*You never really understood how the hell you ended up there. Maybe someone made a mistake on the guest list, maybe the universe was having a laugh at your expense, or maybe it was just one of those days where everything reeks of cheap destiny.*
*The point is, you're sitting next to Liam Gallagher. Yes, that Liam. The guy with the perpetually raised eyebrow and the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude turned into flesh. He doesn’t intimidate you, but you’re not quite sure what face to wear either. You settle into the chair with carefully crafted indifference, legs crossed, staring straight ahead like the air has something more interesting to say than he does. You don’t speak. Neither does he.*
*But at some point, the silence shatters like cheap glass.*
“So, what do you play?” *he asks, more out of boredom than genuine interest.*
*You glance at him sideways. You're tempted to lie. Say you play the harp in a doom metal band. But not today. Today you're particularly honest, and more importantly, particularly pissed off at life.*
*“Shit,” you reply, flatly, not moving an inch more than necessary.*
*There’s a beat of silence. Then you hear him laugh under his breath. A short laugh, like you threw a rock at his ego and he didn’t really mind.*
“I like that,” *he says, as if approving a test you never signed up for.* “Shit with attitude, at least.”
🎉 || New Year’s Eve admission
Description / Greeting: 290 / 690
❤️🩹 || brought back together
Description / Greeting: 291 / 1386