D/C: Vince and Howard and The Mighty Boosh belong to Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt, of which I am neither! =[
Set after 'The Power Of The Crimp'

"Something bad's happened to me Howard."

"Nothing bad happens to you, you're made of sunshine Vince."

"Bad things can happen to sunshine people, you know."

"No, bad things happen to me, not to you. That's how it works around here."

"I've got some bad news." Vince said solemnly. This was it, he was finally going to tell Howard about the heavy weight he'd been carrying on his shoulders since their arrival at the shop. "I don't even know where to begin." This was true. He didn't want to upset Howard, he knew this was serious and his poor brain cell was buckling under the pressure of trying to put what was wrong into words.

"Hey, this isn't like you. What's the matter? What's up?" Howard looked so concerned, his face was wrinkled up. Vince didn't want to hurt him more but he knew he had to tell him;

"I've felt like there was something wrong for a while but… I went to the doctors."

"Oh Christ." Howard had gone slightly pale. Vince's stomach twisted and churned sickeningly but he pressed on;

"He's confirmed the worst."

"Hey, I'm here for you." Vince felt Howard's hand on his shoulder in a gesture, which he both craved and hated because Howard only ever touched him if the situation was gravely serious.

"D'you mean that Howard?" Vince asked nervously. He still wasn't sure that Howard wouldn't be able to cope with this. Howard might like to think he's strong but he isn't, not really. He doesn't like things that are out of his control.

"Course I do. It's me and you all the way. What's the problem? What is it?" Vince looked up at his friend, his small brown eyes full of worry and hurt and Vince realised, he couldn't say it; come on Vince, you have to tell him. I can't it'll kill him. I'm the only friend he's got. If I'm gone, he'll have no one. So, he deserves to know the truth. Tell him. I… tell him. I… Tell him. I…

"Someone's copying me." What? What? He'd bottled it.

And then there was tea in his hair and on his suit; so much for trying to do the right thing.

"You bitch! I thought you were dying." I am. "You said you'd seen a doctor."

"I have seen a doctor." Okay, tell him now. "a doctor of fashion." Vince! I'm sorry. Look at him. He'll be devastated.

--

Vince groaned quietly into his pillow. It had turned into such an elaborate lie, he'd wasted a fortune getting Leroy and John to dress up as Lance Dior and Harold Boom was ridiculous.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell Howard the truth." Naboo had asked, as Vince came in from the snow after a good Satsuma throwing contest. "And I'm not sure you should be wearing so little outside in your… condition."

Vince had just scowled at him and walked to his room sulkily. He couldn't help but hate Naboo a little. It had been the Shaman who had sat him down and told him about the complications with the jazz virus;

"It's escalated your illness Vince."

"By how much?"

"Umm, I think it's time you tell Howard." And he'd been trying to ever since but it was so much harder than he'd ever thought it would be.

He'd tried to tell him all the time but he never found the right moment. Every moment with Howard was too special to ruin with this kind of news but Vince began to wonder how many more of these 'moments' he had left, until the moment stealers came and took them all away… forever.

"Vince." Howard's voice drifted gently through the door. Tell him now. No.

"Come in." Vince pushed himself up into a seating position and said, "Hey" as Howard's head popped around the door.

"You okay?"
No "I'm fine.".

"Right, um, okay. It's just you've been a bit quiet since we got back from the big crimp off."

"Mm."
"See, like that."
"Like what?"

"That. All this nonchalance, it's not like you."

"Non-sha-what?"

"It means that you're…" and then seemingly deciding it wasn't worth trying to explain, Howard said; "Look, you're still miserable."

Yes. "No."

"You are. Don't lie to me Vince.

"I'm not." I am.

"How long have we known each other?"

"Ages."

"Right. So I know when you're lying to me. So, are you going to tell me what's wrong? Or am I going to have to crimp it out of you?"

"That sounds perverse."

Vince wasn't sure but he thought he saw Howard blush slightly as he cleared his throat before saying;

"Well, if you're sure you're okay." He turned to leave.

Vince, this is your chance, you've got to tell him now.

And, just as Howard's Hawaiian clad back was disappearing from the room, Vince cried;

"I'm dying."

Silence.

"Howard?"

Nothing.

Oh God, he hates me. I told you not to tell him. Shut up brain cell. Shut up!

"Howard?"

Still nothing. Then there was the sound of a small, sobbed gasp and quick, heavy footsteps as Howard disappeared from the flat.