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Liam hated being alone. He hated it more than school or the vegetables his mum made him eat. Something about the way he was wired made it physically impossible for him to shut up or sit still. At least that’s what Noel told him.
His stomach growled for what felt like the hundredth time. Tommy had left, claiming he was “working,” but the heavy scent of alcohol on him when he came back said otherwise. Liam, only three years old, was too young to comprehend where or what his dad was doing. All he knew was that when Dad came back smelling weird, he was supposed to be quiet and not leave his room. Despite his tender age, he had developed a sense of fear and hatred. He was the only person who had ever made Noel cry, and he hated anyone who made Noel cry.
He managed to climb up on the couch, having a hard time hoisting his short legs up. Eventually, his hunger got the best of him (cartoons can only be entertaining for so long), and he waddled to the kitchen, hoping his dad had left something edible. He dragged his step stool over to the fridge, and after a few tries, he managed to open it. His heart sank when he saw the half-empty beer bottles and some expired milk. He was sleepy, hungry, and most of all, bored. He made some imaginary friends to pass the time and dug into their very limited board game supply, playing by himself until he got bored.
He knew Noel should be home soon, which lifted his spirits slightly. Noel said he was with friends, but Liam didn’t think he had any. In Liam’s mind, Noel just used that as an excuse to play his annoying guitar by himself, without having to worry about their dad or Liam breaking it. (He still remembers the slap he got when Noel discovered Liam had accidentally broken some strings while playing.)
He hadn’t eaten anything since the toast Peggy made for him for breakfast, and he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as all the feelings he’d been holding back suddenly overwhelmed him. So he let it out the only way he knew how: by crying. (When he got older, he would replace the sadness with rage.) He sat there for a while, crying while holding the teddy bear Noel stole for him when he was born. It was pink, with the hope that the baby would be a girl, but Liam didn’t mind. It smelled like Noel, and that calmed him down.
Eventually, he heard the small click of their front door and the sound of heavy, tired footsteps. He froze for a moment, his little hands frantically wiping his cheeks, trying to stop his tears. He knew if it was their father and he saw Liam crying, he’d get punished. “Real men don’t cry” was one of the first lessons Tommy taught all his boys, and it seemed to stick with all but the youngest, who had a tendency to burst into tears at the slightest inconvenience. Thankfully, it was Paul who walked in, his eyes heavy from the long, strenuous hours of work.
“God, I think Mum did get a girl with how much you cry. What’s wrong now?” Paul said, his voice exhausted and slightly annoyed. Though his face softened when he got a good look at Liam’s tear-soaked face. “Where’s Dad?” he asked. Liam sniffled and said, “I don’t know.”
“Noel, I’m home,” Paul shouted, expecting his brother to hear his little brother’s annoyed voice yelling at him to fuck off, but all he heard was silence. “He’s not here.” Paul’s eyes filled with concern as he looked at his baby brother’s tear-soaked face. “So you’ve just been here alone all day?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Yeah.”
“Did Dad leave you any food?” “Does he ever?” Liam said. Paul got up, muttering some swear directed at their father. “Shit,” he said as he looked in the nearly empty fridge. He dug in his pockets for any granola bar, water—anything really. “Hold on, kid. I’ll get something.”
“I’m starving, Paul. I’ll have anything, even his beer.” Paul laughed and said, “You’re too young for that, kid, but I do have a little bit of my chocolate bar left. I was gonna eat the rest, but you need it more than I do. Just don’t tell Mum I let you have dessert before dinner, okay?”
“Thank you,” Liam said as he began unwrapping the chocolate. Paul looked on, his heart aching at how excited Liam was to see another living, breathing human being. He patted Liam’s head and sent him to his room with the promise that Noel would be home soon and once their mum got home, she’d cook them dinner.
The hours passed agonizingly slow. The room felt emptier without Noel, even though they were always at each other’s throats when he was there. He still missed having someone to talk to, even if that person kept repeatedly telling him to shut up.
He heard the door open again, but unlike Paul, who had entered the house quietly, Liam could hear the sound of crying and yelling. His heart sank when he realized it was Noel. He got out of bed and quietly crept over to the small living room, peeking from behind a wall. He could see Paul and Noel sitting on their beat-up couch. Paul was wrapping Noel’s wrist in gauze and cleaning cuts on his face.
“I’m killing him, I swear to God. I can’t have one day without him beating me up,” Noel’s voice, pointed and quiet, started rising with every word. Neither noticed Liam until he accidentally took a step too many, and both their heads snapped up.
Noel’s face was flushed with anger, but he was sad, Liam could tell. “I fucking hate you,” he screamed, causing Liam to flinch. Noel tried to get up, but Paul was too strong for him. “I fucking hate him! I hate him! What’s so good about him? Why doesn’t Dad hit him? If anyone deserves it, it’s him. You’re not special, Liam. You’re the most self-absorbed, worthless person in this family besides Dad. You’re never gonna be someone, you know that.”
“Noel, stop!” Paul tried to interrupt, but Noel didn’t stop. “I hate you so fucking much. I wish you were never born!”
“Noel! Jesus, it’s not his fault!” “Yes, it is. He gets to sit around watching his cartoons all day while the rest of us have to go to work with broken arms or explain to the neighbors why they could hear screaming through their house.” “He hears and sees all that stuff too, Noel.” Paul raised his voice too. Liam started crying and tried to run back to his and Noel’s room, but Noel broke free from Paul’s grip and jerked his arm. His eyes softened slightly when he saw Liam’s terrified expression, but they quickly hardened. “Noel, stop! You’re hurting me!”
“Don’t call me that! Why do you get to have a dad that loves you, huh? What marks the rest of us so unlovable, that we deserve to get beaten? That should have been you who got hit with the hammer, not Mum!” He unintentionally tightened his grip on Liam’s arm, making the younger cry harder.
Noel, the person Liam loved more than anyone in the world, maybe even more than his mum, felt nothing but hate towards him. He even wished he was dead. Technically, he didn’t say that, but he did wish he’d get hit over the head with a hammer, which at Liam’s age could very likely be deadly. Though Noel’s feelings towards him were more complicated, Liam’s three-year-old brain interpreted the one emotion Noel showed him most—hate—as the only feeling Noel had towards him. “God, can you go one day without crying?” Noel said, his voice full of sarcasm.
“Jesus, Noel, stop! Look at yourself! You’re hurting him!”
“I don’t care. He deserves it!”
“I’m sorry,” Liam’s scared voice rang out.
“Oh, you’re sorry?” Noel said, laughing bitterly. “How many times have you been hospitalized from him or passed out in your own home? You didn’t seem so sorry then.”
“Okay, Noel, that’s enough. You’re acting like Dad,” Paul said, making Noel let go of Liam and turn to face Paul, who looked in Noel’s eyes, seeing a similar look to the one their dad often gave them. “Don’t you ever fucking compare me to that psycho,” Noel said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Stop acting like him, and I fucking will. You need to calm the fuck down. He’s our kid brother, no matter how annoying he’s being. He hasn’t done anything.”
“But—”
“Do you want me to call Mum and tell her you’ve tried to use Liam as a punching bag? Sit down. You’re still bleeding, and I need to wrap your wrist.”
Paul took Liam back to his room, making sure the door was actually locked this time. Liam was too short to reach the lock anyway. Even from his curled-up position, he could make out Noel explaining to Paul how he was out with his mates when Tommy decided to use Noel as his personal punching bag. Liam wanted nothing more than to run out there and hug Noel the way Noel did to him when he would unintentionally climb into Noel’s bed after a bad dream. But Noel wanted nothing to do with him. He’d made that clear. Liam’s hunger and emotional state had left him exhausted, and he eventually fell asleep with the hope that maybe in the future, he and Noel could get along and grow old in the nursing home, as Noel liked to say. For now, all he could do was dream.