Life of a Gallagher
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Oasis
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,908
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Oasis
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,908
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
1
Okay, okay, I admit it: I'm insane. But I just had to write it! I completely fell in love with Oasis and of course, my slashy mind won't ever shut up! I'm sorry to everyone who's offended by this, but hey, why are you here anyway?
And to everyone who wants to read this: welcome, fellow fangirls/fanboys!
***
The boy I'm going to tell you about - because that's what we're here for, right? He usually wears casual clothing. But when he steps outside, he puts on a long coat. Black, most of the time. He likes a walk in the park. I know, he's weird. I bet you've all had your share of his weirdness. Common knowledge. Anyway, when he's in the park, I used to sneak up to him to scare the crap out of him. It hardly ever worked, because he got used to it, when he was only eleven. But I remember those first times. He even fell. And I laughed. And he cried.
When I was sixteen, I usually was like that. I think it really changed him. You know. Just look at the later events. I guess I kinda picked on him. At school, too. He was some kind of a loser, really. I must've thought it would help or something. But I wonder if he had become a loser if I had been nicer to him. I mean, after he got out of school he immediately escaped town. Trying to form a band with some dude. They sucked, and they knew, so I guess it was just an excuse to get away from me. I told him my thoughts about that one night.
Okay, so we're in my bedroom, and he's humming along with my guitar. We usually just hung out like that. He's got the most beautiful voice. So I told him what a shame it was for him to sing such crappy songs. He got real mad and said 'you just wanna be better at everything. You never allow me to have some fun of my own.' But then I told him how much I loved his voice and how much I wanted to hear him sing the songs I had written. Calmed him down. And then I let him sing me a song.
It's like being drunk. Only without the hungover the next morning. It's like having sex with the prettiest girl. Only better. It's like everything comes together in my mind. It's like an orgasm in your thoughts.
I asked him, please, please, I asked him, let me in be in your band... Pretty pathetic. He said, fine. I'll write songs for you to sing, I said. He smiled. I hope they're good, he said. But I said, you know they're good, or at least reasonable. You've heard them. Fine, he said, fine.
He wasn't that nice usually. But as I said, I guess I kinda made him that way. Sometimes he would come home with a nosebleed or a bleeding lip. Teachers would come over saying that he was a bad influence to the other children, saying that he was picking fights with them. Jesus, the things he did to them. Throwing rocks and all that... Pushing them over...
I had fights with him as well, over a song or a tour or something. We were talking and talking, getting hotter and hotter, and then suddenly the look in his eyes changes and he throws a chair at me, a metal chair for fuck's sake. I duck, the chair falls to the floor. He runs away and I know he's crying, even though he would never show me his face now. The dressing room becomes hell on earth. I don't speak to the others. But then they ask me.
I guess the fights never were about those things we were fighting over. A bad song, a missed opportunity on stage, all bullshit. He just wasn't happy. He was miserable and that's why he got so pissed. We saw each other every single day during a tour. The first ones we could handle, but I noticed the pressure on his shoulders when he slept a whole day long or spent the night some place else around town. I guess he was trying to make me mad, to get rid of me. But on the other hand, he always came back, telling me how much he'd missed me. Maybe he was just high.
You get to know people when you're on the road and you're rich. We bought a stash of crack on a parking lot in the suburbs, when we made a tour around town. Some guy walked up to us. He was wearing a red sweater and had a backpack. Ever since that day, I have successfully recognized every single drug dealer we saw. They all have the same eyes.
He didn't know what to do with the crack. I didn't want to show him. I guess I was being protective. But he figured it out soon enough and he stole some of my stuff when I was away for half a minute. I found him after fifteen minutes. I panicked because I couldn't find him anywhere. He was lying on the floor, completely gone. He didn't even see me. I slapped his face, just to check if he wasn't fainting or something. But he got mad and snapped at me. Then it hit me and I locked the door. I moaned his name, over and over again. I held him to guide him through his crazy trip. He told me he was John fucking Lennon. And that idea never really left him. Thought he was his reincarnation. I'm not joking, that's the sad thing about it. He's definitely my John Lennon, but the real one was still walking around happily when he got born, the idiot. He never had much with mathematics.
***
Well, I hope it was a bit in- character and that you all liked it.
Six more chapters to come (yes, it's become a long fic).
And to everyone who wants to read this: welcome, fellow fangirls/fanboys!
***
The boy I'm going to tell you about - because that's what we're here for, right? He usually wears casual clothing. But when he steps outside, he puts on a long coat. Black, most of the time. He likes a walk in the park. I know, he's weird. I bet you've all had your share of his weirdness. Common knowledge. Anyway, when he's in the park, I used to sneak up to him to scare the crap out of him. It hardly ever worked, because he got used to it, when he was only eleven. But I remember those first times. He even fell. And I laughed. And he cried.
When I was sixteen, I usually was like that. I think it really changed him. You know. Just look at the later events. I guess I kinda picked on him. At school, too. He was some kind of a loser, really. I must've thought it would help or something. But I wonder if he had become a loser if I had been nicer to him. I mean, after he got out of school he immediately escaped town. Trying to form a band with some dude. They sucked, and they knew, so I guess it was just an excuse to get away from me. I told him my thoughts about that one night.
Okay, so we're in my bedroom, and he's humming along with my guitar. We usually just hung out like that. He's got the most beautiful voice. So I told him what a shame it was for him to sing such crappy songs. He got real mad and said 'you just wanna be better at everything. You never allow me to have some fun of my own.' But then I told him how much I loved his voice and how much I wanted to hear him sing the songs I had written. Calmed him down. And then I let him sing me a song.
It's like being drunk. Only without the hungover the next morning. It's like having sex with the prettiest girl. Only better. It's like everything comes together in my mind. It's like an orgasm in your thoughts.
I asked him, please, please, I asked him, let me in be in your band... Pretty pathetic. He said, fine. I'll write songs for you to sing, I said. He smiled. I hope they're good, he said. But I said, you know they're good, or at least reasonable. You've heard them. Fine, he said, fine.
He wasn't that nice usually. But as I said, I guess I kinda made him that way. Sometimes he would come home with a nosebleed or a bleeding lip. Teachers would come over saying that he was a bad influence to the other children, saying that he was picking fights with them. Jesus, the things he did to them. Throwing rocks and all that... Pushing them over...
I had fights with him as well, over a song or a tour or something. We were talking and talking, getting hotter and hotter, and then suddenly the look in his eyes changes and he throws a chair at me, a metal chair for fuck's sake. I duck, the chair falls to the floor. He runs away and I know he's crying, even though he would never show me his face now. The dressing room becomes hell on earth. I don't speak to the others. But then they ask me.
I guess the fights never were about those things we were fighting over. A bad song, a missed opportunity on stage, all bullshit. He just wasn't happy. He was miserable and that's why he got so pissed. We saw each other every single day during a tour. The first ones we could handle, but I noticed the pressure on his shoulders when he slept a whole day long or spent the night some place else around town. I guess he was trying to make me mad, to get rid of me. But on the other hand, he always came back, telling me how much he'd missed me. Maybe he was just high.
You get to know people when you're on the road and you're rich. We bought a stash of crack on a parking lot in the suburbs, when we made a tour around town. Some guy walked up to us. He was wearing a red sweater and had a backpack. Ever since that day, I have successfully recognized every single drug dealer we saw. They all have the same eyes.
He didn't know what to do with the crack. I didn't want to show him. I guess I was being protective. But he figured it out soon enough and he stole some of my stuff when I was away for half a minute. I found him after fifteen minutes. I panicked because I couldn't find him anywhere. He was lying on the floor, completely gone. He didn't even see me. I slapped his face, just to check if he wasn't fainting or something. But he got mad and snapped at me. Then it hit me and I locked the door. I moaned his name, over and over again. I held him to guide him through his crazy trip. He told me he was John fucking Lennon. And that idea never really left him. Thought he was his reincarnation. I'm not joking, that's the sad thing about it. He's definitely my John Lennon, but the real one was still walking around happily when he got born, the idiot. He never had much with mathematics.
***
Well, I hope it was a bit in- character and that you all liked it.
Six more chapters to come (yes, it's become a long fic).