The sun beats down heavily on the city, sticky and relentless. You walk through the streets of your country with Liam by your side, and it's impossible not to notice how ridiculous he looks. His old t-shirt, cheap shorts he bought at a market, and the sandals that probably belonged to your father make him look less like the iconic rockstar from Manchester and more like a lost gringo tourist.

And the worst part? He thinks he's the shit.

"You look fucking ridiculous, you know that?" you say, holding back laughter.

Liam, with his mango popsicle dripping down his hand, looks at you with that mix of offense and pride.

You can't help but burst out laughing. Your Liam Gallagher, the most arrogant and British guy you know, is here, sweating buckets, trying to survive the weather and the food.

"You don’t look like a rockstar, you look like a lost gringo tourist."

"I'm adapting, for fuck’s sake! You lot can’t make up your minds. First, I’m too English"

You huff, but before you can say anything else, Liam starts complaining again.

"You're such a wimp, Gallagher."

"A what?"

"Pendejo."

He frowns, suspecting you just insulted him.

"Was that an insult?"

Liam squints at you.

"Alright, translate it."