Chapter 7

Christmas cast its shadow over Howard before he had a chance to brace himself for it. He'd lost track of the days. He felt completely time-warped for some reason. Howard no longer saw time as numbers and hands on a clock face. Time was now measured out in segments. There was the chunk of much-too-long time in classes; then there was Vince time; and then home time, filled mostly with sleep and weird dreams.

Once the realisation that it was Christmas eve was upon him, Howard went into an outright panic. He didn't have a present for Vince. Nor did he have much money of his own. He'd been saving up meager earnings from chores and birthday money for years to buy a new guitar with. A bass one. He wanted so badly to learn to play bass. But he also knew he couldn't face the kid without a present in hand the next day.

Howard flinched when he ultimately made the decision to skip his visit to Vince on that day and instead spend it scouring the countryside's shops. It wasn't an easy decision, and envisioning Vince sitting alone waiting for him made Howard feel nauseous, so he poured all of his focus into finding the perfect gift to make up for it.

Sputtering out his plans to his mother as he struggled into his brown coat, Howard leapt from the door and flew down the street. Then he realised he'd blooming forgot his money, ran back the two blocks he'd covered, sprinted up his stairs, and pocketed the money laid on his dresser. He then repeated his earlier actions, racing past his mother and out the door, and got about five metres before slipping on the icy pavement and landing flat out like a sprawling beetle.

Five hours later and still nursing a bruised backside, Howard walked back through his front door, not entirely satisfied with his final choice. He'd exhausted all the shops he could find, and nothing had stood out to him, and the items that did were far beyond his price range. So Howard had admitted defeat and bought the kid a little electric keyboard. Howard felt like a loser; this thing was obviously for five-year-olds. Vince would hate it. Press a few keys, get bored and throw it in a bin. But it was the only thing he could find in the last store that seemed decent enough. And it was cheap. He still had quite a bit of his money left. He felt greedy for thinking of it that way. But it was his money, after all.

The look his mother gave him when he asked if she had any wrapping paper made Howard feel itchy. She had practically broken his spine with the powerful hug she gave him upon realising his intention of giving a gift to Vince. Then Isabella had gone into a frenzy, snatching the keyboard from Howard's loose grasp and proceeding to fuss over it until it was tightly wrapped with a nice little blue ribbon on top. He hadn't seen his mother glow quite like that since he himself used to get excited over presents at Christmas.

Opening the door to Vince's room, Howard saw that the boy was surprisingly asleep. Howard just settled quietly into the chair, wrapped present under arm, and watched the boy for a few minutes. Vince was recovering quickly, and would soon be able to leave. Howard knew it'd be after school began, and he'd already made arrangements with the headmaster to bring Vince his schoolwork when classes resumed. Now that had sent the old headmaster for a twirl; a seventeen-year-old wishing to deliver schoolwork to a child still in primary school. What a thought.

The damn kid had the nerve to sleep through the entire day. All through Christmas. As the sky darkened Howard was more than a little agitated. He'd considered just leaving the present for Vince to find with a note, but every time he made to rise from his seat, he just felt bound to it, as though he were magnetised. He told himself it was just to watch over the boy; to make sure he didn't suffocate under the duvet.

As the hour grew late, Howard did have to leave for a brief moment to call his mother and announce he'd be staying on. For how long? She had asked. Howard answered that he didn't know.

When Howard's watch read 10:01 he began to worry. No one should sleep for an entire day, let alone hyperactive little kids. Howard waved down a nurse from the doorway, surprised one hadn't come by to kick him out yet, and asked her if anything was wrong with Vince. He knew he shouldn't have left him alone, even for a day. Now he'd taken a turn for the worst!

The nurse, sensing Howard's rising panic, smiled gently and assured him that Vince was simply sedated. He'd had to be; the entire day yesterday he'd apparently thrown an absolute fit. Shouting and trying to escape from his bed. The doctors had finally just drugged him. He was sure to come around in about another hour or so.

Now Howard felt like an asshole. He thanked the nurse and closed the door once more, dropping into his chair like a weight.

It was now 11:56, no longer Christmas. That didn't stop Howard from murmuring a "Happy Christmas" when Vince finally opened his eyes. Vince didn't return the words. In fact, he looked away from Howard almost immediately and opted instead to stare out the window at the night sky. Howard's thoughts couldn't help but spiral southward at this.

'He's angry at me.'

"It's a full moon." Vince finally said after a few seconds of Howard getting more and more tense. Howard wasn't sure what to make of this random statement, but decided to just go with it, and so packed his reply full of cheeriness even though, to be honest, he was tired and achey from sitting about all damn day and night, you insufferable little brat.

"Y-yeah, it's beautiful."

"It's awful. I hate the moon; he's creepy. Always sayin' weird stuff."

'You're weird.'

"Ah. Well...I got your Christmas present right here. Want to open it?"

Howard neglected to point out that he didn't see any presents lying around from Vince's adoptive family, nor had he seen them all day. This brought Howard's mood crashing into the tiles. If his cheap gift was the only thing the kid would be getting, then Howard might have to punch a wall. Or a guardian.

Vince's head swerved from the window to face Howard so quickly Howard flinched at the soft crack he heard from the child's neck. Vince didn't seem to notice though as his eyes now filled with surprise and delight.

"You got me a present?"

"Well yes. It is Christmas."

"Yeah but you didn't have to, ya know, get me nothin'. I don' even have somethin' for you."

"That's alright. I'll survive. After all, you're the kid here. What kind of kid doesn't get presents on Christmas?"

"I know lots of kids that don't get presents on Christmas."

That shut Howard right up. He bent over to retrieve the wrapped bundle in silence, handing it off to the boy to watch him slowly tear the wrapping paper off. Not surprisingly, the kid seemed entirely enchanted with the paper, holding strips of it up in the low light and watching the colors dance. Next Christmas Howard planned to just buy the boy a few giant roles of the shiniest wrapping paper he could find.

Finally Vince got over the sparkly wrappings and made it to the actual gift. Howard wanted to close his eyes, but restrained himself, as that would be childish. He did cast his gaze upon the floor, though. For several short breaths nothing was said, and Howard felt a right coward for not meeting the child's eyes, which he could feel digging into his eyelids.

"I love it."

The words were small and soft, and when Howard looked up and into the boy's face he saw sincerity there. Vince had no smile, his face was almost blank; but he did appear very happy with his present, so Howard smiled for the both of them and let out the long puff of air he'd been holding in.

Howard struggled amid the mass of small bodies bumping and morphing together to form a massive sea of children. He was currently making his way toward the primary school's office, where he was told he'd receive Vince's work, left there by his teacher.

Howard felt foolish keeping his arms nearly at level with his own head, but he didn't feel comfortable letting them hang by his sides, only to get slapped and batted about by children running up and down the over-crowded hall.

Seeing the door with the word 'office' on it was like seeing an oasis, or an island. Howard surged forward, hands still held high, practically on his tip toes as if he could hover away from these kids and their pointy elbows. Hand on the doorknob, Howard fell into the room and simply stood there for a moment, breathing in the fresh open air and getting his wits together.

He opened his eyes to see a vaguely amused looking woman behind a desk with many files laid out on top. Howard guessed she was the over-seer of the primary school, seeing as the Headmaster preferred spending much of his time across the street.

"Uh, Vince Noir? I was told I'd find his schoolwork here..."

"Ah yes! Noir. Noir, let's see...here ya go, sweetie."

The woman smiled and pushed forward a particular stack, not as tall as the others, thankfully. It was mainly textbooks, with a small note stuck to the top reading 'Vincent Noir' in scribbled ink. Raising his eyebrows, Howard bid the lady good day and nearly dropped to his knees in relief when he discovered the previously overrun hallway to be deserted, the children having gone home for the afternoon.

Howard entered the hospital room and immediately began to set up Vince's overbed table. When Vince realised why he let out a groan and pulled the duvet up over his face. Howard grinned down at the top of his head, thumping it lightly with his finger.

"C'mon now, up and at 'em. If you don't start now it'll only pile up. Come on, get up. Stop whinging about. I'll help you if you want. Vincent."

That did the trick. Vince snatched the duvet down and stared up at Howard, brow drawn and eyes sharp.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"It's written right there. Why did you never tell me that was your full name? I mean, I should've known. No one's named just Vince. I like it."

"Well I don't! It sounds like the name of some posh twat."

"Easy on the language. Now c'mon, sit up a bit. Doctors say you can now, and right in time to do some work!"

Vince groaned once more, and with the aid of Howard's hand on his shoulder he sat up nearly straight. Howard let out a quiet laugh at Vince's expression, as if he were going to a funeral rather than doing some bookwork. This earned him a glare as he set the stack of texts and papers on his chair and picked up the top one. Placing it on the bed table and opening it, Howard found another note, this one with written instructions on what Vince was to study. Howard braced himself for the long afternoon of the kid's work plus his own when he got home, and took a seat next to the boy on the bed.

"So...you got a middle name?"

Howard couldn't help but throw this bit of curiosity out in the air as he readied to leave, three hours later. They had worked as long as Howard thought was necessary, finishing over half the pile. He felt rather proud of himself, and Vince.

Vince shook his head mutely at Howard's question. He didn't elaborate, though, and Howard didn't bother inquiring any further. Chances are he'd just get some cock and bull fairytale in reply, and he was in no state of mind to be deciphering metaphors. He had a history paper due. Goddamn teachers. School had only let in a day ago!

Bending over the kid to get back his jacket, which he'd let the child bury his arms in for far too long, Howard made it down the hospital hallway before staggering blindly against a wall at the realisation that he had just kissed the kid on top of his head before leaving the room.

Two weeks passed, school was back in full swing, and Vince was nearly recovered enough to leave the hospital. All in all, everything was looking up for Howard. Soon he'd be able to bid farewell to his school years and get on with his life! He entered Vince's room with a skip in his step, and the two spent an hour engaged in Vince's tales, which he'd just begun telling Howard again at the teen's insistence. Vince had seemed hesitant at first, as if still skeptical over the whole crocodile ordeal. But Howard was determined to bury that deep in the past. The young man had come to live with the fact that he'd most likely never know who'd hurt Vince that night, and Vince certainly would never just up and reveal the truth goddammit. The kid didn't even mention it, and practically feigned amnesia every time the subject was brought up. The only evidence to show of that night weeks ago was the tiny scar along the underside of Vince's left jawbone. The scar left by a rope, so the doctors said. You couldn't even see it unless the boy looked upward, and Howard doubted Vince knew it was even there. No, it was best to just leave this whole ordeal in the past, and simply stay alert, in case of future attacks on the child. And anyway, these stories really did seem to brighten the kid's mood more than anything else, so Howard was all too happy to play at contentment and listen.

After finishing off a story about Caloonie the Cobra, Vince barely took in a breath before announcing excitedly, "It's my birthday today. I'm eight!"

Howard thought he heard glass shattering distantly. Damn. He wasn't prepared for this. He didn't have a present. He didn't even have a bleeding cake! Or candles or balloons or-

'Hold it right there, Moon. What the flippin' hell are you on!? Your not throwing this kid a party in the infirmary front hall, now are you. Calm down!'

"Why didn't you tell me before? I...I could've gotten you something."

"What? Why?"

"W-well, because."

"Howard," Vince was laughing now, and Howard had calmed enough to realised he sounded silly, stuttering and sputtering on as he was. "It's alright, really! I'm fine. I love your Christmas present you got me; tha's all I need."

To prove his point, Vince picked the little yellow keyboard off the bedside table and began thumming keys. He clearly didn't know how to play, but judging by the look of concentration on the kid's face, Howard was sure he would learn very soon. Still, Howard felt a driving need to give the kid something.

"How about this. For your birthday present I will...give you French lessons."

"Wot, like the language?"

"Yes like the language, what else- look, when you get out of this sterile prison, I'll start teaching you French in the evenings after classes. How's that sound?"

Vince seemed a bit put off for a few moments, and Howard was sure he'd laugh the offer off, but when Vince met his eyes once more he looked incredibly intrigued at the prospect of learning a new language.

"I think I'd like that. I always wanted to know what was so great about them French types."

A few more horrid keyboard smashes and Howard had to temporarily retreat into his 'happy place' for a bit. Just until the kid stopped playing that electric ear-bleeder.