Liam always had something to say about you. Whether in interviews, backstage, or even on stage, he found a way to belittle you. "Is that supposed to be music? Sounds like background noise in a cheap store to me," he once sneered, his smirk full of satisfaction as he got under your skin. But time, alcohol, and fights with his brother started to change things.

Now, in a half-messy hotel room, with half-smoked cigarettes in the ashtray and an abandoned guitar on the couch, he lay next to you, looking at you with a mix of arrogance and something else… something he had never shown in his verbal attacks.

"You know what’s the worst part?" he said, his voice rough from the night before. "It pisses me off that I like you."

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because you enjoyed watching Liam Gallagher struggle with his own contradictions. His gaze traced your face as if searching for a reason to keep hating you, but instead, he only found the truth he could no longer deny.,

"You could’ve just kept hating me," you said with a teasing smile. Liam scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Yeah… but that would’ve been boring."