Arctic Conditions

Category: Real Person Fic

Characters: Dave Brown, Dee Plume, Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding, Other

Pairing: Julian Barratt/Other, Noel Fielding/Dee Plume, Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding/Other

Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Romance

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Smut (graphic sex scenes), Violence - Mild

Status: WIP

Length: 30-40k words

Broken Heating

Broken Heating

Notes: Well, this is my first attempt, only wrote it in a couple of hours so it isn’t amazing—criticism would be amazing. I would love to carry on this story if people think this is good enough? Let me know and I’ll write more if you lot think I should. I’m posting another chapter either later on today, or tomorrow, and so if you aren’t sure, give that one a read too! It’s a little more… let’s just say “graphic” 😉 Cheers (: x

Noel was at Julian’s house. They were supposed to be writing for The Boosh, but, as usual, when Noel went round to Julian’s and the two were left alone, they merely sat in companionable silence, with the TV or radio playing out in a soft murmur in the background. And after one too many beers, they would give up the pretence of actually writing anything and just sit there, side by side drinking, until they fell asleep together on the sofa. That is exactly what was happening. Except, there was nothing usual about the situation they were in. And the house was deathly silent. Apart from the noise of the traffic outside, the buzz of the fridge next door in the kitchen, and the breathing of the two men, unspeaking, yet sat together.

Of course, it was never together together they fell asleep. Only next to each other. With enough clothes for an expedition to the arctic, Noel thought bitterly as he looked over at the other end of the sofa that contained Julian. Noel had removed his jacket as soon as he’d entered the house, and had since then shed his boots. Sitting curled up at one end of the sofa, with his odd-socked feet up on the cushions, Noel was wearing his usual mix of skinny jeans and an old band t-shirt that was wearing thin, offering him no protection against the biting cold of the air. Julian on the other hand, had remained fully wrapped up, in his own house, with his trainers, jeans, jumper, and even a bloody scarf on.

He doesn’t trust me. Noel was really beginning to hate his mind for being so damned irritating all of the bloody time. Somewhere, in the more rational part of his mind, he recalled Julian saying something about the broken heating and it being November, but he decided to ignore it and remained focusing his attention on Julian. Sending him dirty glances, and radiating aggression towards the older man. Partly for being a twat these past couple of years, and partly because he had now started shivering in the cold air of the house. He hated it when Julian was right.

“Something wrong?” Julian sounds so smug up from the other end of the sofa. He doesn’t even have his eyes open. Just lying there, dozing slightly whilst Noel has an internal conflict and shivers at the opposite end of the sofa. Yes he was angry, and wanted to shout and scream at Julian for being such a smug bastard, but laying there all still and perfect, he just looked so… beautiful.

Stop! He has to remind himself. He doesn’t feel that way about you, you know that. Don’t let it get in the way of your friendship. But it had already. And Noel knew that it had. Telling him had been a big mistake.

Nothing was the same. Noel had known that from the second he had walked in the door. There was a reason they had stopped the writing this time. And it was because Noel had ruined it with a few simple words. I’m in love with you. Because he was. Noel didn’t just love Julian, like you’d love your parents or friends. But Noel was in love with Julian, and had been for years. The only difference with this time, was that Noel had blurted it out backstage during their last tour.

The reason Noel had split with Dee. The reason why The Boosh had stopped after the tour. The reason why they only ever saw each other for a Boosh show to keep on repeating the same sketch, because they couldn’t bear to be around him any longer than he had to be, meaning they couldn’t stay and write stuff. The reason why they were no longer friends. Because Noel had told Julian those exact words, and received nothing but a cold shoulder in return. He couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as you, Noel’s mind provided as he recalled the way Julian had run out of the dressing room in a blind panic. He had hardly seen him for the rest of the tour. The only times being when they actually had to go on stage or sit in front of a camera for interviews. Continuing the charade for the public eye, whilst behind closed doors there was a war of emotion between the two.

That’s why it had been so hard for Noel to come here tonight, whilst Julia had taken the kids away, as she always did when he and Julian were spending time writing together. It had been difficult, because Noel knew how much Julian despised him for how he felt. That was the real reason why nothing was being written. Because by telling Julian how he felt, Noel had created this unnameable tension which was all to alien and familiar to be able to pinpoint its origin. The tension had stopped their usual flow and banter, instead replacing it with awkward silences and a heavy uncomfortable atmosphere. Noel had broken them.

“Noel?” Noel snapped out of his internal thoughts by the slightly irked voice of Julian, who he now realised had turned to look at him when he didn’t offer any sort of reply.

“What?” he snaps at Julian, not wanting him to realise he’d been thinking about him, even if it wasn’t anything dirty. Julian however, seems to have powers of the mind. Well… Noel’s mind. He has the ability to be able to read every single one of Noel’s thoughts, which is not very convenient, considering that the majority of them consist of Julian. He smirks at Noel. This is going to be an enjoyable night. We can’t even sit together without a conversation turning into a battle of who’s going to win.

“Why should write something?” It’s a safe suggestion. One that will ease the tension a little bit… possibly. Or it could just make it worse.

“Fine.” Julian sits up and reaches for the laptop on the table, before pulling it towards himself and pressing the power button. Five minutes later finds them looking at a blank document, with the cursor flashing at them tauntingly, almost daring them to write something. Anything. Noel suffers a particularly violent shudder from the cold and is instantly met with Julian’s cold stare. Everything about this place is cold for Noel at the minute.

“Are you cold?” His tone is hard. Giving away none of the emotion behind. Julian’s good at that. Shutting off all of his emotions.

“Well done Holmes you’ve solved the case! Call the police, we have our new detective. Why don’t you start solving murders with that big brain of yours? Who needs fucking Columbo? Don’t worry everyone, Julian Barratt will solve our crimes!” The sarcasm wasn’t so much dripping off Noel’s voice, as opposed to gushing out to create a river of unease. Noel’s patience was started to wear thin in places, and the cold air of the flat was doing nothing to improve his festering mood.

Julian holds back a smirk, his eyes softening as he takes in Noel’s inappropriate attire for October weather and cold house, and he seemed to be debating something with himself before he sits up straight, and starts tugging the bottom of his jumper up.

“Ain’t it a bit soon to be getting to the bummin’?” Noel asks. He doesn’t know why. Too ease the tension? Yeah. Cause that was always going to work. Idiot. Julian’s eyes flick over to Noel, telepathically sending the exact same thing through his eyes—idiot—before he continues to pull of his jumper over his head.

“What are you doing?” Noel tries again, a bit more effectively this time.

“You’re cold.” He replies, holding the jumper out. Noel looks at it. It’s corduroy. Noel nearly laughs on the spot, but manages to restrain himself from doing so. It’s not so bad, he thinks. It could’ve been brown. It makes Noel chuckle how much like Howard Julian is sometimes. Just a light exhalation of air through the nose, so that Julian can’t mistake it as Noel laughing at him. But then again, maybe he isn’t so much like Howard. Because Howard, when Vince kissed him, had turned gay. Not run away like Julian did, but instead had responded to the affection given by Vince. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had written that kiss into the show.

Noel still hasn’t taken the jumper out of Julian’s hand, just looking at it as though it will sprout some awful disease on him if he so much as touches it. Julian’s looking uncertain now, as though Noel will take the jumper to mean some declaration of undying love. For fuck sake.

“Don’t worry, if you get a rash I’ll just play some Numan till you’re feeling better.” It’s a weak attempt at their old banter, but it’s something. At least he’s trying, his brain tells him off unhelpfully. Noel smiles.

“Cheers mate.” He says, taking the jumper out of Julian’s hand, before cringing internally at his choice of words. Mate? Julian hasn’t socially been in a room with him since Noel’s confession, unless, like now, he has been forced to. How is that a matey thing to do?

Julian however, seems to relax at the words. Prick. Noel isn’t that bad. Being gay doesn’t change anything. He’s always been gay, so why is it so different now with Julian knowing? Is it all the fleeting looks and touches in the back of clubs? The ones that seemed so innocent to Julian, but to Noel made his head spin and his cock hard. Has he now realised that they weren’t just playing games, and were actually committing to something that had, god forbid, feelings involved?

Yes. Noel realises with a jolt. That’s exactly what it is.

“Well put it on then, or else we’ll both be freezing for no reason.”

Noel sits up and pulls the jumper on over his head. It’s about two sizes too big, but Noel just rolls up the sleeves and sits back. Wrapping his arms around his knees, and hiding his face behind his legs, leaving him free to inhale Julian’s scent from the jumper, as he closes his eyes, trying to re-learn his incredible smell. After quietly breathing in all of the scent, he opens his eyes to see Julian staring at him, a conflict written on his face, as though debating whether or not he should say something.

“Suits you.”

“Thanks.” Is Noel’s muffled response.

When did their conversation become this stilted? Thought out. Cautious, like treading round broken glass. Treading lightly as though frightened of setting off a bomb.

“Right then.” Noel exclaims sitting forward and dropping his legs so that they’re hanging over the edge of the sofa. The way they’re supposed to, Julian’s voice is now in his mind too. Great. Just bloody great. As if he didn’t think about him enough. “We need to actually do some work, or else Julia will probably shout at us both for fooling around when we should’ve been working.” Noel doesn’t miss the way Julian flinches at the term ‘fooling around’, and his anger finally bubbles up to the surface, his shitty mood finally breaking free.

“For fuck sake, what is your deal?” Julian looks up guiltily with a start at the harshness and aggression in Noel’s voice. “Jesus Christ, I can just about you deal with you not wanting to spend more than five seconds around me alone socially, but when we’re working and you get all jumpy like this? That’s when I can’t deal with it anymore. God, you had to be fucking forced into a room with me so that we can get some work done. Nothing’s changed Julian. Nothing has changed between us.” Except that so much has. “I was gay before you knew, and I’ll continue to be the same level of gay now that you do know. I’m sorry if I disgust you, but for fuck sake, stop acting like I’m going to fucking jump you all the time. I’ve managed to control myself around you so far, I think I can handle your rejection for the next few fucking years. But if it’s just you feeling homophobic? Then tell me now so that I can just fuck off.” It’s probably the longest either one of them has spoken to the other in about four years, and Julian looks more upset and torn by this speech than Noel thought he would’ve.

“Noel…” He reaches out as though to touch his arm, before looking at his hand, and dropping it heavily back into his own lap.

“Oh Jesus Christ. Just forget it. Okay?” He swings the laptop violently round to face him so that he’s got something to do. He starts typing aggressively, the first signs of any work for the past few years. And it’s something new. Something Noel has come up with just to see the look on Julian’s face, to try and get back the old double act magic. To try and make him laugh. To get his friend back. When Julian doesn’t speak or move after a couple of minutes, Noel looks up so that he can see what he’s doing.

Julian’s looking at him like nothing has ever been okay, and that he doesn’t want to drop it, before he quickly drops his gaze, and all thoughts of the conversation. When he lifts his eyes again, it’s to look back at the computer screen expectantly, as though he’s waiting for the words to magically make sense to him. Noel goes back to typing, a little less aggressively this time.

Julian stays silent for a while, contrasting emotions playing about his face, as though he’s once again trying to decide whether or not speaking will disrupt the peace, or bring it. Noel watches him out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, before turning to speak to him.

“What is it?” There’s no malice in Noel’s voice, just a question. He doesn’t want to start any more wars. Julian waits a few moments before answering.

“Never thought I’d see the day you voluntarily wore cord.” He says with the hints of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“I know. I think I may be coming out in that rash, I’m telling you. It’s set off me allergies!” Noel’s laughing now, freely and openly. It feels so good to finally be able to laugh around Julian again. And nobody’s fighting. “I think the only thing that’s stopping me from having a full out panic attack is the fact that you’ve decided to wear a different colour from your usual wardrobe. What happened to aggressive nutmeg?”

“I felt as though it were time for a change. Move on, you know. Work the other colours in the spectrum.”

“Sorry, are we Vince and Howard now?” Noel’s smiling again now too, and Julian laughs, actually fucking laughs, and to Noel it feels like Christmas already.

“What are you writing?” Julian’s looking at the screen of the laptop now, to see the vaguely pieced together ideas of a character Noel’s been coming up with. He’s had the idea for a couple of months, thinking up a new character who wouldn’t fit in his own show, and would be absolutely perfect for Julian to play. Noel pushes the laptop over to Julian’s side of the coffee table to take a look whilst he puts his boots back on, his feet being victims of the cold air.

“I thought I was the one who was meant to talk all the time?” he looks over to Julian, only to see that he’s already looking at Noel, and just like that it’s almost as if the past few years had never happened. The double act magic has finally reappeared, after four long years without any proper social contact. And it feels fucking marvellous.

Julian smiles at him again, and if Noel’s grin gets any wider, his face might just split in two. All this time he’s been worried about the magic being gone, but it was there all along. It just needed time to come back to them. It always had done. Even when they weren’t stuck in a shitty argument, they always needed time to get over being all shy to one another. This time, Noel wasn’t sure it would come back due to circumstance, but all of that washes away now with the realisation it just needed an extended period of time for the two boys to be together to get it up and running again. Something they haven’t been getting a lot of recently.

“Just an idea I had for this character. I thought you could play him. Honestly, he’s wicked. Really different to the other characters you usually do in the Boosh. I’ve done some drawings, but they’re back at my flat. Don’t really matter though, I can show you them later yeah? Anyway, I have a few plot line that could work, you can check ‘em though yeah? I’m not very good with plots. I’m the visuals man. So, I thought we could have him wearing—”

“Why don’t we just use Rudi and Spider again?” Noel feels as though he’s been kicked in the stomach. “Instead of coming up with another idea I mean. It’ll be quicker if we just use whatever plotline you had planned out for this character using characters we already have, won’t it?”

“Revisit?” Noel doesn’t know why that upsets him as much as it does. He was expecting it earlier, but since then he had thought that him and Julian had worked things out, and that they would be able to create something for their world again. Apparently not. It still shocks him the force at which the words leave his mouth however. He should be used to Julian acting like this towards them spending any more time together than is strictly necessary. But after behaving like they used to, even though it was for a tiny sliver of time, had given Noel more hope than ever that things were going to be okay.

Julian seems as taken aback by Noel’s reaction as Noel himself. “Well… yeah, why not use them again?”

“I don’t just want to ‘revisit’ the old characters.” Noel sneers the word as though it’s dirty to even suggest it, “For fuck sake it’s getting boring. Some of those characters are about 15 fucking years old. We need new material, people aren’t stupid. They have realised that we do the same old shit again and again. We need something else.” It wasn’t an untrue statement. Even in their recent escapade to Festival Supreme, they had just played out old sketches and characters, twisting and bending them to seem different, the entire time just playing out the same tricks they had been pulling for years. Apart from Julian’s little wander into his solo shitty ‘Jon Breeze’ material. Stuff he didn’t want to try out on his own because he was too much of a coward.

Noel had never had a problem with diving into audiences with new material. He was well received, and always had been. Especially since The Boosh. He had also collected a mass following by doing other publicity and shows. Something he had done in order to get Julian’s attention. To be noticed by him. The thing that Noel had done to get Julian to notice him, had only served in making his fame stronger, whilst Julian lagged behind; carrying The Boosh, and doing the hard work to keep it afloat. All the while, Noel was swanning about, trying to get Julian to turn his head in his direction. The thing that Julian had clung onto like a life raft, was the thing that was now apparently the thing that he thought was dragging him down, the irony completely lost on him in his attempt to try and escape to his own world. And Noel took some twisted pleasure in that fact.

Or maybe Julian just wanted to rub Noel’s face in no longer needing him.

“Shit? You think our stuff’s shit? Fucking hell, sorry. I was only trying to save us fucking time.” Julian’s voice is annoyingly level and calm, and it only served in further destroying Noel’s mood, which wasn’t in the best of places to begin with.

“I don’t want us to save fucking time Julian. I want us to be able to be like we used to be. It never used to be about what was ‘quicker’. It was always about what was best for The Boosh. What was best for us!” He’s standing up now. The argument is making him twitchy. He’s always had problems dealing with stressful situations, and so tries not to get himself into them too often. Yeah, that’s been going great recently.

“People love the old characters, which is why we revisit them. Come on I’m only thinking practically here.” Julian’s stood up as well now. Never been able to be on the lower hand, Julian’s used to be the tall one, and so can’t stand it when he’s in an argument and there’s someone above him.

“No it isn’t. The reason we don’t write new characters is because you can’t stand to be in the same room as me long enough to write any new stuff. We never do new stuff anymore!”

“We do do new stuff! What about that show we did at the Barbican?”

“Beck wrote the fucking music for that!”

“So?”

“What d’ya mean ‘So?’ We didn’t bloody write it.”

“What about Santa Monica?”

“What about Santa Monica?”

“There was new stuff in that show”

“Yeah. Your fucking solo stuff. Hardly Boosh, considering we are The Mighty Boosh. Yeah? Us. Together. We. And considering that that was your character, your bloody writing, and I had no fucking input on it, I wouldn’t say that that was us writing new material.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to do solo stuff now, but I’m not allowed. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Of course that’s not what I’m fucking saying! But I don’t use Boosh as a tool to test out my new stuff. I don’t call out of the blue, after near enough four fucking years, suggesting we do some gigs to ‘ease off the fans, as they’re getting a bit psycho’, despite the fact our fans have always been fucking psycho, just so that I can test out new material for my fucking solo show.”

The situation is vastly getting out of hand again, and Noel’s eyes are starting to prick. For a moment, he actually fucking believed that they could have been what they were. That they could’ve been the double act extraordinaire. Now, in a matter of seconds, it’s all fucked.

“You know what, fuck this. I don’t need this shit. You’re making stuff up again.” Julian heads for the kitchen.

“Again?”

“Yeah. Again. Every time you realise you’re losing an argument, or that something isn’t going your way, you panic and go into meltdown. Start making stuff up.”

“Like when?”

“Like now!”

“How am I making this up?” Noel is on the verge of tears now. He only has one last throw of the dice to win this round, and it needed to be doubles. “We haven’t written anything new together since the bloody tour and you damn well know it.”

Bingo.

Julian’s stopped walking. He’s stopped moving altogether. After a few moments he turns round to face Noel, who’s still by the sofa. He advances forward into the living space again, speaking slowly in a low voice that leave vibrations hanging in the air.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you bloody dare, bring up that tour. Don’t you dare, d’you hear me? I don’t want to hear a single word of it. You cannot, just come back into my house and bring this up again. I won’t have it, y’hear?”

“Julian please.”

“Stop it.”

“Julian please, just talk to me about it!” Noel’s crying now, the tears spilling over. He lunges forward to latch onto Julian before he can make a run out of the door, just like Noel know he will.

“Get off me.” Julian shakes Noel off so hard that he stumbles backwards. Julian continues through the living room heading towards the door. The backs of Noel’s legs connect with the coffee table behind him, and he falls backwards over the table, throwing out his right arm to stop himself from hitting the edge of the table and knocking himself unconscious. Noel feels a sharp shooting pain travel up his arm, as his wrist crunches upon hitting the ground underneath all of the weight put on one arm. He manages to stop his scream of pain though, as he hears something worse than the grinding bones of his wrist—the opening of the front door.

Noel’s head snaps up just as Julian puts one foot through the threshold.

“Ju!” Julian stops with the front door open, one foot on either side of the doorframe. Coat in one hand, door in the other, getting ready to slam shut behind him. But it doesn’t. Because Julian’s stopped moving. “Ju. Please.” His voice is softer now. Tantalising. He’s momentarily stopped Julian from running, but it’s not enough. He needs to be sure. Because if he lets Julian walk back out through that door, there is no way on Earth that they will be able to be fixed. They’ll be broken. Forever.

Something in the old nickname has Julian pinned to the spot like superglue though, and he isn’t moving. Just staring at a point outside the front door, with the arm holding his jacket hanging limply at his side, the other hand holding the door like a lifeline, his knuckles turned white. Noel grasps onto the tiny glimmer of hope, and decides to push his luck before Julian walks out of his life for good.

“Jude? Please. We have to talk about this, you know we do. Please. Just… come back inside, yeah? Just close the door and we can have a cup of tea. Please just don’t walk away again because I cannot live without you anymore. I’ve tried that, and it doesn’t work. Please. Let’s just… Look, I’ll just go to the kitchen and—Ah!” At his cry of pain, Julian snaps his heads round to look at him, lying a crumpled mess on the floor, with his legs all twisted beneath him, and tears streaming down his face.

His head swings back round to face out of the door as he opens his mouth as though struggling to say something, before giving up on the words that have failed him, and closing his mouth again.

“Please” his voice is breaking as the tears flow fast and free, streaking his pale face with diluted black lines. This broken plea is a last ditch attempt to get him to come back inside. It works. But only just. Julian takes a deep breath as though preparing himself for a major task, before stepping back into the house and shutting the door. His fingers loosen the grip on the coat and it drops to the floor. Julian’s still tense and ready to leave at any given moment. Even so Noel breathes a sigh of relief for the momentary win.

Now that he’s sure Julian isn’t going to take flight straight away, he can focus on his wrist. Trying to rub some feeling back into it from where it went numb when he tried to get back up off the floor. Julian moves towards Noel cautiously, as though afraid if he were to make any sudden movements, Noel will attack.

“I hurt you.” It’s not a question. Julian and Noel have never seemingly needed questions to be able to communicate. The blandness of the tone in which Julian speaks is new though, and it makes Noel flinch. This is uncharted territory in their relationship, and Noel isn’t quite sure how to deal with it, and so just shrugs.

Julian’s crouched beside him then, reaching out to Noel’s arm. The moment Julian’s fingers make contact with his skin, his entire body is alight with electricity. The deprivation that’s been building up for the past few years finally making itself known with the touch. Noel closes his eyes to savour the moment of pure bliss.

“Did I break anything?” Still with that chilling toneless voice.

“No, you’re alright.” Still holding onto his wrist. Noel opens his eyes to look at Julian.

Julian’s looking mildly relieved, before he’s wrapping an arm around Noel’s waist to help him stand up. So that you don’t hurt yourself again you idiot, his brain tells him. I know, he replies tetchily.

“I’ll get you a bandage for your wrist.” He still hasn’t let go.

“Thanks.” Julian leads him to the kitchen by his waist, as though he had injured his ankle and not his wrist; allowing Noel to lean into him as they hobble slowly to the kitchen area where the first aid box is kept under the sink.

Upon entering the kitchen, Julian leans Noel up against a counter so that he doesn’t overbalance, before rushing over to the sink to retrieve the first aid box. He places the box on the side next to the sink, before returning over to Noel to wrap his arm around his waist again, and take his wrist into hand. Noel and Julian hobble once again over to the sink, where Julian starts the cold tap running and places Noel’s hand under it.

After a couple of minutes Julian turns the faucet off, and gives Noel a tea towel to dry his hand on, not wanting to do it himself for fear of hurting the other man. Whilst Noel dries his hand, Julian unwraps the bandage for Noel’s wrist. Noel holds out his arm when he’s finished, and Julian gingerly takes his wrist, before he starts bandaging it up.

“Cheers for that Ju. My bloody wank hand as well!” Noel jokes feebly. He gets nothing from Julian except his eyes flicking up to meet Noel’s with a cold warning stare, all the while continuing to wrap the bandage round his wrist. His eyes flick back down to concentrate on the bandaging so much, Noel’s pretty sure he can feel a hole being burnt through his hand. Julian continues to bandage the hand, and the two remain in a deathly silence for the duration. Julian feeling guilty and turning it inwards on himself in a silent torture, and Noel not wanting to say anything that would further aggravate the other man.

“You should probably go to see a doctor or someone. Don’t want to take any chances after all.” Julian says as he’s finishing. “And get some ice on that when you get home. Otherwise the swelling will be horrendous.” Julian looks up then, still holding onto Noel’s wrist.

He starts slightly when he notices the intensity of Noel’s stare, and the fact that he’s been staring at him this whole time. Of course, now that Julian’s looked up, he’s looking directly into Noel’s eyes. Neither can help it, and for a short while the two men just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes. Neither saying anything.

After what feels like a lifetime, Noel notices a slight pressure on him arm. He looks down to notice Julian’s hand still encircling his wrist protectively and tentatively. Julian follows Noel’s gaze, and his eyes widen slightly, as though he hadn’t realised he was still holding onto Noel’s wrist. He drops it immediately, and moves around to the other side of the kitchen, so that the island counter is placed in between the two men.

“I…” Noel knows what’s coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier hearing it straight from Julian’s lips. “I… think you should go.”

But Noel isn’t giving up. He came in here to talk to Julian, and so help him god he was going to talk to Julian if it bloody well killed him.

“No.” Noel isn’t about to let this get away from him. He decides to go with his instinct, because this game is quickly slipping through his fingers once again, and if Noel doesn’t take a gamble then he’s going to end up losing everything for good. “No, I’m not going to go. And you know why? Because I love you Julian, and deep down I know that you love me too!” Julian seems to do nothing for a minute. Just stares at Noel blankly. Then he takes a deep breath, and seems to steel himself against whatever he’s planning on saying next. Noel understands why, when Julian opens his mouth and starts speaking.

“I don’t feel that way about you. I’ve never felt that way about you. That’s never what this was for me, it’s what you’ve made it for you. Prancing about like a woman? And a slutty one at that too. Always asking me to come and dance with you, play with you, touch your hair, kiss you. Julia would be right next to me, but you didn’t seem to give a shit what you would be putting on the line for me, so DON’T. YOU. DARE. IT WAS ALL ABOUT TRYING TO SEDUCE ME, SO THAT YOU COULD SATISFY YOUR FEELINGS. Not mine. Never mine. You. Make. Me. Sick.” Julian makes sure to pause after each of the last words, emphasising each one of them. “I hate you.” There’s no inflection to his last words. Merely a statement.

“Fuck.” Noel’s breath hitches on the word, showing just how broken those words have actually made him. His body is numb, and he can’t stand still, twitching as he paces the kitchen, filling it with his nervous energy.

“You need to leave now.” Julian’s cold, hard voice from the other side of the kitchen. Noel looks up to look at him with tearless eyes. He can’t even cry, is body still un-processing of the words delivered to him like a punch. The shock is written all over Noel’s face as he pulls the jumper off slowly, mussing up his hair around his head as he does so, before placing it on the counter. He can’t even bring himself to care about his hair, leaving it as it is. If that doesn’t show Julian just how hurt he’s been by his words, then nothing ever will. Julian’s hands are still braced on the side of the kitchen island that’s stopping them from being near each other, and that’s probably for the best as Noel doesn’t know what he’d do given half the chance to touch Julian. Punch him? Kiss him? Make love to him? Noel reaches out his hand across the table to try and wrap his fingers around Julian’s in a last ditch attempt to bring them back together. His fingers ghost over Julian’s for mere milliseconds, before Julian’s hand is snatched away like it’s been burnt. Cradling it to his chest like he’s in pain.

“Never touch me” He whispers.

And that’s all he can remember, before he’s running to the front door, wrenching it open, and running out into the freezing cold of the night. Not looking back once.