Work Text:
Noel's fingers dug into her thigh while she used the other hand to smoke her joint. Her, in her oversized button-down flannel and baggy jeans, crunched up sitting on the floor with her face tipped to the window screen so Mam wouldn't yell about the weed smell again, something about it looked like a photograph Liam couldn't enter. Laying on his bed, he rolled over so the picture flipped upside down, smoke curling down to the ceiling. The breeze crept in and blew the ends of her hair. In this way Liam stole a whiff of her skunk-sweet exhales and her mint shampoo, swallowed and ate it.
She didn't look back at him or notice he was doing it.
Blood swam gently through his head. He scooted further off the edge and heard pops along his spine. The underneath of Noel's bed peered up at him, angled light revealing its secrets. Chief among them was a big clear plastic box holding bunched-up fabric of all colors. Nestled next to it was a stack of glossy magazines, through the shine of which he could barely make out the naughty shape of a topless woman. He decided he wouldn't think about that again till Noel was out somewhere and he had time to investigate, though what she got out of it he couldn't imagine—did birds get those kinds of pictures to try and compare themselves? He always thought they'd have their own magazines with, like, buff blokes in sexy cars.
Liam crossed his arms over his middle. Then he started tapping on his ribcage, because he could kind of feel it sticking out laying down like this and that was interesting, and then he tried drumming the Beach Boys song Mam liked, just to see if he could.
A second percussion joined in. Noel tapped her nails on the wall to make sharper sounds and the second after Liam began to sing, "Everybody's gone surfing," she burst out in a terrible Elvis impression, slower and completely at odds with her fingertips still keeping good time, "But IIIII caaaan't heeelp faaaallin' in looove—"
Their eyes met, hers temporarily vacant of all her sullenness, and they both fell into giggles.
Once they caught their breath, though, she turned back to the window as though the cold blue sky with nothing in it were more interesting than the time they could be spending together. "Noel," he said, and tried to think of something to ask her. "Noely, how come you never wear your dresses anymore?"
"Don't fit me, do they."
"C'mon, I mean, why'd ya start dressing like a lad?"
"Cos I like it better," she said tetchily.
"I thought your dresses were pretty..." The last time she wore one was Easter, when she told Mam she wouldn't but then Mam bought her a new Mary-blue dress so she had to wear it or else say they'd wasted thirty pounds they didn't have. He remembered the words stubborn and ungrateful being thrown around before Noel finally bowed her head and put the thing on. Her mouth was set the whole time at Mass, and maybe it looked a little strange with her boy-short hair, but being pissed off didn't stop her from being pretty. Everything else she wore covered her all up so from a distance you couldn't see if she was a bird or not.
He remembered that she'd sold the dress afterward and gave Mam the money back, too. They'd been frosty with each other for a while.
"You do, do you? Why don't you wear one?"
"Cos I'm a boy." The Are you stupid? didn't need to be said aloud for her to hear him.
"And I started melting when I put me first pair of trousers on." She left the end of her joint on the windowsill and got up, crouching by her bed and pulling the plastic tub out. "Be honest, haven't you ever been curious?"
"No," Liam denied, "'m not a fairy," but maybe he had wondered, somewhere inside himself. Maybe there wasn't a lot that Noel ever did that he didn't want to share in somehow. His heartbeat picked up speed as she held her old dress up by its shoulders, too small for her but just the right size for him.
"Come on, up." Noel beckoned him like he was a dog. He stuck his tongue out and didn't move, so she dangled the dress over his face and slowly draped it so he couldn't see. The fabric smelled like very stale laundry and dust. Rebelliously, he bit it, but his face was so well covered she couldn't tell. At this loss he sat up and immediately became so dizzy he almost fell back down again.
"Why do you want us to wear it if you hate 'em so much?"
"It's different. You'll look cute in it."
He looked down, wondering if she could see his face getting hot. But he didn't argue when she told him to put his arms up and he didn't stop her from pulling his t-shirt off.
Liam held his breath when she unbuttoned the back of the dress and slid the whole of it down over his head, lacing his arms through the puffy sleeves and pulling everything into place.
"Now stand," she coached, still holding his hand. When he did the skirt fell to cover his shorts, and Noel went behind him to fasten him in. That was the scariest part somehow, seeing as he couldn't get it back off without help, but then it was over and he was all dressed up.
Or so he thought, but she wrinkled her nose at his bare feet when inspecting him, and she dug in her sock drawer and said, "Sit back down," so he did and she kneeled to slide on white socks that went up to his ankle with a subtle lace around the top. She did it like the Prince might've put on Cinderella's slipper, delicately holding his heels, and that was an embarrassing thing to think about.
When she moved back he made to get up, but she stopped him. "Wait, wait, wait..." Noel got on all fours to dig under her bed behind everything he'd seen. Then she collapsed entirely to fit even further, humming to herself and audibly shifting items out of the way.
He wasn't good at waiting patiently. To entertain himself, Liam spread his toes in the socks, then glided his feet along the wooded floor, delighting in how soft the socks were. Most of his were thicker, unless they were worn enough to have holes in them, made for playing sports or at least they claimed to be on the bulk packages Mam bought on sale.
"A-ha!" Noel exclaimed and dragged herself back. She turned to reveal a pair of black Mary Janes unseen for years. They were sprinkled white with dust and so was the front of her shirt. Noel's thick brows wrinkled and she blew on them and rubbed them till they were shiny except the toes of the shoes which were irretrievably scuffed into matteness.
Liam said in a squirrely voice, "Don't think they're gonna fit, Noely."
"Sure they will." She grabbed one fine-boned foot and placed it over the top of the shoe and showed undeniably that his toes just barely hung over the edge. "I wore these way longer than I should've, you can definitely squeeze into them."
"No, I can't." He kicked his leg away from her hold.
"Just let me try, you little weirdo," Noel commanded.
Liam shook his head and leaned away from her. He waved his feet constantly so she couldn't get him against his will. "No!"
"Will you fuckin'—okay! Okay! I'm not doing anything." He opened one eye to check; her hands came by her head like she were being arrested. He warily relaxed.
"Liam, will you please try them on? Just see if you can fit in them, and if you can't, fine. I wanted to see if we could finish the outfit... Don't quite look right not all done up, does it."
He exhaled. He nudged his toes in slightly. He felt along the imprint where Noel's feet walking to school and home every day had worn the insole down and that made it easier to go all the way. They didn't fit, but if he scrunched his toes up he could barely shove his heel in too. Eagerly Noel fed the strap through the buckle and tightened it as far as she could. Liam hesitated and then did the same with his right foot, and the picture was complete.
"There's a good lad," Noel murmured. She stood and held her hand out for him to take, her fingers ungirlish as ever, stubby with nails kept short cos she said they had to be, to play guitar. Whatever it meant, Liam had the same hands, like they were two brothers or two boyish sisters, twins either way. He let himself be pulled up and immediately his toes pinched. He winced, but if he stayed stiff, it didn't hurt so much.
Noel rolled her eyes and gestured for him to hurry to the mirror. "Look at you, Liam. Told you you'd be cute. You look sweeter in that shite than I ever did," her voice quieted to a mumble at the last sentence.
So Liam looked in the mirror. He was a meter away from it still so he could see himself because it wasn't a full length—weren't enough space in their little room for one, was there. But the distance helped soften his features too so at first blush Liam saw only a girl who was sort of pretty, even. The dress showed his collarbones which his t-shirts never did, and its fine, deep blue plaid with white edging contrasted nicely against his summer-tan skin. The quarter length of the sleeves turned his gawky puberty-stretched limbs into something more deerlike, something he'd observe in a girl his age and think there was something dead beautiful about her, something that made even him too shy to approach girls like that to say hello. The waist of the dress wasn't very tight and it didn't make him look like he had curves that didn't exist. It was a dress for a young girl, and the skirt flared out only slightly. Liam felt like a doll. He clasped his hands together and watched his skirt ripple as he made fragile steps, toeing the ground with his left foot, ignoring the little ache of pain traveling up his tendons from the uncomfortable shoes.
Noel crept up to him and Liam saw her face over his shoulder in the mirror, smiling at him. She ran fingers through his hair and he felt soft, soft like a girl, like he was her little sister or the princess to her prince. She wound her arms around Liam's waist and the feeling increased. He leaned back into her, let her hold him. With every inhale his belly rose to meet her warm hands and he wanted music, something happy that sounded like love. Maybe one of the Beatles', maybe one of Paul's. "Who knows how long I've loved ya," he half-sang.
"Who knows how long I will?" Noel gave back, pitchy, joyous. Quick as a flash she had his hand and twirled him around. No time to think or feel silly, he just did it—but the final hard step shot pain through his leading foot and he yelped.
"Liam?"
He hopped to the bed to sit, but that made the other foot hurt too, and tears sprung to his eyes before he had time to be embarrassed about it.
"Oh, baby," Noel said. She took his shaking hands away from the shoes and unbuckled them in two seconds flat. "Sorry, sorry, you're okay, kidda." She rubbed the bottoms of his feet with her thumbs and worked out the ache as he groaned. "Is that better?"
"That really hurt..."
"I won't make you wear 'em anymore, promise. I'll get you ones that fit proper," she said consolingly.
"Eh?"
"Don't you want them?"
Liam didn't speak. Was there a right answer? Why would he want his own girl shoes? Even Mam would say... Would say... He didn't want to know, really.
Even though he hadn't made a sound, Noel shushed him, seeing the look in his eyes. "That's fine, alright. You and me got the rest of the night."
The knot in his stomach eased. They were alone till Mam got done working, which wasn't for some time. So when Noel pulled him into another little dance, he went. She made him put the toes of his socked feet over her bare ones so he'd know where to go.
"When I was really little, this is what Da would..." Noel whispered, then looked sorry to have said it. But she shook it off and held him close and they went out and in, making a strange starry circle cramped by the boundary of their beds and the wall.
Gently missing every second note, she breathed the words into him: "Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she hasn't got a lot to say. Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day..."
Liam clung so close to Noel it was hard for her to waltz with him, for all that he cooperated in every other way. He wished they could take a picture of this to keep forever as a memorial for something he'd never get to be again. And though he understood why, Liam's heart whispered a vain hope in the nonexistent space between them. Someday she's gonna make me hers.