pushing against his chest to sit myself up, "It's four in the afternoon." But Liam only pulls me back down on top of him. "Leeeeum-" I grumble, struggling against his strength. "We can't waste the whole day in bed."

"Who says?"

"Society." I mutter, giving up my fight and falling back against the pillow.

"Fuck society."

"Shouldn't you be in Birmingham?"