Okay this is something I wrote as an apology for not updating my other fic for ages. I have writers block… well for that story anyway. If you want this to continue then just say so.

I do not own the Boosh. It wouldn't be as good.

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For weeks now a dark depression had washed over him. He had tackled the problem with pain. The pain helped him forget the depression. It had started with Chinese burns but then things got worse. The events with the Hitcher, the Crack Fox, the Jazz virus, the Flighty Zeus and Vince had worsened his depression. He felt completely useless and worthless. He had turned to the comfort of watching the blood seep from his writs. The cuts gradually got deeper and grew in number. A day would no longer go past without at least five gashes being carved into his arms.

The others were clueless. Vince thought he used Chinese burns to take out his frustration on himself. But the reason he still did them was to break the healing cuts and cause a wave of pain that would make him emerge slightly from the depression.

Tonight the depression was overwhelming him. He was alone in the flat, Naboo was out with Bollo and Vince clubbing. It had, as usual, been a bad excuse given as to why he couldn't go with them.

He took a knife from the kitchen and looked at his reflection in the gleaming metal surface. He pulled up his sleeves and slashed across his wrists with the sharp blade. This is how it would end for Howard Moon. He wouldn't be found until it was to late.

He moved to the phone and dialled in Vince's mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Vince I'm sorry," he thought for a second before adding, "I love you." Before hanging up.

It didn't matter now; Vince wouldn't be able to get to him in time to question him.

He stumbled into the shared room and collapsed onto his bed, he felt light headed and his vision was turning black at the edges.

He began to hum a tune under his breath as he thought about everybody's reactions. He didn't think that Naboo or Bollo would particularly care if he lived or died. Vince would be sad, but then he would move on quickly. He had enough friends to hang around with. They would gladly help the Prince of Camden forget about the Jazz-loving freak that was an embarrassment to him.

"Nobody will miss me,' he whispered to the dark room.

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Vince Noir ran back to the flat as fast as he could. He had even removed his highly fashionable silver platform boots and risked his socks getting dirty and ripped on the pavement, the shaman and his familiar not far behind as he reached the front door.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" Vince hissed as he dropped the keys and scrambled to pick them up and fit them into the lock.

He ran up the stairs calling his friend's name loudly. The first thing he saw was the blood-covered telephone and a trail of blood spatter leading to their room. He dashed into the room and collapsed next to the blood soaked bed where his best friend lay motionless, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

"Howard…Howard wake up…wake up please…come on his isn't funny anymore. Wake up…" Vince cried desperately. He held one of the cold hands, ignoring the blood.

Naboo came up behind Vince and placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

"He's dead, Vince. Nothing you can do will bring him back." the shaman said quietly. He pulled Vince away from the body and guided him out of the room.

"Bollo phone an ambulance."

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So I am letting you guys decide if I should continue this or leave it as a oneshot.

So review please. Every review goes towards ending this deep depression brought on by exams.