Part 26

Caroline's expression shifted, the softness in her eyes suddenly replaced by a flicker of something guarded and painful. She misunderstood the meaning and the weight behind his words, viewing his distraction through the lens of her own fractured history.

'I know,' she said, her voice tight with a sudden, sharp vulnerability. 'I do, Noel, I know I've been...a lot. Since my Dad died and since that night..with Rob..I honestly never realized it was affecting you or the people around me this much, Noel, but I do now, I've been an unreasonable and impossible little prick to work with, I didn't mean to bring all that weight into your rehearsals. I'm sorry, I can't be piling all my stupid shit on your plate'.

Noel froze. The words "I'm in love with you" were practically sitting on his tongue, ready to be spoken, but they died there as he saw a flicker of shame cross her face. She actually thought his distraction and his little outburst at her, was a burden, that he was only brooding over her trauma and the shadow that, Rob, still cast over her life, yes of course he was, but why couldn't she see that he was aching to touch her, be with her, hold her, and goddamn those lips had never seemed so inviting, he simply wanted to devour her.

He watched her wrap her arms around herself, her posture retreating back into that protective shell. She looked so small against the vast, grimy brickwork of the alley.

'I'm trying to move past it, really I am' she continued quickly, her words tumbling out as she avoided his eyes. 'I don't want to be the girl you have to worry about. I don't want to be the reason you're "miles away" or you're not able to focus, because you're wondering if I'm okay or if he's showed up again. I told you, I can handle myself, Noel. Again, I know I've been an absolute nightmare to work with ever since it happened, and I'm really, really sorry..You need to focus on the band, Noel, there's too much at stake'.

Noel opened his mouth to correct her. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't pity or worry that held his gaze, it was a magnetic, soul-aching pull toward her. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't thinking about Rob at all; he was thinking about the way she laughed when she thought no one was looking, the way she brought the sun back into his life, about her stunning beauty, about her sharp mind..

But he saw the fragile line of her jaw and the way she seemed to be holding her breath, braced for another conversation about her "problems." If he told her the truth now, that he was falling for her in the middle of this Oasis-sized nightmare, it might feel like just another thing for her to have to "handle."

So, he swallowed the truth. He let the misunderstanding stand like a wall between them.

'Right,' he said softly, his voice thick with a lie that felt like lead in his chest. 'Yeah. I just... I want you to be safe, Caro. That's all.'

She offered him a small, grateful smile that absolutely broke his heart. 'I am. Especially here, not so much at home, but here I'm almost fine, or at least if you knock next time' She gave him a shy smile as she reached out and patted his arm, a gesture that was far too platonic. 'Come on. Let's get back in there before Liam starts throwing another tantrum'

Noel watched her hand drop from his arm, the ghost of her touch leaving a brand on his skin. Her comment about not being safe at home kept hitting him like a physical blow to the gut every single fuckin' time, but he forced his face to remain a mask of calm and followed her back inside through the heavy fire door.

The transition was jarring. The silence of the alley was instantly swallowed by the hum of heating and the distant, rhythmic thwack of Joey testing his snare. As they walked back inside, Noel stayed one step behind her, watching the way she straightened her spine, pulling her professional armor back on with every step toward the production office.

When they entered the main hall, Liam was sprawled across a leather sofa, his legs over the armrest, tossing a crumpled pack of cigarettes into the air and catching them. He didn't look up, but the sneer was audible in his voice.

'Nice of the talent to grace us with their presence' Liam drawled. 'Sort out your little..domestic, then?'

Noel didn't take the bait. He couldn't. Not with Caro's words ringing in his ears. He picked up his Gibson, the weight of it familiar and grounding.

'Shut it, Liam. "Slide Away". From the top,' Noel commanded, his voice cold and flat.

He didn't look toward the glass. He knew if he did, he'd see her burying herself in work to avoid her own reality again. He stepped up to the mic, his fingers finding the chords for this special song that he held so close to his heart. He began to play, the distortion thick and angry. He wasn't playing for the rehearsal, he was playing for the girl behind the glass who didn't feel safe at home, pouring every unspoken "I love you" into the feedback of his amplifier.

Liam looked back during the guitar break. He narrowed his eyes, sensing a change in the frequency. His big brother Noel wasn't distracted anymore; he exuded a new found level of "dangerous", like he was letting his guitar tell a love story, Liam gave him a fat grin and put his thumbs up to him, he knew well enough that Noel wasn't playing this for his wife, but for that cool girl on the other side of the room and he loved it, so he sang the song with even more passion and heart.

The feedback from Noel's Gibson died down into a low, humming static. For a moment, the only sound in the hall was the rhythmic clicking of the cooling amps.

Liam stepped back from the mic, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. He didn't jump straight into his usual mockery. Even he knew when the air in the room had shifted from "rehearsal" to "something real."

'Fucking hell, Noely' Liam muttered, leaning against the mic stand. 'You really set that guitar on fire'

Noel didn't look up. He stayed hunched over his guitar, adjusting a tuning peg that didn't need turning. 'It's just a song, Liam. Get over it.'

' "Just a song," my arse,' Liam scoffed, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He glanced over to where Caro was staring at Noel. 'You weren't playing that for the missus, were you? That had some actual soul in it. Rare for a boring old fucker like you.'

Noel's eyes snapped up, cold and warning. 'Watch your mouth.'

'Oh, I'm watching,' Liam chuckled, unbothered by the frost in Noel's voice. He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. 'I like it. The "dangerous" look suits you better than the "miserable husband" one. If you're gonna write a love story on that guitar, at least make sure she hears it.'

Noel unstrapped the Gibson and set it carefully on its stand. 'She heard it. Now shut up and get out. I need to go over the levels.'

'Right,' Liam grinned and started heading for the door for a smoke. He paused, looking back with a wink. 'Don't be too long, Romeo. You'll ruin the vibe if you start overthinking it again.'

Noel waited until the door swung shut before finally letting his gaze drift toward the little office, oh fuck, the minute he realized she was looking back at him, he turned a dark shade of red, how long had she been sitting there looking at them..him?

She had spent the last hour pretending to be buried in e-mails, but instead her eyes had been glued to him, that sound coming out of his guitar had been both diabolical and heavenly all in one. When Noel's eyes locked with hers, her breath hitched.

OMG, is he blushing? Really?, she realized, a small, fluttery ache blooming in her stomach. The legendary Noel Gallagher, usually as cool and immovable as a stone wall, was turning a deep, tell-tale crimson because she'd caught him looking, in fact the blush was still creeping toward his hairline.

She stood up and walked over to him until she was standing in the circle of light where he'd just poured his soul out. She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from the sleeve of his denim jacket. 'That wasn't a rehearsal, Noel..That sounded like...a riot..' She looked at him properly then, seeing the exhaustion he hid from the world and the "dangerous" spark Liam had mocked. 'Sara should have been here to hear it..she would have loved it'.

The mention of his wife's name acted like a bucket of ice water, snapping the tension and making the blush on Noel's face harden into something more somber. He looked down at his boots, the silence of the hall suddenly feeling heavy and suffocating.

'Sara,' he repeated, the name sounding foreign in the space he had just filled with his longing for someone else..for her. He let out a short, hollow bark of a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. 'Right. Yeah. Sara.'

He finally looked at her, and the 'dangerous' spark wasn't gone; it was just flickering behind a wall of exhaustion and frustration. He took a half-step closer, bridging the gap until he could smell the faint scent of her perfume over the scent of warm electronics.

'She wouldn't have loved it, Caro,' he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp that was for her ears only. 'Because she'd have known. She's a lot of things, but she's not stupid. She'd have heard every single note and known it wasn't for her.'

He reached out, his hand hovering near hers for a second before he gripped the neck of the Gibson on its stand, using it as a literal shield between them. 'That riot? It wasn't about a marriage. It was about...' He stopped, his throat working as he struggled with the honesty he usually reserved for his lyrics. 'It was about wanting to be somewhere else. With someone else.'

The air between them was so thin it felt like it might crack. He was daring her to bridge the last few inches, to acknowledge the "someone" he was talking about.

Caro looked at him, her hand still hovering near his sleeve, her heart performing a frantic soundcheck against her ribs.

'With someone else,' she repeated softly, the words hanging in the dry air like a lingering note.

Who? she wondered, her eyes scanning the exhaustion etched around his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw. She thought of the way he'd been acting lately, the long silences, the way he had stared at her when he thought she wasn't looking..

The internal monologue was a frantic attempt at damage control, but it was failing miserably. He's your boss. He's a rockstar. He's married. You're just the PA. Caro tried to summon the image of those beautiful women, the models, the actresses, the socialites who usually trailed in the wake of the Gallagher brothers. Compared to them, she was just part of the furniture, part of the technical landscape.

But the way he was looking at her right now... that wasn't how you looked at furniture.

Noel seemed to read the frantic denial flickering across her face. He let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-growl. The "shield" of the Gibson wasn't working for him anymore. He let his hand drop from the guitar neck, and for the first time, he looked genuinely vulnerable as he put the guitar back in its stand.

'Stop it,' he said, his voice barely a whisper but sharp enough to cut through her racing thoughts.

'Stop what?' she asked, her voice trembling.

'Stop doing the math in your head.' He took a step even closer, forcing her to look up. The scent of him, leather, tobacco, and something uniquely Noel, wrapped around her. 'The one I've played it for knows exactly what I'm trying to say before I even write the lyric. She makes me want to be a better man and a worse husband all at the same time.' His voice had gained that sharp, angry tone again and his eyes drilled into hers.

Caro felt a hot wave of shame crash over her, sharper and more painful than the electricity from the amps. Stupid, stupid, stupid. For a split second, she had let herself believe she was the muse in his melody, but that sharp, angry edge in his voice had sliced right through her delusion.

Noel didn't wait for her response. He didn't even look back. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stalked toward the door, his silhouette looking jagged and lonely against the studio lights. He looked and felt like a man who had just confessed a sin to the wrong priest.

The heavy door swung shut with a final, echoing thud, leaving Caro alone in the silence. The wrong priest. The thought stung. He hadn't been looking at her with longing; he'd been looking through her as he always did, venting the poison of a forbidden love to a safe, neutral witness. She was the PA. She was the one who booked the cars, sorted the rider, and kept the Oasis machine humming. She was reliable. She was invisible.