Hello, another chapter from me. Sorry.

And I think it's getting sad again.

Vince had been right. He'd settled in just fine with students three years older than himself, doing school work that should have been far too advanced for him. There was almost nothing he couldn't do. Except spelling. Vince was rubbish at spelling.

Or, at least, Howard thought he was. It was hard to tell.

Vince did his work, got Bs and even helped Howard out from time to time, but he also managed to convince everyone that he was innocent, empty headed and completely non-threatening. Until he told the whole class to shut up and learn their long division.

Howard was confused. How could one boy be at once small and sweet, a cockney ragamuffin, a brain box, and a bimbo?

He was selectively brilliant, Howard decided. Smart in certain areas and dense in others. And a really good actor.

And he was Howard's best friend.

It had been so easy to slip back into their friendship. Even though Vince got plenty of attention he still insisted on hanging out with Howard at lunchtimes. Girls were always coming up to them to talk fashion and Vince was always friendly and enthusiastic but when they left he'd always reassure Howard that girl's weren't as interesting as him.

That was confusing too. Vince thought that he, Howard, was more interesting than any of the girls in the school.

It didn't make sense, but Howard wasn't going to question it. He worried that if he did he'd realise that none of this was real, that Vince was just a figment of his imagination, that he'd gone mad and needed to be locked up. He'd rather just carry on with the delusion, hoping it would last.

Life with Vince was addictive. This had been the best year ever.

...

"Howard. Howard? Howard. Howard? Howard!"

"Ouch!"

Howard jumped as Vince poked him hard in the rib. They were sitting in Vince's bedroom, surrounded by homework, Vince's bizarre crayon drawings, bags of sweets and scraps of colourful fabric. Vince was trying to come up with a costume for the end of term dance and Howard was supposed to be helping.

"You gone into a trance again, Howard?"

"Why'd you poke me?"

Vince rolled his eyes. "I've been trying to get your attention for hours."

"Don't exaggerate, Vince."

"Fine, minutes. Happy?"

"Yup."

"You're supposed to be helping me though," he whined. "I need your help."

It was Howard's turn to roll his eyes. They both knew Vince didn't need anyone's help when it came to fashion. The tiny boy was a force of fashion nature.

"You don't need my help, Vince," he told him, passing him a bag of strawberry bootlaces. "You're a fashion genius."

Vince gave him a mega watt smile that made his stomach attempt a backflip and made the exaggerated compliment worth it.

"You're well sweet, Howard," Vince grinned, practically batting his eyelids. No ten year old boy should be able to do that, Howard was sure.

"But I ain't a genius. My boots are genius but, me? I'm a borderline simpleton. You know that."

"But you're not," Howard told him in confusion.

"Yes I am. I write in crayon. I can't spell. Can't count past ten. You know that. You're the smart one."

Howard frowned. Vince was looking at him with eyes so big and blue they were nearly hypnotic. Vince did like crayons and surely someone who misspelled every third word he wrote couldn't be intelligent. Howard was older, more world wise. Vince liked bright colours and soft fabrics. Vince was right. He supposed.

He saw Vince grin and smiled back.

"What did you need help with, little man?"

"I need help with my costume. I wanna go as Bowie but need you to help me straighten my hair so I can try out a new style."

"Oh, ok."

It didn't occur to Howard that most thirteen-year-old boys didn't help their friends straighten their hair. He loved Vince's hair, even though he called it a wig, a mop, a mangled hat and half a dozen other silly names. He hoped Vince would never revoke his hair touching privileges.

Howard began to brush Vince's hair while they waited for the hair tongs to heat up. The two boys had saved for months and pooled their money to buy them but Howard knew it was worth it. Vince leaned against him, relaxing into the sensation and Howard felt his eyes growing heavy. It was warm in Vince's room and his best friend's weight against him was reassuring. He smelt like apple blossom scented shampoo and Howard eventually stopped brushing and just pulled Vince more fully into his lap.

Vince snuggled into him with a sigh and together they fell asleep.

...

And that was how it ended.