A/N: I thought i should get some memories going. You know what they say, trips down memory lane can... do something. Anyway. Back to the reason you're here.

Disclaimer: Do you think that the Boosh would have been gone for three years if I owned it?

Guilt

Howard's POV

I woke up the next morning to a blinding headache and heartache. I felt so guilty for leaving Vince. So I got up immediately, ignoring the pounding in my skull, and rushed back to the shop. But the door was locked, and there was no one inside. I thought maybe Vince was in bed, so I banged on the shutters. After ten minutes, though, there was still no response, and I knew Vince was gone. I gave up and began to walk around the city, my tatty coat wrapped around me, trying to guard from the cold. It was frosty outside, and foggy. When I looked up, the sky was pure white, opaque, impenetrable. The sun couldn't break through to warm my back like it had that day. My memories came flooding back to me…

Vince and I had sat on the beach that bright August day. Neither of us had bothered to pack swimming trunks. I'm a modest man, and Vince thought they were out of fashion at that point. So we sat on the sand in ordinary clothes, or at least as ordinary as Vince's ever got. It was a black t-shirt, actually, plain for a change, and red snakeskin jeans. He had his usual golden boots on. I wore blue cut-off jeans, and my favourite patterned shirt. As we sat with our backs to the sun, Vince said:

"Howard? Do you like it here?" As he turned to look at me, the sun got in his eyes, and he squinted through it.

"Well, course I do. It's nice to get away from London for once."

"But… do you like it here? Specifically, I mean."

"Um… yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"Well, there were loads of people earlier. They were staring at me, and then they started calling me names. I tried to shout back, but my throat was all tight, and I couldn't. I was scared."

"Oh, Vince. Why didn't you tell me? We could have gone back."

"I didn't want to ruin it for you."

"You'd never ruin it, Vince. It's alright." I pulled him into an awkward one armed hug, and he smiled a little.

"Thanks Howard."

"It's fine. Come on. We'll leave now. At least they accept us in London."

We went back to London that day. I was eighteen; he was seventeen, on our first holiday without any adults. I looked back to that time as I wandered the streets, and wished I could return to it.