A/N: Wow – thanks for the wonderful reviews! I hope you like this chapter!
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Harlem, New York
Howard leant over the bar of The Jazz Den, sipping a cold beer and chatting to the barman. It was lunchtime, and the juke box played gently in the background, the music soothing him. He loved this place – they let him play here, talked to him like a normal person, respected him, actually liked him. Howard had never had so many friends in one place before. Here... here, he was at home.
"Good review you had in The Post today," the barman, Benny, said, running a cloth around a glass.
Howard grinned. "I know – my first solo set and they actually liked it!"
"You kidding me, man? It was awesome!"
See, this was what Howard needed, people like Benny, people who understood him. Not like...
No, don't think about him.
Howard finished his beer and placed the glass on the counter. "Right, I'm off."
"You working at the store this afternoon?"
Howard nodded. "Yup. Jeff needs me in for a few hours while he goes and values some guy's collection."
"Well, have fun. See ya later buddy."
Yes, Howard was definitely much happier here.
xxxx
Dalston, London
Vince was bored. Bored of Dalston, bored of the shop, bored of life in general. Granted, he didn't look bored, but that was only because he had a queue of customers and he was playing World's Best Shop Keeper. In actual fact, he wanted to scream and... a light bulb lit up over his head then. Yes, he actually would – not scream, of course, but he'd make them all leave. It was late afternoon anyway, so it wasn't like he'd be closing majorly early...
He clapped his hands together, a fake, apologetic smile on his face. "Right, I'm afraid I have to close up now, everyone!" There was a smattering of disapproving grumbles. "Sorry, I have... stock taking to do!"
One customer who walked past Vince on his way out, stopped long enough to say, "you should really get more staff, you know. Wasn't there a small-eyed man who used to work here?"
Vince's face fell. "Out!" he said, steering him not so gently in the direction of the door. Once everyone was gone, he went outside and yanked down the shutters. The one on the left got stuck, and the more he pulled, the more frustrated he became. Soon, tears were forming in his eyes, and by the time he'd managed to get the shutter down, they'd spilled over and dribbled down his cheeks. He flew back into the shop, slamming the door with such force that the windows rattled, and he just managed to lock it before sliding down it and sitting in a weeping heap on the floor.
Yes, Vince was definitely miserable here.
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A few hours later, Naboo came home to find Vince slumped on the sofa, asleep, a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, which was tilting dangerously towards the floor. Naboo frowned. Vince never drank whiskey – couldn't stand the taste. Vince liked flirtinis and sugary alcho-pops. He looked over to the kitchen and saw the bottom cupboard wide open. That's when he realised – it was one of Howard's old bottles.
"Vince," he said, bending down and shaking him gently, removing the bottle and placing it on the floor.
Vince groaned and opened his eyes slowly, wincing as the light hit his eyes.
"Vince, what are you doing? Why's the shop closed?"
"Howard?"
"What?"
Vince blinked tightly then, and when he re-opened his eyes, he saw Naboo standing over him. "Naboo?"
Naboo regarded him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "We need to have a chat, don't we?"
xxxx
"Find him."
"What?"
"Howard. Find him."
"But, I don't even know where he is! And what would I say? No, I can't." Vince jumped up, and then regretted it when his head started to pound. He put a hand to it and screwed his eyes up.
"But you need to, Vince! I knew it, you know? I knew all along that you weren't right. You may have thought you had us all fooled, but you didn't! I just played along with it because I thought that was what you wanted!"
Vince sighed and sat back down, running his hands through his hair. Should he? Would Howard even want to be found?
"He's in New York."
Vince looked up at Naboo. Had he just heard right?
"You what?"
How did he know that?
"New York?"
Naboo nodded. "Despite what I may or may not have thought of Howard, I did want to make sure that he was okay. It wasn't hard – I got the board of shaman to help me. He went home to Leeds for bit, then took off to America."
Vince sat in stunned silence. What on earth was Howard doing in New York? His heart raced. If he'd gone all that way just to get away from him, then...
"No."
"Vince?"
"No, I won't! He hates me so much that he had to go all that way... he couldn't even stand to be in the same country as me!" Vince ran off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
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Harlem, New York
Barely ten minutes after he turned up at work, Howard nearly had a heart attack. He'd been going through a box of records when he'd walked in, hair glossy and coifed to perfection, tight jeans tucked into...
But, it hadn't been him. He'd thought it was – for a split second, the whole world seemed to stand still, and it was just them. When he'd come closer though, Howard had realised, and for some, inexplicable reason, his heart had sunk. He still felt light-headed and sick, but it was now born out of a disappointment he couldn't understand. The man was nothing like him, really, and certainly not as beautiful. No one ever was...
He shook his head. No, no, no. Vince had damaged him so much, and yet he still found himself thinking about him when he really didn't want to.
He wondered what he was doing today. Was he Happy? Probably. Did he even remember what today was? Probably not.
Howard sat down and put his feet up on the counter, willing the image of Vince out of his head. Things were different now. He spent dollars, not euros. He lived in an apartment, not a flat. He drove on the right, not the left. He played jazz at a proper club, not just listened to it.
He had no room for Vince in his life anymore.
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A/N: I want to write about something major that Vince has changed, and I know it might seem a weird thing for him to do, but I was thinking about Noel's stand-up after I caught a set of his late last night on Paramount, and I thought 'hmm, I wonder if Vince could do comedy..." you know, hide behind it like another mask, but also enjoy it. I thought maybe he would have given up on the whole 'front man' thing because of what Howard said about him always changing to fit in with others, so in order to be himself but still be on stage, maybe he'd do comedy instead. He is rather funny, and I thought it might work. He wouldn't be hugely famous or anything, but popular on the London circuit. I thought it might just be a way for him to prove to Howard, even if he never did see him again, that he could do something that was just completely him.
I'll leave it up to you though – let me know what you think! If I did do it, I'd obviously be using a lot of Noel's stuff, 'cause there is no way I could write that to be funny enough!