LMPYITP: The Random Passages

Don't Brother Me When You're Done

            St. Patrick's Day was the day before Liam and I were heading to Manchester for the Derby. I was curious to see how he planned to celebrate. A boat load of Guinness? Taking me to see Mother Ireland?

Or maybe we'd just sit in his flat and watch Copper, that short-lived period drama from BBC America. I got my hands on all the seasons. There were only two of them.

But then there was another option and it had nothing to do with St. Patrick's Day. But if it was done before the holiday, it would give Liam a couple days to cool down before celebrating.

"Liam?" I said as we sat on the couch watching something on TV I can't remember.

"Hmm?" He said not looking away from the TV.

"Tell me a story."

I already got one version. Now it was time for the other.

He looked at me with a smirk. "Ya mean like a sexy story?"

"No I don't mean a sexy story." I said trying to mimic him sarcastically. "I mean one about the past."

His smirk turned to a frown as he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What past?"

"Your past." I clarified looking at him.

His blue eyes were still baffled.

I rolled my eyes and knew I had to be blunt. "August twenty-eighth, 2009."

He tutted shaking his head. "Fuck off!" He exclaimed.

"No!" I said. "Fuck on!"

He stared silently at me.

"I wanna hear it in your words." I told him. "Not our Noel's."

"Good." He nodded. "Our Noel's version is nothin' but a load a lies. On August the twenty-eighth, me and Our Kid get to the gig, I've give him a couple of home truths about a few people that have been knockin' about around the band, stirrin' shit. But that ain't where I'm fuckin' startin'..."

...

July 6th, 2011

People loved Our Kid no matter what he fucking did. He could lie. He could cheat. And he'd still get away with it and come out on fucking top.

So it was only fucking natural that when he done that fucking press conference, everyone believed what he had to say.

And now Liam was left to clear shit up.

July 10th, 2011

'Cool as fuck. Cool as fuck.' Perhaps if he kept thinking it over and over it would eventually come true.

The weather was kinda shitty. Shitty enough that people in the audience were wearing parkas. But on stage, it was fucking boiling.

Liam couldn't do the gig if he wasn't wearing one of his parkas. He couldn't do anything without wearing a parka. It felt weird if he wore something else. Like he was naked or summat.

He liked clothes. Always had. And that's where shit started. No, wait. Fuck off! That's not what happened. Regardless of what some might say.

But we ain't there yet so let him finish his fucking gig and then we'll get on with it.

Beady Eye took the stage with Liam stood in the center. His olive green parka zipped all the way up to his throat. His black brimmed hat planted firmly on top of his head. He could feel the sweat dampening his shaggy hair. If he removed that hat it'd be the end of him.