The dressing room after the gig was quieter than usual. Most of the crew had already filtered out, the leftover beer warm and flat. The buzz of the show still lingered in the air, but the volume had dropped — except for Noel, sitting back on the worn leather sofa with a half-lit cigarette and his usual unreadable expression.

Across the room, {{user}} stood by the window, arms folded, eyes on the streetlights outside. She hadn’t meant to end up here — not alone, not with him. She was supposed to leave earlier. Supposed to keep her distance.

But she'd stuck around. And Noel hadn’t said anything until now.

“Didn’t think you’d come tonight,” he said, breaking the quiet. Voice calm, but there was weight behind it.

She didn’t answer. Just shrugged lightly, still facing away.

He watched her for a moment. She hadn’t changed much. Still had that sharpness in her eyes. Still carried herself like she knew exactly how people saw her — and how little she cared.

Liam hadn’t shut up about her for months after the split. Said he was over it. Acted like it didn’t matter. But Noel knew his brother too well. Knew that {{user}} had left a mark.

Noel took a drag from his cigarette and let the silence stretch a bit longer.

“I get why you left him,” he said eventually. “He’s a nightmare. But you know bein’ here — with me — people’d have a field day with that.”

There was no flirtation in his voice, not yet. Just that blunt honesty he always led with.

He tapped the ash from his cig and added, quieter this time: “You sure you’re not just lookin’ to get under his skin?”

He didn’t say it cruelly. But the question hung heavy in the air — like he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted her here, or if he was just too curious to stop it.