Vince could not describe how hard living without Howard was. Not hearing Jazz blasting from the stereo or scatting coming from the bathroom or the ritual late night crimping or...

But he pushed through. He forced keep moving forward. He had a certain reputation to uphold within the Camden underground. He was the Camden prince thus he had to appease his subjects. So, a couple more parties here, a few more drinks there, and everything in the outside world (everything that didn't matter anymore) seemed to return to normal. Well, except for the dream.

That dream that haunted him every bloody night.

He's running through London, searching for him.

Turning corner after corner after corner and still no luck.

He reaches the dreaded alley where he'd seen him last.

Just then, he sees someone on the other side.

He yells the name that leaves scorch marks on his heart as it passes his lips...

They stop and turn slowly.

It was him.

He came back.

He really came back.

With tears plummeting down his cheeks, he holds his arms open wide,

yearning to embrace the older man.

As he is merely feet away...

The older man disappears.

Broken and alone, he falls to his knees and bawls,

Exactly like he did the night he left.

Just like he did every night.

It never ended...

Chapter 2

Two Years Later

Vince shifted into consciousness as Naboo thumped away at his door.

"Vince, wake up, you ball bag! It's nearly 10:30 and the shops not open," was the muffled lisp that came through the door.

He groaned, and turned onto his side. "I'll be out. Gimme a minute."

He opened his bloodshot eyes only just, still exhausted as usual. He wanted to go back to sleep. But what good would that do? He couldn't even have Howard in his dreams, his brain supplied, cynically.

With a sigh, he turned onto his other side and glanced at his window. There, he saw two little birds sat on his window pane, whistling and chirping away. He smiled a weary smile and stretched. He liked hearing birds and other creatures tittering away in the morning. Always chatting about something irrelevant, but still, the light sounds of a new day lifted his spirits, even if only a little.

He slid out of bed and went over to his own mirror. He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder. When did I open-?

"Vince! Come on. Get down here!" Naboo groaned, as he wrapped away at the door.

Vince mussed his hair, annoyed. "Alright, I'm comin'. Keep your turban on…"

He washed up in the shower for a few minutes and combed his knotted hair. He didn't bother with it that much anymore. Occasionally, he'd give the essential two hours needed when he was going out with Leroy but he didn't really go out that much either. Leroy, like most of Vince's friends, got tired of his depression and tried to avoid going out with him. But when Vince needed some time to talk, Leroy was always there for him.

He shrugged on a black t-shirt and some thin sweats and made his way down to the shop. Vince stopped a step before where Naboo sat at the bottom of the staircase.

"What are you doin'? I could've tripped, you batty crease," Vince complained. But he just sat there stone still, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Naboo?"

He waved his hand in front of the shaman's face. His old white cowboy boots made a click as they made contact with the shop floor. "Naboo?" He snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Naboo how stoned could you've gotten in..." he looked over at the grandfather clock. "...less than 12 minutes?"

After a few tries of crashing pots and blaring electro, he rolled his eyes and gave up. He unlocked the door and turned the shop sign to open. He leaned against the door and looked up at the sky. Gray-blue. Pretty yet barren without any clouds, he thought, vacantly. Just a blanket of emptiness, mirroring himself in a way.

He walked over to his barber chair, picked up his forgotten cheekbone magazine and slumped down into it. Yet another boring day.

Unfortunately, today was anything but boring...