A/N: If you feel like it, listen to Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day before/while you read this. I think it puts you in the right mindset.

Prompt/first sentence credit goes to usedtobehmc of LiveJournal.

Here we go.

-x-

Vince sometimes looked up at the sky and wondered if Howard was happy wherever he was. It had been a year, and he had convinced everyone, finally, that his wounds were little more than old scars; hardly visible unless they were hit by a stray beam of dusty sunlight at just the right angle. Maybe he had even convinced himself of it a little.

Happiness is a relative thing, he thinks. Were either of them actually happy before? Maybe this was a fresh start for Howard – God knows he deserved it.

Vince would look up at the sky and remember all the hours they'd spent on each other. It was bitter but it must be done, lest he forget.

(Honestly, would forgetting be so hard?)

His ridiculous clothes, his uncannily sized eyes that had caused him so much ridicule...

(Yeah, it would.)

He would look to the sky on days like today, when the air turned gray as it is prone to do before rain; he would look up and try to forget himself.

It's two years and a day since the first time he watched the clouds – really watched them, and Vince Noir is at a carnival with his leftover friends. It was a pathetic affair, made worse by the fog and the cold and the gray sky. This carnival, however, had a redeeming feature – a formidable, rented ride imaginatively named the Sky Shot. TAKE A SEAT AND BE BLASTED TO HEAVEN!

Looking at it made him sick, so of course he tried it.

He was weightless. If anything, gravity was working backwards today because his stomach was in his throat and he couldn't distinguish between up and down when he shut his eyes.

And then the top.

You were not flying or sinking or even standing, happily and uncomfortably caught between worlds; just floating, once you allowed yourself to let go of the handlebars.

Yes, he could forget himself in this, because he was so many feet closer to the answer to the two-year-old question, and it was the closest he'd ever, ever be.

-x-

A/N: My first Boosh fic. Please tell me how I did!