A/N: Right, this is going to be in two parts. Sorry part one is a bit short, but part two will be longer. I just felt like It had come to a good stopping point, and that I could play at being a juicy dangler! Seriously though, this story is not very nice, and that will come across even more in the next chapter. I'm a bit worried about it because, without giving too much away, it's quite a sensitive subject and I don't want to offend anyone who may have been through something similar or known someone who has. I hope I do it justice!

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Not mine. Sadly.

xxxx

It was a shame, really, that even on such a perfectly glorious day, something could go wrong. It didn't seem natural, with the sun high in the cornflower blue sky and the heat rising from the ground in wavy wisps, that things could be anything less than perfect. Vince was the epitome of long, hot summer days. Bright, cheerful and deliciously tempting, he made even the greyest days sunny and the sunny days even sunnier. Today, however, was going to be completely different. Vince had known it as soon as he'd seen Them strolling through Portobello Road Market, and Howard had known it when Vince had come home with a face paler than any goth's, and eyes shining brighter than any diamond, which would have actually been quite a beautiful sight to behold, if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were shining from unshed tears and not because he'd just bought the most genius pair of boots.

Howard was half collapsed on the counter when Vince came in, the door wide open with the hope that even the slightest breeze would provide the Maverick with some relief from the stifling shop – except that there was no breeze, and this was being made worse by the fact that the rickety old fan in the corner was serving no purpose but to blow hot air around and around, ruffling Howard's hair and making it even more limp than it already was all at the same time. He looked up tiredly when his friend walked in, noting immediately that something was wrong by the way Vince said nothing as he tried to unsuccessfully slip passed unnoticed. Vince was always noticeable. Howard caught a glimpse of his face, and the sight of it left him reeling.

"Vince?"

But Vince ignored him, turning into the hall and up the stairs.

Completely baffled by his behaviour and trying to work out if he'd inadvertently done anything to upset him, Howard quickly shut the door, locked it, and then all but ran after Vince, taking the stairs two at a time and reaching the top just as the bedroom door slammed shut. The dark cloud filling the flat made Howard shiver, despite the heat, and he cautiously made his way toward the bedroom, hand resting gently on the handle. He gave the door a soft rap with his other hand.

"Vince?"

A muffled sound came floating through the old wood, one which Howard couldn't make out, but he took it as permission to enter, and then, upon pushing the handle down and finding the door locked, realised that it hadn't meant that at all.

Howard called out a little louder, and jiggled the handle to make his point. "Vince – please let me in. I just want to make sure you're okay. I'm not leaving until you open the door."

More muffled noises, and this time Howard could make out the unmistakable sounds of someone sobbing. It wasn't normal sobbing though. It was angry and frustrated and scared, and Howard's eyes widened as he not only realised that this was the first time he'd ever known Vince to cry – really cry – but also because he had no clue as to what could have made someone like Vince, who was made from candy-floss and glitter, so upset. And it frightened him, because in order for Vince to act like he was now, something huge must have happened. For a second, Howard wondered if Topshop had just announced its closure, or if Mick Jagger had found God and was training to become a priest. He then berated himself for thinking such things, because even Vince, as shallow as he undoubtedly was at times, wouldn't overreact this much. Assertiveness was the key, he decided, and he prayed Vince would take his tone of voice seriously.

"C'mon, little man. Open the door, or I'll force it open. Your choice."

A few more seconds, and then a small thud followed by footsteps sounded, and Howard let go of the handle as the key was turned the other side and the door pulled slightly ajar. As he carefully walked through, honestly afraid of what he would find, Howard caught sight of Vince bundling himself into his duvet, face pressed firmly into his pillow as his whole body shook. Something in Howard's brain prodded him sharply, and he was at his friend's side in less than a second, perching on the edge of the bed, his hands on Vince's shoulders. Vince jumped violently at the contact and tried to bury himself even more, his breath coming short and fast, his skin flushed and burning. He was mumbling to himself, and Howard had to strain to hear the words.

"I didn't deserve it I didn't deserve it I didn't deserve it I didn't deserve it..."

Howard frowned and forced the duvet away from Vince's head, and then wished he hadn't, as he caught sight of Vince's hands twisting harshly in his precious hair, pulling at it until the long, silky strands were torn out, twisting and pulling and twisting and pulling over and over again, mantra falling from his lips and eyes screwed tightly shut. Howard grabbed Vince's arms and pulled him upright. Vince kept his eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners, his body rocking backwards and forwards, sobs becoming harsher, and he stopped mumbling and instead made strangled sounds like he was hyperventilating. All the while, Howard, who was completely terrified, whispered words of comfort to him, but they fell on deaf ears. It was when he rubbed a hand up and down Vince's back that Howard felt his heart break, as his friend tensed and said;

"'M s-sorry. P-please stop. 'M sorry, 'm sorry."

Vince, who seemed to have forgotten that Howard was there at all, pushed his hands into his hair and started pulling again. Howard grabbed them and moved them away from his head, but Vince refused to be reached.

"Vince, stop it. Please."

Howard's voice trembled, and he realised he was crying. He was at a complete loss as to what to do. Did he call a doctor? Ring for an ambulance? It was as though Vince had gone into some sort of trance and, afraid he was going to pass out from lack of air, Howard put his hands on the smaller man's face, feeling the skin practically vibrating underneath his fingers, his pulse racing, and tried in vain to get through to him.

"Vince – Vince it's Howard. I'm not going to hurt you, just please look at me. You have to calm down, okay? You have to calm down. Breath for me, please. Just... breath."

Somehow, after a few seconds - although to Howard it seemed like a lifetime - Vince eventually started to calm. Howard bit down on his lip to try and stop his tears, his body shaking as much as Vince's as he watched him intently. And then came the sweetest sound Howard had ever heard – sweeter than even the sweetest jazz melody.

"Howard?"

It was just a whisper, but it was enough.

"I'm right here, little man."

Finally, Vince slowly opened his swollen eyes. "Howard!" He weakly pushed his body into Howard's arms, collapsing against him and clutching at his shirt.

"It's all right, Vince, it's okay – I've got you. You're safe." Howard hugged Vince tightly to him and automatically rocked him back and forth, soothing him like he was a small child. After a few minutes, Vince managed to regain some control over himself and he pulled back, his face a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, his hair sticking to his wet cheeks. He looked so lost and broken, and Howard didn't even want to begin to imagine what had caused all that pain. The very thought made him feel sick. Even so...

"Vince, what the hell happened?"

Something seemed to click in Vince then, and he stood up so quickly that he almost fell over. Howard caught him, but Vince struggled away, hands pushing his hair back out of his face and wiping under his eyes, legs wobbling like a new born deer's as he tried to cross the room. He nearly made it, until a pair of strong arms reached out and held him firmly, spinning him round on the spot so he was face to face with his rather frightened looking friend, and he quickly averted his gaze to the floor.

Howard let go of one of Vince's arms and moved his hand up to cup his cheek.

"Look at me."

But Vince wouldn't budge, eyes still staring downward.

"Vince. Vince!" Howard gave him a gentle shake. "Please talk to me – you're scaring me."

Vince's head swayed slightly and he lifted his face, his eyes red and puffy. He looked at Howard, and a smile broke out on his face.

Howard frowned. "Vince?"

"I'm hungry. Let's get some dinner."