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When Damon rounded the corner, his heart immediately sank like a stone to the pit of his stomach.
A whole horde of paparazzi, hugging the front gate and squeezing over the top of it like it was a front row barrier and Noel’s front steps were a stage.
Damon sighed. He should have thought this over, even just for a second. It was the middle of a weekday, and Noel Gallagher was one of Britain’s most promising emblems of youth culture, his existence rife with drama just waiting to be uncovered.
He’s got his own life, you know. Some people can allow themselves to move on.
Damon swatted his hand in the air, waving away the thought like he would a particularly annoying insect. The temptation to turn on his heel and leg it all the way back home was as appealing as anything, but the magazine rolled tightly in his grip reminded him of why he was here in the first place.
Steeling himself and making sure his hood was yanked firmly over his head, he breathed in and took off like a jet plane across the street and into the crowd.
He blamed only the element of surprise for why he was able to part the photographers and reporters and rabid fans like they made up the salty waves of the red sea.
Unfortunately, in the mess of people his hood did manage to slip from his head and expose him, but by the time people had caught on he was already past the gate and halfway up the steps.
It was only when he started banging on the door did a rising cacophony of ‘Is that Damon Albarn?’ ‘Damon, over here!’ ‘Damon! What are your thoughts on Noel Gallagher’s recent claims?’ blare out from behind him. He ignored them.
“Noel, open the fucking door! It’s Damon, I need to speak to you!”
“Damon! How do you feel about Oasis’ album going to number one?”
“The fuck’s that Blur gobshite want with Noel?”
“Damon, is it true that Blur are going on hiatus?”
Damon continued to pound at the door, resolve tightening in his shoulders. He was seething, ready to break the handle off the door if Noel refused to see him.
“I know you’re in there, Noel! Let me in!” This would have been easier months earlier. Back when he’d had a key.
A voice suddenly sounded out. “Fuck you want, then?”
Damon’s fist came down onto empty air where the door had once been. He faltered as he took in the sight before him.
Noel, his head shaved nearly down to skin, his arm around a bowl of crisps and a handful making its way up to his mouth.
Damon refused to let his surprise at Noel’s appearance run him off course. He barged past the door and into Noel’s house, shoulder checking him on the way for good measure.
The second Noel shut the door behind him, Damon rounded on him and shoved the magazine into his chest. “What the fuck is this?”
Unimpressed, Noel stared down at Damon’s hand, not the least bit intimidated as he crunched around the crisps and set his bowl down on the hallway table. Taking an excruciatingly long time to chew and swallow as if he knew it would piss Damon off, he finally took hold of the magazine. “A fucking tabloid. Fucking hell, you couldn’t figure that out on your own? Needed to break down my door?”
“The cover, Noel.”
Noel sneered at him. “Thought they would have taught you how to fucking read at university, cunt.” He let the magazine fall to the floor in a heap and grabbed his bowl, swiftly walking around Damon and towards the kitchen. “Now kindly do one and fuck off.”
Damon followed after him. “You can’t just say shit like that and expect to get off scot-free. It’s not just about me, that fucking disease isn’t something to joke about.”
“Weren’t joking.”
“Noel,” he groaned, watching him grab a beer from his fridge. “I know you’re still angry with me—”
“Angry? Nah, not me. Couldn’t give a fuck, really.”
“—but there’s no need to be cruel.”
Noel scowled. “Ain’t there? Far as I see it, AIDS is the fucking least you and that twat deserve.”
“You didn’t have to bring Alex into it, it wasn’t his fault—”
“Oh, so his cock just happened to fall into your arsehole by fucking accident, did it?” Noel spat. He chugged his beer with a vengeance, like it was Damon’s blood, the can popping and cracking in his fist. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Albarn?”
Damon winced. Albarn. It used to be Damon. Or love, occasionally. Even the rare use of darlin’ in his nasally northern accent when he was taking the piss and wanted to make Damon laugh.
“I didn’t come here to dig up any old bones, Noel. I’ve already apologized to you.”
For a moment, Noel looked so furious Damon was sure he was about to stalk over and sink his fist straight into his nose. Which, to be fair, he would rightly deserve.
Instead, he just fixed him with a glare that made Damon’s eyes burn. “Why the fuck are you here, then?”
“I want you to make a public apology. You have every right to hate me, but the fans don’t deserve this. Neither of ours do.” He swallowed around the lump growing in his throat. “We’re supposed to be setting an example.”
“An example, fuck. Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my house and telling me what I can and can’t say, you pretentious fucking twat? My fans know who I am, and they don’t give a shit. If I hurt your precious little feelings, you can fucking write ‘em down for me, I’m fucking low on bog roll at the moment.”
“This isn’t about how I feel,” Damon insisted, feeling like he was going around in circles. “It’s about—”
“Fucking leave it, Albarn, I don’t give a shit.”
“But Noel, you can’t—”
Noel swiped his hand through the air. “I can and I have and I’ll fucking do it again if you don’t piss off.”
With that he turned his back on Damon and grabbed the worktop, a clear dismissal if Damon had ever seen one. There hadn’t been a chance in hell that he truly thought he could convince Noel to apologize, but for whatever reason Damon felt like he still failed himself.
Sighing, he was about to turn and leave when he noticed something stuck to the fridge.
A small photograph, cut out of a newsprint. Him and Noel, their arms around each other, matching bronze awards in their hands.
Something ached in Damon’s chest. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.
“Noel, I’m sorry.” The words were out before Damon even knew they were forming in his mouth.
Noel turned with a startled look. “Eh?”
The facade of being upset solely about the AIDS remark broke into pieces, making Damon’s chest hurt even more.
He shook his head desperately. “I never meant to hurt you. I made the worst fucking mistake of my life when I slept with Alex.”
Noel’s surprised expression quickly turned to discomfort. “Damon, I don’t want—”
“No, Noel, I should have said this ages ago. I was pissed out of my mind and it didn’t mean anything at all, and I know that’s no excuse but it’s the truth.”
“You ain’t got—”
“Noel, you have to believe me.” Damon swiftly crossed the room and balled his hands into Noel’s collar. “I’d take it back in a heartbeat, I swear.”
“You can’t, is the fucking problem.”
The coldness in his tone did more damage than any punch to the face could.
“I know, god, I fucking know. But I’ll do anything, just please forgive me.”
“Christ, Damon,” Noel huffed. “How the fuck d’you expect me to respond to that? I ain’t taking you back, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Noel—”
“No, you fucking know what?” Noel shoved him off. “I don’t ever want to see your fucking mug near me again. You don’t leave right now, I’ll call the fucking cops.”
“I will, Noel, I promise, but I need you to know that I—”
He faltered. The words weren’t coming to him anymore, even as Noel raised his eyebrows and squinted at him.
“You fucking what?” he gritted out, each syllable like a knife in Damon’s heart.
“I—” Damon bit his lip and took a deep breath. “Noel, I still fucking love you.”
Noel stared at him.
If admission had a nostalgic, familiar taste to it. And if Damon wasn’t so caught off guard by the feelings that came flooding in along with those words, he might have realized Noel’s quick steps toward him were not ones of acceptance.
He really must have been a lot more fucking whipped than he might have guessed, considering the painful blow to the side of his face left his skin crying out for more, god, please, again. It had been a while since Noel had last touched him.
The fall to the floor bore no such euphoria, and it was only then that Damon realized what just happened. A hand-shaped sting on his face. Noel above him. His chest heaving and his eyes wide in something that could have been fury or horror, or better yet a mix of the two.
He jabbed a finger in Damon’s direction. “You fucking cunt. If you think I—” He cut himself off, a garbled sound leaving his mouth like something was caught in his throat and choking him. “I swear I’ll fucking—”
It seemed he couldn’t do much but shake his head wildly. His face was turning red.
“Noel?” Damon said in a small voice, concerned. He looked like he was about to pass out.
But Noel just turned and stalked to the freezer, nearly ripping the door off of its hinges and reaching in.
He stomped back over to Damon, dropped down to the floor beside him, and thrust something at him. “Here.”
It was a bag of frozen peas.
“Cheers,” Damon said slowly, taking the bag. He pressed it to his cheek, the burn of the ice extinguishing the achiness.
Noel huffed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s alright. I think it was warranted.”
He scowled. “But that’s just fucking like you, ain’t it? You fucking cheat on me but I’m the one who has to fucking apologize.”
Damon took his hand. “We both made mistakes.”
That only made Noel frown deeply. He squeezed his fingers tightly around Damon’s.
“You know, I…” He stared down at the floor, his face pinched. “I fucking cried when I found out. I ain’t cried like that since I were a kid.”
The guilt hit Damon like a train, and he felt his own eyes starting to well up. His lips were trembling too much for him to come up with an easy reply, so instead he stayed silent.
“I fucking hated you for that,” Noel said with a humorless laugh. “I think I still do.”
“Noel…” Damon said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sorry in my life. I truly never meant to hurt you. I was a fucking arsehole.”
“Yeah, you fucking were. You know I fucking shaved my head ‘cause of you, you twat? Turned me into a fucking teenage girl going through a breakup, cunt.”
“For the record, I think you look alright like this.”
“Yeah? I reckon you’re only saying that ‘cause you’d make a terrible skinhead.”
Damon smiled. It felt nice to joke with him again.
Noel got to his feet and pulled Damon up with him. He took the peas from him before guiding him back out into the hallway.
“Do me a favor?” Noel asked as they neared the door.
Turning to face him, Damon nodded. “Anything, Noel.”
He didn’t know which was more sudden, Noel’s palms digging into his chest or the back of his head cracking painfully against the door frame. What he did know was that the feeling of Noel’s lips on his after so many months away felt like nothing else he had ever experienced.
Noel sighed and slid his hand up to Damon’s neck. He was as warm and insistent as he had ever been, able to make Damon melt with nothing more than a soft bite to his lips and a small hum of approval as Damon opened his mouth and let him in.
He pulled off, an almost fond type of expression softening his face. Cupping Damon’s jaw, he leaned in, murmuring lowly. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Damon was too caught up in the haze to register the sound of the door opening and the burst of fresh air that followed before he was being shoved unceremoniously out into the open. Unable to find his balance on time, he fell flat on his arse just as the door slammed shut behind him.