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The first time was a complete fucking failure.
For starters, it’d happened mostly by accident, which is not how Liam would’ve done it, if he’d been in charge. They’d both been drunk – proper rat-arsed, filled to the brim with lager and blow and whatever pills it was Noel had scrounged up for them between rounds.
Liam struggled to remember much of the night clearly. With one glaring exception, it had been a big happy smudge of a sesh. They’d gone to the pub with a couple of Noel’s mates, guys Liam were sort-of-familiar with and who didn’t mind him. Then the mates had dragged them along to a party, and then that had got them into another party at a mate of a mate’s, and then that party had sluiced them out onto the streets, more liquid than man. It got a bit patchy in between.
Noel had been in a good mood with him, Liam remembered that. Not annoyed at his not-quite-seventeen-yet brother tagging along with him, but actually happy to have him around, laughing at Liam’s stupid jokes and stories. Having the full blaze of his big brother’s attention on him made Liam feel ten foot tall. Made him try just a bit harder to keep him, keep him smiling and hugging him.
So he’d been on his best behaviour. Or, more likely, he’d made sure he didn’t do any of the shite Noel usually complained about, like getting with birds Noel had his eyes on, or slagging of the music he liked, or getting off his head too early.
They’d clambered up the stairs to their room like men on a sinking ship, leaning on the walls, giggling and shushing each other. How they’d made it home in the first place was a mystery. Liam was still talking utter bollocks at Noel, fuckin’ second nature to him, trying to get him to laugh that big, dumb laugh he did when he wasn’t thinking about how he sounded, carefree and happy.
“…’s ‘cos his cock came off, ‘m tellin’ you,” Liam slurred wetly into Noel’s ear, throwing an arm over his brother’s shoulder as they got to the top of the stairs. He barely knew who he was talking about anymore – some wanker at the party that Noel hadn’t liked, probably, but Noel was wheezing at it, so who gave a toss. “’s why he’s such a fuckin’ mopey bastard, like. You’d be too if you-, if your prick fell off one day-“
“Sh-, shut up, y’re gonna wake,” Noel said, pressing his finger somewhere near his lips. The fact that he was bent over like he was about to piss himself to keep his giggles down didn’t do much to help. “Y’re gonna wake Bod.”
Liam lent his back against their bedroom door, catching his breath. His heart was pounding, he felt too hot for his own skin. Some of it was probably the drugs, but having Noel this happy with him, for a whole night? It was almost too much. Like sitting in the sun too long, right before you got burnt. Warm and sluggish, complete bliss.
It had been ages since Noel had wanted to go out with him or do much of anything with his little brother, apart from tell him off for going through his records or shout at him to leave him alone. Liam was sure something must have happened to make Noel pull away like that – it wasn’t like Liam was mithering him any more or less than he usually did – but whatever it was, it must have fixed itself, and Liam wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.
Noel was patting himself down like he was trying to find his fags. He still had his jacket on – one of the giant ones Noel thought made him look bigger but just made him look like a wee bloke in a big jacket, sleeves so long they covered his hands. He’d been growing out his hair lately, not long yet, but long enough that the sweat was plastering his fringe to his forehead. Still fumbling, he looked up to meet Liam’s gaze, his eyes little half-moons, crinkled and happy.
Liam weren’t sure when it had started. Nothing was different, not really, but summat must have changed between the two of them. Sometimes he wondered it if were the hammer he took to the head that done it. The one that cracked his head open and made music make sense – proper sense, like maybe it made sense to Noel, made Liam feel the same that Noel felt when he sat in their room for hours on end, listening to records and strumming his guitar like he was far away, and not stuck in a coffin in a council flat smelling of damp. Maybe the same hammer that filled his head with music had also filled his head with Noel, made everything feel more when he was looking at his big brother, like it did when he was listening to tunes. It was a muddy, unfinished sort of feeling, like one of them pictures you were supposed to stare at cross-eyed and you’d suddenly see some flowers or a bunch of fish. Not quite the same he felt when he was looking at birds, but also not not the same. Drove him half mad at times, it did. Liam wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he was sure that he wanted. And that it was pointing towards Noel.
Noel wobbled, fag search abandoned, and reached for the doorhandle by Liam’s side, tripping over his freakishly tiny feet.
It was hard to tell who made the first move, if anyone.
One moment they weren’t kissing and the next they were. Their eyes met, matching sky-blue pinholes, too close to focus properly, and then a crash of mouths – a wet, uncoordinated smear of lips against lips.
Liam gasped and tilted his head on pure instinct, their tongues touching for a glorious second, and he knew it weren’t pure accident. They’d made it happen. One of them or both of them.
It lasted for four, maybe five, brief, buzzing seconds, Noel’s hand clutched in Liam’s shirt, Liam’s own arms hanging limply by his sides while they mouthed blindly at each other with Mam and Bod sleeping a couple of feet away.
And then Noel had pushed them both through the door so suddenly Liam fell arse of tea-kettle, and ran off to the bog to be sick.
Liam had passed out where he lay, to the sound of Noel’s violent retching, and that had been it.
All in all, not the worst night out he’d ever had.
-
So, the first one hadn’t been much to brag about. But it had been a start. It had opened a door, left it slightly ajar, and the next time, Liam knew to be ready.
Knew to let it lie for a while, but not too long. Knew not to try and ask Noel about it in the meantime. Knew not to drink too much, once he was allowed to tag along with him again.
Not nothing, of course – who in their right mind wanted to go to the Haçienda to neck room-temperature lemonade while their brother had the time of his life? Even if he’d somehow gone mad and wanted to, Noel would get right suspicious about Liam’s sudden abstinence. But he’d paced himself. Hadn’t taken any of the e he’d watched Noel mooch off a stranger easy as anything, just in case. Kept himself close to Noel so he wouldn’t disappear off with mates or birds, but no so close he’d get mardy and tell Liam to fuck off. And he knew to let Noel get to that sweet spot where he was nice and relaxed, without risking a repeat of last time.
Liam weren’t sure Noel remembered anything from last time, if he was honest. The whole night had been floating around in his own head like fuckin’ letters in alphabetti spaghetti – no rhyme or reason to it, until something suddenly fit together and you could read ‘knob’ in the middle of your tea, clear as day. Same thing – bits floating about, how they’d both smelled of the same shampoo, Noel’s smile up close, the red of his half-permanent razor burn above his lips, the rough then soft of their mouths meeting.
He wanted to remember everything this time around.
This time, they’d made it all the way through the door and into their room without incident. Liam just drunk enough and Noel still rolling – he’d fallen into bed as soon as they were in, flat on his back on top of the covers, shoes on and everything. The room was quiet in a way that made Liam uneasy, so he walked over to the records player and turned it on, letting whatever record Noel had left on play, volume low so it wouldn’t wake anyone.
Ugh. Of course it had to be fucking Morrissey.
Liam thought he’d need another hammer to the head to get what was so good about that whiny poof, but Noel worshipped the ground him and that little guitar fella walked on. Had whined for days when they broke up. And on cue, Noel stirred, humming happily from where he laid, rubbing himself on the sheets like a pleased cat while Morrissey yowled and complained. Bass was good, though, Liam could admit that much.
Liam pulled off his trainers and climbed in next to Noel. His brother had to still be off his little tits, or he’d be throwing a fit about it by now, shoving Liam off and over to his own bed, but Noel didn’t as much as twitch as Liam settled in alongside him. He was breathing slowly, a bit too hard – Liam was pretty sure he’d feel his heart pounding if he put his hand on Noel’s scrawny chest, like it did when he was on the pills. He could feel the heat of him even without them touching. The sheets smelled of him too, of both of them, the same old smell Noel had always had. Made Liam feel real safe and sound, and he pressed himself a little deeper into the pillow so he could breathe it in better.
Sharing a bed with Noel always made him feel like that, even though so many of the times they’d done it was because Liam was sacred, or because Noel was scared. All of them times Liam had snuck under Noel’s covers when Da had beat him black and blue. Even those were kind of good.
Liam couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t clung to Noel. Even before he was old enough to realise what their Da was doing to Noel. Noel would come back to their room and bury himself under his duvet before Liam had time to look at him. He’d hear his big brother try as hard as a little lad could not to cry, not to make a sound – could see his little body shaking under the thick winter covers. And Liam would climb out of his bed onto the cold floor and into Noel’s, even though he wanted to hide away in his own, where Da couldn’t get them. But he’d burrow under where Noel was hiding and lie right next to him, pressing his ear to Noel’s knobbly spine so he could hear every hiccupping breath his brother was trying to keep in, feel them in his own body like it were him crying.
Noel always cried, and he always pretended he didn’t. He’d lie under the covers and hold it all in, his whole body so tense Liam thought he might explode. Liam didn’t like Noel trying to keep things from him. It weren’t right. Did his head in. So, he’d put his arms around him so he couldn’t hide, and while Noel didn’t always react, he never pushed him away – and for Noel, that was as good a ‘yes’ as anything. Liam felt safe, and he knew that meant Noel felt safe too, even if he never said nowt about it. Then they’d got too big. Too big for the tears and the hugs. Noel too big to still get beat on by his Da, even when he was. And then Noel finally started fighting back at Da, and they’d left that awful house altogether, and after a while Liam weren’t allowed to crawl into Noel’s bed anymore unless Noel was very drunk or in a very giving mood.
Back when he was still allowed, Liam would sometimes try to say something. If it felt right. He might tell his brother it were alright, even when it wasn’t, because it’s what Mam might say. Or he’d tell him how much he hated Da, how Liam would be big enough one day so he could kill Da for Noel, smash his face in. A lot of the time, the words got stuck in his throat and he’d cry just as hard as Noel, because he knew there was nowt he could do about it. Made him cling onto Noel until it hurt, like he’d go flying off anytime.
And now Noel was leaving after all.
Liam laid on his side and watched Noel mumble along to the record, his face flushed. Ever since Noel had announced his double betrayal, he’d felt like he was ripping at the seams. Leaving with the Carpets. Moving in with the Div. Not stayin’ here with him. A triple betrayal, really.
Last time, when they’d kissed, he hadn’t really understood it. Liam weren’t silly. He knew other lads didn’t get like this over their brothers, but then again, they weren’t him, and they didn’t have a brother like Noel. Even if all he did was sit about and moan and play his guitar, while Liam’s heart and head and body got hot and heavy, and he felt like he had to smash something because he didn’t know what else he could do. So what did he know?
There was a big fuckin’ mess in his head that Liam thought he’d probably never be able to untangle properly, all them big, blobby feelings and thoughts and whatnot, but he knew what they meant.
They meant Noel. All of him, for Liam, forever. In every way he could.
It’d taken a hammer to the head for music to make sense to him. Maybe they needed another one.
“The fuck are you so keen to leave for, anyway?” Liam said. He’d said it about a million times already, in a million different ways. Don’t go, you cunt. Don’t leave me behind. Fat load of difference it made. It was almost impossible to make Noel change his mind when he was like this – if you pushed too hard, he just doubled down. But just because it hadn’t worked until now, didn’t mean it wouldn’t ever work. And fuck Noel. Running off just when Liam was starting to understand why he didn’t want him to. Liam could be just as stubborn, if not worse.
“What, finally get away from here? See the world, shag fit birds, get to do music all the time? Yeah, fuckin’ mystery that, mate.” Noel didn’t even open his eyes. Arsehole.
“You could do all of that without them poofs,” Liam replied surly. “Not even any good.”
“Oh, and you know what good music is now, d’you?”
“Course I do!” Liam knew he was taking the bait but he couldn’t help the spike of anger. It was pure habit these days. “’s how I can tell they’re rubbish.”
Noel only hummed back, too blissed out to be bothered with his little brother’s hair trigger temper. Liam kept going.
“Good music’s, like, Beatles and the Roses, not fuckin’… Cunt Boon and his lot of fairies.”
It was a pretty pathetic blow, more out of principle than anything else, but it got Noel to open his eyes a fraction. He rolled over, slowly fixing Liam with his fat pupils.
“It’s Clint, you prick.” Had Noel been sober, he might have given Liam the satisfaction of a slap, but there was no heat behind the words. “Clint’s… Clint’s sound, he is.”
Liam frowned. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit how Noel smiled while he said it, or even the way he said the cunt’s name. That was the whole thing, wasn’t it?
Noel wasn’t just running away – he was running off to someone. Someone who wasn’t Liam. Louise was one thing, but the Cunt? With his ugly mug and ugly shirts and ugly hair, looking at Liam’s brother the way he did.
Noel not even minding it.
“He’s got a bird, though, don’t he?”
Liam watched his brother take just a bit too long to school his face into something sufficiently expressionless, and knew he’d touched a nerve.
“’Course he does,” Noel said casually. “So do I. What’s that got to do with me job?”
For once, Liam knew not to push it. He couldn’t risk a proper fight, even if it was tempting. Instead, he kept his gob shut until he thought Noel might be about to doze off, and shuffled closer.
“You don’t have to go, y’know.” Saying it wouldn’t change anything, but that didn’t mean Liam was going to stop. It was a free country. He could ask what he wanted to.
“I have to, Liam,” Noel said after a moment, softly. No trace of anger like the other times Liam had asked and pleaded and nagged. Just said it like that, eyes half open. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t.
Liam’s throat hurt.
“You’ll be back.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but his voice wavered, like he was a fucking bird.
“Yeah, kidda, ‘course I will.” Liam weren’t asking, but Noel answered anyway. He sounded sad. And also like he didn’t really believe what he was saying.
Liam swallowed around the stinging feeling. No time for that. He stared at Noel’s mouth like it held the answer. Maybe, if he got close enough to go cross-eyed, he’d see everything clearly, like them pictures. Noel’s lips were plush and pink, slightly parted.
That big, heavy, blobby feeling was still there. Had been there when they’d kissed – it’d probably been there before that, before the hammer too, Liam thought. But something about it, about them, had become sharpened to a point over time, like whittling a stick – an arrow pointing straight to his big brother.
Then Noel lifted his hand and put his clammy palm on Liam’s cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. Liam almost flinched at the unfamiliar touch. When he looked up, Noel’s eyes flicked up to his, like he’d been looking at Liam’s mouth too.
Liam wasn’t sure what he knew, but he knew. Time was running out. Noel was leaving. Noel remembered.
He lent in and gave his brother a soft peck on the lips. Chaste as anything, just to gauge Noel’s reaction, ready to take a punch and give one back if he had to.
Noel didn’t move. His lips were pursed a little, like they were giving the air between them a kiss. His palm was still on Liam’s face. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look upset wither. Just breathed, hard. Waited.
When he didn’t punch him in the face, Liam did it again.
He dove in open-mouthed and swallowed around Noel’s startled noise. That got Noel moving, clapping both hands on Liam’s shoulders like he was about to shove him off, while Liam didn’t pay them any mind, pushing and pulling at his brother until he was mostly on his back, Liam halfway on top of him, a leg between Noel’s knees.
The moment he got his tongue in Noel’s mouth and felt Noel whine against it, Liam could tell – yeah, this is it. An arrow straight to the heart, pinning them against each other. And Noel still hadn’t pushed him off, was just sort of clutching at his shoulders like he didn’t know what to do.
Liam had been snogging birds for years, so he gave it everything he’d got. Bit at Noel’s lips, got his mouth wide open so Liam could lick into it, sucked on his tongue. He was being rougher than he’d be with a bird, but then again, Noel was no bird, was he. He was hard and bony beneath him, burning up, his heart beating so hard Liam could feel it in his own chest. Liam let his hands wander where they wanted to go – slid them under Noel’s big jacket, feeling his tight body under all the layers, rubbing over his ribs, his nipples hard little nubs under his shirt.
Was it possible to get a contact high through someone’s spit, Liam wondered. He’d barely drunk anything at the Haç, but he felt hot and buzzing just from snogging Noel, the way he’d usually get on molly. He shifted his weight so Noel had to follow to keep their mouths together, snaking a hand into the back pocket of his brother’s jeans and grabbing at his arse so he could pull him against him, make him feel the hard line of Liam’s cock through his trousers. Noel followed, moaning sharply against his mouth, wriggling, the kiss turning wet and desperate. Somewhere in the background, Morrissey was still wailing at them.
Noel was getting into it now. He wasn’t really grabbing at Liam the same way, but he had his arms around his shoulders, and his mouth was moving against Liam’s, making all these hot little hiccupping sounds that made Liam want to work even harder to hear more. And Noel was hard too, pressed up against Liam’s own hardness. It was good, so good, rubbing against each other through the thick, rough fabric of their jeans, it made Liam feel half mad. He wanted to press Noel down into the mattress, wanted to get their kits off so they could go skin to skin. It felt like a fuckin’ epiphany. Like a hammer to the skull. Finally. Finally, finally, fuckin’ finally.
There was a hand on his shoulder, pushing at him, another fisting in the front of his jumper.
When Liam didn’t stop the hands pushed harder.
Somehow, he managed to pull back. His palm was still on Noel’s arse, their hips moving in little jolts against each other without meaning to. Liam stared at Noel’s wet, red, panting mouth. His eyes were glossy, but he weren’t crying. He looked dead good.
“That’s-” Noel’s voice wobbled. He swallowed, licking his lips. “That’s enough.”
Liam whined, straining against his brother’s hold, stretching his neck to slot their mouths together again. All he wanted was to go back to snogging Noel, to get back to that safe and warm feeling. He could do it – he could push Noel fully onto his back and grind against him until he had to give.
“That’s enough”, Noel said, firmer.
Every part of Liam wanted to argue. Instead, he clenched his teeth and gave a small nod.
Noel looked at his mouth, swallowed again. Gave a small nod of his own.
He’d expected Noel to withdraw. Kick Liam out of his bed and turn his back, like he used to when Liam clung to him. Never was any good with this stuff, his brother, too close for comfort, always had to crawl back into his shell.
But nothing happened.
They laid still, clinging to each other on top of the sheets in Noel’s twin bed, chests touching as they breathed, heads on the same pillow. Neither moved. Neither slept.