Oh wow! I mean...whoa! I'm so bowled over by your lovely reviews. They really do mean a lot to me (because I was quite proud of that last chapter).

Stars of Andromeda: I got series 3 early because my awesome friend works behind the counter of this store and she said they were already in the stock room on Saturday so she got me one (obviously I paid for it!). How cool is that?!

Violence4: Especially a big thanks to you and your lovely enthusiasm. Glad you're enjoying so much xxx

My computer is being extremely annoying so I'm having a lot of trouble updating and reviewing. Sorry.

It's longer to make up for it.

Disclaimer: belongs to the lovely Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding. And yes. That is a quote from The Killers - "Mr Brightside"

"I just can't look, it's killing me"

I've gone and done it now, haven't I?

I am one thick Northern Bullet, I'm telling you.

It only happened because I was still extremely annoyed with him over the whole, flirtin' n hurtin' situation. So I blanked him for pretty much the rest of the day. Wasn't very grown up of me, I know. But as you've probably sensed by now, I'm not so good with dealing with emotions. Especially when it comes to him.

I am indeed the worst friend in the whole world. It's official. I'm the mayor of rubbish friend town. They should give me a sash and my own award. Could even call it The Howard. Indeed I am rambling, but that can't be helped either. What happened last night?

After my Race for Freedom outside of shop, I kept on running, like I was in my own little Howard Moon Marathon (I won). I hate running. Don't see the point in it at all. Important men such as myself shouldn't ever have to race for no-one (we arrive as, and when we choose). So anyway, I was running when suddenly I heard the moon chuckle at me.

"Eeeeew! Look at the little old man run. He's a running and he's all sweaty and horrible. Sweaty and horrible. Like an ice lolly when the stoopid sun comes out to play.

I like ice lollies. When you are the moon, you can eat as many as you want. Because...I think it's because the sun aint ever out to melt them. He's all stuck up and doesn't like the moon. Just because I licked his back. Once. Aww. Lollies."

Then, as is his custom, he turned away from me in disgust. Since his input was neither comforting nor particularly flattering (OR appreciated!), I did what any sane Man of Action would do when presented with such a situation. I stopped running and went to the nearest pub to get absolutely wasted.

So now I have one hell of a hangover and can't even think straight. So I'm writing in here, desperately trying to get my thoughts into some kind of logical order.

Oh God. Yes, I can think straight and all.

I think...Vince was there? Yes he was. And I said...

No I didn't. Did I? Oh god, please no!!

I have to calm down...I'll begin from the start. It's not as bad as it seems. At least, I hope so anyway.

So there I was, sat on a ropey old stool trying to order a freakin beer from a particularly obnoxious bar man (who looked strangely like Bob Fossil...just with thin, greasy, black hair).

"Got any ID Sonny? Driver's licence?" He sneered at me rather unpleasantly.

I frowned menacingly back - so not in the mood, "I'm over thirty years old for gods sake (naturally I meant twenty! I'm not really that old, but hey, I was seriously stressed out) Just give me a bloody beer!" I exploded.

"Sure you are…More like over forty! I just meant are you driving? Can't serve drivers anymore. Police are hovering all over me about it, like a fat guy near hotdogs!"

Like hell they were. He just wanted to make me feel stupid. Well, no-one makes a monkey out of Howard Moon. No Sir.

"No, I'm not driving." I growled through gritted teeth, "Beer. Now."

"Manners go a long way son, you know!"

I really did growl at him then.

"Okay, jeez! Here ya go. Try not to pass out straight away mate, yeah? Now if you excuse me, I gotta go milk a cat." (It must have been Fossil in disguise really. Who else could it have been? Come on!)

So finally he left me alone in peace, lurking on the far edge of the sticky bar. All alone. A true maverick, in the worst sense of the word.

Could you blame me for feeling so low? Low. Such a small, insignificant word for what I felt. I was lower than low. Beneath rock bottom, bellow a layer of crap. There's hell and then there's me. So yes, I was indeed a maudlin nightmare.

"Hi honey. Is that seat taken?" I heard a sexy voice purr.

I didn't even look up. "Sod off!"

I remember hearing a noise like "Humph!" followed by a charming, "How gay are you?!" as she walked away. It was such an ironic question that I started laughing. I must have looked -as Vince would say- well creepy. But it was either that or start crying. I just couldn't help it.

By this point I was starting in on the vodka. Normally such a brew would have knocked me out cold. Make no mistake, I'm tough, like an old (yet strangely attractive) boot, but I like safe fun. A couple of beers, and then home. But today I just didn't care at all.

So there I was, giggling like a Cheshire Cat, tears in my eyes. I was slumped over and all, like some hunchback having a nervous breakdown. AND I had the hiccups too. The perfect combination. That's great, that is. I suppose I shall be returning there, oh, in about...never.

The depressing thoughts sunk in then. I found I was whining to some random woman (I think it was a woman anyway) who reminded me of Amy Winehouse about my precious Vincey-Wincey.

"I just -hic- feel like -hic- I love him so much, you know?"

"Whatever, you berk. Ew! Get off me!" She sighed, shrugging me off her arm. And with that, she left. That's right, I scared off the scary, serious drinker/biker woman. What an achievement. I guess that's just the standard, universal reaction to me now.

With no-one left to moan to, I was suddenly left alone with my thoughts. This was very bad news. All I could think of was angry and sad thoughts about him. Which I admit, is horribly unfair of me.

Why doesn't he notice the way I feel? Maybe he does and just doesn't feel the same way. Yeah, bet that's it. Why the hell would he ever want me? The only person who showed a vague interest in me had a mangina and an unhealthy obsession for Baileys...Guess I should have stuck with him. He was more in my league and all...

Okay, I was practically sobbing into an empty pint glass by now. I was at the point where I just wanted to go home. I even wanted to see Vince. Just to say I was sorry for being such a knob to him before (although I now realise I behaved reasonably. What else could I have possibly done in that situation I ask you? Not that!). But I didn't do any of those things. I just sat there, not budging. Vince's handsome face lurking in my mind (it happens a lot).

And suddenly there he was. As if I'd conjured him up out of sheer longing.

He did not look happy.

"Hey Howard, where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" He sounded a little annoyed, but I didn't care.

"It's Vinsh!" I cried, flying at him.

His eyes widened in shock as I hugged him with all my might, "Ah Howard!" He shrieked in surprise (I never touch him. Not EVER.) "What you doing?! Howard are you drunk?!" He asked, voice going all high (which made me giggle!).

"No-no I'm not!" I slurred, snuggling into him (how embarrassing). He propped me up as best he could as I leaned heavily on him, breathing in his Vince-y scent (Alco pops and trendy aftershave - and though he insists Goths don't even grow facial hair!).

"Yes you are! Look at your eyes...they're all weird and not just because of their size - you're wasted!" He sounded VERY annoyed now (which is weird for him) but with a tangible trace of his trademark amusement.

"Don't be mad." I mumbled, feeling randomly tearful again (I hate it when he's unhappy).

"I 'aint. I'm made of sunshine, you know that. You just had me worried is all." He sighed, "I guess I better get you home. Make you some Resolve or summit."

"Mmm lovely Vince. Yesh please. Wanna go home." I mumbled, suddenly feeling tired. But strangely happy. Vince was holding me. Really holding me as opposed to leaving me behind in disgust like I thought he would. Like he rightly should do.

He dragged me out into the street, moaning as he did so.

"Jeez Howard, how much do you weigh, you fool! Walk!" He ordered, pouting a little.

"Trying, I'm trying," I burbled. But I'd seemed to have lost total control of my limbs (from the devil's urine known as alcohol) and was clinging to Vince fiercely .

"Honestly, this is so irresponsible of you Howard!" He huffed.

I burst out laughing at that. It was as if we'd switched roles, but luckily I had enough sense not to say that out loud. He'd have dropped me in the street right there and then.

I did unleash some of my thoughts when we got home though. Unfortunately.

"You're so lovely Vince d'you know that?" I slurred pathetically, collapsing on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course I do," He replied, sounding a tad impatient and downright annoyed.

Could you blame him? It had started raining on our way home and if there's one thing Vince can't stand, it's rain hair. Come to think of it, I don't know why didn't he leave me there on the street as soon as he'd felt the first droplets, shrieking for cover, like I've seen him do before on many occasions. Strange. What was even stranger - he didn't rush off to sort his barnet out as soon as we'd got back, but instead stayed with me. This was nice and all, but now I kind of wish he hadn't.

He sat next to me, "You aint gonna throw up again are you? 'Coz that just wasn't pleasant!"

"Nope...Hmm pleasant! That's what you are!" I giggled, poking him in the chin.

He looked at me like I'd grown a third eye, before suddenly laughing sweetly (to my relief), "Yay! I forgot how much fun Drunk Howard is! Way more fun than Regular Howard!" he poked me back in the stomach. Not the best thing to do to a belly full of vodka. He's lucky I didn't barf on him right then. But then again, that's him all over, isn't it? Plain lucky.

I made a mock gagging noise, laughing hysterically when Vince leapt out of vomit range at lightening speed.

He realized I was joking, before joining me on the sofa once again, "You're a prize nutter Howard! When you intellectuals let go, you really go don't you? Hehe, I love drunk Howard!" He laughed.

"And I love you too. Really, really love you Vincey." He stopped laughing and deathly silence ensued. Needless to say, the vomit feeling returned.

Yes.

I said it.

And I sure meant it.

And guess what he said back?

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Love ya too Howard. Now you gonna go to bed or what?"

And that was it. He didn't mean it like that, of course not. He didn't take me seriously. Even laughed a little. Never had his laughter been so upsetting to me.

So with a frustrated, "Vince!" I passed out right across his lap in despair.

Which is where I woke up to today. Obviously Vince had gone, but not before covering me with a blanket, which did make me smile briefly. But how the hell can I possibly face him today? He'll definitely have questions, most of them I won't be able to answer. Oh god! What if some of what I said finally has sunk into that pretty, little brain of his?! I won't be able to bear it if that's true.

Basically, I'm screwed if I tell him, and screwed if I don't (last night was a shining example of both). I know this, and the knowledge of it really is killing me.

I realise what I need. What I have to do. What I must do.

I have to get away.

My computer's so messed up that I'm having serious trouble updating. Hope you like though. xx

I'm having a lot of trouble getting on here. If anyone has any advice, it would be appreciated.

:-)