The next time they met up, Howard had mentioned that he was writing a review of these new machines called DVD players for The Standard.

"They won't last." he told Vince casually after the smaller man had begged to see it. "Video's are much better. I promise you, this DVD thing will last a few months at the most."

"Still." Vince grinned, waiting patiently as Howard opened the front door to his tiny flat, "I can't believe you've got one. These things are like gold dust at the moment. I didn't even think they sold them properly yet."

"They don't. It's like a prototype thing." explained Howard, opening the door and letting Vince in. He pointed Vince towards a large silver box, set up in front of his tiny TV. On top of the DVD player was a small plastic wallet with a CD inside.

"What's on this?" Vince asked, waving the disk around in Howard's direction, whilst keeping his full concentration on the DVD player as he studied every bit intently.

"It's a promotional disk because nothing's come out on DVD yet. You're holding one of the first DVD's ever to be made."

Vince laughed in a way that suggested that was the coolest thing he'd ever heard. "Really? Can we put it on?"

"Do we have to?" groaned Howard. "It's the most boring thing in the world."

"So." shrugged Vince. "Turn the lights off. We'll make it moody and dark like a cinema."

"You're mad." laughed Howard, but he did it anyway. He kicked his shoes off and settled himself on the sofa. Vince put the disk in the player and grinned in delight as someone called Dr James Nickel started to talk to them about the advantages of DVD over wasn't exactly flushed with furniture in his studio apartment, which meant Vince had to squeeze onto the same tiny sofa. Their hips touched and thighs pressed tightly together and Howard had to fight hard against the urge to touch Vince's leg with his hand. It would be so easy, he could just 'slip' and oops he'd be resting his hand on Vince's thigh. Instead, he put his left arm across the back of the sofa, partially for practicality, mainly because it almost felt like Vince was his. Howard wasn't sure that he imagined Vince getting slightly closer. He was sure they weren't pressed this close together a second ago but he didn't mention it. He was terrified that the younger man may run off or, worse, throw up.

Howard wasn't thinking about the TV anymore. He had no idea what Dr James Nickel was on about and, quite frankly, he didn't care. All he cared about was the smell of Vince's hair and his expensive cologne, the rise and fall of his chest. He could feel every breath against his side. Vince shuffled a little and Howard's breath hitched in his throat. He was lost now, in a world that was made entirely of Vince, where every smell was of Vince, every sound was Vince's voice, every thought, every feeling, every heartbeat; Vince, Vince, Vince.

Howard felt the rush over come him. That crazy, heady feeling you get just before you're about to do something exhilarating and slightly insane. With that, he grabbed Vince's face and crashed their mouths together. As soon as he'd done it, Howard wondered what he was doing. This was stupid, utterly, utterly stupid. Vince had a girlfriend, he was a changed man, he didn't like Howard in that way anymore but if all that was true, why wasn't Vince pushing him away? Why was he sliding his tongue lightly over Howard's lips begging for entry? Howard lips parted and the familiar feeling of kissing Vince filled his heart with joy. Howard wasn't sure how long they'd been wrapped up in their lazy tongue tussle, when Vince suddenly shoved him away with force he didn't know the smaller man possessed.

Vince's eye were wide with terror. He was pale and gasping and shaking his head furiously repeating the same word over and over again.

"No."

He got to his feet and scrabbled for his shoes, eyes still fixed on Howard. Still, whispering 'no', still shaking his head.

"I'm sorry." Howard tired to say as he realised what had happened. "Really Vince. I'm sorry. Don't go."

But the smaller man was already out the door. He ran, faster than he'd ever run before. He didn't look back. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to see that look in Howard's eyes; the confusion, the hurt.

His heart hammered in his chest as he neared home. His lungs screamed in protest as he gulped in the much needed air. His legs just about carried him to his front door. He fumbled with his key as he rushed to open the door. He wasn't sure why he was rushing so much. Howard hadn't followed him but he still felt as though he were being chased, chased by a memory that his body wouldn't let him forget. His mind flashed back to Howard, kissing him, slowly, lovingly, stirring up all kinds of emotions Vince had forgotten, or had been made to forget. He shoved the key in the door and kicked the thing open. The door slammed as it closed behind him. The house shook. Vince staggered through the living room, where Kath was on her feet staring at her boyfriend. She was clearly terrified.

"Vince." she gasped. "Are you okay? Have you been in a fight? Honey, what's happened?"

Vince ignored her. He just fell against the far wall. He felt dizzy. His mind was whirling with so many things he'd forgotten. He felt like he was waking up from a vivid nightmare. It was as though every time he blinked another terrifying memory returned to him. He could see flames, licking up a painting. His painting. He felt the anger burning inside himself as he watched the fire destroying his work. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He was in too much pain. Then he saw two men, he didn't recognize them. They were kissing slowly. They looked like they were in love. They looked happy but Vince couldn't watch. He wanted to run away but he couldn't his limbs were too heavy. He vomited. Luckily, he'd managed to stagger to the sink.

"Vince." Kath gasped, from somewhere far, far away. Though she was right next to him, rubbing his back, "D'you need an ambulance?"

He shook his head and heard a voice that sounded like his own ask for water as he hurled again. More images flashed through his brain, men, bare skin, touching, rubbing together, men, men, men. One image after another and then a pain in his stomach like he'd never felt… except he had. He'd felt all this before but worse. A hundred times worse, a million times worse.

Another image.

He vomited.

And then…

Darkness.

I promised angst! =]

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