Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was an hour and a quarter after noon by the time Russell and Noel were finally eating breakfast. They had awoken earlier, but lay dozing in the still and the warm, each cuddling and kissing the other back to sleep when he stirred. They had eventually risen to get dressed- or at least, Noel had, and then gently prised the covers off his yawning and squirming fiancée, helping him into clothes. It was when Noel reached for the hairbrush that Russell was suddenly very awake and alert, snatching it from him and insisting that he'd do his own hair, thank you very much. Noel had grinned and ruffled Russell's precious locks before standing up and beginning to tidy up the mess of unwashed clothes littering the floor.
"We should've grown out of this," Noel commented with a laugh, plucking underwear out from under the bed, "We're into our thirties and we're living like college dropouts. We'll have to clean up our act before our little clone arrives, y'know."
Russell responded to this by snorting and then drop-kicking the t-shirt he'd just taken off. Noel transformed into Super Cleaner and picked it up straight away, then carried his collection to the washing machine. He stared for a few moments at the sticker that Russell had stuck to the dial ("DON'T TWIST THIS TOO FAR"), and when he set the new load going, he zipped around the rest of the house, at least, the part that was open to Morrissey and other guests, tidying up at amazing speed whilst Russell sat patiently on the bed, reading the book Nadine had given him.
"Come on, open up," Noel coaxed when they were both sat at the table, jabbing a spoon of cornflakes in the direction of Russell's mouth.
"I'm not hungry," Russell murmured.
"You are," Noel pressed, "You're just nervous about today. And even if you don't need to eat, the baby does. Now come on, have some breakfast."
Russell reluctantly open his mouth and let Noel feed him some of the cornflakes, before he pushed back his chair and stood up, one hand on his stomach.
"I haven't got a clue what I'm going to say to him..." Russell sighed, "I keep trying to sum up the words but nothing sounds right... and how can he see me before I've told him? He'd think something is horribly wrong... but he might think that anyway even when he understands..."
Noel stood up and took Russell's other hand, raising it to his lips and pecking it gently.
"I'll be there," He soothed, "If you want, I can tell him, and then he can stay and speak to you if he still wants to. Is that alright?"
Russell pondered for a few moments, then nodded, saying,
“Yes, I’d like that. Thanks, Noel.”
“Welcome, Russ.”
Two o clock crept slower closer. Russell found a small blob of blue tack and squashed and rolled it on the table, pinching it between his nails and picking it into smaller parts. When he grew bored with that he began to chew on his nails, then tug individual sections of his hair until they were almost straight, then letting them twang back into curls. He suddenly stood up, Noel looking up at him.
“I'm going up to the bedroom now, 'cause it's almost two, and if I know anything about that man, I know that he doesn't arse around and will be punctual, especially now that I don't want him to be. Just come and get me when...” He swallowed, “When I'm needed. And if... if he doesn't want to see me, send him my love.” He turned and left as quickly as he could, before Noel could say anything else, and the older man new that was because the more he tried to comfort Russell, the worse he would make the comedian's nerves. Right on cue, there came a sure and confident knock on the door, no feeble tapping but two firm raps of the knocker. Noel quickly went to open the door, pausing a second by a mirror to check he looked like a respectable young man, then put his hand to the latch, twisting and pulling the door open.
“Hello, Morrissey,” He smiled, doing a good job of not seeming nervous, holding the door open as the other man stepped into the house, “Come in.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fielding,” Morrissey replied pleasantly, “Thank you. Not to cast judgement on who, er, wears the breeches in this charming relationship, but where is the Lord of the manor?”
“He wants to make his grand entrance a little later,” Noel apologised, “I'm aware it's him that you're here to see, but he's slightly concerned about something, and I need to explain it all to you until you can see him. Is that okay?”
“I'm like an impartial teacher, Noel,” Morrissey explained, “If I'm given an adequate excuse, I'll postpone the deadline as far as possible. I can bear not seeing Russell as long as I'm assured that he's safe and well and not involved in any shady business that I won't approve of.”
“He's fine, I promise,” Noel assured him, before making a stilted gesture towards the lounge, “Would you like to come into the sitting room?”
Morrissey obliged, thanking Noel with a nod and sitting gently down on one of the settees. “Can I get you a drink?” Noel offered.
“No, thank you... sit down, Noel, and tell me how Russell is. I'll have to admit I was a bit surprised the morning I picked up the paper and saw you too lip locked at nine in the morning, but I'm happy that he seems to have broken the endless circle of meaningless heterosexual sex.”
Noel blinked, and had to compose himself for a second to stop himself stumbling over the words.
“Russell is doing quite well, thank you....” He lowered himself into the armchair opposite Morrissey, “Only, something's happened to him. It's affected his general health and his confidence slightly, but it will be worth it soon.”
“But he's not ill, is he?”
“Oh no, he's not, he really isn't. Listen, Morrissey....” Noel couldn't help but laugh, “This will be the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard.”
“Don't be so certain,” Morrissey commented, raising his eyebrows.
“No, really... it sounds so silly, but it's obviously pretty serious.”
“Alright, Noel, just tell me.”
“Well... you said you found out about Russell and me in the paper... have you been following all the articles about us?”
“Well, the media's a bit bored of you now, they're focusing on the delightful Samantha Ronson and Lindsay Lohan saga, but I've been kept updated somewhat.”
“Then I'm assuming that you've read a few articles covering the fact that Russell's put on a bit of weight, yeah?”
“Naturally,” Morrissey confirmed, “If given a pound, they say its a stone. But it happens to the best of us. Is it related to something medical?”
Noel struggled for the words.
“Morrissey, do you mind me asking if you've ever heard of Aphrodite Industries?”
Morrissey frowned.
“The name means nothing to me, sorry. Why d'you ask?”
“Because they.... they carried out an experiment on Russell.”
“He's a clinical trial subject?”
“It was involuntary, and completely illegal... he was injected with a parasite that they had developed. Inside Russell it became something that works in the same way as a woman's womb, filled with egg-like cells that imitate the DNA of the carrier. If anyone one of these cells meets with an egg cell or a sperm cell, it is fertilised and -” Noel was on a roll now, the words flying and he couldn't seem to slow down or stop, “And a baby starts to develop. I had sex with Russell a day or two after he'd been injected, and now he's carrying our baby. We don't want to get rid of it, we're going to get married after it's born. And then we can be, y'know... a proper family.”
The silence that followed sent Noel's heart plummeting, petrified that Morrissey's reaction would be negative, as the younger man searched the musician's infuriatingly neutral face for any sign of a response. Morrissey leaned forward, his hands on his lap.
“Excuse me, Mister Fielding,” He said calmy, “But I'm assuming that Russell has told you at least something about me, and even if you've learnt nothing off him, you should know, through common knowledge, that I am not a man who likes to be messed around with-”
“No, Morrissey, listen-”
“- and my apologies if it's Russell who's put you up to this, but I don't find it particulary funny to joke about these things, and I think you'll find that right now you are going to tell me what is really wrong with Russell, or admit that you're just trying to waste my time, in which case I'll go.”
Noel was stunned, unable to speak. He hadn't got this far in his Plan A, and therefore hadn't even got on to Plan B, so now he had no idea what to do- try and convince Morrissey of the truth, or let him go. He hesitated too long, and Morrissey rolled his eyes and went out into the hallway.
“W-what are you doing?” Noel stammered, close behind him.
“I'm going to speak to Russell, allowing that he's in the room that used to be just his bedroom. Is he?”
Noel nodded wordlessly. Morrissey started to ascend the stairs, the audacity of just storming up somewhat watered down by the fact that he took his shoes off first, remembering Russell and his precious carpets.
* * *
Russell was sat up by the dressing table, texting Sharon, making sure that the mobile wasn't too close to the bump just in case the baby could be harmed by the microwaves. The text wasn't work related, nor style related- he was just asking how she was, expressing the fact that he was missing her. His heart was pounding uncomfortably, just waiting for Noel to come and get him, and the fear was picked up on by the baby, who was kicking tentatively, only adding to Russell's discomfort. He finished the text (“You need to feel it kick! Hope to see you soon. Love Russ x”) and set down his phone, leaning back in the chair and sighing. He jumped when a knock came at the door.
“Noel?” He called out.
“Sadly not,” Morrissey's voice replied, “I'm coming in, Russell,”
Russell stood up quickly and turned his back on Morrissey as the door opened a crack, his hands over his face in shame. Morrissey stepped into the room. “Russell?”
“Morrissey... please... I don't want you to see me...” Russell begged, praying that Morrissey would stay where he was. No such luck. He held out a hand and put it on Russell's shoulder, turning to turn him around. Russell resisted, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Have you spoken to Noel?”
“He simply spun me a badly-constructed web of lies about illegal genetic experimentation. Russell, what's wrong with you?”
“He was telling the truth,” Russell whispered.
“Pardon?”
“What he said was the truth,” Russell repeated, louder and with more conviction, “He wouldn't even attempt to lie to you. I'm five months pregnant with an impossible baby, Morrissey and if you don't want to support that, then... it was nice knowing you. And I mean really, really nice.”
Russell swallowed, not wanting to look around, feeling Morrissey's eyes boring into his back, “That was your prompt to apologise or go away.” Russell added. Morrissey didn't seem to be doing either option, and when this had been the case for around twenty seconds, Russell whimpered softly, and then turned around. “Think about what you're about to say before you say anything... please...”
Morrissey was speechless, staring at the bump.
“What... is it?” He asked, his face screwed up in confusion.
“'It'?” Russell repeated, “'It' is a miniature human being. A person with a face, and senses and hands and feet. A person who'll have a personality and a name and a life. And a person who, right now,” Russell let an estranged half-laugh, half-sob escape, “Is kicking REALLY hard, and I can't cope with this!”He turned his back on Morrissey and broke down crying, his hand over his mouth, swearing into his palm. He couldn't believe he'd just dared to speak to Morrissey like that. “I'm so sorry.” He gasped.
“Russell.” Morrissey said evenly. “I just can't seem to understand why you're going through with this. You can be a such a wonderful person, we both know that, but you're a selfish man. You want what's best for you, and that's okay, because you're not hurting anyone else. But this... you're making so many sacrifices. And that's not like you.”
“I changed. I had to.” Russell murmured.
“Are you saying you were forced into keeping it?”
“No! Christ, Morrissey, no. I want this baby so much... it feels like... like the baby, and life with Noel... will be what finally pushes me that last step into sanity. The things that will save me from myself.”
“Did you ever take into account the chance that it make you worse?”
Russell turned his head and looked into Morrissey's eyes.
“It's a thought that haunts me every day.”
Morrissey stared at Russell for a moment, then put his hand on Russell's arm, squeezing.
“I'm only shocked because this is impossible, I'm only upset because I'm concerned, and I'm only angry because it took fives months for you to tell me. But... Russell, what have you got yourself into?”
“Life can't be easy all the time, Morrissey, it if were, we'd all be bored stiff. I'm so, so frightened... but I'm excited. And it sort of balances it out. I only wanted you to know... you're not required to do anything about it.”
Morrissey nodded.
“I understand.” He said softly, glancing at the bump and then back into Russell's face, “It'll take me a while to get used to it, you understand...” He trailed off, and then said loudly, “Mr. Fielding, it's a desperate situation when you have to resorted to listening through keyholes in your own home.”
“Oh, you knew he was there?” Russell asked, grinning, “I would've said something only I thought you hadn't noticed, he's been there since about fifteen seconds after you came in.”
Noel walked into the room sheepishly.
“Y'alright?” Noel asked with a guilty smile.
“Fine. Good, if anythin'!” Russell told him, wiping his eyes, before smiling at Morrissey, “And thank you, Moz.”
Morrissey burst out laughing, and Russell joined in, as did Noel, and, through a curtain of flesh, blood and amniotic fluid, a baby wondered what the hell was going on.
* * *