Hi, I know I should be updating The Accessory instead of writing new fics but this came to me today after listening to a little bit too much Paloma Faith. This isn't a songfic exactly, more inspired by the song 'Picking up the Pieces'
Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Boosh or Paloma Faith. Oh, the things I'd do with them if I did...
As you will probably be able to tell, this is set between the second and third series, with flashbacks to between the first and second series
Some weirdos on here got really threatening about posting lyrics on here but if you don't know the song go check it out on YouTube or just google the lyrics
Vince sighed, looking left and right around his and Howard's bedroom, over the pile of clothes in his arms. Even though Naboo had charmed his wardrobes to hold 100 times more clothes than their size, it was clear he was going to need more space. Every surface on his side of the room was cluttered with hair products, glitter gels, accessories and half eaten packets of sweets.
He glanced longingly over at Howard's side of the room, the half empty wardrobe, the clear floor. Maybe he could just keep a couple of things in Howard's drawer for a few days. He'd have a big clear out at the weekend, tidy up, make some more space, after all, some of the clothes at the back of his wardrobe were at least a month old and needed binning, but until then…
His arms were starting to ache under the weight of the garments he was holding. He didn't really think chain mail was going to catch on but he had seen it in Cheekbone and it was best to be prepared. Glancing guiltily over his shoulder, he stepped over onto Howard's pristine carpet and dumped the objects on top of his chest of drawers. Before they toppled onto the floor Vince quickly moved Howard's old portable television back to make more space. He had claimed he needed it to watch his nature documentary dvds but Vince had never seen him watching one. The only time he had ever seen Howard watching anything on it was when he came back early one day from Topshop and caught Howard red handed and red faced, frantically trying to turn off a dvd that most definitely hadn't been made by David Attenborough, spluttering and blustering that there must have been a mix up at the video shop. Maybe Howard would let him move it so he could put his shrine to Jagger up there. Since they'd given up on their career as touring musicians (they'd run out of towns to play in that hadn't heard of them and they rarely got asked to return anywhere for a repeat performance), Vince had been changing their room around more often, trying to make it feel more like home.
Behind the tv, a flash of colour caught his eye. Vince reached behind and pulled out the old photograph. He had never seen it before but recognised the scene instantly. Howard was in the middle, his tiny eyes crinkled in one of his rare smiles. On one side, Vince, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks rosy and his eyes bright from the mad dancing he'd been doing. And on the other side of Howard, the reason for his smile - Mrs Gideon. The banners in the background showed the picture had been taken at Howard's 30th birthday, which doubled as a zoo closing party. All the staff and animals had attended, only Bainbridge notable by his absence. Howard looked so happy. As happy as he'd ever seen him, maybe more. That was what really shook him. Vince sank onto the bed before his legs gave way, photo in hand, wondering if Howard missed the zoo, the way things used to be, as much as he did sometimes. Or was it just her he missed, he thought bitterly as his mind drifted back to that night.
"Tonight's the night, Vince!" Howard had exclaimed jubilantly as he splashed cologne onto his hands and patted it onto his face. He was getting ready for the party Vince had organised. Every year it was the same - Howard would go on about not wanting a party, bringing up that same old story about the year Vince didn't get him a bouncy castle. Then every year he would cave to Vince's pleading and they'd have a huge party.
"For what?" Vince was wary as he battled Howard for the mirror.
"To tell Mrs Gideon how I feel of course. Papa Moon's gonna lay it on the line. The zoo's closing tomorrow, I might never see her again. It's now or never,"
"Oh not her again. Listen Howard, I think maybe 'never' gets a bad deal of it sometimes, I mean, it's an underrated choice -"
"No, I'm a man of action and it's about time I did some…well…actioning," Howard trailed off, unsure.
"Alright then," Vince held his hands up, "But if it all goes wrong, don't go near any freshwater fish this time,"
"You're right," Howard's face turned dejected, "she's a sophisticated woman. She likes the finer things, like trumpets, and bookmarks. She's not going to go for a guy like me, she thinks I'm an idiot,"
"Nah, it'll be genius, it's your party, you'll be centre of attention. Gideon will be all over you like a flannel," Vince enthused, falling into one of his old patterns. He never knew why he did it – argued the opposite of whatever it was Howard said, no matter what it was, he just couldn't help himself. Plus he didn't want to destroy Howard's good mood.
"You think?" the smile was creeping back now.
"Yeah course, now come on – Leroy said he was going to put up a pinata!"
He had forgotten all about Naboo taking this picture until now. Christy, he looked a mess, his cheeks, rounder there than now, almost glowing in the flash light of the camera. The comparison between him and Gideon made him feel sick. She looked flawless – not a hair out of place, smiling coyly at the camera, shining in her splendor.
The night had been amazing and had ended with Vince and Howard having a satsuma fights in their pants and vests. That was what Leroy had filled the pinata with, the idiot. Vince had heard what some of the others said about him and Howard. Them running round in their underwear wouldn't really help with the rumours that they were bumming, Vince knew, but he just told everyone that they were all smoke and no fire, like that dry ice stuff that Howard was always going on about.
It wasn't until the next day that Vince had thought to ask Howard how he'd got on with his plan,
"I don't want to talk about it," was the curt response he had received. That was the last time Gideon's name had ever been spoken between the two of them.
Vince had thought of her though, oh yes, he had thought of her. He had thought of her when he'd grown his hair longer, dyed it darker. He had thought of her when he starved himself, or made himself sick, shivering and spitting over the toilet bowl, losing weight until his cheekbones stuck out like hers had. He had hoped that if he made himself a bit more like her, it would make Howard like him but now he wondered if it had been a mistake. Did Howard think of her, when he saw Vince's changed looks? Did he see Vince or was he too busy replaying memories of Gideon? Vince realised now that with this photo, he had his answer. All that effort, wasted. He was still stuck in her shadow, it didn't matter how long she had been gone, it would always be her that Howard thought of, that Howard loved.
The worst of it was when he saw the irritation in Howard's eyes. He'd knew sometimes he was too loud, playing the clown and teasing Howard mercilessly, just to get a reaction, anything to get him to notice him, building his character and looks bigger and bigger, to cover up all the doubts he had. But that look, accompanied by a slight shake of the head was enough to deflate him – no matter how big he made his hair or how tight his clothes or tall his boots – that look still returned him to being the scared kid at the zoo who had realised he was in love with his best friend and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Sometimes at night Vince heard Howard crying, sobbing quietly into his pillow when he thought Vince was asleep. He would just lie there, watching Howard's shoulders shaking silently. He had always wondered, always feared that the tears were for Gideon, as he lay watching unnoticed, so close that he could reach out and touch Howard if he dared. He never did though.
Angry at himself, he dashed the tears that had gathered on his cheeks away with the back of his hand. Was this worth it? Waiting for a man who would never love him back? Wasting the best years of his life in a shop with someone who at best, only saw him as a poor imitation of the person he really wanted, but more realistically, never really saw him at all. He deserved to be loved back, dammit "I deserve it," he muttered under his breath as his anger spiked.
Before he really realised what he was doing, he'd ripped the photo into a dozen tiny pieces, scattering them on Howard's bed as he did so. That was it, Vince decided. He'd had enough. He'd put so much effort into that birthday party and all Howard remembered was bloody Gideon. Well no more. Howard's birthday was coming up in a few months and by then, Vince would have got his attention, he swore on Jagger.
From his vantage point on Howard's bed, Vince spied a couple of spray cans under a pile of boots on his own side of the room. He'd been using them to customise a jacket. They gave him the perfect idea of how to start getting Howard to pay some attention to what was right under his nose. One way or another, Howard Moon was going to notice him, really notice him.
Well there you go. This was really meant to be a oneshot but I can't leave well enough alone so there might be a HPOV sequel. Review if you think it'd be worth carrying on with