Born on a Different Cloud

I Saw Him Standing There

Author Note- Sorry I literally just posted this on Short Story Thingies but I thought of the next chapter that directly follows on from this one and I really want to keep going with these.

The title was the first Beatles song I found so thanks for writing a song that fits so well, I didn't like it but nevermind, I changed her to him.

- - - Indicates change of POV.

This is the story of when Liam and John met, both timelines are running together again so it's 1961 to John and 1989 to Liam just so Liam's 17 for the song but you don't have to stick to that, I was tempted to make Liam the older one this time but my Liam's ALWAYS younger.

- - -

I'm lost in the mob of away fans trying to escape Goodison Park. We weren't doing anything wrong, we hadn't all match but still we were herded out like bulls ready to kick off.

What can I say about the match? Disappointing draw, nil, fucking nil. City, why d'you let us down?

We're all walking with our heads low, dispirited by yet another lackluster performance. Everyone's quiet, it's all just the shuffles of our trainers, echoing through the exit tunnels.

I was with some of the lads but they've done a fucking disappearing act on me, probably off looking to pick a fight with the Scousers. I'm not arsed with that (bloody casuals, nothing casual about 'em), not today and the Scousers were alright, me brother reckons their our wacky cousins, not people to be fighting with. I dunno, I just wanna get on the train and get home.

Out of the crowd and into the fresh air, I couldn't decide whether to have a scout about for me mates or get off home. First train'll be crowded but I wasn't having the police targeting me. Fuck it I'll hang about a bit.

I looked up to see some lad standing, leant against the huge blue metal gates, he held one foot against the post. He looked oblivious to everyone streaming past him like a Mum picking her kid up from school.

He looked so fucking cool, he sort of blended in but he stood right out all the same. He had a mop of light brown hair like myself but his hadn't been blown all over, despite the wind. He was wearing a plain black t shirt, he'd hung sunglasses on the collar. He had a brown satchel over his shoulder. He wore dark jeans with tennis shoes. He smoked a fag with an almost deadpan expression. He wasn't one of us and he didn't look an Evertonian either.

Maybe I'd been separated from my mates for a reason, fate and that or maybe he was eyeing for the right person to kick the shit out of and I needed to watch my step, he looked fucking tough.

"Giz a light." My voice cracked and my heart crashed about in my chest as I made first contact.

What was wrong with me? I was smooth with the ladies and the lads. I didn't get nervous at the game, they were all mine for the taking. I didn't even want a smoke, I'd just blurted.

"Get lost, Manc." he said but his lips curled into a welcoming smile.

My eyes locked with his, deep, soft, warm brown ones that let me past his tough exterior.

"C'mon." I pulled a cigarette out from my jeans pocket and put it to my lips.

"I'm waiting for a friend." he said, still not budging.

"They'll be ages yet, big crowd today. We've got plenty of time." I pointed out. "It's not gonna light itself."

He quickly searched his satchel, finding the lighter and lighting me up. "There."