Going back home was possibly one of the strangest experiences Vince had ever had. He didn't expect to be seeing anything again…let alone this place. It stunk of last night's food and damp washing and barely-there dust, but somehow, it was comforting. So much more so than the hospital anyway, with its disinfectant, vomit and recycled air.
He noticed things that would have usually bored him. The pots hadn't been done since he left, the last glass still shining dully, and the bin almost overflowing with takeaway cartons.
Naboo cleared his throat awkwardly behind him as he puts the two overnight bags down and smiles. Barely. His mind is clearly elsewhere though, and the air seems to be thick with embarrassment. The bright paint of the hallway, mocking. Vince kicks the bags until they are next to the coat hook and shuffles up the stairs, wondering who found him, and why they didn't leave him there in the first place. Howard is at work, and Naboo should be really, but there's a horrible feeling that somebody told someone not to leave him alone. The stuff Howard said to him on that night seems distant and he doesn't feel anything other than numbness. And exhaustion. So the only thing is to sleep, because by the looks of things, conversation is sparse, and it's the only way to block out the memories, and the horrible quilt and ceiling that are a bloody painful reminder…
Howard arrives home not long after five, along with Corrine who caught a lift on the bus. She hasn't seen Naboo for a week, and is the only one outside the flat to know about what happened. Vince was, at present asleep, although Howard keeps sneaking up to check on him in a slightly obsessive way.
"So how's he been?" Howard asks. He the first to speak, other than Bollo, who has been nosily making the cups of herbal tea and coffee to compensate for the awkward peace.
Naboo looks up from his contented seat on the sofa. He sighs.
"He's slept all day and hasn't spoken much." Everyone looks uneasy all of a sudden. Even the cats are subdued and have taken to cowering away under the bookcase, only skulking out to eat. Bollo hands round the drinks and sets about ordering another takeaway meal, even though most of it is not eaten.
"Why didn't we notice?" Naboo says suddenly half way through The Friday Night Project, which nobody is watching, but its switched on anyway, mainly to keep everybody company. Offer distraction. It's clearly not working. "I mean he wasn't eating as much. He always slouched of to work. He was moody. The signs were there...why didn't we see them?"
"I thought he was getting better." Says Howard, putting his cup down on the table.
"Yeah, well he wasn't was he?" Naboo looks upset and bitter, so Corrine snuggle closer to him. It seems to work, as he calms a little, but the words linger like a stale odour in the air.
Vince has been sat on the stairs for the last ten minutes listening to what people have been saying. Its like he's an outsider, listening in to a conversation. Earwigging. He debates in his mind whether or not because they are talking about him, it's his right to listen, but it all boils down to the same thing. He's not meant to be hearing it. He's meant to be asleep. Recovering.
As if.
Right. That's it. I know I haven't updated for ages, and I'm really sorry, but, I've started my final exam studies, and I was ill and there was a really embarrassing something I said coughnobbocough that I haven't been able to like down, okay?
Please review!
xx