veruchki - Tumblr blog

veruchki · 1 month ago

Text

Talk Tonight (re-write)

Hi all- I'm choosing to revisit what I started months ago and actually put a shred of effort into it. Any typos are courtesy of my new cat, who desperately wanted to participate in the writing process by sitting on my keyboard.

The sun always sets more quickly from your new apartment, dropping low behind Nob Hill and all too often obscured by the fog rolling in. It was a small place, just big enough for one person, and occupied the third floor above a busy Chinese restaurant- but the price was right. Making a new home in a new city was overwhelming and often lonely, but never something you’d regretted. For most of your twenties you’d bounced from place to place, stubbornly refusing to set down roots. Your nomadic lifestyle was only bolstered by your so-called “career”. Photographing the odd rock show here and there by word of mouth was certainly not what your family had in mind for you, but it had allowed you to see the world. Most of your gigs were piecemeal- one night here, another night there. The closest you’d ever come to creating any sort of normalcy was the years spent on the road with the Inspiral Carpets, but that too had come to an end. After turning in your backstage pass and packing your suitcase, it was time to settle.

Not settle down- just settle. Settle into an uninspired and underpaid 9-to-5 job, settle into a semi-familiar city, and settle into an apartment that smelled perpetually of damp and incense. Before you knew it, you’d be forty, then fifty, and sixty years old and reminiscing about your misspent youth while watering a collection of houseplants and tucking yourself into bed alone with only a crossword puzzle book for company. In fact, you weren’t even thirty and that was exactly how your Thursday night was shaping up.

The workday had been draining, and by the time you hauled yourself up the three flights of stairs to your front door your feet were throbbing and night was falling. Your shoes were carelessly kicked off as soon as you were inside, and with stockinged feet you fumbled into the narrow kitchen, where the phone was ringing incessantly. It had been a long day, and the last thing you wanted to do was chat with someone from back home, making small talk about which girl from your school days had gotten married, who had had a baby, and which old-ass nosy neighbor had passed away.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, tone just a bit too abrupt to be polite. You could tell that this was apparent by the brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Y/N. Is this a bad time?”

You couldn’t help the flush rising to your face. You hadn’t heard that voice in over two years, and the Mancunian accent conjured up memories that seemed to be a lifetime ago.

“Noel, is that you?” The surprise was evident in your tone, and you swore you heard the man huff a laugh at your expense.

“The one an’ only. I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up, but I’m in town.”

Your surprise was palpable. “You’re in town? Did your little band actually make it over here in one piece? Judging by what I read in the papers it’s a miracle you lot didn’t break up before leaving Heathrow.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Well, I’m supposed to be in L.A., but that went to shit. The band’s- fuck. It’s a mess, Y/N. I just…I can’t be around them. I can’t be around him. I needed to get the fuck out of there and I ended up on a flight to San Francisco. I don’t actually remember buying the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, and cradled the phone with your shoulder. You needed a drink if you were reading the situation correctly. “Let me get this straight- you’re crashing out, flew 500 miles in a fugue state, and now want to come stay with a girl you haven’t spoken to since 1991?”

The click of a lighter was followed by a deep exhale. “No one said anything about me staying. But if you want me to, I will.”

That cheeky bastard. “I’ll be here. But I’m not picking you up from the airport. You can get a cab.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Given how late it was, it would be less than an hour before Noel Gallagher graced your humble doorstep. Had you known the turn your night would take, you certainly would have at least thrown out your recycling and tidied the kitchen. Then again, this was the man who you knew to leave his clothing strewn across every hotel room without a care in the world. Anyway, it’s not like you were trying to impress him, you reminded yourself. He wasn’t easily impressed anyway. That was part of what had drawn you to him, at the first gig you’d shot. All the other roadies and hangers-on had been having the time of their lives, and Noel had been sipping a beer while standing in the corner of the green room, detached and surveying the scene like a hawk through those uncanny blue eyes.

Before you could gather your thoughts any further, a knock at the door interrupted you. Noel was here. Strung with nerves, you whipped the door open the way one would tear off a bandaid. On the other side was Noel- older, with a slightly better haircut and clothes, but still the same man you remembered.

“Well don’t act so thrilled to see me, please,” he said dryly.

You blushed, realizing then that you had stood there staring at him and not saying anything welcoming. “Oh, sorry. Come in, please.”

He smirked, and threw his leather jacket over the back of your couch. “Nice place you’ve got. Though your downstairs neighbor tried to sell me noodles.”

You kept flickering your gaze from Noel back to your feet. “Thanks. Um, can I get you a drink? You sounded like maybe you needed one.”

“Whatever you’ve got will be fine, love.” Love. You were fucked. Did he even know what he was doing?

When you returned from your kitchen, two lagers in hand, Noel was examining the view from your front room with his typical penetrating gaze. “I never pictured you living in a flat,” he said idly, shifting his focus back to you.

You laughed. “Where did you picture me, then? Living on a houseboat?”

Noel met your eyes with disarming sincerity. “I dunno, figured you’d fucked off to the countryside and were living on some big fuckin’ estate or something.”

You settled down onto your sagging couch. “Well, that would be aspirational to say the least, a mediocre photographer leaving it all behind to go live in a country house. It would have required me to start money laundering or something.”

“Nah, you don’t have the face for it. Too innocent. I thought you’d married a duke.” Noel sat next to you, closer than he needed to, but not so close that you could be certain it was intentional. He was lingering in the gray area, along the line he’d tiptoed with you all of those late nights on the road. You were never sure if he was interested in you in that way, or if you were just one of the few chosen people he felt truly comfortable with. Maybe you were just someone to play with mentally, though you didn’t want to believe that. It had driven you crazy; by the time the tour had made it to Argentina your head was in shambles. You couldn’t help overanalyzing every casual touch, every smirk, every time his voice softened in your presence. There were so many moments that made you think he wanted you, but these were consistently met with an equal number of incidents that killed any hope you may have had. He was impossible to figure out. Cruelly, that was part of your attraction to him. Now he was calling you “innocent” and letting on that he’d at least given passing thought to whoever you’d shacked up with.

“C’mon Noel, you didn’t seriously think I was married.”

He sipped his beer, annoyingly relaxed, looking like he owned the place. “Sure I did. Just like you seriously thought I’d get a band together and become the biggest group on the fuckin’ planet.”

Groaning, you tossed one of the throw pillows at him. “Give me a break. Maybe I thought you’d get a band together, but I never thought you’d be bigger than the Beatles. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Noel leaned in just a little closer, setting his now-empty bottle down on the floor. “Well, we’ll see about that.” His face hardened. “I think we could have been.”

The silence stretched between you, and Noel’s elbows came down to rest on his knees. His eyes seemed to be examining the rug.

“You’re not really done with it though, are you?” you asked gently. It seemed like a silly question- the man had clearly just up and left during his first tour of America. But Noel giving up on a dream was not something you could comprehend.

Noel leaned back and sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I dunno. The thing is, I really started thinking we had something. The songs were too good not to be heard. But it’s the other cunt that’s doing my head in.”

“Liam.” You said it simply. You’d heard about him here and there, and even met him once during a Manchester show. Despite the limited information you had, you knew he and Noel were like oil and water.

Noel nodded, emanating frustration. “I know it’s partly because of the fucking drugs. When we played the Whiskey everyone was strung out on fuckin’ meth or some shit. We thought it was coke. But if you can’t play the fucking gig, you shouldn’t do the fucking drugs. His priority is himself and he says he’s “mad fer it”, but when it comes to actually being a professional he doesn’t give a damn. Y/N, I’m giving him a free fucking ride and he’s throwing it away for all of us.”

Your heart softened, because of course it did. Noel did not share an iota more than he wanted to, and you were acutely aware that you were being treated- and trusted- with more than most. Unable to stop yourself, you took his hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was heavy and warm and you noticed the rings he’d adorned himself with, a small nod to the rock and roll excess that he was currently deriding.

“I read the papers about you all. They say you write all of the songs, and they’re beautiful, Noel. They won’t mean the same thing if you aren’t there. But while you figure out what you want to do, you can stay here. I owe you, after all.”

You could almost swear that his eyes were moist when he looked back at you, but his ire had melted away. “You actually remember that you owe me? Good girl.” His smile was back, warm and fond. “Now, where can we find a joint in this town?”

#noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher fanfic #oasis x reader #oasis fanfic

9 notes · View notes