Dedicated to Booshlover! I was going to dedicate the last chapter but I didn't really feel it was much of a dedication! This one's better (at least I think it is - lol) And it's longer as well!

Anyway… enjoy!

The low sun crept softly under the thick black curtains and landed gently on the carpet, making the lint dance in it's early summer light. There was some rustling and Howard was snoring lightly but the silence was dominant, wrapping itself around the room like a warm soft blanket. And then;

"Ow! Shit! Fuck!"

Howard shot bolt upright. Pointing his gun in the direction of the shouts and hisses. He leant over and flicked a light switch.

"Vince?" he groaned, as the younger man came into view, hopping around holding his stubbed toe. "What the fuck are you doing?" Howard ran his hand down his face in a hopeless attempt to wake himself up a bit more as he lowered his gun.

"I'm getting ready for work." Vince answered, still rushing around the attic looking for his favourite shoes.

"Work?" Howard called as Vince disappeared behind him.

"Yeah," came the muffled shout. "it's what normal people do to pay for things."

"But you're not normal."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean, you don't need to work."

"I know but Hitcher and Bollo never give me the money I deserve and I get bored in between jobs. Anyway, I like being a hairdresser."

"A hairdresser?" Howard chuckled.

"Yes. And stop smirking, it's fun. You get to hear all the gossip."

"Like…"

"Like Mrs Richard's next door neighbour's steamy affair with the pub landlord."

Howard raised an eyebrow and flopped back onto the sofa, resting his gun on his stomach. Vince eyed it a little angrily;

"Where did you get that from?"

"The side of the sofa, I always keep it with me"

Vince frowned but decided to leave it there.

"So…" he said turning to face Howard for the first time, exposing an ugly purple-black bruise down the left side of his face. "how do I look?"

"Shit." whistled Howard quietly. "Was that where I…"

"You don't look much better yourself old man." he grinned, "nice black eye you got coming there."

Howard frowned in puzzlement and rose to his feet to look in the massive mirror that was hung on the wall. He wrapped his arms around Vince's middle and peered over his shoulder. In the mirror, he saw the beginnings of a fresh bruise growing around his own eye.

"We're a real couple of thugs."

"I know." agreed Vince. "we've been back together a day, look at the state of us."

Howard smiled and kissed the back of Vince's neck. "Don't go to work today." he mumbled against the warm skin.

"I have to."

"Well, what are you going to say happened to your face?"

Vince shrugged, as much to answer the question, as to remove Howard from him before the attraction got too strong and he was pulling off his neatly arranged outfit.

"I guess I'll say I got in a fight. That's believable, right?"

Howard took a step back and looked Vince's get-up up and down; "No"

"Screw you." Vince grinned, kissing him chastely before looking at the clock on the wall.

"Ahh, I'm gonna be late." As he dashed from the flat, he called back; "Can I borrow the car?"

"No."

"Thank you."

Less than thirty seconds later, Howard heard the beautiful roaring of a V8 engine and the screeching of brand new tires as Vince sped down the road, kicking up dust like in a bad 80's gun-movie and it felt like no time had passed since Vince had been infuriating him all those years ago.

--

Howard wasn't used to space and he wasn't used to being alone. He hadn't once been a alone in over ten years. Even the tiny attic felt too big and too empty without Vince. It was also, he rapidly realised, too quiet. He watched TV for a bit but had quickly turned off when the moustached idiot who presented Bargain Hunt popped on his screen, concluding that he would never be that bored.

--

He played with Naboo. Yes, he was that bored. The cat mewed softly, licking his hands as though remembering something familiar but it wasn't long before Howard was pushing it away and washing his slimy hand repeatedly under the tap.

--

He'd made the bed. Then, realising this meant he'd turn into some horrible cliché of a housewife, he ripped the sheets off again and threw them in a crumpled heap on to the mattress. That'll show Vince. he thought.

--

Made sandwich, put sandwich on plate, took sandwich to sofa, sat down. Ate sandwich… Still bored.

--

Mid-afternoon Howard decided to go for a drive, having completely forgotten that Vince had taken his car. It was, however, the final straw to see the empty parking space and Howard released his anger by putting a few bullets through a weird statue by the entrance of the abandoned old-Chinese restaurant. He felt better.

"Oi Moon. Vince is not gonna like that. That was his favourite gnome." A gnome? Was that what it was? In the centre of London? Maybe Vince really was mad. "He named it Charlie after a piece of chewing gum." No 'maybe' about it all Howard could find to say was;

"It's a bubble gum actually." and, not bothering to turn around; "Alright Hitcher."

"Nice to see you out Moon. Though I didn't think here's the first place you'd have come."

"Vince came and got me, didn't he?" Howard shrugged, finally catching the cold eye of his longest accomplice. "He drove, s'not like I had much choice where I went."

"So where is he?"

"Work."

"Ah yes. Hairdresser. He's such a stereotype of a queer, it's almost offensive. S'why I kicked him out in the end. Kid's bedroom needed a revolving door."

Hitcher watched with mutilated interest as Howard clenched his fists so that his knuckles drained of colour and his nails dug into his palm."Are you here for a reason?" he asked through gritted teeth, "Or are you just here to insult my…" Howard didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"My… what?" Hitcher probed interestedly.

"Nothing."

"Come on Moon. What is so important about him? You took the fall for him. You brought up the Rio thing so I'd look out for him. Unless, you and he are…" Howard's gut churned furiously. You've had it now. Shut up brain. "… Is he blackmailing you?"

Howard let out a sigh of relief and then, never one to miss a glorious lifeline like this one, said; "Yes, blackmail that's it. He's blackmailing me."

"I knew it."

"Yes, you did."

"Bollo reckoned you loved him but he's a dickhead. I told him, I said; 'you're a dickhead'."

"Sure is."

--

Hitcher didn't stay long, partly because Howard wouldn't let him and partly because he'd suddenly decided he had a new job to be getting on with. A few hours later Howard received a text saying simply;

Sent: 17:03
Date: 23/4/2009
Sender: Hitcher

Job finished. You're
free.

Howard read it, then he read it again, then for a third time. No, it still didn't make sense, so he dropped the phone onto a coffee table and continued to wait for Vince. Not that he'd really admit to himself that that was what he was doing.

--

Howard Frisbeed another ace of spades card at the dust bin, missing by mere millimetres. He groaned loudly and an internal commentator in his head said;

"The crowd didn't like that one."

Howard gritted his teeth and pulled the next card from the pack, six of clubs. This time. he sighed. He held the card in two fingers and flung it towards the bin, missing by miles this time.

"The crowd thought that one was shit." the voice in his head came again, louder, with a bit of a chuckle and not altogether in his head. His hand moved slowly to the gun in his pocket, his fingers clasped around the handle. He turned quickly pointing his gun at…

"Bollo?" he questioned, lowering the gun with a distinct look of disappointment in his eyes. "How the hell did you get in here

Vince gave me a key." was the gruff response as the ape-like man settled on the sofa next to Howard.

"He gave you a key?"

"Yeah"

"Why?"

"We used this place as a hideout for a while after the bank job ten years ago and I kept my key in case of emergencies." Howard raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Look Howard, when he moved in here, he was a depressed fucking moron with a gun. I made him give me a key coz I was fairly sure he was gonna try and kill himself. And I figured you wouldn't be too happy about that."

Howard shrugged, trying to seem blasé but the smirk on Bollo's face told him he'd failed miserably.

He ignored this and removed another card from the quickly diminishing packet and carefully aimed it in the direction of the bin.

"Why are you here anyway?" he asked as the card landed neatly in his glass of whiskey a good three foot short of the intended target.

"Thought I'd see if prison had driven you mad… And apparently it has." he added as Howard pulled the card out of his drink, downed the brown liquid and took another shot at the bin with the card (he missed). "What the hell are you doing?"

"A few of us used to play it inside."

"Did you ever win?"

"No," Howard admitted, "I never actually scored a point."

"Yeah, well you were never good at sports were you."

"Shut up."

Bollo grimaced, which Howard knew was as close to smiling as Bollo got. Then he said something so completely out of the blue that Howard threw his glass at the bin instead of a card.

"What?" Howard gawped, quickly picking up the shards of glass, wincing as one went into his thumb drawing just the tiniest bubble of red blood.

"I said," repeated Bollo infuriatingly slowly, "Did you really tell Hitcher to kill Vince?"

"No." Howard was as white as a ghost. "Why would you ask that?"

"Hitcher reckoned he'd spoken to you earlier and you said that Vince was bribing you and you wanted him gone."

"I didn't say anything like that."

"Didn't think you would of."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious you're fucking him, you woofta."

"You're a sick man."

"I'm right though, in I?"

"No." Howard lied coolly. He was good at lying, he'd made a living from it. He could lie to anyone. Well anyone except Vince. That little shit saw through every lie he'd ever told.

"So why're you so desperate to keep him safe then?"

"He's my nephew." Even Howard was proud with how quickly he'd come up with that lie.

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Sister. Older, Lucy." The lies kept coming, flowing so easily, like water from a tap and Bollo lapped them up like a thirsty puppy. "She'll kill me if anything happens to him and I'll never forgive myself. What did Hitcher say he was going to do?" He asked as he searched feverishly for his phone.

"Take a break."

"What? That doesn't even make sense."

"Nope I know. Just thought I'd warn you that your 'nephew'" - cough - "Bullshit" - cough - "might be in some kind of trouble." Oh. Maybe his lying hadn't been as fluid as he thought. Well, he was ten years out of practise. But all he said in return was;

"Nasty cough you've got there."

"I know. I hope I'm not coming down with that sickness you've got."

"What sickness?"

"Love sick."

"You're a fucking twat."

"And your fucking a twat."

"He's not a twat."

"But you are fucking him." Bollo grinned triumphantly.

Bugger. "Fuck off." was all Howard could manage as he produced a ten year old phone from his jacket pocket and quickly punched in the numbers. It rang for what seemed like a lifetime and then;

"Hello."

"Vince, oh thank god you're alright. Where ar-"

"Hello."

"Yeah, hello. Listen. I want you to st-"

"Hello, is there anybody in there."

"Stop messing about this is imp-"

"Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?"

"Are you… singing Pink Floyd at me?"

"I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone. Iiiiiii have become comfortably numb."

"Vince!"

"Hey, turns out I'm not here at the moment but if you wanna say some words after the bleep then I might ring you back later. Depends what words you say and whether I like you or not. After this bleep BLEEP."

"Right Vince, th-"

"Wait, not that one. Ha! Had you though didn't I? Right, after this bleep, BLEEP."

"Ring me as soon as you get this, I need to know that yo-"

"HA! Did you start leaving you message again? Oh my god, this is so funny. Right leave a message for real now, seriously, I've run out of credit and I ain't got no one to give me money for more. Real bleep coming now." Bleep.

"Vince, you're a twat." Howard hung up angrily.

"About the most annoying thing you've ever heard, right?" Bollo asked, a knowing smirk plastered across his squashy, ugly ape-face.

"Put it this way, if he ain't already dead… I'm gonna kill him." Then Howard went white again as the words he'd just spoken reached his ears. "Shit." he whispered, a sick feeling building up in his stomach. "What if he's…?" Howard stared with blank insanity at the wall before concluding; "I need another drink."

He poured a shot of whiskey into a glass, looked at it and then took a swig straight from the bottle.

--

It was late by now. Really late. Surely Vince should be home. Howard ran his clammy hands through his hair, muttering streams of expletives to himself. He'd never felt so lost. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like it. He was the notorious Howard Moon, who always knew what to do in any circumstance. But for the first time in his life he felt completely helpless. Bollo was still there, hovering around like an annoying fly you can't quite swat.

Just then, Howard's phone rang. He leapt to his feet and scrambled around for it in sheer desperation.

"Hello." he gasped, when he'd finally got it open.

"Howard!" came Vince's excitable shout. Howard breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Why am I a twat?"

"Where are you?"

"Driving home. Why? You miss me?"

"No."

"Thanks." Vince said angrily.

"That's not what I… never mind. Look, have you seen Hitcher at all today?"

"No."

"Good."

"Why?"

"No reason."

"Riiight, you've gone mad… Howard?"

"Yes?"

"I think you need to get your brakes fixed in your car. There not very good."

"Not very good? They should be fine maybe it's your drivi-… wait. Did you say brakes?"

"Yeah."

And then it dawned on him. Hitcher wasn't going to take a break in the KitKat sense of the words. He was going to take a brake. The brakes… from Howard's car.

"Vince, you have to get out of there."

"What?" came the puzzled reply.

"Look, that car is death trap. Just pull over and get out."

"Alright, calm down, calm down. I'll pull over in a lay by just up the road."

"Good."

"How am I supposed to get home then though?"

"Ummm." Howard looked around the room and grinned. "Bollo will come and get you." Maybe the oaf did have a purpose."I'll what?"

"He'll what?"

"Yeah just-"

"Shit! Howard!"

"What?! What is it?"

"The brakes are fucked. I can't stop."

"What?"

"Howard… what do I do?"

"Jump out."

"I can't"

"Yes you can. Please Vince. Get out."

"Howard! Howard!"

"Vince."

"Ohmygod! Howard. Howard I'm gonna die."

"No you're not."

"I am. I can't stop. Shit Howard. It's getting faster. Howard. Help. Howard."

"Just jump out."

"I can't… I'm… too scared. Howard, I love you… I love you."

"I love you."

"Howard. Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

Dial tone.

--

I know I'm mean!

The Song is Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.

Thanks for reading!

Sisi…xx