Hey, I'm back. Sorry for the unannounced hiatus, but I've had lots of coursework and I have mocks, coursework, science GCSE re-sits, and an AS level to revise for :P

Oh, and I stole the title and got the inspiration from the song 'After every party I die' by IAMX and I don't own the Boosh, even though I met them both on Saturday at the Brighton signing!!

Dedicated to the lovely Tamsin (swisstony) :)

After Every Party I Die

Vince's POV.

Leroy's throwing a party tonight. It's gonna be genius, girls, drink, hopefully some drugs if I can find any- which I usually do. It's all perfect for forgetting him. Not that he's done anything wrong, he's perfect. It's me that's not- why would a wonderful man like him want somebody like me? I'm a shallow excuse for a man, he's intelligent, deep and kind. Parties are great, I can drown all of that out- alcohol, an easy fuck, they have it all.

It's four hours until it starts. I grab my fluffy blue towel and go to the bathroom. I take a long shower and ignore Howard's yells at me to stop running the water bills up. Doesn't he realise that water comes free with the flat? I wash my hair carefully, using those nice salon products that cost me loads of my wages. Then I wash myself with lots of nice, smelly shower stuff.

I jump out of the shower, drying myself, combing through my prized hair, carefully teasing any knots out. I then walk through to my room. I shove some boxers on and dry my hair, straightening it slowly until it's all perfect. I put product in, root booster, miracle wax, and I spray some dry wax in to hold it in place. I then open my large wardrobe. I try on several outfits, before eventually opting for a blue t-shirt with a genius tape print, and a black jacket with silver studs around the collar.

It's all for him.

But when I grab my keys and phone and walk through to the living-room, Howard doesn't compliment me, he just looks up at me, his small brown eyes looking up at my face, narrowing slightly.

"Vince, you're destroying yourself. You've been out every night this month, turning up in the early hours, doing an hours work at the end of the day after you've slept it off, I'm sick of covering for you Vince, you need to start taking more care of yourself."

I hate this caring father attitude, I don't want him to be a father, I don't even really want him to be a friend, I want him to be so much more than that. But I know he doesn't want the same thing. He is a man of action, he likes girls, he's as straight as a ruler. I know he'd never want anything to do with me.

"Bye Howard, I'll be back later."

I close the flat door behind me.

I walk round to Leroy's house, its only around the corner, and he's always having parties. Perfect. I walk through the unlocked door, into a haze of smoke, music and free-flowing alcohol.

"Vince!" Leroy shouts, smiling at me.

"Leroy!" I say, forcing a smile.

He hands me a drink, it's something blue, and it seems quite strong. Just how I like it.

A few hours later I'm out of my mind, dancing with a brunette. Sure she's pretty, but I know who I'd rather dance with, but he doesn't dance, and like I said, he's straight.

"You wanna go somewhere quieter?" she says.

I nod, flashing her a sexy smile. We go upstairs, find an empty room. She kisses me, her tongue alien in my mouth. She peels her top off, shedding it like an extra skin.

It feels wrong. I don't want to be here in this dingy room, drowning my sorrows in casual sex. I want to be with him, but he doesn't want to be with me. It almost feels like I'm cheating on him, even though we were never together in the first place. This feels all wrong.

"Sorry, I can't do this" I mumble, grabbing my jacket and running out of the house. I run as far as I can, which isn't very far because my shoes are giving me blisters, and I have a huge stitch. But none of this is as painful as how my heart feels, loving him so much with no hope of him ever returning it.

I slump against a wall, sliding down onto the floor, sitting on the hard , cold pavement. This is what has become of 'Vince Noir, Rock and Roll star'. I'm sitting in the street openly crying, dishevelled and alone. To me it seems like after every party I die a bit more.

Sorry this wasn't very long, or good, but it was just something short to ease me back into writing after my little hiatus.

Should I continue, or leave it as a little one-shot? Honest opinions please, and constructive criticism is welcome.

xx