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“like to see albarn sing rock like that,” liam mumbled into the microphone, full of sass and challenge. the crowd before him went wild at that. he grinned. “why’re we bein’ put against a pop band, anyway?”
liam and noel exchanged a glance. noel raised his eyebrows, scoffing. noel found it hilarious when liam slagged the other band off. y’know, seeing as he was dating the lead singer.
“britpop? we ain’t britpop, mate! we’re fuckin’ r n’ r, y’know!”
and, liam thought it was funny when he insulted blur as well. sure, he couldn’t care for half of them (definitely didn’t respect alex), but graham and damon were okay. especially damon.
when he’d hurl insults, and the crowd went wild, he had to admit it hurt a bit. it just went to prove that the two could never be open. public. and liam hated being hidden away.
a dirty secret, that everyone knew.
he wanted to be showed off. he wanted to pull damon on stage and yell, ‘this is my partner, cunts, deal with it or leave!’, but. he couldn’t.
he wanted damon to pull him on stage. kiss him maybe, have his arm ‘round his waist, hand on his hip. fuck, he wanted to do it in public in general. no stage needed.
and that was part of being in a band he hated. the publicity. he was happy with the fans most times, sure, but the paparazzi and the press and the reporters— made him want to rip his hair out. it made it difficult to be himself.
hell, noel had sworn away his love life when he joined! sure, he was active in it, but he wasn’t active, y’know? he’d married a bird, when he much rather had married a lad.
liam didn’t want to be like that. he never wanted to be like that. he preferred both sexes equal, and, hell, anything that might be between. if he loved a lad, he wanted to be able to marry him.
if he loved damon, he wanted to be able to marry him.
“shall we sing shitelife, then,” liam suggested, and again, the crowd went berserk. the noise confused his head, and his previous thoughts jumbled away. “our shits better than that!” and he jumped back into his next song.
..
damon, on his own stage, had the same internal conflict. while it was true blur was much nicer to oasis than oasis was blur, they had their moments, and either way they were both poking at each others buttons.
“you think we should invite oasis up on stage with us,” damon asked into his own mic. the crowd cheered. “they’d be bumbling drunk, but i think they’d do good, don’t you?”
he cringed at his words, hating the way they tasted in his mouth. it was always good to poke fun, but that comment was just mean.
uhg. he wanted to puke.
“they wouldn’t be able to find the stage,” alex added on. “fried their brains, likely.”
damon gave him a glare. it was one thing for him to throw insults at liam. and noel. but it was another entirely for alex to do it. and to say something like that.
he was met with a stare back, and damon looked away, rolling his eyes.
this was all bullshit. it was fun every now and then, damon loved his chance to be a little shit, and liam was a born and raised menace. but it was tiring now, and it was reduced to petty insults and low blows that made his throat hurt.
shaking his head, he continued the show. he’d drop the comments for now. god knows he’d have to pick them back up sooner than later, might as well enjoy a night off.
...
liam knocked on the door near weakly. he was so drained of energy, so tired of the feud he’d fueled all day, he just wanted to lay down.
but he’d forgotten his key.
it’d been twenty minutes he’d been standing there, he knew damon must not be home yet. so, he sat on the patio steps, closing his eyes, head resting against the door.
damon arrived around ten minutes after that, tilting his head at the figure he saw by the door.
“liam? darling, why are you outside,” damon asked once he got close enough, and liams eyes cracked open. it was clear he was falling asleep.
“forgot my key,” liam mumbled in reply, holding his arms up. damon grabbed his hands easily, pulling the man up to stand. “welcome home.”
“how long have you been waiting out here? you’re freezing, love.” damon pulled liam close, digging in his pocket to produce a key, opening the door and hurrying them both inside.
this is what liam missed when he was on stage. on tour. he missed damon. the tender moments— the love. he needed this. liam was always pissy when on tour, and the reason was simple. he was being forced to do something he didn’t want to. and that was: hide who he was, aka, not voice his love for damon fucking albarn.
“not long, don’t think,” liam replied, allowing damon to help him out his coat. damon rested his head on liams shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind.
they stood there for minutes. just feeling each other, breathing each other in. it’d been a rough day for the both of them.
gentle thumping came to the window, and it snapped them both out of whatever trance they were on.
“dinner?” liam asked.
“don’t want to make you cook tonight.”
“i don’t mind. can’t eat no more fast food, s’all i’ve eaten the past few days.”
“alright.”
they made their way to the kitchen, liam rolling his sleeves up to wash his hands.
on stage, the insults and banter. it didn’t mean anything now. not when they got home. together. not then. because then, they could be themselves, didn’t have to pretend to be anyone else.
“i love you,” damon mused, and liam grinned. he’d never get tired of hearing those words.
“love you, too,” liam replied softly.