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Ever since Liam had been hit in the head with a hammer some two years ago he’s acting a bit odd. Well, more than a bit odd. Properly fucking weird.
Some nights he won’t, can’t, go to sleep and keeps talking about the most meaningless things. He’s willing to talk about anything. God, da, birds, blokes even. Noel ignores that part, Liam talks just to keep his mouth moving and not because he actually has something on his mind. He goes on and on about Beatles and Stone Roses, as if Noel didn’t introduce him to them in the first place! But at least Liam has signs of living during those moods. There are days when Liam lies so still in bed that Noel thinks he’s died during the night. He won’t eat, won’t drink and certainly won’t get out of bed to get to school. Liam doesn’t even sleep, just lying in bed staring into a wall. It makes the few times Noel is home very gloomy and sad.
Whatever mood Liam is found in, he does everything in his power to make everything worse for everyone else.
-
It’s quite a cold October afternoon when Noel visits. Mam is in the living room, watching the telly with a cup of tea resting on the table in front of her.
“Where’s r’kid?” He asks as he looks through the pantry. Nothing to snack on, a packet of biscuits that’s been open since summer. There’s two boxes of Weetabix but Liam would probably flip his lid if he found out Noel took some. He can’t be arsed to get some milk from the fridge anyway.
Mam sighs and Noel feels a pit in his stomach grow, he regrets even asking. If Liam was up and about he would already be, shouting at Noel for being away too long and dragging him out for a game of football on their street.
“Oh he’s in a mood again, you know how he is. Been in bed all week, haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Noel nods and closes the pantry. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No bother, he won’t talk.” The tone tells him Mam had already tried. Probably tried everything - the gentle voice only reserved for her little baby Liam, promising to make him his favorite dinner, begging and ordering. Nothing worked, obviously. There’s no use. When Liam’s upset nothing will keep himself from being upset. Until he’s happy again and has enough energy to light up a house.
But Noel, after drinking a cup and a half of tea to soothe his scratchy throat, makes his way up the thin staircase. The road up to their room feels long and winding. Not to mention heavy, with his two suitcases and backpack. There is no sound from their room, Noel notices as he lays his ear against it. No muted coughing from sneaking a smoke or rattling snores. There’s not even a soft spinning from one of his records, Liam’s been obsessed with all kinds of music ever since the hammer thing, Noel saw him sneak a Madonna one between the Stone Roses and the fucking white album, shameless bastard.
Noel lets out a loud sigh as he lets go of his suitcases. He knocks on the door.
“Liam? I’m home.”
No answer. Not that he expected one, anyway.
“I’m coming in now.”
The first thing he notices is how dark it is. All colours from the posters or duvet covers are covered with a thick layer of blue-ish gray. The curtains are pulled tightly together, but still a stubborn thin stream of light makes its way through the crack. The second thing Noel notices is the smell. The air is stale as if neither the door or the window have been opened for a few days.
Liam is a sad lump under his duvet, only a few strands of hair and an ear showing.
“I’m home.” Noel says awkwardly, “Ye not even gonna greet me?”
The lump stays still. Barely rising for a breath.
“Did you miss me?” Noel asks as he shuts the door, “‘Cus I missed you quite a bit. Didn’t have me crazy brother ‘round to bother me.” Noel grabs onto Liam’s duvet covered arm and gives him a small shove.
The lump shakes its head.
“No? You’re not my batshit crazy cunt of brother?” Noel shoves him with every word.
The creature shakes its heavy head again.
“Shit, then you’re not Liam are ye? Who are you?” He makes a funny voice and sits down on the bed, with his back to the window. He wrinkles his nose, he wonders when the last time Mam made Liam shower and change his bedsheets. It smells a bit foul.
Liam shakes his head again, acting as though he was one of the toys with those bobbing heads. Noel scoffs at the thought but does feel the need to put a heavy hand on the back of his head.
“How’ve you’ve been then?” Noel asks, this time in his normal voice. Liam’s hair is greasy and long in his hand. He clearly needs a haircut. And a shave, he thinks as he rubs Liam’s cheek with his knuckles, it’s all prickly like a cactus.
“Shite.” Liam mumbles. At least he’s looking at Noel. He notes that Liam’s eyes are teary and swollen, probably been sad for a while. “Haven’t gone out all week.”
“Trying to catch up on some school work?” Noel jokes and makes a motion towards the mountain of papers and books on their bedside table. Liam’s voice has gotten deeper. It weirds Noel out. Little brother isn’t so little anymore. Noel can play pretend with himself just a little bit longer when they’re like this. Just for a few more minutes.
Liam doesn’t even glance at the pile, just gives a little sniffle.
“I guess I can’t go to the pub with you tonight then...” Noel pouts, trying to kick start some energy into his brother.
Liam takes a large lungful of breath through his mouth, as if though what he is gonna say is very hard. “I’m not in the mood. I jus’ wanna be home, I think I’m becoming sick.” His lower lip juts out and his chin wobbles for a second or two.
Noel doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just nods. The increasingly familiar feeling of hopelessness starts to build. He glances at the turntable, “You wanna play something?”
“No, that’s okay.” Liam turns and lays on his stomach and pulls the blanket up to his ears. He disappears deeper under the duvet again.
“I heard Mam bought some cereal for you, dunno wha’s it called,” Noel tries. It is hard to talk to Liam when he’s like this, harder than when he’s all crazy. You could beat the energy out of someone but you can’t make someone happy by being angry at them. To even think about Liam like this makes his heart ache. “But I think it was Weetabix or sum’ like that.”
Liam has turned still and quiet again. Slammed the door in Noel’s face, spat in his eye and cursed his bloodline.
“Alright if ye’re gonna be such a cunt about it.”
It always goes like this. No matter how much Noel tries to not get mad. It is so easy to get mad at Liam. He can go from happy to absolutely fuming in a matter of seconds. Then sometimes he needs to be treated with gloves and kisses. But then it is impossible to do it right, if he even can do it right. Liam acts like an alley cat, hissing at any sort of comfort as though Noel would abandon him.
But essentially the bottom line is this - Liam is sad, Noel tries to make it better but Liam stays sad and Noel gets angry. At Liam or himself, he hasn’t quite figured it out yet.
-
A few hours go by and it’s about seven in the evening. Mam had been invited to one of her lady friend’s houses for a bit of tea, knitting and gossiping. Noel decided he didn’t want to go out tonight either, his mood totally soiled by Liam.
Noel hears steps down the stairs.
He glances away from the boring crime show to the stairway. There comes Liam shuffling down the stairs in his pyjamas. He’s wearing sunglasses. Fucking pothead. Noel wants to scoff, it’s dark out and if Mam was home he’d be busted within seconds.
“Where’s Mammy?” Liam asks, sounding terribly congested. Liam approaches the living room with caution, as though he’s a street cat exploring occupied territory.
“Uh, she’s with a friend, why?” Liam balances himself by holding onto the couch. Noel notes he’s looking a bit pale.
“I just, just, I dunno.. I just...” Liam is the world's greatest mumbler. “It’s just... my...”
“Hey, is something wrong, Liam?”
“My head hurts.” He sniffles and rubs the sweaty skin above his lip.
Liam’s headache could just be because he has been in bed all week or a life threatening bleed in his brain. It must be hurting, since Liam crawled out of bed. Irrational catastrophe thoughts immediately start to run through Noel’s head. Liam lying on a hospital bed. Liam laid to rest in a casket. Liam in the ground with flowers growing on the still not settled dirt.
“Shit. Do- do you need to go to the hospital?” Noel gets off the sofa and quickly rounds it to get to Liam’s side. “Is it just a headache or is it something else?”
He feels across Liam’s head, rakes through the long strands with his fingers - just to make sure there aren’t any bumps. Liam could have slipped off the toilet and smacked his head on the wall for all Noel knows. But he does note a noticeable heat in Liam’s forehead and checks with his palm.
“I think you might have a fever.” Noel tells him as he doublechecks with the back of his hand, he has read somewhere it’s more accurate. Liam shakes Noel’s hand off his forehead and his hand tightens around a sofa cushion. Brain probably did a spin or two in his noggin.
“I just want my medicine, Noel.” Liam’s voice gets thick. It’s not too unlike when Liam was a little kid, would cry over everything. If he was tired or irritated nothing could stop the floodgates, except their Mam’s arms and her promise of giving him a biscuit to cheer him up. Spoiled cunt.
“Alright, don’t start crying.”
On the inside Noel feels very, very relieved. He doesn’t know if he or Liam would survive a hospital visit when things are so brittle between them. Then he starts to feel a bit foolish. If Liam was actually hurt he’d storm down the stairs screaming and crying “Noellie! Noellie! Oh, now I’ve done it! I’ve smashed me bloody head in!”.
They walk together to the kitchen and Noel starts to look through their medicine cabinet.
“What’s it called?” Noel assumes Liam doesn’t get prescribed good ol’ ibuprofen.
“Dunno.” Liam says. His face, even though it is concealed by greasy bangs and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses, is pinched together in pain. “Mam has to get it for me since I’m under eighteen, it should say my name though.”
He pulls out all kinds of things. Pills for pollen, regular headaches, constipation, seasickness etcetera etcetera. But he does find it eventually, a box of pills with a lazy signature was wedged between a bottle of expired cough drops and supplements for kids.
“It says here you have to eat somethin’ with it.” Noel reads the instructions as Liam fills up a glass of water.
Liam shrugs his shoulders.
“You don’t do that?” Liam shakes his head. “Yeah, and how do you feel after taking them then?” Noel asks but keeps a light tone. At least Liam is out of bed, he reminds himself. At least he’s standing. Not lying on the floor, not in bed or on the couch. Standing on his own two feet in the kitchen.
“Little bit nauseous, maybe.”
“Well, there’s leftovers in the fridge.” Noel tells him and tries to sound positive. “I’ll be off and taking a shower. Eat some before I come back, alright?” He almost wants to pat Liam on the cheek, just to make sure he isn’t too warm.
-
Noel’s worries for Liam melt away just like the dirt and smell on his skin does in the shower. He has gained an ache in his lower back from his day of travel and the hot water does wonders for the crying muscles. Noel is sure that if he has to pull one amp or unpack another mic stand he’ll actually break his back. The hot water is the best feeling he’s felt for a while, though the water pressure is lacklustre the steam makes up for it.
Using Mam’s shampoo and just rubbing the London smell out of his hair feels great. Not to mention to finally not smell slightly smelly all the time. When Noel steps out of the shower he steals Liam’s toothbrush, not like it gets much use anyway. He brushes his teeth for what must've been four minutes stark naked, dripping water onto the rug.
Christ, it feels great to be clean. However, his irritated gums cry in disagreement. Noel decides to have a quick shave as well. He steals Liam’s razor, not that it got used with its own lying in bed all the time. When he’s done he looks through his suitcases for something clean. He picks a grey jumper and a pair of worn out, comfortable jeans.
Noel makes his way down the stairs. He was going straight for the living room but decided to poke his head into the kitchen, just to make sure. He sees Liam sitting at the table with a plate of chicken, pasta, some broccoli and sauce. At least he got it in the microwave, Noel thinks.
Liam’s shoulders are drawn up high to his ears and his head in his hands, just staring at the food. He can just imagine Liam’s pitiful face. Terrified eyes, lips drawn tight in fear over food and a weak tremble in his chin.
Noel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even rant to himself internally. Just pulls out the chair beside Liam and starts cutting the chicken into small, minuscule pieces. Then when that is done he pulls Liam’s hands off his face, frowning at the nail shaped marks carved into his skin. He reminds himself to cut Liam’s finger nails after dinner.
Noel picks up the fork again. He rolls spaghetti around the fork, stabs a piece of chicken to use as a stopper before dipping it in the sauce. Then it is ready to be lifted up to Liam’s mouth.
“Come on now Liam,” Noel feels terribly small as he tries to tell Liam what to do. “Mam’s worried. She wants you to eat.”
Liam opens his mouth to speak but Noel sticks the fork in, not wanting to hear whatever pitiful thing Liam wants to say. It’s a slow process, morsel after morsel. When the plate is half empty Liam takes his pill. They skip doing the dishes, they’ll deal with it in the morning - or well, Noel will at least.
Afterwards they sit in front of the telly for a while. Liam wordlessly begged him to stay, even though he had rejected his comfort just a few hours ago. Noel knows Liam can’t really help his mood swings. They just happen when they happen. This is just how it is and how it’ll be until Liam becomes normal again. If that could ever happen.
-
But after every low dip there is a very steep uphill climb. There you reach the highest top anyone has stood on. The thing is that Liam just continues. All the way to the clouds.
“He was bouncing off the walls,” Mam tells him as he comes home on a particularly late December night. The train had been delayed because of all the snow. He has just taken off his shitty summer shoes, his toes are totally frozen. “Couldn’t eat anything ‘cus of it, just sat staring at the plate- practically shakin’! Before telling me he’s going out to play football.”
“I’ll go get him.” Noel puts on his soaked shoes on his numb feet again. He hadn’t even gotten his coat off.
“Noel, I went up to his room and well...”
Noel sighs, “He huffed some or what?”
Mam gets this very sad expression. She doesn’t like that they drink as much as they do, much less doing drugs and hates when they do it in the home. “He has drunk a bit too, maybe.”
“I’ll be back soon.” He grabs a winter coat for Liam and a pair of mittens. “Don’t worry mam.”
As soon as he opens the front door he regrets it. The snow is blowing sideways right into his face. The tiny little things hit Noel right in the face no matter what he does. Even if he pulls his beanie down low or tightens the thick scarf. The wind is howling in his ears, sounding like a giant breath that never ends.
He treads through the snow, has to step over half finished snowmen and practically glides over the ice puddles that have formed on the pavement.
I’ll kill him, Noel thinks, if the cold doesn’t do it first. Will fucking rip him apart with my bare hands then carry him home to Mam. Fucking stupid fucking, fucking, fucking-
There he is. In an abandoned park under a flickering street lamp.
“Liam!” He shouts through his cupped hands, though it all fades into the wind and joins the big roar. “Liam! You-“
Liam looks up and Noel feels frozen to the ground. Liam looks like the world's biggest idiot. Liam is dressed in a t-shirt, pyjama pants and a pair of inadequate shoes. He keeps on trying to kick the football up on his foot and then to his knee but the wind sends both the ball and Liam stumbling.
Noel slips every few steps but he can’t let himself fall, he even sticks out his arms and waddles like a stressed, tired penguin. He just can’t let Liam out of his sight. Christ Liam could fall into the snow in a drunken stupor, decide to just close his eyes for one second and die on a bed of snow.
He’s about five meters away from Liam and sees his face more clearly. Liam’s face is white, not even a blush from the cold, and his lips have gone blue. Between his lips is a limp cigarette, wet from the snow and barely lit.
“You fucking idiot!” Noel yells and he feels completely powerless.
Noel realises now that he never really tried with Liam. He’s always angry with him, even when he tries not to be. He’s angry when Liam’s sad. He’s angry that Liam can act however he wants because that’s just the way things go for him.
Things go like they always do. Of course Liam would go out in a fucking blizzard and play football all by himself under a street lamp in some bizarre suicide attempt. Of course Noel will fetch him and save him from his sure death.
He can go worry Mam half to death with drinking, hang out with seriously weird people, have sex in dingy pubs with women much older than him. Liam could break every piece of porcelain and glass in the house just because something made him freak out. He can get to be hand fed because he’s crying too much over not being able to eat to pick up a bloody fork.
Liam can do whatever Liam wants because who the hell is gonna stop him? Da wouldn’t teach Liam when to stop crying as a babe, Mam had given up since the head injury and Noel hadn’t seen his brother more than a few times a year for a while now.
Noel feels anger gives him enough fire and heat to cross the North Pole in shorts. He guesses that is somewhat comparable to what Liam feels, but that he’s just so damn happy and excited. He has reached Liam now and he takes the burning cigarette and he throws it away. God he will fucking kill Liam.
“You’re gonna fucking kill yourself!” Liam’s eyes glide away from each other, decide on one spot before they start crossing over the other. He looks like a loony. Like someone who needs serious fucking help. Proper help. Strapped to a bare boned bed in a straight jacket while being injected with sedatives.
Liam makes a face, like Noel is telling him a joke over Sunday dinner. He’s high right off his arse. “I’m just playing!”
“In a fucking blizzard! You’re wearing a fucking t-shirt, Liam!”
Blue lips part and shows two rows of pearly white teeth part before a rustling sound comes out of his mouth. Liam fucking laughs right in his face.
Noel rips off his own beanie and shoves it onto Liam’s head. He takes Liam’s hands and dresses them in mittens. He pulls one of Liam’s wax coloured arms into the winter jacket and then the other. He feels like he’s dressing a five year old. A five year old who’ll catch his own death to play some football in the middle of the night in fucking winter. He even has to pull up Liam’s zipper, he pulls it all the way up to his chin.
“You’re such a fucking, fucking- you could die, Liam.”
“What does that even matter for?”
Noel slaps him. He’s sure Liam can’t even feel it, his skin so frozen it’s gone numb. But Liam can’t just go around and say stuff like that. He can’t go and scare Noel to death.
“Say that again!” Noel shouts and gives him another clap. “I fucking dare you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he groans, “I’m just playing! Proper fuckin’ player me..”
Noel decides to wrap Liam in his scarf as well, pulling it tight around his face. He looks like some sort of Scandinavian cave monster, crawling out of its winter nap. Only it is not some monster who’s scaring Noel, it is his own little brother:
“Just pulling your leg!” Liam's laugh is muffled by the fabric.
Noel decides he could pull Liam through any kind of weather with the anger he’s feeling. He won’t allow Liam to scare them like this anymore. He won’t let Liam spend another day running around on the rooftop of buildings or getting so high he pukes on walls. Won’t let Liam spend another night in bed if he won’t get up in the morning.
The way home takes a while. Liam tried to run off a few times. All his escape attempts end with Noel pushing him into the snow, hitting and slapping him for a while before pulling him up and dragging him homewards again.
-
Liam is forced to sit on the countertop by the sink in the bathroom, wearing nothing but his dry jacket and underwear. He is made to run his hands and feet under running hot water while Noel and Mam fill the bathtub up. Mam had even boiled some water to get it steaming.
“It’s burning!” Liam whines as if anybody would care. His hands and feet are red from the heat.
“Good.” Mam tells him before turning the water a little hotter. She sighs and looks very worn and tired. Noel dips his finger in the tub, satisfied with the heat.
“It’s okay Mam,” Noel tells her, “I’ve got it.”
She looks terribly unsafe, furrowed eyebrows and lips drawn tightly. But she does eventually nod and leave the bathroom. The steps down the stairs are heavy and slow.
“Get in the water.” Noel tells him as he shuts off the water flowing from the faucet.
“Like I’m undressing with you here.” Liam scoffs just to spite Noel. It’s incredible that he can muster sarcasm while shaking like a newborn giraffe, Noel notes to himself.
“As if you can embarrass yourself any more today. Get in the fucking tub!”
“Fuck you!” Liam spits but he does get off the counter top. He unzips the jacket and throws it into a corner of the floor. Now standing in boxers Liam looks at him with an expectant look. Noel gives him one back.
“Turn around. Ye pervert.”
“As if you’re anything to even look at.” Noel mutters but he does turn around.
“Don’t call my willy tiny.”
Of course Liam would joke about his cock right now. “Didn’t call your willy tiny, called you tiny.”
“But you’re shorter.”
“Ah but I make it up with actually having somethin’ on my body.” Noel does try really hard not to smile, but it is a little hard when Liam is as he is.
“Fuck you, I’m bigger than you.” Noel isn’t sure if Liam meant body-wise or cock-wise.
“Get in the fucking tub!” Noel orders again, though the harshness in his words have melted away. Liam is home and safe, no need to be mad anymore. But now Noel just wants Liam in the bathtub before he gets some idea of showing off his cock.
-
Noel made Liam lie with his entire body under water, no matter how much he complained that he had to fold his legs weirdly. Then they fall into a silence that doesn’t feel as heavy as Noel thought it would. It starts to feel like a sauna after a while, the mirror and window have gained their own respective wall of condensation. Liam spends a while just staring up into the ceiling as Noel stares at him from the toilet.
“You won’t be mad forever. You can’t be.” It takes a second to realise that it was Liam who spoke, not Noel’s subconscious. He sits against the tub, with his head resting on his bony knees. He holds his knees in place by wrapping his arms around them. He looks like a wet little animal. “No one can y’know, like eventually you stop.”
“Then you become depressed, that isn’t much better.” Noel rolls his eyes, “Oi - down into water you.”
Liam sighs and returns to being a floating head. At least his skin is turning pink, some blood is flowing around in that cold body of his.
“I don’t bother anyone then at least.” Liam frowns, the corners of his mouth dips. He looks like a sad full moon. “I’m quiet like. Stay still an’ all that.”
“Oh yeah, that UTI sure didn’t bother us.” Noel knows it’s the story Liam is the most ashamed of. Liam had been too depressed to get to the toilet. Then Mam found him crying on the floor of their shared bedroom, hands wrapped around his lower abdomen in pain. Was then promptly driven to the hospital and saw that the infection was almost up to his kidneys. “You know how many hours I missed because I had to make you piss?
“That was once. Not even relevant.” Liam flicks a bit of water at him but he does sound a little sorry.
Noel opens his mouth and then closes it. He’s not sure how to formulate himself. “Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you just promise you won’t do this again? You really scared us this time."
“Okay.”
This is the limbo, purgatory. Liam acting like he was before the whole head thing. Somewhat normal, head in the clouds but his tippy toes stay glued to the earth. You could have a conversation with him, dinner and a cup of tea. He could even manage a few days in school, spend a recess playing football with his mates.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I won’t. Promise. I’ll wear mittens and boots next time.” Liam winks.