Call me, no matter at what time
'Cause I'm always here
Inside the four walls
Of my bedroom
It's important to tell you at least
That your not being here hurts me
In a way you can't even imagine
Deer Howard,
Plees come bak. I miss u...
Vince sighed and scrunched up the paper. He was rubbish at writing letters. Writing anything really. They'd said he was dyslexic in school. Why was it called dyslexia anyway? He couldn't have a disorder he could bloody spell, could he? He'd asked Naboo but all he'd said was, "Try saying speech impediment with a lisp and get back to me, yeah? Try saying lisp with a lisp come to that."
He wished he knew where Howard was. He had an address written on a napkin, but that was just words, like reading a book with no pictures. He wanted to know what the bed Howard slept in looked like, where the kitchen was, how many yellow things with corners there were in the cupboard under the stairs.
He hadn't been apart from Howard for as long as he could remember. He was so used to Howard being there all the time. He was like his elbows. He didn't think about them much and if he did think about them he didn't think anything particularly complimentary, but he couldn't imagine not having them there. Now he was like arms without elbows, utterly pointless.
Come here, show up
At least get in touch
That each hour that goes by
Is like a punch of bleakness
It's way too boring
When I'm not around you
He could have at least called, fuck it. Vince had been planning how many times to let it go through to voice mail before taking a call from Howard (he didn't want it to seem like he was waiting around by the phone like a loser) and the bastard hadn't even called. Hour after hour, looking over at the phone from whatever he was trying to distract himself with. He'd even tried stocktaking. Granted he'd tried it for six minutes, but still.
Come back, 'cause my soul
Doesn't let you go
'Cause the minutes are spying on me
And everything has turned to grey
And all around me
Is made of fear and hopelessness
Howard always said that Vince was the Sunshine Kid, he was the joy and laughter in this weird relationship of theirs. But it was impossible to laugh without Howard. What was the point in being happy if you hadn't got anyone to share it with? Without someone to cheer up, Vince had become cheerless and depressed. Like all the colour was drained from the world by a black and white rainbow. Bollo brought him some sweets from the corner shop and they were still on the table. He had never left sweets unopened this long ever. Naboo asked him if he was anorexic.
"Cos ya know your legs are fine the way they are. They're sturdy. Nobody wants to shag a twiglet. Vince!" Vince was walked to his bedroom silently. He stopped by the doorway and looked over his shoulder.
"I'm fine. I'm not hungry," he said with a small, forced smile and closed the door with a quiet click behind him.
"Oh monkey turds," said Naboo under his breath, "business is really going to suffer with that ball bag walking around like a kicked puppy." Bollo looked up from the hookah and smiled sympathetically (well as much as an ape could). He knew this was Naboo's way of being concerned.
Come back, 'cause I had never imagined
How it would be to be alone
How it's not easy
When you're defeated
And I don't know what to do
And there's nothing left in here
He'd insisted that they have separate rooms in Naboo's Dalston flat. He'd had enough jazz noise pollution to last twenty lifetimes, living with Howard in the zookeepers' hut, back in the Zooniverse. But he'd still been able to sneak into Howard's room if he was scared or lonely during the night and they'd have a midnight crimping session in their pants.
Not like now. Now, there was nowhere to go and no strong arms to hold him, or at the very least give him an awkward pat on the back, depending on how touchy Howard was prepared to get. Now, he had nothing but the emptiness in the pit of his stomach making him sick and the hideous paisley shirt under his bed that still smelled of Howard
You haven't taught me how to be without you
And what should I tell this heart of mine?
If you're gone and I've lost it all
Where should I start if it's all over?
You haven't taught me how to be without you
How can I forget you if I've never learnt how?
He'd gone out and gotten drunk last night to try and forget. And it had worked too, though a little too well. He'd gone into Howard's room to tell him about the night he'd had and the girls who'd wanted to touch his hair and the latest new rude cocktails. But there was no one there and he'd cried. Naboo had gotten out of bed and wrapped a blanket round him, dried his tears and helped him back to bed.
"I miss Howard," he said in between gulping sobs.
Vince was anything but glamorous when he cried. He couldn't do dainty, lady like, single tear running down the face crying. He cried with his whole being, like a child, with dribble and snot mingling with tears on his face and red bulgy eyes.
"I know you do, Vince," said Naboo rubbing his back, "Can I get you anything? Tea, chocolate?"
"Just stay please," Vince sobbed scrabbling to get a hold of the shaman's hand. Naboo delicatley wiped his hand on his pyjama bottoms and sighed.
"Yeah alright," he said giving Vince's shoulder a squeeze.
Call me and bring back
All that one day I was
I'm crazy to see you
And it's now an obsession
When I feel invaded
By these sad days
I always remember, my dear
How much I love you
He was going mad, he must be. Every time he went out he thought he saw Howard. But it was always just some one with a moustache, or some one tall with broad shoulders and a tapered waist (why had he never appreciated that when he had the chance?), or someone with really awful taste in clothes.
Why did he have to realise that he was in love with Howard once he was gone. Gone. He hated that word. I want him, thought Vince, I want him home with me and Naboo and Bollo. And me. Mostly me. I'll share him with the others. But he's mine.
Come back, 'cause my body
Has been missing you
'Cause my senses
Have been out of control
It's way too boring
When I'm not around you
That paisley number was losing its Howard smell. He'd had a cry about that and then he'd had to have a little sleep because he was so tired. He ached all over from missing Howard. When he saw him again, he would hold him and never ever let him go. That "don't touch me" shit could take a long walk in the jungle for all he cared. He buried his face into the shirt and inhaled deeply to soak up the last little bit of Howard in it and said his name over and over.
"Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard."
Naboo and Bollo found curled up cuddling the shirt like a blankie, hours later when they came back from clubbing.
"This has gone on long enough, I'm calling that miserable ball bag," said Naboo about as irate as he'd ever been.
Come back, 'cause I had never imagined
How it would be to be alone
How it's not easy
When you're defeated
And I don't know what to do
And there's nothing left in here
Vince always won their arguments and Howard always lost in the most humiliating way possible. Was this what losing was like? He didn't like it at all. When Howard was back, he'd never argue again. He'd just pretend that jazz was nice and that book marks were interesting and whatever else it took.
You haven't taught me how to be without you
And what should I tell this heart of mine?
If you're gone and I've lost it all
Where should I start if it's all over?
You haven't taught me how to be without you
You haven't taught me, love
How I should go on without you
You haven't taught me how to be without you
And what should I tell this heart of mine?
If you're gone and I've lost it all
Where should I start if it's all over?
How can I forget you if I've never learnt how?
You haven't taught me how to be without you
And what should I tell this heart of mine?
If you're gone and I've lost it all
Where should I start if it's all over?
How can I forget you if I've never learnt how?
You haven't taught me how to be without you
And what should I tell this heart of mine?
If you're gone and I've lost it all...
Howard opened the door to the Nabootique and dropped his single rucksack of the ground. Let it never be said that Howard Moon didn't pack light, sir.
He'd been slightly miffed when Naboo had called him up and told him he had to cut his tour of South Wales short and come home immediately.
"There's stuff back here needs doin' and I'm not doin' it for ya," the tinny lisping voice had said over the phone
"Vince is there, why can't he do it. I'm on bloody holiday," he replied in his best outraged voice. The one that sounded a bit like a deflating cat.
"Listen, you tosser, you'll come home now, or you'll wish very fervently ever time you sit down for the rest of your life that you'd come home when I asked you the first time."
So here he was. Home, sweet, eclectic second hand shop. Now that he was back he realised he'd missed the old place.
"I'm home," he called out, in case there was anyone in.
Probably not at this hour. As if to contradict him, he heard a sudden crash and upstairs and the sound of someone running barefoot. Vince burst through the door and launched himself at Howard, bodily.
"Woah, Vince," said Howard and tried unsuccessfully to detach his friend from his torso. He felt a slight dampness through his clothes.
"Vince, are you crying?" he asked, concerned. Vince sniff loudly and wiped his nose on Howard's jumper.
"Yeah, so what?" he said, muffled against his friend's chest and suddenly started shaking.
Howard instinctively put his arms around him and made soothing noises.
"Hey, hey, there, there, little man. I was only gone for a week."
Vince looked up at his with eyes shining with tears.
"You, you were gone so long. And I was all alone and it was horrible. Why did you leave me all alone?" he burst into a fresh bout of sobbing and Howard absently hugged him again.
Honestly, he would have been back in another week.
"Well I'm here now," he said comfortingly
"You can't go again," said Vince, "You're not allowed. You can't leave me ever, ever again."
Howard sighed dramatically.
"Come on lets make you some hot chocolate and then we can get into our pyjamas and watch cartoons."
Vince nodded and rubbed his eyes and let go of Howard a little bit, but grabbed his hand tightly.
"I can't make the chocolate without my hand, Vince," Howard said reasonably.
"I don't want any," replied Vince, "Just stay with me please."