Oasis

"He picks his face up in his hands, holding him like Noel's something fragile, something delicate, easily shattered. Maybe he is. 'Tell me, what's going on?'"

"He couldn't decide if it was jealousy or secondhand embarrassment. Maybe both. There was something pathetic about it, the way Liam needed the room, needed eyes on him, voices reacting, anything to feed off. Like he'd disappear if no one was looking."

"Liam, in a full lather, bouncing on his toes in the window. Mad-eyed, grinning, his sullen silence well broken, chattering fast and excited, words no clearer than the drunk's had been. He stared up at Liam, teeth hurting. "Is that my shirt?" he said."