Note: AUGH I'm so unhappy with this! But my brain will crawl out my ears if I nitpick at it any further, so here!

Chapter 2

Howard's new favorite sound was that of the final bell toll at the end of his last class. Who in their right mind would schedule a math class for the end of the school day, when students are either all but passing out over their desks or so jittery with the excitement of freedom that there was about a snowball's chance any of them were paying attention to the teacher.

Exiting out the front doors of the school, amid a mob of suddenly enthusiastic teenagers, he looked out across the street to spot an oversized pink jacket containing a certain boy standing on the pavement. The primary classes let out nearly half an hour before Howard's school, so Howard was quite surprised that not only did the kid appear to be waiting for him (he was staring across the street at him like a stalker) but he'd been waiting for much longer than Howard was certain most children were willing to wait for anything.

Feeling a bit like the first victim in a horror movie, Howard made his way across the street; after looking both ways, of course! Once he was standing before the boy, Howard wasn't sure what to do or say. The kid just stared up at him, still seeming a bit tense, but no longer wary or frightened, just curious.

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Howard huffed lightly and pivoted on his heel to turn the street corner and head toward his home. He wasn't about to stand around like a cod fish in front of a kid he didn't even know! No, sir! And he was heading home. He had a lot of homework to do, besides. Crazed little pink street urchin, that's what that kid was. Just another one of those cockney spawn he was forced to sit in class with day after day. Stand on the edge of the street like a scene from some American horror show for twenty minutes and then go mute.

Howard was so lost in these internal rantings that it took him two blocks to realise the child had been trailing after him in silence the entire time. He stopped in his tracks so suddenly that the kid ran into him, knocking into the back of his legs before taking a few quick steps back. Howard once again turned on his heel and looked down at the boy, taking in his large blue eyes.

Silence stretched out like a rubber band; Howard letting it linger on for as long as he could stand, giving the kid a chance to break it with something, anything! After about two minutes the child was starting to freak him out.

"Well? Is your grasp of the English language limited only to that of the word 'hi'?"

Now Howard saw confusion playing within those eyes. He couldn't help the slight smirk that danced upon his face at this. Howard always did like the feeling of superiority. Back at his old school, he couldn't help but boast his excellent grades to anyone who would listen, and took great pleasure in trumping anyone in various fields of study, mainly literature. Needless to say, this led to him not having many (any at all) real friends. If Howard sensed that he had the edge on someone, especially if it came to brain power, Howard would practically leap onto said opportunity and milk it for all it was worth. So of course he couldn't help but continue on, cruel as he knew he was being.

"What's the matter? Not enough slang thrown in there for you to understand me? Should I have said something more along the lines of 'Alright, mate, could ya give a bloke some space so's I can head on to me home in peace, yeah?'"

Howard admitted internally that he was laying it on a bit thick. The shoddy accent might be pushing it. But hopefully it'd get the kid cross enough to leave him be. He honestly didn't want a little bright pink girl-boy following him home.

Anger was now written very clearly across the child's face. It seemed as if he really would walk off. However, angry though he seemed, the boy stood there, absorbing the insults in silence.

In the end it was Howard who became angry and stormed away. He decided to just ignore the annoyance, and when he finally came upon his front door, he opened it a bit too forcefully. Stepping inside, he glanced back to see the kid standing on the edge of his yard. Shaking his head to himself, he quickly locked the door behind him.

That night Howard couldn't sleep. He kept imagining he heard sounds in the house, as though that kid was sneaking about. He even thought he saw a flash of pink go under his bed at one point.

That was it. Howard was going to die tonight. Left to bleed out from a throat slit wide open by a pink lunatic. Of course, it was all in Howard's head. He knew it was, but it still scared the piss out of him every time he gazed across the room and thought he saw blue eyes darting about in the blackness. Always staring, always silent.

That goddamn pink jacket was there to greet him the very next day. What the hell was with this kid! Howard was very unnerved by him, which caused him to lash out harsh words over his shoulder every few metres. Seriously, though, why the silent treatment! He couldn't be that scared of Howard, or he wouldn't insist on acting as his shadow.

Two blocks later Howard resigned himself to his situation, and decided that he had himself two options before him: either physically force the kid to leave, as in scaring the pants off him or maybe hitting him. Or just accept this new blond-haired tick. While Howard could be petty and cruel, he simply couldn't dredge up the gall to become violent with this tiny thing. Well, with anyone, really, but like hell Howard would admit that! So with a sigh Howard decided to make the best of things. Looking over his shoulder at the child, still watching him goddammit, he peppered his tone with a light indifference.

"So, you never have told me your name. Do you even have one? Or do future thugs have to earn their titles by thieving or killing?"

Damn. Howard hadn't meant to be mean that time. It just came out. He really did have anger issues when he felt at a disadvantage. Howard wanted to be a bit kinder though, if he was to be escorted home every day. Besides, it was just a little kid. A dull, mute kid. But still, even the stupid deserved basic courtesy.

"You're not from here, are you?"

Well, there's something. The kid actually spoke! In a thick cockney accent, the small boy spoke in a small voice that wasn't as high-pitched and cartoony as Howard had imagined.

"Well well well. Now why should I answer you when you refuse to speak to me when I give my own inquiries? I'm from Leeds. Just moved here not too long ago."

"You hate it here. I can tell. You have this permanent grimace on your face, like you're walkin' wif a broomstick up your ass."

Turning to face the kid fully, Howard furrowed his brow at not only the crued language and big word coming from someone who looked five, but the insightfulness of this child's observation. Howard had thought he'd managed to fool everyone with his mask of indifference he'd been sporting since day one in this trench hole known as South London. He'd even managed to eventually fool his mother into thinking he'd settled down, and she could read him better than anyone he knew.

"How old are you anyway, kid?" Was the reply Howard's brain settled on as he continued his walk once more.

"I'm seven. Be eight in a few months, though." Seemed he was answering his questions now.

Reaching his front yard, Howard went to move up the small concrete walkway, then stopped short and turned to the boy.

"So...is this going to become a habit of yours? Trailing me home every day? Your parents are probably wondering where you are."

The kid's only reply was to smile slightly and then skip off back down the way he came. Howard shook his head at the pink figure darting off into the afternoon.

For over a week Howard had company on his walk home. They traveled mostly in silence, although the child sometimes would answer Howard's attempts at conversation. The kid wasn't so bad, once Howard got used to his presence where before there had always been solitude. He supposed it was kind of like having an annoying younger cousin who always insisted upon tagging along.

Friday afternoon Howard stood once more outside his door, looking down on the child as he turned to skip down the street, as was tradition by then.

"Wait!" Howard wasn't certain what possessed him to call out to the kid, causing him to pause in the middle of the street. This caused Howard to quickly step forward, head swiveling to look up and down the street.

"Get out of the road. D...do you want to come inside?"

Wincing slightly at how awkward he was sounding, Howard watched the kid slowly come back to stand before him.

"Alright."

A smile broke out on the kid's face. He seemed genuinely happy that Howard was inviting him into his house. This sparked a grin on Howard's own face. Walking up to his front door, Howard looked back down at the kid, who seemed a bit anxious all of a sudden, as if old suspicions were resurfacing.

"It's alright? I mean, your parents won't be angry or nothin'?"

"No, it's fine. It's just my mother. She'll just be happy to see me finally invite someone over, heh."

Okay, that was a little sad. Howard hadn't meant for that to come out so forlorn. And he especially didn't want this child knowing how invisible he really was. The kid seemed to pick up on Howard's attempt to back-pedal, and so sprouted out his question once more, as if to give Howard a second chance.

"I can really come in?"

"Yep. Yes, yes you can. You can come in, alright, but you can never leave."

Well. That was just bad. As the child's brow drew downward, Howard mentally punched himself in the jaw.

Yeah. Way to sound like some sort of creepy paedophile. That remark was sure to send the kid sprinting down the pavement. But the kid began to laugh instead, before adopting a serious expression and taking a step forward, bringing himself to stand directly in front of Howard. It was either a way to tell Howard that he understood it was simply a joke, or, if the kid took him seriously, it was his silent way of agreeing to the 'terms' Howard had set.

Swallowing thickly, Howard opened his front door and led the way into his house. Once the kid was standing beside him, looking about as if in awe, Howard closed the door with a small click. He gestured widely with his arms, falling (stumbling) into the role of host.

"Well, um, to the, er, right is the kitchen and dining room. And on the left is the sitting room. Just down the hall is the downstairs bathroom and laundryroom, and upstairs is mine and my mothers' rooms and the other bathroom, and..."

The boy looked up at him, smiling at the official tone Howard had put on, and Howard trailed off, feeling a bit foolish. It was just a house. The kid lived in one exactly like it, surely. Maybe a bit smaller, if Howard's mental image of the kid's upbringing was true. Howard felt a bit unfair for his imaginings of the child sitting in a rotting one-bedroom shared by five other siblings and jobless parents. It wasn't his place to assume.

"Can I see your room?" The boy had gone anxious again, maybe even shy, if Howard squinted.

"Sure." Was all that was said as Howard led the way upstairs. God, why did this have to be so weird and awkward. It was just the annoying kid! Sure, Howard had never, ever had friends over to his house, but wasn't this a fresh start, after all?

Once in his room, Howard was at a loss of what to say, so he simply stood to one wall and let the kid wander silently around the four-walled space, looking at everything, occasionally reaching out to lightly run his fingertips over something. One such object in particular was Howard's old gramophone. Well, his father's gramophone, that he was only partially ashamed to admit he'd nicked just before the move. Stepping forward, Howard stood next to the kid as he carefully thumbed through Howard's records, kept organised in a small box. Howard hoped to one day have a better place to keep and display them.

"You like jazz? I only have a few records, but this one here is actually really rare-"

"Yuck. I hate jazz."

Howard swore he heard the sound of his record player's needle jump, though the thing was turned off. Howard was once more uncertain of how to respond to this damn annoying kid. He was saved from trying by the child, yet again. If this was to become their manner of communication Howard might just do something rash, like leap from his bedroom window. Or chuck the kid out.

"Yikes, you sure do have a lot of 'em, don't you. Jazz makes me ill. It sounds awful."

Scrunching up his pale face, the boy turned from the records and focused his attention on Howard's bookshelf. This didn't seem to improve his downtrodden mood, as he scanned the titles, saying aloud as he did so in a voice filled with...something.

"This is all you read? Chekhov? History books? Is this a politics book? Shit, you even 'ave an atlas of Norf Europe. Tha's it. You're becomin' a teacher when you get old. I knew you would, I could tell by your shoes."

Glancing down at his brown loafers, Howard directed an aggravated look at the back of the child's head, saying in a short tone, "I like Chekhov, and geography. Why does that make me a teacher? And even if I were to become one, why is that bad? Listen, did you ask to see my room simply so you could use its contents to insult me?"

The kid had enough grace to look a little apologetic as he sat down on the edge of Howard's bed, facing him.

"Sorry. Guess it's okay if you like boring fings. Cause you're boring; they match you."

"Well, sir, if I'm so boring to you, why don't you go do something better with your time? Because I know quite a few things I'd rather be doing than entertaining annoying street brats."

"I'm not bored."

"But you just said you were."

"No. I said you was boring. I'm not bored, though."

"Stop talking in circles." Heaving a heavy sigh, Howard ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, it's getting dark. You should go to your own house. Your parents will worry."

For a moment the kid looked about to protest, his mouth flying open, then closed. He looked once more about the room, then back at Howard, then to the floor, then back up to Howard, and with an unreadable expression, opened his mouth once more.

"Vince Noir."

"What?"

"Vince Noir. That's my name. I was told never to give my name to someone I couldn't trust. But...I guess you're alright."

"Vince. Well...nice to, uh, know your name, Vince. I'm Howard."

Howard felt foolish when he recalled he'd already told the child his name days ago. Vince only smiled at Howard and stood from the bed.

Leading the way back to his front door, Howard watched the pink jacket grow distant in the fading light. Closing the door, Howard felt drained. Forget homework, he was going to sleep.