Hello 'Boosh fans! Well, this is my very first 'Boosh fanfic, but I have been obsessively studying the programme for a good couple of weeks (I mean it's on literally every moment I'm awake) so I hope I've done it some justice.
Uh, now here's the thing- I have, in fact, mutilated the 'Boosh with my sad, angst-filled mind. So basically, this is probably going to end up being rather dark. The other thing is that I only have the first series on DVD and as a result I've only seen the other two series about twice online, so Vince is going to be more like himself from the Zooniverse rather than himsef from series 2/3, even though it takes place after the last series ends (it isn't just me who thinks that Vince was a little bit different in series 2 is it? Still completely amazing, but slightly different although I can't put my finger on why).
And one final note before I begin- this story is, as mentioned in the summary, about Vince attempting to cope with Howard's unexpected suicide. Now, suicide is a touchy subject and a difficult one to handle with all the sensitivity it deserves. I don't mean to offend anyone or anything like that and, speaking as someone who has lost her fair share of loved ones and been in an alarmingly dark place herself more than once, I hope I can portray it fairly accurately. If something doesn't strike right, it's most likely down to bad writing, I'm afraid, and I apologise in advance for that.
Alright, so on to the story then- here goes...
The weather was foul, as always, but Vince barely gave a second thought about his new boots and the effect the rainwater might have on them as he splashed through the puddles. He was far too caught up in his excitement, desperate to reach Howard and share with him his latest plan to achieve stardom. And for once, it included the pair of them- a team, just like in the old days.
He slammed the door of the Nabootique behind him, grinning wildly.
"Howard?" he called into the empty shop. Naboo emerged from behind the counter, frowning and yet still managing to look calm and placid in a way only the tiny shaman could.
"Shh! He's having a lie-in!"
"A lie in?" Vince repeated in disbelief, the grin sliding from his face. Since when did Howard sleep in?
"Yeah, he said he wasn't well last night so I didn't bother to wake him this morning."
"What are you on about? He was fine when I left."
A strange feeling of disquiet had settled in the pit of Vince's stomach. There had been a pretty bad argument the previous night and he was sure Naboo couldn't have failed to hear, no matter how high he might have been at the time.
"You can go and wake him if you want and see if he's okay."
Vince nodded. "Alright, cheers Naboo," he said, even though he was going to do just that with or without the shaman's permission.
Quickly, he crossed the shop and mounted the stairs, but then Naboo stopped him in his tracks.
"Wait, Vince?"
Vince cringed inwardly, knowing what he was about to ask. He fixed a smile in place and turned to face him.
"Yeah?"
"That argument last night sounded pretty bad. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it was nothing really. Just bickering."
"Bollo found a smashed teacup by the fridge."
"Oh, that?" Vince said, his one braincell working quicker than it had in years. "I dropped it last night. Must have forgotten to clean it up before I went out."
"Is there something you aren't telling me?" Naboo pried. But they both knew he already had the answer.
"No, honestly, everything's fine."
"Alright, just make sure it doesn't happen again, yeah?"
"Yeah. Sorry Naboo."
Naboo didn't respond, just gave a half-nod and turned back to the shop.
"Oi, you ball-bag! You've got mud everywhere!"
Vince ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time and striding down the hallway of the flat. He hesitated outside his and Howard's shared bedroom.
Surely he wouldn't still be angry? They were best friends, closer than the average man and wife. But Howard had been known to hold extraordinarily long grudges, something Vince had never really understood. His own anger had dissipated moments after setting foot outside, but he had thought it best to give Howard some time to cool down before he returned to deliver his inevitable apology. He hadn't actually intended to leave it quite so long, but he had been dragged out to an all-night party whilst killing time at Leroy's. Although it was probably better if he didn't bring that up to Howard.
Holding his breath, he knocked loudly. When he didn't receive an answer, Vince pushed the door open cautiously and entered the room. It was surprisingly dark for midday- the thick curtains were drawn, obscuring the sunlight, and there were no lights on. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and then crossed to where Howard lay, sleeping in his bed.
It took him almost five minutes of shaking him and shouting his name before Vince realised that something was seriously wrong with Howard. The realisation came like an icy chill, creeping up his spine and curling around his ribcage, squeezing and squeezing until his hands were shaking and his breath caught in his throat. There had been something niggling in the back of his mind since he had entered the room. Something so terribly amiss but difficult to place.
Howard snored. Every night, without fail. Vince should know- they had been sharing bedrooms for a good many years now, since they first moved into the keeper's hut at the Zooniverse. Not one night had passed without Howard's loud snoring and eventually, Vince had learned to take comfort in the sound.
So where was it now?
With shaking hands, he grasped the edge of the duvet and pulled it back, fearing what might lie beneath. For a moment, everything seemed normal, but then Vince saw something that made his heart skip a beat and he rushed to turn on the light so he could see better.
Returning to Howard's bedside, Vince lifted up the corner of the pillow to seek out the rest of the object peeking out from underneath the soft fabric. His immaculately painted nails scrabbled against the small plastic bottle as he battled to free it from where it lay entrapped beneath Howard's heavy head.
Dread rooted him to the spot as he read the label slowly, recognising it to be the bottle for Howard's sleeping medication. Numbly, he unscrewed the cap, fighting against the child lock. Eventually he got it open and peered inside. Empty.
In a slow motion that would have been almost comical under different circumstances, Vince's eyes travelled to his best friend and he looked at the still figure properly for the first time since he had entered the room.
He tried to call for Naboo, but the shaman's name crumbled in his throat as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, the volume of his shout surprising even him.
"NABOO!" he screamed, tone coloured with panic. And then, just like that he was back in action, pulling at Howard's arm and desperately trying to remember how to take a pulse.
"What's going on?" Naboo asked urgently, rushing into the room.
"It's Howard! I think he's overdosed!" Vince cried desperately. Naboo crossed the room quickly and snatched up the pill bottle, reading the label swiftly and then taking Howard's arm from Vince's vice-like grip. After a moment of prodding at his wrist and listening at his chest, he turned back to Vince, wearing a sombre expression. The least relaxed Vince had ever seen him look, he realised.
"He's dead, isn't he?" he asked simply, feeling a crushing weight in the pit of his stomach.
"I'm sorry, Vince," Naboo answered solemnly. "There's nothing I can do- he's been gone for too long."
"Yeah." Vince's voice was subdued and flat, empty of the blind optimism it usually held. There was still one question nagging at him and he felt the unfamiliar sensation of guilt rise in his throat. Or maybe he was just going to cry. "Naboo, was this... you know?" he hesitated, unsure of the right word. "Was it deliberate?"
The question had tumbled out before he could stop himself, which he had intended to do. But it seemed his conscience needed to know, one way or another.
"Do you really want to know?" Naboo asked cautiously. Vince could already infer the answer from that, but he nodded anyway. "Then let me put it this way- this bottle was a new prescription. It would have been full yesterday."
So he had taken them all, to ensure it was done right. No mistakes. He really had wanted to die.
Vince had always been an upbeat person, and more than a little naïve, which was why he had never been able to understand how someone could reach a point in their life where they didn't want to live any more. He had always unconsciously dismissed it when he saw stories of suicide on the news or read about it on the odd occasion he picked up a newspaper because he simply didn't like to think about the fact that anyone could become that miserable. It was a frightening thought, and now it was staring him in the face.
He realised that he had no idea how to handle it, so instead he blocked it out as always- because if there was one thing Vince Noir hated, it was being unhappy- and instead looked Naboo directly in the eye and tried to instil a positive tone into his voice.
"But Howard's died before, yeah? So all we have to do is go through your magic mirror thing and rescue him again."
Naboo shook his head unhappily. "Sorry Vince, but the Shaman Council made a ruling. The afterlife is out of bounds. They've destroyed all means of transport between the two worlds."
Vince was crushed, but he tried not to show it.
"Oh, come on Naboo. We just have to find another way to get there."
"Vince, there isn't another way," Naboo insisted firmly, and Vince knew he was being honest. "I'm sorry, but Howard's gone for good this time."
The wording was harsh, but it drove the point home. Vince nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt thick and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. If he didn't get out of the room, he'd probably have a breakdown there and then. He needed an excuse and so he blurted the first thing that came into his head.
"I've just got to go and... polish the sink," he mumbled dejectedly, hurrying into the hallway with his head ducked so the shaman didn't as the first tear trickled down his cheek.
So there it is. Uh... I hope you enjoyed it, if enjoyed is the word. I'm not convinced that I have one hundred percent confidence in this fic, so reviews would be nice, just as an indicator of whether or not to continue. Critism is welcome, of course, particularly if it's constructive :).
Thanks!