booshslashhaven | The Haunting of Noel Fielding

Title: The Haunting of Noel Fielding - Part One of Three
Pairing: Noelian
Summary: Noel is battling his demons...but where is Julian?
Rating: 15 - Horror/Language
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, neither do I make any money from them
Beta: Many Thanks to the wonderful

el_gardner who give it good seeing too...xxxx
Author's Notes: I posted a rough draft of Part One a few weeks ago, I have since made a few changes and added a few extra bits just to improve the flow of the story...................I have deleted the previous draft.

He glances at his mobile; No signal. Distracted, he drops the phone onto the table, and faces the window. The beach below is deserted, the sky beginning to bruise, touching everything with a hint of purple. Grabbing the bottle of vodka, he raises it to his lips. As the booze hits his empty stomach, a cramp seizes his body, and he clutches at the table for support. Collapsing into a chair, he closes his eyes, and, taking slow, deep breaths, tries to control the pain rattling throughout his battered body. The thick sheet of sweat coating his back makes him itch, and he can feel, and even hear, the vodka surging about in his hollow stomach. He grips the armrests of the chair, as another spasm of pain torments his fragile frame.

The plummeting temperature causes a chill to prick at his skin; his breath is visible in the air before him. The heating is fucked. Typical!

With great effort, he pulls his legs close to his chest and gathers the blanket from the back of chair around him. Why is it so cold?

Closing his eyes, he wills sleep to come, a sweet release from the throbbing pain that
dominates his head and thoughts.

Blaring, the radio in the corner comes alive, music blasting and bouncing off the walls:

I was borrrrrn in a crossfire hurricayyynne,
And I howllllled at my ma in the driving rainnnnn.

Startled, he falls from the chair and looking over at the radio, he sighs. This fuckin' house, I hate it!!!

He pulls himself up off the floor, groaning at the exertion.

But it's allllllll righhhhtttt now; in fact it's a gaaasss,
But it's alllll righhhhht.

Rubbing his arm, he tries to focus on the radio.

I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a GAS, GAS, GAS.

With an unsteady hand he reaches out...the radio falls silent. What the fuck?

Shaking his head, he grabs the bottle and takes another long drink, swaying slightly as the alcohol warms his frozen body. Waves of nausea sweep over him and he places his hand on his stomach fearing the vodka's imminent return.

What was that!

Sounded like the door.

This time he definitely hears it - the creek of a door being opened carefully, followed by the scuttle of heels on a tiled floor. Curious, he turns towards the kitchen.

"Who's there?" he shouts out into the darkness, his voice coarse and foreign to his ears. The footsteps cease, their owner silent.
He walks slowly towards the kitchen, his bare feet making no sound. Pausing at the doorway, he tilts his head and strains to hear into the darkened room.

"I can hear you. C'mon quit fuckin' about!" he shouts.

Peeping around the frame, he catches a glimpse of a green jacket as the intruder moves into the back hall.

"I see ya, ya wee shit!" Bloody Kids!

He lunges after the figure, but his bare feet catch on the rug, and stumbling, he spills vodka onto the floor.

"Careful there, Noel!"

Looking up at the sound of the voice, his eyes bulge in alarm. Sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, eating a banana, is a foppish figure, wearing a green uniform, his badges and studs glinting in the twilight.

He nods at Noel, his thick shock of hair bobbing with the motion "Alright!"

Noel falls backwards against the door in horror.

"What?" the word catches in his throat as he grasps the counter to steady himself.

"What?" the visitor echoes; a grin splitting his face.

Heartbeat quickening, Noel feels the sweat on his back cling tighter to his emaciated
torso. "Y-you're, y-you're..."

"Vince, Vince Noir," smiling, he finishes Noel's sentence, and sets the banana skin on the counter.
Catching his reflection in the microwave glass, Vince runs his hands through his highlighted hair, pulling it in all directions.

Swaying, horrified by the vision before him, Noel attempts to place the bottle on the counter and misses. It smashes, sending shards of glass in all directions, the spilled liquid flowing around his exposed feet, swirling between his toes. Noel throws his hands to his head, pulling at his hair.

"I'm fuckin' trippin... those pills... those fuckin' pills!"

Vince glances briefly at Noel, and then returns his attention to his reflection.

"Don't you think you'd better clean that up?" he suggests indifferently.

Noel narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "You're not real, you can't be." He jabs his finger at Vince, "You're not really here... you're me for fuck sake!"

Vince freezes. Slowly he removes his hands from his hair and turns to look at Noel.

"I'm nothing like you," he hisses.

"What? What do you mean? I created you... you're... you're my..." Noel splutters, incredulous.

"I'M NOTHING LIKE YOU!" Vince screams back.

Noel's eyes widen, shocked at the venom in Vince's voice. He starts to retort when another wave of nausea grips him causing him to stumble into the pool of glass and vodka. The shards tear the tender skin of his feet and, slipping on the wet floor, Noel falls, catching his head sharply on the corner of the counter. Lying on the floor, blood clouding his vision, he watches as a pair of white cowboy boots passes by, crushing the remains of the bottle.

As consciousness fades, words are whispered close to his ear; Excuse me mate, are you Noel Fielding? Then the blackness engulfs him.

*******

"Get a move on Noel!"

Julian? Noel's eyes flicker at the sound.

Ju? He tries to lift his head, but a jolt of pain shoots from his head and down his neck.

He hears movement in the living room - the heavy footsteps of someone pacing.

"C'mon, Noel!"

"Ju?" Noel murmurs from the floor, his mouth full of blood and glass.

"Ju?" he tries to speak louder but his chest is so tight he can barely breathe.

"This place is a dump, Ju!" a second, strangely familiar, voice speaks.

Noel's heart stops, that voice, that voice is... can't be. He pulls himself up, spitting out a bloody mouthful. At the door to the living room he stops, his breaths coming in short sharp bursts. There before him is Julian, his hands on his hips surveying the room.

"No, this is good. It has character, a great place to write, no distractions."

Noel's head spins as he watches himself walk up behind Julian and place his arms around the other man's waist.

"What if you need distractions?" he smiles into Julian's back.

Noel, hypnotised by this scene from the past playing out before him, is unaware of the blood flowing from the cut on his head. Grimacing, he clutches at his cheeks, smearing blood across his face.

"I'll distract you!" Julian says, turning to face Noel.

"Oh really? Now, how do you plan on doing that, then, Mr Barratt?" Noel whispers, playfully fingering the buttons on Julian's shirt.

"Well, let me see..."Julian slowly moves his hands over Noel's face, whose eyes close at his touch. His hands skim Noel's shoulders, back, and then, roughly grabbing his ass with both hands, he pulls Noel against his crotch.

At the doorway, Noel closes his eyes, remembering. He can hear the sound of Julian's lips on his, on his neck; he can almost feel it. Noel leans against the doorframe, and slowly slides down into a crouching position, lost in the echoes of the past.

The sound of the green leather coat falling from his shoulders to the floor reaches him; the sound of the couch as it supports their weight; the sound of zips being undone; the sound of clothing being removed; the sound of them.

"Oh, Ju!" groans Noel, both past and present.

*********

Noel observes the stranger in the mirror. The skin is pulled so tightly over his skull it is almost transparent, the veins tracing a thin blue network across his face, twisting his once full mouth into a horrible grimace. His hair is lank, sticky with sweat and blood. Small cuts dot his face; his lips are dry and coated in sores. His eyes, dull and glazed, stare blankly back from his reflection. With a finger, he traces the visible ribs of his shrivelled torso, down along the concave hollow of his stomach.

Angrily, he pulls himself away from the grotesque image before him. Stooping down, he sifts through the empty bottles on the floor, a thin triumphant cry escaping his lips as he finds one with a few precious drops of brown liquid left at the bottom.

Wincing as it aggravates the rawness of his throat, he gulps down the whiskey, all the
while Julian's voice swirling around inside his head: you don't suck out of that bottle, Noel; it sucks out of you!

Setting the now-empty bottle on the cistern, Noel opens the medicine cabinet, looking for something - anything - to help him sleep.

"So! Where's your friend?"

Noel closes the cabinet. In the mirror is Vince, looking over his shoulder. "My friend?"

"Yeah, your friend." Vince tilts his head as he ponders Noel's reflection.

"I...well... I..." Noel nibbles his lip, avoiding Vince's gaze. "Where's Howard?" he finally stammers.

"Around!" Vince shrugs, motioning vaguely with his hand.

Noel catches Vince's eye in the mirror. "Around here?" he asks, voice trembling, sweat soaking his t-shirt.

"Yeah, sure," Vince replies, more interested in his own reflection.

"Is anybody else here?" Noel whispers.

"We all are, Noel."

"All? Where?" Noel chokes on the words, coughing violently, his hands clutched to his chest.

Vince studies Noel as he composes himself, his face softening. "Here, you know, you don't look well."

Noel smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand "What do you expect, I'm in the middle of a fuckin' breakdown!"

Shaking his head, Vince hooks his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and sways back and forth on the balls of his feet, "A breakdown, you say, that's no good."

"No, it isn't," Noel turns back to the mirror.

"Why are you here, Noel?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Noel retorts, raising the bottle again to his lips, forgetting he drained it just a few moments ago.

Staring disgustedly at the empty bottle, he suddenly tosses it into the bathtub, where it smashes against the grey-white ceramic.

"I'm where I'm supposed to be," says Vince, teasing at his hair.

"You're supposed to be here?" Noel raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you? Is this not were you are meant to be?" Vince places his hand on Noel's shoulder.

"OK, that's it!" Noel shakes off his hand and turns to face him, his eyes blazing, "I will not be sucked into talking shit with a fuckin' figment of my imagination."

"You don't remember?" Vince whispers, almost to himself.

"Remember what?" Frustrated, Noel drags his hands through his hair. "What the fuck is going on?"

Vince's large blue eyes fill with sadness, "Why are you here, Noel?" he asks, his hand reaching out towards Noel's face.

"Why do you keep asking that?"() Noel steps away, escaping his touch. "This is my.... our house. Why the fuck are you here?" His voice is trembling with rage.

Their eyes lock. Eyes that are identical in every way. Except... Noel tilts his head as he examines the familiar angles and features of Vince's face. Someone once thought that face beautiful, the misshapen nose, the effeminate bone structure, the full mouth always ready with a playful, often cruel put-down. Noel you're like a Pixie with a sledgehammer.

Vince looks away and shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do you like my boots?"

"What?" Noel murmurs, disorientated, as if woken from a dream.

"My boots, do you like them?"

Noel looks down at Vince's feet. He is wearing red winkle pickers. Noel's stomach twists into a tight knot, his heart batters against his rib cage. He feels the room tilt and places a hand against the wall for support.

"W-where did you get those?" he stutters

"They're genius... aren't they? This bloke in Camden made them..." Vince smiles as he inspects his footwear.

"NO, NO, NO, NO; Ju give me them... they're mine..." Noel falls back against the sink, his hands reaching out towards Vince.

"I can wear them with anything... you know people say red and green should never be seen..." Vince moves from foot to foot admiring his boots, escaping Noel's gripping hands.

"Why are you doing this? Please give me... why are you? Please..." Noel's feels a burning sensation in his chest, he grabs at his t-shirt.

"But they are actually complementary colours... I think they look well cool... Don't you, Noel?"

"NO, NO, NO; they're my... MINE... Ju... my Ju give me.."

Noel feels his stomach surge and he begins to gag, he turns in time to vomit into the sink, filling it with a mixture of whiskey, blood and bile.

Vince watches nonchalantly, as Noel slowly slips onto floor his hands still clutching the rim of the sink.

"Help me!" the words drop from Noel's lips like stones.

Vince smiles weakly at Noel and walks away. His departure is like an old black 'n' white film, his movements slow and jerky, as if the sequence is skipping frames.

"Come back..." Noel tries to shout, but his voice is lost, lying in the sink with the contents of his stomach. "Please... don't leave me."

But Vince is gone.

He rests his head on the toilet seat and closes his eyes. The taste of vomit still lingers in his mouth and his heartbeat is so loud it is pounding in his ears. Beneath him, the floor seems to be moving. Vibrating.

Music?

Coming from somewhere in the house, it is very faint, yet very clear.

"I was borrrrrn in a crossfire hurricayyyyynnne,

And I howllllled at my ma in the driving rainnnnn."

The music is getting louder as it meanders through the house, searching for him.

"But it's alllllll rightttttt now; in fact it's a gas."

Noel begins to sweat as his torso is ravaged by cramps.

"But it's alllllllll rightttttt."

The music finds him, filling the bathroom, deafening him, surrounding him, and suffocating him.

"Please stop... PLEASE STOP!!"

"I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash; it's a GAS, GAS, GAS."

Noel places his hands over his ears, curling his knees up under his chin.

"STOP... PLEASE STOP... Why are you doing this to me?"

"I was raiiiissssed by a toothless, bearrrrdddded hagggggg."

The walls and floor of the bathroom pulsate with the rhythm of the song.

"I was schhhhoooooled with a strap right across my baccccck."

Noel crawls onto the landing, trying to escape the sound as it intensifies.

"But it's allllllll righhhht noooow, in fact it's a gas."

Pulling himself up, he turns in circles, dizzy as the banging bass batters his head.

"But it's alllllll righhhhht, I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a GAS, GAS, GAS."

Grabbing the bedroom's door handle, he throws open the door.

Silence.

He stands for a moment trying to focus on the bed; the intensity of his headache, blurring his vision. Blindly he finds the bed and pulls the blankets over his head. Curling into a tight ball, he tries to control the violent shaking that takes over his body.

From somewhere above his trembling form, a voice asks; excuse me mate, are you Noel Fielding?

The voice that replies stabs at his heart; who wants to know? it asks.

********

Noel snuggles against the solid form beside him. He feels familiar hands on his cheek and in his hair. The glorious smell of him, arousing his senses, intoxicating him.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Ju. I seem to be unravelling," Noel whispers.

He feels the hands slide under his t-shirt and across his back, pulling him closer. Noel groans as stubble grazes his neck and shoulder. Feeling the hotness of breath close to his ear, Noel smiles as a low, velvety voice softly sings:

"Not to put too fine a point on it,

"Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet,

"Make a little birdhouse in your soul."

The comforting tones sedate Noel, who edges closer, fitting perfectly into the alcove created by the person's thighs and chest. Noel-sized!

********

The shifting of the mattress rouses Noel out of a dreamless sleep. Shadows infringe the moonlight that leaks into the room through the gap in the ill-fitting curtain.

He is not alone.

Peering through the loose weave of the blanket he can see two figures. One is seated on the bed and the other is standing by the window.

"I'm dying here, Ju." Noel recognises his own voice coming from the seated figure.

"Noel, it was London that was killing you. I brought you here to find some peace."

Julian's voice is tender, as he kneels down in front of Noel, cupping his face.

Noel watches as he places his forehead against Julian's. "You can't find peace by avoiding life, Ju."

Abruptly, Julian is on his feet. "NOEL, YOUR LIFE WAS KILLING YOU" he shouts.

Seeing Noel's stricken face, he rubs his mouth with the back of his hand and turns towards the window. Julian's shoulders slump as he bows his head, his voice low and controlled; "I'm just trying to do what's best for you..."

Noel is now on his feet, stalking the room, gesturing wildly, "I'm sick of people telling me what's BEST FOR ME! Even the most pathetic, the lowest are allowed some say in what is best for them. I don't NEED the suffocating isolation of this hellhole, I NEED the violent jolt of the London. But if it is a choice between here and death, I choose death."

Julian turns to face Noel, and there it is; the face that has tormented his dreams. That mixture of fear, love and despair. He remembers exactly how he felt when it stopped him in his tracks; the heavy burden of remorse; the humbling realisation that someone is truly terrified of losing you.

"Oh Ju, I know you torture yourself with the threat of my death... but, don't you see..."

Noel walks towards Julian, who brushes by him.
"Please Noel, lets not talk of this... What do you say I run you a bath and make some dinner? Have you even eaten today?" Julian's face is flushed and he is avoiding Noel's gaze.

"Ju, we need to talk about this...." Noel reaches out imploringly.

Julian ignores the request and moves towards the door. "No we don't, what I NEED to do is run you a bath and then get the dinner on."

The younger man watches him leave, his fists clenched at his sides, his mouth a thin impenetrable line.

Then, running to the doorway, he shouts after him, "Just wait till I die, Julian. Then you'll have to think of yourself. How are you going to like that, eh?"

The light in the room shifts and the shadows dissolve. Noel is alone, but the final spoken words remain floating in the air. Under the blanket, Noel can feel the weight of them, crushing him.

With tears drenching his face, he shouts out into the darkness, "Julian, where are you? I NEED you, Ju; I NEED you!"