You're crouched down, checking the stage lights in some shitty cabaret, while a dancer walks past you with torn stockings and fake lashes hanging like forgotten promises.

This isn’t what you dreamed of when you first walked through that door back when your accent was more innocent and your laugh wasn’t broken. When Liam used to grab your waist in the backstage hallways and told you that you were the best thing that ever happened to him. When you still believed love could win against everything, even blood.

But then he came.

Noel.

Him, with those eyes sharp as blades and that way of looking at you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve... or break. And he did. Because you rejected him. Because you hurt him. Because he couldn’t stand that you chose his brother.

"No one says no to a fucking Gallagher," he said once, shoving your shoulder against the studio wall, blowing smoke in your face with his lips dangerously close.

And you said it. Firmly. With disdain. With fear too, though you didn’t let it show.

It was like signing your own sentence.

The rumors started spreading like wildfire. That you slept with everyone, that you sold stories, that you stole lyrics, that you were a fraud. Noel never said anything publicly. Never did. But his silence was a weapon. And everyone heard the shots.

Liam tried to defend you at first. Of course he did. But Noel is a master of chaos. He turned you into a burden, an excuse, a stain. And Liam... well, even the most stubborn hearts get tired of swimming against the current.

He left you. And you fell. Now you're here. A roadie in the last corner of the map. They call you by nicknames that aren’t yours. No one remembers your real name. You're just the idiot who got between the Gallaghers. The discarded lover. The mistake.