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He hated him.
Hated him because he left him here alone. Hated him because he stunk up the place. Hated him because of his glassy eyes and sunken skin. Hated him because he was still his brother.
Blood oozed out of his mouth in bubbling drops, dripping quietly into the tub that Liam had laid him in.
Liam knelt by the tub, watching Noel. Waited for him to come back. Like he'd inhale, his lungs full of air again, then he'd hug Liam, saying "Thank you for keeping my body safe while I was out," but that didn't happen. Never would.
Liam held Noel's jaw. His face was blank.
He'd been so afraid. He hadn't ever been that scared when Da got mean or when he'd been arrested. He got home late, way late, and banged around so loud he woke Liam up. Fucking raving about something, yelling and throwing shit, eyes wild, scared of his shadow on the wall. Liam tried to get him to calm down, but he hid himself in the bathroom and told Liam to fuck off, slamming the door behind him. Liam did, until he heard his voice call out in a garbled broken moan. He'd stumbled over his bedsheets to his brother. He knew it then that it wasn't right, and that nothing would be right again. The world formed a crack in it and it'd never seal, only to ever stretch out further and further, yawning into a chasm that'd swallow him whole.
Noel had fallen onto the floor of the bathroom, seizing like mad, with pale pink foamy film spilling out of him. Liam held him down by his shoulders and his head, trying to keep him from banging himself around any more than he had - but he wouldn't stop shaking. The shakes were bad, but somehow the stillness after was worse.
Liam figured he'd want to be clean when he woke up. He looked such a mess. So he picked him up and laid him in the tub to give him a wash. Honest.
Liam sat him up and kissed him on the forehead, deep. Thought maybe it was like Snow White, if Snow White was his older brother, and poison apples were little pills. He didn't stir. Liam laid him out a little straighter to try again, dipping his head to meet his mouth. Noel didn't kiss back. Liam tried not to let his heart shatter. He licked at Noel's shining bottom lip, taking in his coppery bile taste and swallowing it deep.
Without being totally aware of himself, Liam put two of his fingers in his mouth. He pinched Noel's tongue between his index and middle, pulling it out. Blood spilled out from under his tongue and spat circling droplets onto his jumper.
"Shit, sorry," Liam hissed. He didn't want to fuck up his jumper. It was one of his favorites, a gray oversized knit one - and he'd be so mad at Liam when he woke up. Liam pulled out his fingers and stood to grab a hand towel. He ran water over it and came back, quick, to wipe Noel's mouth. He hated the stillness of his skin.
His mouth stayed open, his tongue shining with heavy saliva and blood in the dingy yellow light of their bathroom. An image flashed in Liam's mind - his lips wrapped tight around his prick, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide and brows focused. Liam felt nauseated, then. A pang of guilt along with it.
Noel had gagged and hiccuped and died. Wet and cold in a dirty bathroom. He fell still in Liam's arms and his eyes went dark. He was gone. Of course, no matter how much he pretended or wanted different, he was gone. At least he hadn't been alone. Liam had been there to watch his soul slip out of him.
Swallowed by the earth like he did to whatever pills fucked him up this bad.
Liam made a thin sound when he realized he was growing hard.
He pushed back Noel's bangs. He'd grown his hair out to a thick bowl, his natural waves curling into something sweet. His expression was so loose. In life Noel managed to have his face fixed into a dark scowl. He had this crystalline image of himself that he'd put on for everyone. Like he hated how he was soft and squishy inside and hid it. Noel Gallagher was supposed to be a hard lad. He made sure everyone thought so, too. Except for Liam. Liam saw a side of him that no one else was privy to. It was his privilege as a brother.
Noel wanted this, too, is the thing. Whatever it is that was between them. Incest, Liam supposes, is the word for it, but he didn't like to reduce their relationship to something like that. That word had a connotation to it. Felt heavy, somehow. Darker. Noel and Liam weren't normal brothers, he'd never delude himself into believing that, but what they shared wasn't bad for them. Can't be. It felt nice, didn't it? And bad things didn't feel nice. Open wounds were bad. Anything scary was bad. Kissing Noel felt good. Loving him felt better. When he loved him back it was perfect.
He pressed his hand against his forehead, trying to warm his skin up. Noel only stared. Liam groped himself, trying to get a hang over his emotions. His mind was a whirlwind, just bouncing from thought to thought. Lips. Mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Dead. Lashes. Hair. Hands. Hips. Dead. Tongue. Vomit. Skin. He was so, so cold. Could warm him up, like a good brother would. Could make him feel good.
He was apprehensive, before. Worried he would hurt Liam. Wanted to wait 'till he was older. No matter how much Liam begged. When they kissed for the first time - a real kiss, one with tears and tongue and hate - Noel disappeared for weeks after. Liam was scared he'd never see him again, but he returned with a pair of nicked trainers and sweet song. Me and my soul, we know where we're going.
He tried to ignore the burning behind his eyes as tears itched to fall.
Liam twisted a fist into Noel's jumper, sliding it up his stomach. He kept a hand on his prick, staring hard at the way the shape of Noel's body curved in front of him. Placing a hand on Noel's stomach, he noted how soft his skin was. Despite how cool he was under his palm Liam's prick grew stiffer.
It hurt so bad.
Pressure built in him and he was wound tight like a coil, ready to pop. He loosened his pajama bottoms, kicked them off and threw them and his briefs somewhere across the bathroom. He shuffled Noel's trousers off next, shimmying them awkwardly and wincing when his legs fell with a thud, then pulled his jumper off. Shaking a bit, he finally pulled Noel's pants off, discarding them with Liam's. Liam tried not to be disappointed that he wasn't hard - he thought corpses were supposed to be stiff - but his soft prick laid sort of pretty between his thighs. He climbed his way into the tub with Noel, balancing with his knees around his brother's.
Liam reached for the bottle of soap. Noel's shampoo. Scented syrup spilled onto his palm. He rolled it along his fingers, still watching as more blood dribbled out of Noel's mouth. It pooled in the corner and fell out in thin lines, following the curvature of his chin to his jaw. He didn't clean it up this time.
He brought his hand back to his prick, sucking in through his teeth at the coolness of his makeshift lubricant. It smelled of Noel, though, and he didn't care that it'd burn. Liam kissed Noel, stroking lightly at first. He took it slow, like Noel would have wanted, taking a long, steady rhythm.
He needed to control himself. Control yourself, yeah? - like he'd have said.
Liam kissed him again, sucking his bloody tongue and squinting through the taste. He leaned back to press another to his chest, then his navel, soft. He peppered kisses, licking and biting his way through to where his prick sat. Liam wrapped his free hand around the base of it and guided it to his mouth, sliding his tongue along the bottom, trying to memorize the taste and weight of it.
He'd never had his mouth around another man's prick before, but he had girlfriends, and when it was soft like this, it was close enough to how a bird liked it anyway. He lapped at the tip of it, swirling his tongue around the head. His pace quickened as he thought of Noel moaning high-pitched and pretty like a girl, his mouth open and desperate, shaking as he came into Liam's mouth.
Liam squeezed himself. Maybe he'd have fucked into Liam's mouth, desperate for it. Liam had caught him staring on a couple occasions. Maybe he'd groan and whine and make all the perfect sounds Liam heard him make when he thought he was being quiet. Maybe he wouldn't even bother to be quiet. Liam pulled off of Noel's cock, which fell wet and loose from his mouth, and looked at him. At his older brother, the way he was, trying hard to memorize his face, because memories are better than photos, but having him here now was better than either.
Even if the way he looked was horrible, his eyes clouded and his skin purple pale.
He fucked into his hand, losing balance and catching himself on the wall with his other. He nosed at the crook of Noel's neck, digging for his scent - not the scent of death that loomed so heavily over him, but his real scent - woody and musty and a little stale. Liam groaned into his skin, licking the taste of it and biting around him. He bucked into his fist again, his pace lethal now, the sound of it bouncing on the walls around him.
It was difficult to find room for the both of them in the tub. Liam's knees were cramped against the walls of the tub, and he had to bend himself awkwardly to make room for his arm, but it was too good to stop now. Liam pressed his lips against Noel's, tapping his tongue to his.
His climax swooped in, hot and twisted and tight. Liam chewed out thick sobbing moans as he came, his spunk spilling in ropes on Noel's pale stomach. It pooled in his belly button, and Liam lapped it up, imagining that it was Noel's. That he'd fucked him good and he came all over himself and it was his brother's spend, salty and warm on his tongue, because they couldn't have tasted that different.
He cleaned Noel after, pushing and pulling his limp body and washing his skin with his favorite soaps, rinsing him with warm water and watching blood, piss and vomit mix in swirls with Liam's pearly semen as they went down the drain. He even nicked a tub of lotion from their mam, her flowery one that made Liam think of the summer, and rubbed it into Noel's skin. He closed his eyes and laid him back nicely, one hand over the other, and kissed his lips again, sighing when he found that he was warm from the bath. For a moment, Liam thought maybe his love had revived Noel. That he'd brought him back, just like the fairy tale, and he'd blink awake. But he stayed pale.
Liam brought in Noel's tape deck, having put in one of his demos, and played it for them both. His voice came out flatter in the tiled walls of their bathroom. Liam hummed along, running his hands through Noel's hair and rocking himself.
Afterwards, when he was dry and Liam had stopped his crying, he dressed Noel, picking something nice and white, and imagined that he were to be his bride rather than his brother.
At the funeral, they made him wear black. Liam cried. They made him up, and he had looked too different. Noel hadn't looked like his brother or his bride.
No one would remember him like he would.