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He’s been rewired, he’s seeing in colours beyond the visible spectrum, he’s perfectly resonating with the thrum of an 80,000 strong crowd overflowing with anticipation and enthusiasm and the sheer need to be rocked to their core, every one of them. Can feel it buzzing in his head, threads and threads spun from their adoration weaving together with the coke-addled pathways in his brain and the look like lightning that Liam’s throwing him from his perch at the front of the stage, making him feel lighter than fucking air itself.
It’s a wonder that he’s still affected so hard, really; it’s not like its anything new by now. Shouldn’t be. They’ve done this before, over and over. They make their millions and sit on cloud nine because they know they’re fucking it, the best this planet has to offer. They won’t ever let anyone forget it. For them, this is just another day of reminding the people what they have to be grateful for.
And yet.
There’s something in the air, today. Makes him think. Makes him feel.
There’s a life he’s leading parallel to this one, is the thing. One that only he and Liam know the truth of. He’s living it 24/7, always on his mind whether he likes it or not. By now, keeping it covert and hidden behind public personas built on venomous vitriol and fucking mega songs is second nature to him; he knows the consequences if it were to go public.
But there are moments.
Bound to be, when they’re in the public eye to the degree they are, the crown jewel of tabloid fucking papers. Liam gets a little too handsy on stage; Noel is a little too enthusiastic in interviews about how fit Liam’s looking nowadays. Liam peppers Noel with kisses on the cheek, maybe on the mouth if he’s a bit gone with it, just bordering on innocent enough to pass without comment. Noel writes lyrics whose actual meaning are hidden behind a slightly-too-thin veneer; late night bravery and a drug-addled mind chipping away at his carefully curated barriers, fuelling thought to pen to paper.
(there are a few too many instances of ‘he’s and ‘his’ and ‘him’ scribbled violently over with daytime clarity)
There’s a lot to be said for people only seeing what they want to see. Truth be told, he and Liam depend on it. It means that the papers and the public focus sharply in on their legendary fights, and maybe, just maybe, the music gets a look in too, if Noel’s lucky. Nobody wants to hear ‘the Gallaghers are in love,’ even in the rare slip-ups where there’s evidence inches from their faces, so nobody does. That’s just how Noel likes it. Liam might lament occasionally on how shit it is that they can’t announce it to the world, can’t just snog on stage, have to hide in hotel room after hotel room until each room becomes a copy of the next, and maybe Noel’s thinking it, too, but that’s just how it’s got to be.
“It’s shit, this,” Liam had proclaimed one night as he stood leant on the rails of the hotel room balcony, staring off into whichever city vista was spread ahead of them that night. Hard to keep track, after a while.
“What’s that?” Noel called back from where he lay sprawled out on the bed. Liam’s proclamation barely startled him from his idle gaze at the TV screen, more than used to these stop-and-start conversations from him after so many countless years.
“This.” He waved his cigarette through the air like he was trying to motion toward the intangible concept in question. “Us.”
Noel bristled immediately, at that, pushed himself up on his elbows to get a clearer view to the balcony. “Fucking pipe down or come inside, you twat,” he hissed, just loud enough for Liam to hear from outside, instantly on edge the second Liam so much as implied their situation outside of four walls. No matter that the implication was that it’s shit – that could wait until Liam was back and safely contained.
Liam huffed, flicked his cigarette over the balcony with a touch too much vigour before walking back in and pointedly sliding the door shut behind him so Noel won’t call him out on that, as well.
“I hardly fucking said anything.”
“You said enough.” One word, but enough.
“This – fuck, man, this is exactly what I fucking mean, you know?”
“I might, if you elaborated a bit.”
“Fuck off.” Liam huffed, defensive. “Fucking.. hiding away, like. It’s shit.”
“Oh.” This again. “What’s spurred it on this time then?”
Liam shrugged, annoyance flickering across his face. Elaboration’s never been his strong point and Noel knows it. He’s just being a prick. “Just thinking.”
“Well. It might be shit, but you know as well as I do that there’s not really any choice to be had here. We’ve only gone over this a million times, Liam.” Not unkind, just the truth.
“Can’t help how I feel, can I?" Liam shrugged, sighed, dropped heavily onto the side of the bed. “Even if you fucking can. Cunt.”
“What, because I care about our safety, and our careers, and our reputation, I’m the cunt? I don’t think so.”
Predictably, Liam’s idea of a suitable response to logic and reason was to roll his eyes. “You know what I care about? Us. Who fucking cares who knows? What’re they gonna do? We give them the best fucking music they’ve ever heard, least they could do is turn a blind eye to some public snogging, d’you kno – “
“Shut the fuck up, Liam, ‘turn a blind eye’, fucks sake. Think you missed a word there, eh? Public fraternal snogging. Think that might cause a couple of issues.”
Liam frowned, went quiet for a few beats too long. “It’s just love,” he murmured. “Can’t be nowt wrong with love.”
Noel breathed out a sigh, shrugged a little helplessly. “Be nice if that were true. But people aren’t all that keen on public displays of affection at the best of times, you know,” Noel replied, a small attempt at some levity. “Coming from us? Two of the most famous people on the planet, who also happen to be blood related? Can’t see it going down well, our kid.” He laughed quietly as Liam pouted in response, before leaning over and threading his fingers carefully through his brothers’. “I get it. I do.” He squeezed gently. “But it’s not the world we live in.”
Liam looked over as his fingers tightened around Noel’s. “I love you. Just wish I could tell other people how much, y’know.”
“Isn’t it enough that I know?”
Liam’s eyes went blank for a moment as he took a moment to think, at that. “Sometimes. But the media n’ that, they all think I belong to you. That I’m your thing. Be nice if they knew you were mine, too.”
Noel couldn’t help but tug on Liam’s hand, hearing that, pulled him over ‘til they were eye to eye.
“Can’t have them knowing that now, can we? Got my reputation to think of,” he murmured, stroking his thumb idly over Liam’s knuckles. (He’s only half joking.) Liam scoffed, looked to be forming a retort that Noel stopped in its tracks by catching the nape of his neck with his free hand, forcing Liam to look back into the mirror image of his own eyes. He steeled himself, not used to the words about to come out of his mouth. “You know I’m yours. You know I love you. We don’t need them. Never have. Let that be enough.”
Liam searched Noel’s eyes for what felt like hours, equally unused to hearing the words to the point where he couldn’t immediately allow himself to believe them. But he knew his brother, down to his very core, to the heart of him, (he keeps it hidden behind walls and walls and walls, but it doesn’t matter to Liam, he’s the only one who can tear them down) so it didn’t take long to recognise that for once, Noel was offering nothing but sincerity.
“For now, then,” he conceded, and it’s as good as Noel’ll get, but it’ll do. Liam will never not wear his heart on his sleeve, and even despite his worry and constant pushback, Noel will always love him for it.
“For now,” Noel agreed, and pulled Liam the few inches forward it took to bring their lips together.
Noel blinks, finds himself back at the Loch. The Scottish breeze is what’s doing it, probably, kicking his mind into overdrive, pulling forward memories and thoughts he normally keeps hidden to one side. Or maybe that’s stupid. Whatever it is, he can feel his inhibitions unravelling at the seams, feels a magnetic pull toward his adoring fans, but more so to the one person in this entire god forsaken world he might just love more than himself.
He doesn’t even remember taking the steps from backstage to standing behind Liam, just realises suddenly that he can feel the thrum of the crowd tenfold, a hundredfold, resonating with his very being.
The thing is --
the thing is, it’s nothing compared to what he feels as Liam looks up at him. Their eyes locking sends a shock like lightning coursing through his veins. It’s all it takes for the world to dissipate. No crowd, no band, no stage. There’s nothing but blue eyes staring up at him filled with excitement and love and maybe a hint of questioning – what’s up, our kid, looking at me with bedroom eyes in front of all them? Not like you. In that moment, for the first time ever, stripped of his inhibitions entirely, Noel can’t think that there could possibly be anything to question. How could there be? There’s just him, and Liam, and love. And love. And love.
Time slows. Noel leans down, gently folds his hands over Liam’s chest as he bends to kiss him. It’s possible he’s gone mad, but after all, people will only see what they want to see. They don’t know what he’s broadcasting to Liam as he leans forward - but maybe it would be nice if they did. The hiding away is shit, after all. They deserve this, one short moment that most will glaze over, but some will see. It should terrify him. Normally it would.
Something’s in the air.
There’s no hesitation from Liam, of course, never could be; validation from his brother’s all he’s ever wanted, so he opens his mouth, letting his tongue find Noel’s before they’re even truly kissing. It’s more than Noel had anticipated, sets off a muted alarm somewhere in the back of his mind, but something’s gone in him, he can barely hear it. Can barely bring himself to care. There’s just this, just Liam. Where he might have normally cut it off right there (not that there’s a ‘normal’ for this, no precedent set, Noel hasn’t allowed it), now he allows a brief moment for his tongue to brush softly over Liam’s before closing the gap between their lips entirely, unhurried, a gentle pressure that he feels Liam returning.
It feels like freedom. Feels like, for a moment, he’d tell anyone that would listen that he and Liam are in love and fuck off if you’ve got something to say about it. How could it be wrong, when it feels like this? He thinks maybe he can hear the crowd whooping and jeering, the world starting to come back into focus, and it just doesn’t matter. He let’s his lips linger on Liam’s, kissing him softly, until they naturally fall apart.
Liam blinks, questioning, but Noel just grins at him, grins out at the crowd. That’s right, fuckers, there’s your admission price right there.
“We hate each other really!” he announces once he’s made his way over to his side of the stage, slinging the strap of his Epiphone over his shoulder. He glances over to Liam and sees him shrug, raising his drink to the crowd and, by proxy, to Noel in acknowledgement.
The gig that follows is mega, like always, but this one’s marked by the glances that pass between the two of them – not that they don’t usually spend every gig throwing each other pointed glances, but the atmosphere’s undeniably changed now that Noel’s decided to throw caution to the wind and give Liam exactly what he’s always wanted. (What Noel’s always wanted.) There’s a weight to the glances that they can almost touch, if they just reached out; a weight that their crowd are now privy to the driving force behind, whether they decided to see it or not.
But really, they don’t matter. Nothing else matters – just him, and Liam and the music. That’s it. That’s all there’s ever been.
Once the gig’s over, the very first thing Liam does as soon as they have a moment to themselves backstage is to drag Noel to a barely hidden away corner and push him up against a wall like he wants to start a fight, or maybe something else. Noel huffs in surprise, immediately ready to tell Liam to get the fuck off, but there’s a glint in his brother’s eye that he can’t quite read through the post-gig adrenaline. That alone is enough to stop him in his tracks.
“What was that about then eh, Noely G?” Liam asks, searching Noel’s eyes like he’s trying to see into his soul.
“Don’t know what you mean,” Noel shrugs, even though he definitely does. Liam pushes forward an inch, all up in Noel’s personal space, bracketing him into the wall with his arms. Noel can’t help but instinctively glance around to check and see if anyone’s watching them. In the distance he can hear the noise of the crowd gradually dying down as they begin to leave the grounds.
“No one’s looking.” Liam catches on immediately, sounding all too sure of himself for someone who’s only got eyes for what’s directly in front of him. “Didn’t think you’d care, anyway. With what you pulled n’ all.”
“Was a moment of weakness, is all,” Noel says through gritted teeth. “Don’t go expecting it at every gig, now.”
“Moment of weakness? Get fucked, you don’t have those. Not with us.” Liam grins like he’s got Noel’s number. (The problem being that he does, every time.) His eyes light up as he reaches his own conclusion. “You wanted to show everyone what we are. To each other, like.”
“No -,”
“You did.”
“Christ, is this what passes for post-gig chat now? ‘Great gig, Noel, fucking smashed it’ too much for you?"
“Weren’t a normal gig, that. C’mon, Noel -,”
“Maybe I thought it’d be a nice gesture of affection, since you’re always so desperate for ‘em. Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. You were the one that stuck your tongue in, may I remind you. Plausible deniability’s probably right out the window now.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Not that you care. Clearly.”
Liam grins.
“Nope. N’ come on, I don’t think anyone else does, neither. No shoes thrown at us, no holes opening up and dropping us into hell or whatever the fuck you’re worried about.”
“Guess we’ll see when the papers come out,” Noel sighs. He can feel the exhaustion starting to set in in place of adrenaline, and leans his head forward to rest against Liam’s. Realistically, he knows he doesn’t have a horse in this race when he was the one who momentarily lost his mind and decided to kiss his brother in front of the world. There’s only so long he can stay on the defensive before it starts to get redundant.
“Were nice, though,” Liam murmurs, happy.
“Yeah,” Noel breathes. The fight’s gone out of him, and yeah, fine, it was nice.
“You should worry less.”
“Never gonna happen, kid. Neither will that, again.” Maybe it was nice, but the risks far outweigh one short moment of bliss and freedom and a complete inability to care. They outweigh all that.
They do.
Liam pulls back, frowning like Noel’s deeply offended him. “What, ever?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Right, yeah. Can’t get enough of me, I know.” The fucker has the audacity to wink. Noel just rolls his eyes, laughs just a little.
“You fucking idiot,” he says, even as he’s pulling Liam back toward him by his hips. Liam goes easily, like he always does. Always will.
“Ey, great gig, that,” Liam murmurs, staring straight into Noel’s eyes. His eyes, mirrored. “Fucking smashed it.”
“Too right,” Noel replies, close enough that he’s almost whispering, and leans the imperceptible distance left between them to kiss Liam once more. They can have today, at least.