Chapter Text
———————
Noel hates the in between times – in between filming, in between live shows, in between all those times that they’re inseparable. He used to not mind them at all. Having time to himself again was like a holiday at the beach after weeks in the mountains. Neither place was better or worse, just different. But lately it feels as though the in between times are getting longer. Sometimes they don’t get longer in time, just in space. They can be weeks, sometimes even only days apart, yet they can somehow feel like months. The chasm stretches wider each time.
See, it’s during the in between times that they drift apart. No, it’s not even a drift - it’s a severing of twin souls, a jump backwards to stranger times when phone calls were awkward and disjointed, when running into each other was an occasion for shuffling feet, tilted heads and timid smiles. It’s during the in between times that they stray further and further from the path. In the dark belly of the jungle, Julian finds babies and Noel finds parties.
———————
He knocks on the hotel door.
“Julian?”
He knocks again. It’s late, he knows it’s late, he knows that he’s had three drinks too many but they’re always free these days. He knows he’s had more than enough to drink but he’s sure that this is Julian’s hotel room. If it’s not, he’s going to end up in a fair amount of trouble if anyone answers the door. Even if it’s Julian, he may be in strife. Noel hasn’t found many people in the world who enjoy being woken up at some time past two in the morning, particularly not when they’re stuck somewhere as foreign and grim as a hotel. Not that this one isn’t nice, of course, but Glasgow isn’t home. Noel’s come looking for the closest thing he can find.
He presses his cheek against the cool wood, leaning into it, and tries to whisper through the door jamb. “I remembered your room number, you greasy git. Open the door. Don’t be asleep, you can’t be asleep.”
Noel stumbles forward, his balance taken from him as the door’s wrenched open quickly but not completely – just enough for a face to appear. Julian gazes through, his eyes looking even smaller than normal as he peers out into the dimly lit hallway. His hair, usually messy enough as it is, has taken on a shambolic appearance. He probably has been sleeping, then. But he’s awake now, so it’s fine. Noel grins and presses his hand against the door. Julian doesn’t raise issue with it. He gets out of the way of the door and is already heading back over to his stiff hotel bed as Noel follows him into the dark cave of the hotel room. Noel toes his boots off and drops onto the end of the bed, taking up a cross-legged position. Julian is already back in bed, tucked in under the blankets. Noel listens for his breaths, trying to judge if he’s fallen asleep again so quickly. He can’t tell properly in the dark.
“Julian?”
“What, Noel. What. What do you want from me.”
“It went well tonight, don’t you think?”
A bedside lamp clicks on and Julian sits up slowly, cumbersome, rubbing his eyes with one hand. His white t-shirt is sleep-rumpled, he looks tired. Noel feels like an alien, a time-travelling alien who has landed a few years from where he meant to land. Forward or backward? The walls are humming, Noel’s sure of it. There’s something in the walls. His time machine is stuck inside the walls. Julian says nothing in reply to his question, just looks at the red flashing light of the standard hotel alarm clock that sits at his side. 2:26. 2:26. 2:26. 2:26. 2:27.
“Don’t you think so?”
“I’m a bit tired, Noel.”
“I thought it was brilliant. You talked a lot. That was nice, you talking. You don’t talk enough.”
“You talk enough for both of us.”
“I didn’t tonight, I – we talked the same, I think, our talking was the same amount, tonight. That was nice. Everyone liked it. You said funny – there were funny things said, everyone thought they were funny. That was lovely, I liked that.”
Julian takes a deep breath, letting it out just as slowly. Noel watches in silence as he does it. The mattress sways, or at least Noel assumes that it does. His balance is all askew. He digs his fingers into the blanket. The sea is stormy. Noel’s surprised that he’s not feeling ill, as he usually gets seasick.
“Noel… I’m going back to sleep. It’s an early train home tomorrow.”
“Let’s stay up, Julian. Let’s stay up all night, let’s write some things. Where’s your computer, get your computer out. Come on.”
Noel gets up on his knees on the bed and bounces a couple of times, full of wobbly energy. He grins at Julian and bounds forwards on the bed, up to Julian’s side, loose and drunk. Julian lets out a grunt of pain, or surprise, or some combination of both, but it takes Noel two heartbeats more to realise what he’s done. It’s an innocent movement, but Noel’s hand has come down on Julian’s thigh instead of the mattress. There’s a blanket there, a blanket in between, but Noel knows that it is Julian’s thigh, and Julian knows that it is Julian’s thigh. He thinks about retracting his hand. He looks at Julian, who is furrow-browed and sleep-muddled. Erasing that move would be the smartest decision to make at this time.
“Sorry, Ju. Julian, can’t we—”
Julian reaches quietly for Noel’s hand as he’s pulling back. He jerks his hand back, briefly startled by Julian’s touch, but the other man’s grip is surprisingly tight. Noel wasn’t expecting this, not at all, but it’s nice and warm like it was moments ago. No, not moments ago. It was hours ago now, for the telly show. They don’t hold hands, Noel and Julian. Not these days, not any more. It’s funny, because Noel’s said that they do, but they don’t, really.
Hands are such personal things, Noel thinks. Everyone shakes hands but to really touch a person’s hands, to stroke their fingers, to trace the edges of their nails, you have to really know a person, don’t you? Hands are intimate things. Hands say so much. He and Julian don’t hold hands. Not these days, not any more. So it’s odd – odd but comfortable, like slipping his hand into an old glove – it’s odd that Julian is holding his now.
“Is this what we do, then?”
“No – I mean, you know. Do you mean the telly show? This is what I said we do, I said that, yeah.”
“Amongst other things, you said.”
“I did. I’m sorry, it just – it was funny. I can’t help it. It was funny, Julian, they laughed. They knew it was a laugh.”
“I’m going to sleep, Noel.”
Julian slips his fingers from Noel’s and lies back down on his side, facing away from Noel, reaching over to flick the light switch off and let the darkness creep back over them. Noel’s heart is beating loudly; it’s banging in his chest. This noise will keep Julian awake, he thinks. Julian can’t be getting much sleep at home at the moment, he thinks. I should leave, he thinks. But this is no in between time, this is Julian and Noel and nobody else and the time between has been long enough. Noel wriggles his way under the blanket and curls against Julian’s back, arms tucked up to his own chest, between them. Julian doesn’t move. Others might think it a bad sign, a closed-off sign. Don’t touch me. Noel knows better than others, though, and when he tucks his cheek against Julian’s shoulder blade and lets out a warm breath of a sigh, Julian responds in turn, his shoulder rising and falling, shifting under Noel’s cheek.
“Enough for now,” Noel whispers to Julian’s skin. He is probably already asleep, but Noel is sure that he knows. I got so blind that I couldn’t remember my room number. He practises the sentence in his head, trying to cement it as a believable fact. He tucks a socked foot in between Julian’s legs. The hum of the machine in the walls eventually tricks him into sleeping. They are two secret spoons in a closed, dark drawer.
———————
Deep in sleep, Noel dances through the jungle. Eyes peer out from dark places but he is not afraid; this is somewhere that he is loved and welcomed. The beat is loud and pulsates through his blood, causing his skin to break out in a sweat. His clothes, already tight, cling even tighter to him in the heat. There are bodies moving all around, pulsing and gyrating with the beat, and Noel moves with them like a fish, hands swimming like fins. Each breath feels like a gulp of water in all this fluidity. In the dreaming, Noel doesn’t need to swallow anything to feel this vibrant and alive. Noel just needs to move, to breathe. If only it were always so easy, this breathing underwater.
Noel catches a flash of white through the undergrowth and crouches down, peering. Julian is far away, holding a baby to his chest. The baby is wearing a nappy so bright that it’s almost fluorescent. Julian is looking as he usually does – a blend of consternation and thoughtfulness. He is not looking at the baby. He is looking through the undergrowth. He is looking at Noel. Noel tips his hat; Julian blinks. This time Julian has gone too far from the path. Babies don’t know their way around. Babies don’t know how to get to the path. Julian won’t hear him above the babies. Noel runs back to the path, just in case, tripping over tree roots in his haste. He is usually much nimbler but he is full of anxiety. The path is there – a quiet parent waiting patiently for its child, arms stretched wide in welcoming. Noel drops to his knees in relief. With a fluttering heartbeat and sweating skin, he’s been wondering if he too had strayed too far from the path.
He waits on his knees. He waits on the path. Noel hears a distant cry, weak and young. He lies down on his side, cheek against the cool, wide stones of the path. He tucks his knees up to his chest and he waits. The beat is gone, the jungle is still. Noel waits on the path. The jungle is still. He waits. He waits. He waits.
———————
“Your haircut, Julian...”
“You’re the berk running about in a sequined bodysuit.”
“Alright, did I say it was a bad thing?”
Noel saunters back into the boardroom in the NME office, a bemused look on his face. The Boosh are “editing” an issue of the NME, which basically means they’re causing minor amounts of havoc throughout the office, posing for a few photos, and getting to chat to a few musicians and call them interviews. Noel’s fit to bursting with excitement, though he’s fairly sure that Julian’s just in it because of him. It was Noel’s idea in the first place. Julian’s often sceptical of Noel’s ideas, particularly when they involve the media, so Noel’s kind of impressed that Julian’s here at all – particularly after noting the mood he’s been in all day.
Julian is sat in a chair at the huge boardroom table, picking at the lunch offerings and giving off the general vibe of someone who’s a bit touchy about his new hair. Noel pulls a chair out next to Julian and sits down, angling the chair out and propping his heels up on the table. He glances over the food on offer and decides to avoid it. Sandwiches, sushi rolls, a couple of salad-packed wraps – the corporate world loves the health food boom, or what they interpret as health food, anyway.
“There was an ellipse.”
“A what?”
“I heard you ellipse, Fielding!”
“What d’you mean? I did what?” Noel glances sideways at Julian and raises an eyebrow. Julian is holding a half-eaten ham sandwich and looking at Noel like a lost puppy – a tired, lost and slightly bedraggled puppy.
“You ellipsed. There was ellipsing to be had and you had it.”
“I have no idea what you’re on about.”
“You paused. ‘Your haircut…’ Pause. It was a foreboding pause. I imagine there’s a possibility that I look like a nonce. ”
“It was not! It was a… it was an exclamatory pause. I was like, ooh, look at his hair! You know? I was expressing, uh. I was expressing… some emotion instilled deep within me by your new hair. It could be rapture, it could be astonishment. You decide which one you like more.”
Julian blows out a heavy breath and stares at his half-eaten sandwich. He finishes it in three big bites, chewing slowly in between. Noel watches him, imagining a cow chewing its cud. He’s not even sure if Julian’s swallowed each bite, that’s how convincing Julian’s bovine act is. Noel removes his feet from the table and turns his chair around so that he’s facing Julian’s side. He rests his hand lightly on the other man’s arm. Julian looks down at Noel’s fingers.
“You look pretty fucking knackered, you know.”
“I am, yeah. I’m exhausted. Nice pick up.”
“Have a kip. Go on, have a little sleepy under the table. I won’t tell anyone.”
Noel’s actually quite serious about this plan. Julian doesn’t pick up on that and so just laughs it off, a big chuckle blurting out into the quiet room. Seeing the unexpected smile spill across his face pleases Noel – Julian’s been so quiet all day, and there’s also the honest truth that he loves making Julian laugh.
The boardroom walls are clear orange plastic, nothing can be hidden well in here and everything can be seen. Despite that, Noel gets to his feet and, resting one hand on Julian’s shoulder and the other on the arm of the chair, leans down and presses his lips to the other man’s temple. He means it to be brief, but Julian’s fingers wrap around his wrist quickly and he’s trapped. He takes a deep breath in, the smell of hair product filling his nostrils. There’s nothing wrong with Julian’s new hair, not a bit.
“You okay?” He mumbles the words against Julian’s skin.
“Yeah, just. You know.”
“What?”
“Just tired.”
“If you need time out, you’ll tell me, yeah? None of this working yourself into the ground business, Barratt.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It’s unconvincing, all of it, but there’s too much to do. There’s not enough time to argue. Noel makes a mental note to take Julian to task over all this some time when it’s just the two of them, but it’s hard to tell when that time will be. Noel is taking things as they come. He imagines Julian would prefer to have a well planned schedule to run by, these days. They used to fly by the seats of their pants but things change all too suddenly and so do people. Not Julian, Noel thinks. Surely not him. But he can’t talk himself into believing it and the odds are stacked against him.
———————
Editing is a bumbling and boring process. While Julian, Paul and the worker bees edit, Noel will take his regular nap on top of one of the tables along the wall of the narrow room until mid-afternoon. He’ll start off each occasion two minutes late with some excuse about the activities of the night before, regaling everyone with an amusing tale (sometimes true to life, sometimes embellished, sometimes completely fabricated). He’ll begin his story as he sets to work on clearing the table of any piles of paper, empty coffee cups, any and all obstructions. As he tells the story (and as the table is cleared) he’ll eventually shift backwards onto the table and end up sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall. In a staged effort to focus on the editing screens, he will twist around and stretch out over the length of the table on his stomach, crossing his arms in front of him and resting his chin on them. It will only take minutes for his eyelids to drop.
Everyone usually just lets him sleep.
When lunch break comes – it could be noon, it could be 3pm – Julian will gently shake Noel into waking and the two of them will watch through the edit to date. Noel will absently sketch monster heads on the corner of a piece of script and Julian will nudge his shoulder and give him a pointed look. Noel will scoff and throw out a lazy line about the size of Julian’s eyes and the lack of intimidation in them. They will muck about like this until the room is full of people again, people all anxious to get back to the job at hand. Noel will spend the afternoon bouncing off the walls and driving everyone just a little bit mental, particularly if Rich is in the building and egging him on, feeding the crazy.
Noel and Rich will continue to play like this for as long as they know each other; this is the basis of their friendship. Julian will only play with them after a few drinks, these days. Julian used to play all the time. These days, Business Barratt comes to work wearing a suit and tie. Whether it’s real or figurative, it doesn’t matter. Business Barratt doesn’t like to get his suit dirty. Sometimes Noel will watch him quietly from his nook on the table. Julian always looks tired these days.
Noel will remember back to when the days would wear them out, when both of them would be exhausted by the time the sun went down. Julian’s eyes are haunted by sleep, these days. Noel has seen him wake up exhausted. It could be his children, it could be his life, it could be any number of things, it could be all things. Julian will never be the first to bring it up in conversation. These days, these days, these days are all they have, now. Noel draws striped ties and bowler hats on scraps of paper and slips them into Julian’s pockets. He’ll never be sure if Julian finds them before or after they’ve been through the wash.
———————
“I just think you should do most of it without me.”
Noel snorts in response, blowing a bubble into his drink. He sits across from Julian at a table in the back of an old, tired-looking pub. They’ve just finished a radio interview, the first of many over the next few days. Every time there is publicity to be had, the same discussion accompanies the moments that they sneak alone while bouncing from one interview to the next, from day to night, from Friday to Monday. They’ve had this same discussion five million times in three million different locations. It’s been loud and soft, easy and difficult. Sometimes it begins with Noel, sometimes with Julian, but they are always on opposite sides of the line.
Noel doesn’t think of today as day one of publicity, though, because he’s spent the entire day running around by himself. Julian phoned him the day before with some excuse. Something about the family. One of the boys was under the weather, he said. Noel could handle it fine on his own, just for the day. It had taken everything in Noel’s power to convince Julian to show up for the live radio interview that evening. They’d already recorded half of it and just needed to shoot the breeze with Colin Murray to fill in the blanks. It’d be ridiculous if it was just him doing the fillers; Noel had almost pleaded but wouldn’t lower himself to it. Julian had finally agreed but there’d been a hint of frustration in his voice that Noel couldn’t forget easily.
He won’t forget it as long as it’s still lingering in Julian’s voice, the undercurrent to the conversation. Both men are exhausted, but for vastly different reasons. The day’s been roughly as long as Noel had anticipated it would be, with eighty hours crammed into eight, and here is Julian, dragging them into the same tired old debate again.
“We’re a double act, Ju. We’re not Fielding and friends.”
“We could change the name.”
“Don’t you dare. Why don’t you just retire? Go move to the country. Start a farm.”
“My very own garden.”
Julian constantly checks his watch. Noel imagines tearing it from his wrist and throwing it on the ground, stamping his shiny heel down and crushing it. One, two, three, four. One stamp for one second. One for one. He doesn’t follow through. He sits and drinks; he stares at the watch. He lifts his hat just high enough to ruffle his fringe and then wedges it firmly back on his head. He tries to slow the beat of his heart to the faint tick of the second hand but he is always too fast.
“They don’t care to speak to me. It’s always about you, directed at you. I think Colin Murray hates me.”
“To be fair, you were late… he didn’t even care, I don’t know what you’re on about. No, look – wait for me to finish. It’s because you don’t even look at them half of the time, Julian. What do you expect? If you act like you don’t care to speak to them in the first place, they’re not going to care to speak to you. You know that.”
Julian looks down at his almost-empty drink. Noel watches his fingers trace over the grooves in the glass. “It feels like such a waste of time for me.”
“Oh, suck it up. It’s promotion, Julian. It’s publicity. We have to do it, and you know it. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
“Get stuffed.”
“Alright, I don’t mind it.”
“Keep tugging.”
Trying to lie to Julian is like trying to grow wings and fly. Noel’s not angry at all, but his voice manages to rise up an octave in indignation. “Fine, so perhaps sometimes I like it! Maybe sometimes it’s fun!”
“You bask in it. It’s face cream for your ego.”
Julian is right, as usual. Noel finishes his drink and places his glass in the middle of the table, twisting it once to the left and then stealing the straw from it, to chew on. A moment later, Julian finishes his own drink and clinks his glass against Noel’s discarded one. The sound is hollow but tuneful, not dull. They make a tuneful pair, these glasses. If you were to look at them briefly, just glance at them, you wouldn’t think they would go together well, but – Noel lifts his glass back up and clinks it against Julian’s again – the sound is surprisingly pleasant. Noel wants to build these glasses a home, or a boat to sail away in.
“I feel weird talking about it when you’re not next to me. It’s like… I dunno, I reckon it’d be like talking about your nippers without Julia in the room.”
Julian raises an eyebrow. “I do talk about them.” Noel can hear the surprise in Julian’s voice, but picks it as fake. Intonations are easy to identify when you act for a living.
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe not around you, then.”
“No, maybe not around me.”
Eye contact, finally. A pause runs overtime; there will be no comedic timing here. Keep it awkward, Julian. Keep it true. “Should I—“
“Not really, no.”
“See, I assumed correctly.”
“You’ve done it on purpose?”
Julian shifts slightly in his chair. “If you’re not interested, why should you be bothered?”
“Did I say I was bothered? When they turn into humans, I’ll teach them how to wrestle pumas. We’ll use Mike for practice.”
“I promise you, they’re humans.”
“They are not. They’re jelly doughnuts with powder icing. They smell strange. They’re turning you into one of them.” Three quick drinks have turned Noel’s tongue loose.
“A doughnut?”
Noel reaches over the table and tugs at Julian’s cardigan, expecting to see a cloud of powder explode into the air when he lets go. Julian sits patiently, eyebrow raised at the proceedings. There’s nothing. It could be invisible. It could still be there. “You smell strange.”
“Oh?” he leans back in his chair, subconsciously removing his cardigan from Noel’s reach again. “You smell intoxicated.”
“Intoxicating?”
“Intoxicated.”
“Imagine that. Right, so, all things considered, that nipper business was a failure of an analogy.” Noel wishes this was funny, but neither of them even raises a smile. “Let’s forget it. Another drink?”
Even though he is exhausted and somewhat muddled from the alcohol, Noel is quick enough to catch the beginning of a movement as Julian reaches for a single serve sachet of sugar. Julian’s not drinking coffee – he just wants to keep his fingers busy. That’s usually Noel’s trick, as Noel doesn’t deal well with stillness. He is a breath behind Julian now, and catches his fingers. They have captured the wild sachet between them. Noel grins in triumph, but Julian is frowning at their captive.
“I’ve got to go fly some kites.” Julian’s words are not the victory Noel is aiming for.
“You’ve – what? It’s eight o’clock at night, are you mental?”
Julian sighs. Noel can feel the frustration leaking through his fingertips. “I’ve got to get home. I should be at home.”
Noel drops Julian’s fingers and makes quick work of the rest of the sweet bandits. He stares Julian down as he methodically rips each sugar sachet open, making a small white pile in between the two empty glasses. Julian looks old in this light, old and tired, and quiet as he watches Noel’s path of destruction stretch on. Noel waits for Julian to still his fingers, to grasp his hand, to call him ridiculous. Noel is out of sugar and Julian hasn’t moved.
“It’s sand, for their sugar island.”
Noel bares his too-big teeth in the best grin he can manage, but the longer this lack of response from Julian continues, the weaker his efforts are getting. He adjusts his hat, pushing it down further over his eyes.
“I’m getting us another drink,” he announces, getting to his feet. Julian mutters something in reply but Noel’s got his back to him as he walks to the bar. He orders their drinks and as he waits, he ponders the idea of telling Julian about his dream. Yes, or no? He can’t remember all of it. There was something about a path and it was important. He was dancing and Julian was far away. Julian’s still so far away, though. Then again, maybe telling him now would be like confiding in a stranger. Secrets are safer with strangers.
Noel walks back over to the table with two full drinks and it doesn’t matter whether he’s decided to tell Julian his secrets or not because the table is empty. Julian is gone. Noel sits and finishes his drink quickly, leaving Julian’s in front of his empty chair. He remembers now what Julian said as Noel had headed to the bar. He had said, “Goodnight, Noel,” and then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
———————
Phone call.
“Noel?”
Julian.
“Where are you?”
The room would be bright with morning light if not for the dark material draped carelessly across the window. With tired eyes, Noel maps out the muted colours of the ceiling. He stretches his toes to the end of the mattress and lets out a catlike mewl to pair with the stretch. Without sitting up, he glances from side to side. On the left, Dee’s face is still, buried in sleep against her pillow. On the right, the mirror reflects them both sprawled out, their pale limbs tied into knots.
“In my room.”
A sigh. “Could you get the door, then?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m at the door. I’ve been banging for a solid two minutes. Were you—“
“Fuck, hang on.”
He flips his phone closed and ends the call, lurching out of bed and pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms with two steps closer to the stairs. He bounds down them, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Julian’s shadow lurks beyond the door as Noel swings it open, smacked in the chest by the cold, crisp air of the morning.
“You go out last night?”
“You shocked and appalled?”
“Are you still flying? I’ll bet that I’ve woken half the neighbourhood while you slept on.”
Noel gestures wordlessly up the stairs, an invitation, but Julian shakes his head. He looks back over his shoulder and Noel’s eyes follow to the silver car, motor running at the side of the street. Dave’s leaning out the car window and recording the conversation as it happens. He grins, waves to Noel, has a chuckle. The moment of realisation that dawns on Noel’s face is captured on film. This is it – press day, go-time for the double act. Ignoring the debacle of the day before, today is the first day of three in which their publicist has lined up interviews like ducks to be gunned down, one, two, three. All of them with the same questions, no doubt. All of them with a general list of things they can ask (costumes, filming, characters, etc) and a list of things they should steer clear of (personal, social, rumours, etc).
After leaving the bar last night, Noel had told himself to take it easy and have an early one. Then he’d called Dee, ended up across town in another pub, and all his good intentions had been swallowed somewhere between his fourth and eleventh drinks – none of them paid for by him. He can count on one hand how many hours ago he’d stumbled out of a cab and through the front door with Dee, the both of them collapsing into bed.
Julian turns to Dave and the camera with a dramatic flourish of hands, presenting Noel’s form.
“Eight o’clock. Noel Fielding, still drunk.”
Noel blinks and waves half-heartedly at the camera and Dave bites his lip to hold back a snort of amusement. Julian’s hand grasps tightly behind Noel’s elbow.
“Switch it off, Dave. We’ll be back down in a tick.”
There’s another hand, also belonging to Julian, resting now against the small of Noel’s back and guiding him back inside. Noel complies meekly and shuffles back upstairs. He attempts to wrap his arm around Julian’s waist but the other man’s grip on his arm tightens and it’s fairly clear to Noel that there will be none of that. Dee will surely still be in the land of nod, they could have a minute or two... He hesitates halfway up the stairs and turns to look at Julian, to say something, but Julian’s eyes look as tired as Noel’s feel and perhaps it’s not the time to speak of these things, even in hushed voices.
Julian says, “Get dressed.”
Julian says, “I’m not doing this alone.”
Julian says, “You know I can’t bear to do these things alone.”
It’s as close as he will get to mentioning the burgeoning argument of the night before, because things need to run as normal today.
“You’re the diamond at this, Fielding. You’re the champion of the hullabaloo. Pull it together, I need you switched on.”
I need you, he says. I need you. Noel gets dressed as it rings in his ears. I need you. There had been a whisper of a time in between, but it is gone and Julian is waiting on the path for him. Noel checks his reflection in the full-length mirror once he’s dressed. It will have to do. No, maybe it won’t. He tiptoe-trots back into the hallway where Julian stands, leans, arms crossed against his chest.
“Just radio today, or are we on camera at all?”
“I’ve honestly no idea. You know I don’t give a rat’s.”
“You may not,” he mutters as he ducks back into the bedroom. Dee stretches in unconscious mimicry of Noel’s waking movements. Still half asleep, she smiles in his direction and reaches out towards Noel with a sleep-slack arm. He pauses in passing and grabs her hand, kissing each of her knuckles quickly before letting her hand go again.
“Press day, Ju’s waiting,” he says, as though that should explain it all. He rifles through jewellery as Dee watches, slowly coming into proper consciousness.
“You look fine, now piss off.”
Noel turns to retort but her head’s already buried back somewhere in her pillow. He checks his reflection again. Julian’s still waiting. It will have to do. His hair’s a mess. Perhaps Julian will let him do a quick job with the straightener. He steps into silver boots and out into the hall. He opens his mouth to speak, but Julian shakes his head and holds out a hat. It’s surprisingly well chosen, but he’ll need a coat. Julian holds his other hand, fingers grasped around Noel’s current favourite coat.
“Get out of my head, I swear, you freak.”
“I wouldn’t dare venture in there. They were on the couch and we’re already late.”
“I guess that makes a bit more sense.”
“Just get out the door, will you? We’ll be late, you’ll turn us into right proper celebrities.”
Julian’s hand is back on Noel’s arm, tugging him towards the stairs. Noel trips forward with a startled yelp but regains his footing fast enough. He hollers out a goodbye in Dee’s direction; Julian echoes it before the two of them tumble out the front door. Julian shuts one door (front) and opens another (car). Noel is bundled in with Julian close behind. Dave wastes no time in leaning backward from his perch in the front and training the camera’s lens on the two in the back seat.
“Ready for the day, Fielding? Go on. Spin some shit.”
Noel stares down the barrel of the gun and rolls his eyes dramatically, dropping his head onto Julian’s shoulder a moment before Julian starts talking drivel enough for the two of them. The shoulder is warm, but smells unlike it should. It should smell of Julian, of cigarettes and too much coffee, of that aftershave that Noel has no idea of the name of but is so definitely Julian, possibly woody and a little spicy. This shoulder smells foreign. There is a powdery smell that’s coating everything familiar. Noel is jolted back to the strangest in between time. The awkward call of congratulations, the weary voice on the other end of the phone. He squeezes his eyes closed. If he squints hard enough perhaps he can squint it all away, all these in between times just gone. It won’t work, though. With eyes closed, he can still smell it. It’s overpowering. He’s not sure how Julian made it back, after all. Suddenly filled with anxiety, Noel lifts his head from Julian’s shoulder and blurts out,
“Are you back, Julian?”
“Back? Did I go somewhere?”
“Ready.” He blinks, momentarily vacant. “I meant ready. You know. For the day. The probing questions. The eagle eyes.”
Julian takes a moment to consider. “Well, I’m never really sure. Until it happens.”
Julian watches Noel. Noel watches the world pass by, just outside the window. The camera watches one, then the other. The silence stretches out longer and longer. One, then the other. Noel yawns at the window and the glass fogs up. He signs his name in it. The camera light goes off and Dave raises an eyebrow.
“This first stop had better have a Berocca or three for you sods, or this is going to be a fucking long day.”
———————
Day two passes by without a hitch, despite tired eyes. They spend the afternoon at the office, rehearsing for the performance they have to give on live radio the next morning. Completely unprepared (their own fault), they run through a few songs from their back catalogue of nonsense, picking out a couple of favourites and trying them out with Noel on vocals and Julian on acoustic guitar. It’s a quiet sound and reminds Noel of the early days when things would sometimes begin this way, sometimes end this way. Julian cracks a laugh a few times and that gives Noel some hope, but soon enough the sun is setting, his guitar is packed away and his keys are in his hand.
“Got a couple of friends coming over for dinner,” Julian says, throwing down an excuse.
Noel used to be one of those friends, but he’s not a family man. He doesn’t have to think about family things. His topics of discussion won’t be interesting at Julian’s dinner table these days. He and Julian used to sit around that very table, eating Pot Noodle, talking drivel and drinking ridiculous concoctions made of whatever was on the shelf full of alcohol. These days he pictures full roast and three veg meals, glasses of expensive chilled white wine covered in condensation and mind-numbing chatter about first words and baby smells. This judgement isn’t based on any kind of first-hand experience, however, because Noel has never sat at the table when it’s been like that. He hasn’t sat at the table for dinner in a while, now.
He wants to smack Julian for cutting him out like this, like he’s an abrasion on his skin. In this moment, winding himself up, Noel decides that he has become an abrasion on Julian’s life. He says nothing, though. He says nothing to someone he’s long considered one of his closest friends, some sort of brain twin, the person he used to spend so much time with that the two of them started turning into the same person. He says nothing and Julian says nothing as they silently pack up the few things they’ve scattered around the office. They both say nothing as they leave the room, with Julian locking the door behind them.
“Want a lift home?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll grab a taxi. See you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.”
They exchange words, but they both say nothing. When they split up silently and take different directions, Noel hugs his arms over his chest, pulling his coat tighter around him. He listens to the satisfying clunk, clunk, clunk that his heels make against the footpath. He’s not sure how it’s going to happen, but he’s going to drag Julian back onto the path – kicking and screaming, if need be, but Noel is stubborn. He has no idea how it’s going to work, but Noel is determined to make Julian say something again.
———————
The next morning, Noel crawls into the back of the car, nursing an almost full mug of coffee close to him. He shuffles over to the far seat, his ugly green coat trailing out behind him. The heat from the coffee billows up against the window of the car. He draws a tiny skull in the foggy glass and quickly signs his initials, then watches as the next wave of steam mists over the top of it. If he doesn’t drink the coffee soon, the sketch will be lost forever.
“Where’s Julian?”
Dave’s got the camera in his lap, not recording yet. “He needed a bit more time this morning, something about the boys.”
“Oh, right.”
That’s all he can muster up. He takes a sip of his coffee in silence, focusing on the rumble of the car beneath him as it follows the roads to Julian’s place. Noel doesn’t drive but he still knows the directions and can recite them off by heart. Turn left here. Take the second street on the right, and then go straight through four sets of lights – and on it goes. He ticks them off in his head as they happen, and eventually the car pulls up in the gutter. Noel stares at the front door, waiting for it to open. He waits. He waits. He waits.
“Go get him, yeah?”
Dave’s looking at Noel in the rear view mirror. Noel raises an eyebrow and almost blurts out that Dave should go fucking do it himself, but that’s because it’s not midday yet. Unless that’s just an excuse, and the real answer is that Noel feels awkward walking into Julian’s world these days. It’s filled with things he’s unsure about and things he’s not allowed to be involved in. Even if Julian’s never voiced it quite that way, Noel feels it. Julian’s place used to feel like an extension of his place, just another couple of rooms that belonged to him. Terribly messy, but comfortable. The day they rented out the office was the day that stopped. Both of them can silently acknowledge that much, if not much else, when it comes to acknowledging these things.
Noel pauses with his knuckles a breath away from knocking on the front door. Maybe he’s been lying to himself; maybe all of it’s been in between time since then and he’s just been mistaking slight discrepancies as things coming back together. He slams his fist into the door, hard. He hears heavy footsteps, a lock turning. Then he sees Julian’s face, flustered and tired.
“Alright? You ready?”
He’s almost barrelled over by Julian, who doesn’t pause at the door but keeps rolling through, laden with bags and straps and looking like a packhorse. Noel glances into the front hallway as the door swings shut, but it seems like Julian’s got all of it. Noel watches him shove his guitar case and the other equipment into the boot of the car. Julian climbs into the back seat and Noel follows him at a slight distance, wary. He pulls the car door shut and turns to Julian, holding out what’s left of his coffee, which is most of it. Julian takes it from him wordlessly and finishes it in three big swallows, placing the mug on the floor of the car and sitting back upright with his nose scrunched up in distaste.
“Christ, Fielding. Was that coffee or straight liquid sugar?” His voice is gravelly, altogether Northern in its early morning lilt.
“It’s not real sugar, it’s fake sugar. I promise there was coffee in there somewhere.”
Noel glances at Dave in the front seat to confirm that he’s facing forwards and that the camera’s not trained on them before focusing his attention on Julian. The bags under his eyes are impressive this morning. His beard’s growing out again, but not in that premeditated way – it looks more like it’s just erupted from his skin without warning. He looks five, maybe seven years older than he should. Noel shuffles over to the middle seat and shifts around so that he’s facing Julian. He wraps his fingers lightly around Julian’s wrist, sliding them up under the cuff of his jacket. He leans in close to the other man’s ear, speaks in a whisper for just the two of them.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. I’m tired.”
“Moody?”
“No, just tired.”
“So if I were to say we should spend some time in the office this afternoon, you wouldn’t bite my head off?”
“Doing what?”
“Not biting my head off?”
“No, I mean in the office. Doing what?”
“I’m not sure, yet.”
Julian’s wrist twitches under Noel’s fingers in response to his words. Without a yes or no, the conversation seems to be over. Noel slides back over to the other side of the seat and the rest of the trip is filled with mindless chatter for Dave’s camera, focused back on them once again.
They pull up at the radio station’s studio and pile out of the car, Julian appearing to have lightened up – not entirely, but enough for Noel to feel comfortable throwing jibes his way. He ducks up behind him and jumps onto his back, tucking his knees against Julian’s sides. Julian’s hands automatically wrap around his legs to steady him, but then he’s laughing and trying to shake him off. Dave’s camera is trained on them; Noel is whooping so loudly that it’s bouncing off the brick walls surrounding them.
“Go on, there’s a coffee shop just down the road…”
“I’m not carrying you to a bloody coffee shop!”
“I’ll race you, then. I need some caffeine. Go on, Ju. You might even win, you know I’m all wobbly in heels.”
Julian finally manages to dislodge Noel, but he’s ready to get back down anyway. He heads out to the car park’s entrance and starts off down the street with Julian not far behind him. The mood’s sufficiently lighter than it was in the car. Noel thinks it could be the fresh air, possibly also the promise of good coffee – not that his fake sugar wonderland wasn’t drinkable, despite Julian’s claim.
Julian catches Noel up quickly enough and they walk in comfortable silence for a block and half before Julian grabs Noel’s arm quite forcefully. It’s startling, too, first thing in the morning, and Noel lets out a squawk of indignation. Julian starts off in the opposite direction, back towards the studio, without an explanation. Noel trips up in his boots and tries to pull his arm free of Julian’s grip.
“What the – fuck off! What’re you doing?”
Julian’s wristwatch is suddenly in Noel’s face, but it’s gone again before Noel can read the analogue hands clearly.
“I didn’t notice the time. See the time? We’re late. I think it’s my fault, but we’re late. We’ve got to get back.”
“I want some fucking coffee, Julian, let go of me.”
“We’ll get a coffee after the interview. Or somebody there will get us one. We’ll get Lambo to grab us one.”
“They’ll wait for us, let’s just get one now. Let go!”
“We’re not running on your time, we’re running on their time.”
“I just want some coffee! You go back and tell ‘em I’m not far behind you.”
Julian stops in the middle of the footpath and releases Noel’s arm, turning to face him. There are other pedestrians but thankfully none of them seem to be the kind to rush up and ask them for autographs, because this isn’t really the best moment for it. Noel considers jumping on Julian’s back again because that seemed to diffuse whatever strange tension was in the air earlier. Then again, Julian didn’t look this unimpressed with him earlier.
“Don’t be a show business tramp, Fielding.”
“A what?”
“You heard me.”
Julian starts walking back toward the studio, alone. Noel watches him for a few seconds, then jogs to catch him up, accidentally bumping into an old lady. He apologises quickly and ignores the scowl he gets in reply, but he can’t really help it, he honestly is wobbly in his heels. He slows down again once he reaches Julian’s side and does his best to look meek. He glances up and notices Dave standing on the footpath outside the studio, still filming. He flips him the bird before turning his attention to Julian again.
“I’m not a tit, you know.”
Julian scoffs, but glances sideways at Noel and scrunches his nose up, almost smiling. “Don’t act like a tit and I won’t think you a tit.”
“You know I’m not good with mornings.”
“Did you just push over an old woman?”
“I got confused, I thought she was you.”
Julian laughs and bumps his shoulder against Noel’s in a friendly, familiar gesture. The only problem is that Noel’s not expecting it and stumbles sideways, taking a few tricky steps before regaining his footing. Julian assists by grabbing his arm and holding him up awkwardly, but he doesn’t stop chuckling. Noel shoots him a filthy look but really, it’s all in jest. Despite the lack of coffee, this could be quite a good morning. Coffee would make it a great morning, Noel thinks, looking back over his shoulder forlornly. But it could still be a good morning.