he slashes one way… he slashes the other…
“…the fact that Vince was sitting next to him with a cushion in his lap to hide the appalling boner that he couldn’t get rid of, all drunk and young-looking and beautiful. How easy would it be for Howard to simply reach down and slip a hand under that cushion…” Vince and Howard have nervous sex.
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“Noel just grinned and went a few more wobbly paces, yanking Julian along behind him like a careworn teddy bear.” It all started under sodium-orange streetlights, where girls looked pretty in Perspex, and things got steadily worse from there. Julian tried to ignore the burning jealousy and memories of a star-pricked night far away from home…
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“By quarter to ten it was clear that Noel and Julian were not coming. At ten o’clock the assistant director stood up on a chair and told everyone they could go home.” Noel and Julian throw a hissy fit. What the hell is wrong with them?
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“Whenever it happened, they were creatures kissing in the rain, they were rough and desperate and there was always blood at Noel’s neck…” Julian’s greed works out in the worst possible way.
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The differences between them sometimes matter, sometimes don’t.
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“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Well, let’s see, we’ve had to throw ourselves on the mercy of your parents for a place to sleep, you’ve got an unhealthy obsession with Topshop, and we’ve been transported back in time by a hideous lamp!”
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“Julian knew he was being cruel, but it was funny. Noel. Claustrophobic, in those jeans?” Noel gets himself into a tight spot. Julian finds it funny.
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“You go and make me feel like this and now you’re saying shut yer noise, Noel, before you go and ruin a good thing—” Noel has a hissy fit on the corner of Pelham Street Inn. Julian’s used to it.
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“Old Gregg was about Julian and Noel: about how he desperately wanted Julian, so badly he could hardly draw breath sometimes, the delicious void in his lungs and heart whenever Julian was around.” Noel’s secret gets out, with some help from a treacherous wardrobe lady.
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