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@liamstills
Uhm…nothing Mr Cavalier. Just been going to the shows and hanging out with the boys. Normal life I guess. What about you? Been having any fun without me?
Just been going to shows and hanging out with the girls. So, no. They don't have nearly as good quality shit as you do. Hmm, so, is there a reason you haven't been hangin' around with me? Don't tell me you've already moved on, Stel, my fragile little heart couldn't take it.
Eh he’s alright, good enough Bloke I suppose. Ahhh there’s a whole pack in the drawer.
Good lookin' out, Stel. So what's up, man? What's been goin' on?
Pick your poison, But I’m low. I have this bloody blonde guy who comes ‘round all the time and takes everything for free.
Yeah? He must be charming as hell to let a hard ass like you skip on the cash. Nah, I'll go easy on you today. Just wanna bum a cigarette.
You usually do. Either you want drugs, you’re bored or whatever.
How about all of the above?
'Lo stranger. Thought it'd be a bit longer before you stopped by to be honest.
What, but you knew I'd stop by eventually?
"Well, the tie thing did help a little," she joked quietly, the corners of her lips lifting into a faint smirk. She considered what she did want from him, what she always wanted from him, and exhaled gently, absently running her fingers up and down her arm, "I just want to know that no matter what, you’re on my side. I want you to stop doing things to hurt me just because you can. I want the games to stop. At least… the ones that don’t involve being tied up. I want us. I really want us. But I want it the way we both deserve. We can fight. We can disagree. That shit happens. But I want to know that in a week, you’re not going to sneak off in corners with a groupie just because you want to get some sort of reaction out of me. I - I know I can’t ask for a normal relationship, not with us, but I just want… I want to know completely that this isn’t some spur of the moment, Hail Mary to keep me here that you’ll immediately regret. Because a part of me really wants to pack my bags and get the fuck out of here already, and another part of me never wants to leave this room. The deciding factor is… I don’t know, I guess the way you’re looking at me right now." It was true —- Liam’s eyes planted flowers in Fern’s wilted chest.
"Yes," he concurred impatiently. "All of the fucking above. Okay? I'm in. It's just a matter of if you can trust me when I say that." Liam paused, pursing his lips as he eyed her warily. An annoyed cringe passed over his face when she mentioned how much she wanted to leave and he leaned away. "I don't beg somebody not to leave me 'cause it's quick and easy, Fern," he replied through a gruff voice, looking away from her as a wave of embarrassment passed over him. "I'm trying here. I'm really trying."
“Liam,” she squealed, albeit grudgingly, as Liam practically pounced on her, an act so quick she could hardly retaliate, but an act so familiar, she immediately returned the kiss, cursing herself for doing so. She allowed a few moments of this, enjoying good it felt to be wanted by Liam, before curling her small hands into tiny fists, pushing him back. Her cheeks were flushed with a mix of emotion, predominantly confusion, desire, and hurt. “You can’t do this —- we can’t fuck our problems away, I’m sorry, that’s not going to work this time.” Her eyes lifted to meet his, cool blues so desperately searching for any answer, sign, or neon light that assured her that she shouldn’t go. “Stills,” her voice was low and gentle, and a brief image of the night in Vegas flashed in her mind, “I need to know that this is real. I can’t handle being hurt by you again. You tore me apart like I said you could. How are you going to put me back together?”
Another groan heaved through him when she pushed him away from her. "That's not what I was doing," he snapped petulantly. "I was celebrating. I guess too soon." His brow knit together as she went on, confusion reflected back in his face. A shrug lifted his shoulders. "God -- Fern, you clearly have a specific idea in mind. I have no fucking clue. Kinda thought me pledging my devotion and then threatening to tie you to the bed was good enough." The tension in his jaw left as he leaned into her, his face asserting itself inches away from hers. "What do you want me to do? Tell me, and I'll do it."
Fern exhaled, low and shaky, closing her eyes as Liam spoke, focusing on his touch, the feel of him, the scent of him. He was right, she really had never seen him beg, never seen him care this much. It softened her, but only slightly. It was still fixed in her mind that they weren’t fully repaired, that he had to work, but she still couldn’t help the slight curve of her lip. “You can’t just leave the tour, Liam,” she reasoned in a whisper, dropping her head to place a gentle kiss on the messy blonde of his hair, slender fingers moving through the knots, with one hand lightly placed over the back of his neck. “You’re contractually obligated to stay here, you know. I wouldn’t let you ruin your career like that, anyway. You’ve worked too hard.” Allowing the moment to gather around her, she sighed before emitting a quiet, teary little laugh, before adopting his signature catchphrase, “You’re killing me here, Stills.”
"Shit, am I?" he replied, a smirk pushing at his lips. "Ruin my career?" he laughed. "Please. I'm a bad ass musician here, I'd be a bad ass musician there... But you're right, I shouldn't leave. Then that means you can't go. So I'll probably just have to tie you to this bed. That's cool, right, Fernie?" The smirk widened into a salacious grin as his brows quirked at her. Her mimic of his words pursed his lips into an almost genuine smile, however fleeting as it may be. "Yeah," was all he could muster through a whisper. Liam let a moment more go by before he pushed himself up and caught her lips with his, pointedly collapsing a fair amount of his weight onto her.
Fern jolted up as Liam stormed in, wiping away remnant tears that lingered on her cheeks. Her heart throbbed at his words, but she still regarded him warily—- she had a ticket to London, a chance for a new start away from everything, and the source of every bit of confusion and self-doubt was begging for her to stay. She knew then, for the first time of absolute clarity, that she loved him; she also recognized in her newly realized state that sometimes that wasn’t enough. “How can I know you won’t change your mind again? Why do you need me now? You didn’t need me before, you didn’t need me when you — ” Fern paused, knowing how useless it was to perpetually remind him of his wrongdoings. She leaned forward, hunched over as her face was mere inches from his. Her tortured blue eyes rested on him with a certain bravery she’d previously thought impossible, her voice broken but clear, “Don’t just do this because you think this is what I want. You’ll only change your mind when you get restless again.”
A groan escaped him as he broke their shared gaze, his forehead dropping to rest on her knees. His arms stayed flat on either side of her thighs, his hands curling around her waist. "No I fucking won't," he grumbled petulantly into her legs. After a moment his head lifted, hard gaze on her. "Have you ever seen me beg? For anything? Ever? No, you haven't. 'Cause I don't care about things. I sure as hell don't care enough to beg," he laughed humorlessly. "I'm on my goddamn knees right now, Fern..." Liam paused for a moment, a thought occurring to him. "If you leave, I'm going, too. Fuck this tour, I can find shit to do in London. You can tell me how much you don't want me in between tea times." He was smiling now, smug and thoroughly pleased with the brilliance of his plan. If anything, he'd wear her down eventually. "I'm going with you."
He didn’t want to look at her. He knew that if he did, that would be it. He’d spit up obscene truths, the sort of terrifyingly open and honest bullshit that made him cringe. So, when Fern pulled away to look at him, his gaze stayed in the foot above her head, absently staring at the space behind her. “Now you go and pack, I guess,” he shrugged, glancing to the side as he avoided her eye. His hands pulled away and stuffed themselves into the pockets of his jeans. “Nice knowin’ ya, Fern.”
Fern wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting. A kiss, maybe, just once more. Maybe even just a return of the hopeless embrace she had extended. Instead, he went limp and only offered some cool, detached comment. It was utterly Liam six months ago, but it wasn’t supposed to be the way he said goodbye now. She opened her mouth with nothing to say, so she pulled herself together and tore away from him. “Yeah. Bye, Stills.” Fern took gentle, collected strides out of his room until she knew it was clear enough to thunder away completely. She once gave him permission to break her; now, Fern wondered if he saw the blood dripping from her mangled heart between his teeth. With a final turn, the ex-roadie entered her room and slumped onto her bed with broken exhaustion.
As soon as she left his room, his field of vision, his life, Liam knew he'd made a grave mistake. He didn't think she'd actually leave him, it never occurred to him that she had that kind of resolve in her. Or maybe she really was done with him? Maybe she was choosing not to want him, and it would be a choice that stuck. Air left his lungs in a sharp exhaled 'fuck' as his hands dragged over his face. His jaw clenched as he groaned inwardly and sprinted from the room. He jogged past tourmates and indistinguishable groupies and a few roadies he couldn't name before he burst through Fern's door. "Uh... hey," he stuttered, his breathing heavy. "I'm sorry. Okay, I'm sorry I fucked with you and hurt you and said all the shit I said," he started, shaking his head as he stepped forward towards her. "I was just -- overwhelmed and fucking scared and that's not an excuse for it, all right? But I can't change it now. I'm not used to this, I don't know how to... But I wanna try. I wanna learn. You're gonna teach me." He fell to his knees before her, tugging pathetically on her hands. "So don't go. All right? You probably should, you're probably better off going wherever the hell they wanna send you, but I need you here. Just -- stay with me. Please."
It was her idea. ‘I’m leaving’ was her mantra towards him for the past hour. She knew the cycle of repetitive heartbreak that awaited her if she stayed. And yet hearing the words from Liam, the bitter truth finally settled, cracked her heart so loud, she swore they both could hear it. Some part of Fern really wished he’d keep fighting for her, for them — perhaps that’s where she’d always be disappointed in Liam. “Yeah,” she whispered, thin arms wrapping tightly around him, “I guess it is.” She wanted to absorb Liam, his laugh and his honesty, his charm and the way he smiled at her the night of her birthday; she wanted to absorb every fight that ended in sex and sex that lead to playful bickering over what to order for breakfast from room service. It was fucked up from the beginning, but it wasn’t all bad. He wasn’t all bad. “I really didn’t want it to be,” she cooed weakly, puling back to observe his features through all of this, “What now?”
He didn't want to look at her. He knew that if he did, that would be it. He'd spit up obscene truths, the sort of terrifyingly open and honest bullshit that made him cringe. So, when Fern pulled away to look at him, his gaze stayed in the foot above her head, absently staring at the space behind her. "Now you go and pack, I guess," he shrugged, glancing to the side as he avoided her eye. His hands pulled away and stuffed themselves into the pockets of his jeans. "Nice knowin' ya, Fern."
Fern looked up into Liam’s eyes, those polarizing blues that always rattled her, frightened her, comforted her, all within a single glance. Her own gaze was tired, wounded, tinged with tears. It all felt so pathetic. Fern fell into Liam’s arms, more out of exhaustion than any hint of affection. “You’ve said that before,” she reminded him in a shaky whisper. “You’ve promised to stop with the girls before. You’ve said that you’d make it work before. And each time I believe you.” The tears slid down her flustered cheeks, but she refused to look up at him, only burying her face against the fabric of his shirt, so tired, at her wit’s end. She refused to let him to see her. “I really, really like you, Liam. I care about you. And I, I can’t be with someone who only likes me when I don’t like them. Who only chooses moments like this to try. You should’ve been trying all along, because that’s what I’ve been doing.” Her words were muffled, just above a whisper, “You scare me, too, Stills. More than anything.”
He couldn't say anything, couldn't argue. She was entirely right about him. Fern had every reason to hate him and to leave and it was solely his fault, Liam knew that. He wasn't sure who he pitied more, her or himself. "Yeah. Uh, you're right," he muttered hopelessly against her hair. It didn't seem like there was anything left for him to say, he had nothing to convince her with. "So, you're leaving," the words were low and open ended, more of a question than a statement. His jaw clenched as his gaze bore into the space over her head. "This is it."
"This is where it turns into bullshit with you, Liam," Fern snapped, a flush of red splattered on her cheeks, "When you cheat, when you hurt me, you know what you always resort to? ‘We’re just hanging out,’ ‘it’s nothing,’ ‘you’re overreacting,’ ‘I don’t belong to anyone’ —- but when I want to take a step back and think about how shitty you make me feel sometimes, suddenly, I’m the one who’s ‘giving up’, I’m the one who’s walking away and not trying to make us work. Do you not see how fucked up that is?” Her voice grew louder, a gathering storm, “I’m tired of this! This push and pull, it hurts me.” Tears sprung to her eyes, mostly of her collected fury than sadness. “You always get your way. You get all the girls, you get me, and all I want… all I fucking wanted was you. I wanted a relationship with you. I didn’t want roses and flowers. I didn’t want love poems. I wanted us. Because I’ve seen us, what we could be, and it’s so good. And you, Liam, you continually go out of your way to ruin it!” A finger jabbed at his chest, “Why?”
"Because I don't know what I'm doing," he snapped back, setting his jaw. "I'm fucked up. I don't like the word 'relationship' or calling you my girlfriend. It's stupid and not me. And I only like you when you don't like me. I don't know what I'm doing, but I want you around." Liam shook his head at her, genuinely unable to otherwise express what he was thinking. "You really terrify the hell outta me. 'Cause any chick who digs me has gotta be a real nut, right?" His hands ran over his exhausted face, then through his hair, until he stepped forward and wreathed her jaw, pushing her hair away from her face. "I can stop with the girls. Anything other than that though... you gotta give me a break, Fern. Hanging out. That's what I want. For now, just hanging out. I can make this work."
[x]
On one hand, Fern desperately hated Liam in that moment, grasping for every moment in their brief history where he had let her down, shattered her feelings, belittled her —- it didn’t take long before she had a handful. On the other hand, it was Liam, and just that name alone sent her heart slamming against her ribs. She remained silent, collecting and analyzing these restless thoughts, before heaving a sigh, “You want that now. You want me now. You want to know I’ll stay. Okay… and then what if I do? You’re gonna get tired of me. You’re gonna get mean again. You’re gonna get restless and sleep around. And I’m gonna be that dumb who keeps waiting for Liam Stills to change. This is beyond ‘hanging out’, Liam. Okay, maybe it’s not love. But it’s not some casual thing either. And it’s real.” Her eyes flickered with hurt and confusion as she leaned against the doorway, dropping her gaze, her voice falling to a whisper, “Right?”
"Yes," he answered in a hiss through his clenched jaw without a moment of hesitation. He hated that she made him say the things he so deeply didn't want to. Liam felt like an idiot. This was so stupid. Yet here he was, having this ridiculous conversation. His gaze was torn away from her, unable to gauge the reaction she'd have for what he had to say. "I'm not promising you anything. I dunno what's gonna happen. I like not knowing," he explained, arms crossing over his chest. There was a beat before he shrugged. "So... you either stay and see what happens, or you give up and leave."
Oh, you bite? You bite? Wow, I’m really fucking romanced here, Liam. This isn’t about me belonging to you. It’s the other way around, but you just don’t do that. It doesn’t matter. You’re just doing this because you don’t wanna lose your plaything. When you heard I slept with Jack, you kissed me; you think I’m gonna leave, and suddenly I matter. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of you.
Fuck you. I did that shit 'cause I didn't want you to go. I don't want you to. If it were about losing a toy, I'd've said bon voyage about ten minutes ago and you know that. All I want is to hang out with you. That's it. Stop making it a goddamn soap opera.
Nothing. You don’t have to do anything. Me? I’m gonna go to my room and pack. I’m not here to tell you what to do, Liam. You don’t belong to anyone ever, remember? So go on.
You're really having a good time with this, huh? All right. Fine. I'll bite. You know you matter. You belong to me.
