Hellooo! Sorry I haven't updated in ages, as pathetic as it sounds, this Easter hol has gone by pretty stressfully, with prom worries and general creepiness. Anyway. I know it's bit angst riddled AGAIN, but things are looking up. ;-)
It wasn't meant to be like this. When people go out they supposedly have fun, have some drinks and laugh a bit. Vince, however, was propped up against the bar, in some unnamed club and drinking like a fish. Alone.
He wasn't happy. More numb and indifferent...uncaring? No. Not uncaring. He still cared enough about how he looked to not eat the massive cone of chips Jasmine bought him, even though some malevolent part of him wishes he had, just to stop the crippling pains and cramps and lethargy. But most of him, feels proud in a warped way, that he actually managed to fake eating – making out to be going upstairs to get ready and actually just hiding the food in his disused suitcase. Sick. That's what Howard called him when he'd found out. That was only...a couple of weeks ago. It seemed ages.
"Vince, are you in there?" Howard had been knocking on the bathroom door, voice deceptively calm, whilst Vince had been turning the bathroom upside down in an effort to find the scales, which were mysteriously absent.
"Yeah, won't be a minute..." He'd just managed to pull a bathrobe round his otherwise naked, shower-fresh self before the door swung open.
"I need to talk to talk to you." Oh god. Vince'd thought. But Howard was smiling. So maybe it wasn't that bad. He felt himself relax a bit. "Did you enjoy dinner?" Oh no. Here we go again.
"Yeah, of course I did! You put too much on my plate though." He'd smiled back, trying to fake some kind of truth. Howard's expression changed though, to a more slightly annoyed one.
"I always put too much on you plate! Or something that isn't too healthy!"
"At least I'm eating!"
"You aren't though are you?"
...Oh. This isn't good. Say something! Come up with an excuse! Anything!
"I thought I could trust you! Even Naboo said you been eating, even Corrine did! Bollo too, and he doesn't even usually mention it to me! Have you been bribing them? To lie for- no, with you?"
"No! They wouldn't do that!" He's just pretending to care. He just wants you better so you can start working again; actually pull your own weight around here for once.
Hah. Weight.
"Then that the fuck's going on? How come I've just found your rucksack – the one you never use- full of last weeks meals? Its sick! Why do you do it?"
Vince'd just stood there, blinking..
I can't get out of this one. I can't escape.
"I'm waiting for an answer."
"Huh?" His voice was all weird. Stuttering. Dry.
"Why do you do it. You aren't fat-"
I am though.
"You don't need to loose weight. I want to help you, but how can I when I don't understand?" Howard's voice was hushed.
"Its fine, I just don't get hungry!" Don't let them find out, don't let them see the scars.
"Bollocks, I've seen you drag yourself out of bed in the mornings. You look days worth of tired even if you go to bed as soon as you get in, then all you have for breakfast is black coffee with low-cal sweetener and a biscuit."
Silence. No smart comeback this time, eh?
"After this week, when Christmas and New Year are done with. You are going to eat, even if I make you."
Vince was jerked back into the present by someone knocking into him with a drink. A girl, no older than twenty gave him a quick once-over glance and slurred an apology before stumbling back into the crowd of dancers.
He wanted to go home. Not the one he had at Jasmines either. He missed being asked after and care for and having someone to remind him of stuff.
You're so selfish. Said another part of him, probably the more lucid given his current drunk state. You just want Howard and everyone else to be all worried and give you all the attention.
But I want to go home.
Fine then. Ring him, go on, I dare you. See if you can go a whole conversation without mentioning yourself. Think you can stand to hear him tell you he hates you? How he never wants to speak to you again?
Vince stood up and walked towards the door, the room spinning horribly. The coolness of the alleyway compared to the sweltering heat inside takes him a moment or two to get used to.
He can't shake the feeling of dizziness off, but sets about grabbing his phone from his jeans anyway.
Surprising you actually made it outside. Your gonna phone home then? Another sad little story? Oh Howard, I'm all alone and lost and fucked up! Help!
Should be amusing. I bet he's much better off anyway.
He won't be! He wouldn't do that to me...would he?
Vince starts punching the numbers in defiantly, when a wave of nausea seems to creep up his throat, and he finds himself retching dryly. Still clutching the phone, he slides down the wall, not entirely of his own accord, and sags against the wall, out cold.
Not too sure how I feel about this update, have a suspicion it may be majorly crap, but pah, it beats doing work.
Please review, I'll give ya fairy cakes!
xx