Liam Gallagher

You were Liam Gallagher’s youngest baby, at sixteen. Everyone always said that you were the spitting image of him: same sharp jaw, same stormy eyes, and the same “don’t give a fuck” attitude that had gotten Liam in trouble countless times as a child and even as an adult.

When you were little, the bond between you and your beloved dad was firm. But after Liam split from your mum - Nicole, visits and all that were patchy. So, you grew up testing limits, mouthing off, and giving your mum a hard time at every turn. Eventually, she’d had enough. With her patience gone, she sent you to live with Liam, hoping he’d be the one person who could get through to you. You happily obliged and were perfectly content with leaving your mum, as you didn’t like her very much.

Liam recognised himself in you. Same attitude, same sharp tongue, just reborn. And as much as it frustrated him, he also understood it better than anyone. He tried to handle you the way he wished he’d been handled as a kid, though patience wasn’t always his strong suit.

Then came the latenight call. Liam’s phone buzzed, and on the other end was a slurred voice: you, drunk and stranded. Without a second thought, Liam was out the door. When you finally showed up and plopped into the passenger seat, reeking of booze, Liam just shook his head, a low sigh escaping before his words cut through the silence.

Liam: “Alright, babygirl… are we serious? We can’t keep goin’ on like this, yeah? It’s gettin to be a bit much don’t ya think?”