Falling Apart

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Noel is falling apart, and Julian is trying to hold him together.

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Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

Author’s Notes: i don’t own anything except the plot and the words on the page

I practically fainted on the spot, at least my head span and my vision blurred and i tried to prepare myself for the worst. “Oh?” was the most eloquent response i was able to formulate, although there were a million things tumbling over each other in my mind trying to get out. “Yeah.” He said, studying his own, sock clad feet. “I did kinda wonder how long it would be ‘til you worked it out.” He admitted. And i wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. I still felt oddly guilty, as though I’d walked in on my lover cheating with someone and had been convinced it was my fault. But it was different in a way i couldn’t quite explain, Noel was idly nodding to himself, and I suddenly became aware that I was holding my mug rather too hard and the heat was finally communicating it’s self through my palms to my brain. I loosed my grip and put my cup down on the coffee table, murmuring: “Do you think i could take a look?” I turned to look at him and saw him tense, but then he relaxed and nodded. Slowly reaching a hand up to his cardi buttons. Then he paused, stood up and restarted. It was like some strange parody of a strip tease. Although the notion only made me feel sick. It seemed the same thought had crossed Noels mind because he paused, the cardigan just off his shoulders to say, “This makes me feel like some kind of a prozzie.” And then he laughed, and i laughed. And the tension that should have come in the moment when his arms were revealed was gone.

I couldn’t help but wince softly myself looking at them; it was like a horrible criss crossed mesh of cuts and scars, red on white. But then i was aware of him hooking his thumbs into the lower edge of his tee-shirt to take that off too. I knew I couldn’t take anything seriously anymore, it was all too mad, so i joked at him, Howard fashion. “Whoa there little man, steady on.” And to my immense relief he caught on, casting his tee-shirt to the ground with the cardi, revealing as similar latticework crossing his chest and stomach as he began to fiddle with his belt, there for decorative purposes only. “Don’t worry,” he grinned, “It’s not for you.” And somehow by making it a joke it was okay for him to be stood there in his socks and underwear, showing me that there wasn’t much skin left without angry red welts across it. And something almost motherly broke in me. I was half torn between wanting to shout at him for doing this to himself, and wanting to gather him up into a hug that would make everything go away. Fortunately for Noel, i settled with the second, closing the space between us in two short steps, i reached out and he sort of melted into my embrace, holding me tightly as i pulled him too me, careful not to put pressure on him. It felt strange that his back was smooth and pale, since the last time i had seen it there had been cat-like scratches down it.

The moment could have lasted seconds or an age, i didn’t know which, but neither of us wanted to break the moment talking. So i held him to me and kissed the top of his head gently, a natural action. But the moment broke, and i had to speak. “C’mon, put some clothes on and we’ll talk.” And we broke apart whilst Noel swooped to pull on some clothes and I tried to formulate some sensible questions in my head. In the end i settled for the cliché of “But why?” while Noel fought with his fly. He paused, still shirtless to think about the matter and again I wondered if i was doing the right thing, the smile had gone and he seemed so impossibly sad it hurt. “I don’t know.” He said honestly, “I just…. Do.” And I nodded, because if there was one thing i understood it was not knowing why you did something. He pulled his tee-shirt on, only wincing slightly as the material brushed his skin then settled. He was about to reach for the cardigan, but i was there before him. Catching it uncharacteristically gracefully between the tips of my fingers I half proffered it to him. He approached, letting me help him into it, sliding each arm in carefully so as not to snag. “Thanks.” He whispered softly, and it wasn’t helping him with the jacket that he was thanking me for.

We returned ourselves to the sofa, still in thought and he curled himself into me, not really stopping to think about why he was doing it. Absent minded i reached out to stroke his hair, and like a cat he dissolved into me. I half wondered where my cats were. Noel had named the Vince and Howard, because one was an effeminate looking long haired black creature, and the other a scruffy brown ball of fur. But for now I had my Noel cat, so we sat, with me stroking his hair absently, like one would to calm a frightened child. “Why do you wear that thing anyway?” I asked suddenly, and it was like things were back on track, we were sitting, drinking tea and talking clothes. I felt the movement of shoulder blades into my wrists as he shrugged. “It’s comforting i guess.” Now that was interesting, he had definitely said comforting, not comfortable. I stored this little snipped of information away, to examine at a later date. “Shall we go out tonight?” I asked suddenly, because i felt like i needed to be away from everything that hurt so much. More bones moved: a nod. “I could ring the others.” I offered, and at last Noel shifted himself from his position. “Yeah, I’ll help.”

Before long we had Noels phone on speaker and had arranged to meet Mike, Rich, Dave and Dee at 8. That gave them two hours to tidy themselves up and get sorted. Noel exchanged the cardi for one of his spray on leather jackets that he had long since left here, before heading for the nearest mirror, he leaves an assortment of products here as well. Just in case. I dragged myself of to change my aging Marillion tee-shirt for one of my “going out” shirts. I was still stood there, stripped to the waist deliberating when Noel finally reappeared. Reaching past me he selected a white one with delicate black pinstripes running down it. I couldn’t help but shudder slightly, the feel of leather on bare skin catching me off guard, but then the moment was over and Noel was sitting on the edge of my bed grinning, looking every inch the Goth fairy while i fought the battle with my buttons. Quite suddenly he leapt up from the edge of the bed, hugging me so tightly it hurt, i couldn’t imagine how he felt. And in a reflex i just closed my arms about his thin frame, breathing in the smell that was most defiantly Noel.

It’s called a décolletage in French, and it means the particular cocktail of things from your shampoo to your sweat that make up the smell of you. Noel smells clean and fragrant. Deodorant, clean washing, a gingery limey smell, and the familiar tang of hairspray combining with something that is far more perfume than after shave. I suppose it goes with his man lady persona. I don’t mind. Not one bit. Again we seem to be there an age, not moving. Then suddenly Noel broke it, he stood on top toes, kissed me briefly on the cheek and muttered, “Thanks Julian” then tottered off to find his boots. I stood there a little longer, one hand snaking its way up to brush my cheek, before running a hand through my hair and then hunting about the room for something to wear on my feet. In the end it took us fully half an hour to be ready to go out.

And so we were staggering along the road towards the Rainbow, a messy pub cum club not too far from our respective flats. Noel was hanging off my arm giggling girlishly, for once on a level with me in his silver platform boots, and he had rustled up a matching cowboy hat again, we were sharing an umbrella but i felt dowdy next to him, with my black jacket and plain jeans. But it didn’t matter. Before long we were in the crowded and noisy room, all hunched around a table, talking and laughing as though nothing had ever happened. The prelude to a good night out. The room seemed warm and comforting, and the talk washed over me as i considered everyone’s drinks. It always amused me what people drank; i think it tells you an awful lot about a person.

Of course it was a cocktail for Noel; the flirtini’s his alter ego Vince favoured so much, a sort of pinkish yellow with an umbrella and some form of drinkable glitter. Dee was drinking something pinkish and poisonous looking, but i could smell the alcohol from where i was sat, clearly a double vodka and something. Red wine for Dave, something vintage no doubt. Mike never has a particular drink, I’m sure he’d happily drink turps as beer. But he does like cider, I’ve never seen the appeal myself, reminds me of being drunk under bushes in parks. As for Rich it’s a cheap beer and that’ll do him. Personally i like Guinness, it’s a proper drink.

The evening seemed to pass suddenly, the haze of voices, chatter and drink. It felt like the room was warm and fuzzy, everything was fuzzy and getting hazier. Suddenly i was lost, and then the room was gone. I came too propped up against a wall outside with Noel’s face inches from my own.