Drabble-esque insight into Noel and Julian's one sided relationship.


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Burn by Colour_Me_Troll

Appletinis dissolve into Guinness which dissolve into straight vodka from the bottle, and he stumbles home.

He finally makes it through the front door, and Noel wants to tie himself to the chair tonight.

Tie himself up so tight he can never get away.

So tight, that he’ll wake up tomorrow morning with burning wrists, a pulsing hangover, and a hunger to the depths of his bones, and he’ll stay that way till he dies, strapped to his kitchen chair.

But there’s no rope around, and he’s not sure he’d be capable of tying the knots anyway, not tonight.

Instead, he collapses onto his bed and presses his hands to his eyes, trying to rub away everything. Feeling, memories, longing, everything.

“I’m not going back.” He says to the empty room, voice slurred, tears forcing themselves out of his eyes and running down his cheeks, dragging eyeliner with them. “I’m not going back to you. Not tomorrow, not again, not… except work.
You’ve seen the last of me, Julian.
I’m not going back to you…”

And muttering to himself, he drifts off to sleep.

Days pass and he wakes up in bed, his head throbbing with another hangover, his wrists burning, and his stomach aching with hunger.

There’s something cold and damp on the sheet against his stomach, and he can smell sweat and sex.

He can feel he’s alone.

He sits up, examining the rope burn marks on his wrists, and sweeps his eyes over the bed.


He picks up the offending scrape of rough cord, and runs it between his fingers.


“Ju?” He calls, and waits. “Ju!” He calls again, louder.

Standing up, he pulls on a pair of pants and heads to the kitchen, knowing what will be waiting.

Picking up the note on the table, he can feel the anger burning up inside him.

Had to get home to Julia and the kids.
See you tomorrow.

Noel heard the paper crunch as his fist clenched around it, and the threw it hard against the wall.

If you were sorry, he thought you wouldn’t leave me.

“Morning, “ Julian says, smiling warmly and handing him a cup of tea.

“Right.” He replies coldly and sits at the table. “What scene should we start on?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not.”

“Look at you, Noel, you’re pouting.”

The pout disappears and a slight smile graces his face.

“I can’t look at myself without a mirror, you twat.”

Julian sits down on the other side of the table, his hands sliding forwards and grasping Noel’s.

“Sorry about last night.”


“I had to get home.”

“I know.”

The silence stretches on as dark brown eyes search the pale blue ones across the table.
Noel’s eyes flicker to avoid his searching gaze. He doesn’t want to forgive Julian.

“I really didn’t want to hurt you.”

Their eyes meet.

“Sometimes I love you, Ju. And it fucking burns.”

“I know little man, I know.”

Julian stands up and circles the table, pulling his friend/companion/lover into a tight hug.

If there’s one thing Noel is certain of, right at this moment (his knees almost level with his head, glistening with sweat and panting) it’s that he is a slut.

And that he’s not forgiving Julian this time.

Not ever.

And even as he comes onto his own chest….

And even as he feels Julian come inside him…

And even as he burns with the knowledge that when he wakes up, if he blinks, Julian will be gone…

He forgives him.