Yes, yes, another angsty one-shot. This was just something I writ to try and get myself back into writing to be honest, 'coz I was coming close to giving up on it, just due to lack of interest. So it's a bit half-hearted but felt the need to post it all the same.

Disclaimer: Boosh belongs to Barratt et Fielding. The lyrics are from Linkin Park's "What I've Done" which I also don't own.

In this farewell,
There's no blood,
There's no alibi.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't think beyond what I'm narrating right now.

My stomach moves violently and I fear I'm going to throw up a lung. My heart is in my ears, beside the brain that's putting up a fierce struggle to believe what I'm seeing.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, my legs unfreeze and I can step slowly closer. My speed doesn't make any sense. I should be rushing to him in the blink of an eye but even in this of all moments, the coward in me rules all. No. No, no more. Not now.

I stumble, falling down onto my knees, to Vince's head lying face down on the tiled floor. My hand reaches out and strokes through those once perfectly fluffed raven locks that are now drenched with the blood that pools from the back of his head. I stroke a part out of the way so I can see the visible half of his face, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. The same expression he has when I sometimes find him crashed out, sleeping semi-peacefully, on the sofa on a Saturday morn. Only he's not asleep this time.

And that's when my stomach threatens to implode again.

They told me I can't move him. It's not like I don't want to. He looks so tiny and broken before me that I wanna cradle his cracked head in my lap. But what if I hurt him even more? I've done enough as it is. And I know I'm far from perfect - if I denied such a thing before then I'll admit it now - and I've done some unforgivable things in my time. Things that I've only gotten away with by the unconditional friendship of my simple roommate who's motto was; "No 'arm done, ey?" Well this time was different. This was bigger than hurt feelings from a cruel prank or a harsh teasing.

This was the end of it all. I could feel it in every one of my shaking fingertips.

'Cause I've drawn regret,
From the truth
Of a thousand lies.

There's a weak groan from Vince's paling lips and suddenly time decides to spring back to life at a fast forward pace. The sound is so weak and pitiful that it's more like the first mewl of a newborn kitten. I pulled back my hand from the wound on his head as if expecting him to snap it off with his bare teeth. But his face only creases at the agony probably raging through his skull and the inability to move.

I want to speak. I want to tell him not to be afraid and that help is on its way. My throat however is too dry to function and I fear speaking will remind him of the reason he's lying half-conscious with a serious head injury. That reason being yours truly.

His fingers twitch and stretch out, as if knowingly, towards my trouser leg.

"'Ow…Howa…Howard…?"

It takes a mere three breaths for him to fall back into unconsciousness. It's so quick and unlikely, considering, that I start to wonder if I imagined it. My eyes glance back to the grotesque hole in his head that just wont stop bleeding!

Suddenly the shriek of ambulance sirens pierce my eardrums and I'm not alone. Then why do I still feel so scared? Is it just the default emotion for me now? And I'm more terrified than I've ever been in my life. Terrified that those men will come in and tell me that my Vince is never gonna open his eyes again. Terrified that I'm gonna be asked why he's on the floor and why I'm perfectly safe. I look down at my hand. Vince's blood drips mournfully down my fingers.

So let mercy come
And wash away
What I've done…

As soon as the door opens I don't waste another second. I leave them to it and do what I'm always best at in these situations.

I run for my miserable life.

* * *

It had just started as any other normal weekday. I awoke at the crack of dawn and within twenty minutes I was downstairs setting up the shop for yet another slow, sale-less Thursday. Vince finally made his appearance just before eleven. I should've foreseen him getting up early as a bad omen. Of course, I gave him the usual scolding about having to man a shop single-handedly. The impudent little twerp had deigned to ask what hassle I'd had to deal with when not having any customers. Yes, I did tell him that wasn't the point. He asked me 'what was the point then?' I told him to shut up. That was it.

Apart from our usual routine bickering, Vince seemed somewhat brighter than he usually did of late. Of course, once upon a time, the younger man had been a constant source of sunshine and rainbows. Lately, however, he seemed to be an unpredictable tornado of mood swings, sneers and diva tantrums.

Not today though. Today he'd been full of smiles and light-hearted jokes - not all of them at my expense - with a sparkle in his eyes that I was worried had burnt out months ago. Christy knows the reason behind it. After all, he's been struggling through the rapids of shit creak as much as I have in the success department. The Black Tubes had rejected him. Our recent tour had been a streak of gigs filled only with sociopaths and people mistaking us for a deranged comedy group from a parallel universe. Even Camden itself seemed less interested in Vince lately, his popularity having been replaced - by his Facebook profile of all people.

So why was it the little man had suddenly gone from the bitchy Queen of Sheba back to his old, child-like self in the matter of a night?

"Hey Howard, you wouldn't believe the stories I'm reading in this," harks Vince, perched on the edge of the counter, reading one of those trashy gossip magazines. This one happened to have the tagline; 'You won't believe the stories you read in this.'

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Well this guy had a sex change and then he changed his mind and wanted to go back to how he was but the docs wouldn't let him. So he set up this campaign. But then he changed his mind again and wants to stay as he is. Typical woman, ey?"

"…Is this your way of explaining your real origins, Vince?"

"Very funny."

"Well one day you'll probably be reading my name in one of those papers."

"What, you wanna have a sex change?"

"No, I mean-"

"That's a bit freaky. But y'know, if it's what you want, I'll support you, hundred per cent. We can even share clothes and you can come to Topshop with me, it'll be genius!"

"I'm not having a sex change! I just meant one day I'll do something that will have everyone talking in awe."

"What like 'Man opens freezer, finds tub of Ben & Jerrys'?"

"Something a bit more credible than that, little man."

"Haagen Daz then."

"No, I just mean that one day I'll finally be able to climb out of this pit of hopelessness and hit the big time - king of the world."

"What will that make me then? Your Queen?"

I can't help but notice a twist in Vince's smile that made me somewhat uneasy.

"I was thinking more Court Jester."

"Oh thanks a bunch."

"Don't worry, Vince, no matter how high I fly, I'll never forget to bring those with me that truly matter."

Vince's brow creases for a moment. He then asks, in all seriousness; "Promise?"

I look at him. His eyes are wide with desperation for an answer he needs to hear.

"Well, I-"

"GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! NOW!"

We both look to the door that neither of us had even heard open.

Standing in the threshold is a thin figure covered in black from the converses on his feet to the balaclava covering his head. He has a young, terrified teenage girl - probably no more than fifteen years old - in a headlock with his right arm. In his left hand he's holding a shiny black pistol held fixed against her scraggly red hair. She's too scared to struggle, just standing rigid in the man's hold, her eyes closed and whimpering, as if it was all some horrible nightmare. I can't help but notice her school uniform. He obviously just grabbed her off the street at random. Just like he probably randomly chosen our shop of all the shops in Dalston.

I hear Vince jump and make a sound beside me. His fingers brush against my wrist and I instantly pull away as if burned by his touch. The last thing I need in this situation was something else to set my nerves ablaze.

"I said hands in the air. NOW!" The man hollers again and the girl let out a small cry.

Both of us did as we were told.

"Right. Now you, Granddad, you got a safe or something?"

"Er…No, not to my knowledge." I stammer with the best scared-shitless smile I could summon. Not that I'm scared, no sir, just…averagely put off by this turn of events.

"Nah, we ain't," Vince confirms, "We just keep it under the floorboard in the stock room, it's less obvious."

"VINCE!"

"Oh…Sorry." He winces at my scolding. Of all the people to be stuck in a robbery with!

The man's eyes glisten in the slits of his hood; "Right then. You go in the stock room and get me everything from the safe. Whereas your wife's gonna empty the till for me. ANY wrong movements…..and BANG!"

Tears slip from the child's eyes. I nod, instantly stepping back but keeping my hands where he can see them; "Right, h…here I go." I put my lips close to Vince's ear; "Just do what he says, ey, then he'll be gone."

But from the corner of my eye I can see a dark look growing on Vince's face that I really, really don't like the look of. He's frowning at the girl and then the robber. Why can't he just make this easy for once?!

"Why don't you just let 'er go, mate? I'm sure you could've found a much fitter girl to take as a hostage, instead of just any old minger you passed."

My jaw nearly deserts my face. How can Vince say such a callous thing in this of all times? I look to the poor girl, fearing the devastation and added despair on her innocent face…

"Who you callin' a minger, you gothic freak?!" The girl snaps at Vince, now suddenly having been released from her captor's grasp.

"Wha..How did you know..?" I ask Vince, struck for words. Or sense.

Vince flashes me a brief smirk; "I've seen better acting from you doing your Hamlet."

Suddenly I'm torn between hugging him and punching him.

A sharp click brings me back into the situation at hand. The guy is still pointing the gun at both of us. All that had changed was that his 'hostage' was at his side like a spunky side-kick. A plea not to die on the basis of how much I have left to give plays on the edge of my tongue - but I'm unable to speak a word.

"Just give us the money! Now!" He orders, holding his weapon with both gloved hands.

I go to step back again but Vince holds my wrist tight.

"Don't worry, Howard, it ain't a proper gun." He says, rather blasé. "You can buy them at Toys R Us, I got Leroy one last Christmas."

The guy then points his toy gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger - firing a bullet at the light-bulb overhead that explodes spectacularly.

Once my heart is close to beating normally again, I look at Vince.

"…Okay, the guns aren't real. Just the bullets."

The barrel is aimed at the both of us again.

"You. Safe." He orders to me, "You. Till." He adds to Vince, who granted is looking a bit less sure of himself now.

"Vince….just do it, alright."

Vince looks at me like I'm the crazy one; "He ain't gonna do anything, 'Oward. Why else would be bring her to be in on it? Just to scare us." He then adds in a hushed tone, "Go back and press the alarm so Naboo can come 'ere and save us."

"STOP TALKING AND DO AS I FUCKING SAY!" The guy roars, becoming more frustrated as the many clocks of the shop all tick on.

Even his girlfriend's clearly getting edgy; "Do it, you shit-heads! He'll shoot, trust me!"

Vince shoots me one last knowing look as his hands moved slowly towards the till.

I slowly step back, my hands above my head, watching with a fragile gut as the guy keeps his aim on me for as long as he can see me. I edge towards the stock room, seeing the alarm button as I pass.

This is my chance. Maybe my only one.

But his aim is on Vince for the moment, eyes only glancing over to me every now and then, but I'm now half way over the threshold of the stock room…

The stock room…The stock room with the rather sturdy door that at the moment did only I have the key to…

It was perfect.

"You sorted that till yet, bitch?!" I hear him roar at Vince who's mulling around with the till, pretending not to know how to open it. Though, thinking about it, he probably isn't pretending.

I think I hear the younger man gulp; "Er…yeah. M'doin' it. I guess I should do it…now, ey."

He has his head very subtly turned to look back at me through his periphery.

Now I feel caught between a rock and Old Gregg with an oversized fish-hook.

"Fucking hurry it up, you stupid cow!" the berk close to spitting with rage.

Vince lets out a small sob; "Y..yeah…I should do it now. No messin' around, I should just get the fuck on with it."

Oh Vince. Oh poor, sweet Vince, I wish I could. But you know me. You know what I'm like. It's too much of a risk if he see's me. I just can't.

I move inside the stock room. The creak of the door gave me away.

From my angle I can just see Vince standing with his head face down at the till.

"….You're not fucking serious." He spoke aloud without even looking back at me.

The guy and his tartish girlfriend laugh a bit; "We're completely serious if you ain't got it yet!"

"No…YOU'RE not serious. You really ain't gonna do this, are you. Not after everything we've been through, I know you won't."

How the hell does he know what I was planning?

No one knows me as well as the little titbox does.

The robber and his girlfriend are just laughing at him now. I take my chance and quickly slam the door shut and lock it from the inside. He'll be fine…He'll be fine…

"HOWARD!"

It wasn't the first time I'd done such a thing. It wasn't too long ago that in order to save my own self from starvation I'd attempted to eat the body of my one and only true friend. And then there was when I'd abandoned our group to die when confronted by a murderous tree instead of sticking together. Then there was a time when it hadn't even been a matter of life and death - merely greed. A greed so strong that I'd sold used Vince as currency merely to pay for a map. Or leaving him out in the snow, open to all the dangers of the Arctic, merely because he got on my wick.

Time and time again I've thoughtlessly put him in mortal danger and every time he forgives me. True, it's not as if he's completely innocent. Vince has his faults that could drive a man to contemplating to do such things - but never truly mean them. No level of teasing or jokes deserved…that. Maybe all that was Vince's backlash to me. Revenge for the years and years of being constantly scorned, taken for granted and treated as disposable. And if it was, I couldn't deny he was letting me off easy.

But the difference with all those times before was that, however awful and disgraceful my actions were, they never actually came to any true harm. Maybe that was why I never felt so guilty. Because I always had faith in Vince's endless winning streak. As I had done today.

That faith would now haunt me for the rest of my days.

I'll face myself,
To cross out what I've become,
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done

After I'd closed the door, Vince must have tried to make a run for the alarm himself because the next thing I heard was the guy screaming at him to stand still, his girlfriend also screaming, my heart thumping in my throat, then BANG!

No.

No, please, no…

I didn't think they'd shoot. No one would shoot Vince, no one. No one could shoot him. He was indestructible. Protected forever by a force field of moonbeams.

But someone had been shot. And the only ones speaking on the other side of the door where the voices of the robber and his girlfriend, freaking out and hissing at each other in hysterical panic. And then I heard them leave. Then there was silence. No sound of life. No sound of Vince.

And when I'd opened the door…

* * *

"Thank Zeus, there you are! We've been looking everywhere. Bollo, settle her down will you."

I've somehow wound up walking by the canal when they hovered over me on Naboo's magic carpet. It came down to rest beside me and Naboo jumped off. Bollo didn't move but I could see him giving me a look that would make Fay Wray's famous ape look like a playful chimp.

Naboo doesn't look so pleased to see me either. But then again it was hard to get any expression from the Enigma's dry expression.

"What the 'ell you doin' out here? You should be at the hospital, you muppet."

"Is he okay? Is he alive?" Two questions that had been playing on my mind like a skipping record for the past two hours.

Naboo's eyes finally did give away something at last. Something I'd preferred not to have seen.

"He got shot in the back of the head, Howard. There was nothing any of the doctors could do."

Oh dear God! My Vince, my poor darling…

"So I called up a mate of mine who's a doctor on Xooberon, got him to fly over, he managed to get the bullet out and sewed his head up with some silver thread. He still needs a lot of time to recover but he's alive at least."

For a second it sounded too good to be true. Then I remembered I was talking to an alien wizard whilst his talking gorilla waited on the magic carpet hovering only metres away from us.

The grief and relief collapsed on me all at once and I couldn't help letting the tears fall.

"He's okay…He…He's okay." I told myself, breathless with rising sobs. "…Is he awake? Has he said anything about…?"

"He didn't need to. We found the footage in the security camera and the police found the two of them as they were trying to get through the tube station."

"You mean…" I bit my lip, "…you saw everything."

Naboo just nodded. Which was less then could be said for Bollo.

"Harold leave Precious Vince in time of danger! Precious Vince nearly die because of Harold! Bollo crush Harold's skull like Kinda egg!" The gorilla roared, beating at his chest, the excitement eventually causing him to get out his inhaler.

"Just leave it, Bollo. I think he's suffering enough as it is." Naboo gave me a knowing look.

But I wasn't suffering enough. I wanted Bollo to beat me with his furry fists until every bone in my body was shattered. This guilt, this pain, it didn't feel like it was enough.

Once again, Vince was fine. I could already hear my mind telling myself that that meant all would be okay. No harm done.

The harm had been done long ago. Long ago whenever it was that I'd begun replacing mere thoughtlessness with neglect. When it was that I'd convinced myself that Vince deserved whatever he got for being so stupidly brave - even after he'd saved my life a million times. I resented him for having the sort of courage I could never hope to gain. Not just for taking all the fame, but earning it in the first place, and then flaunting it as if to prove that I could never deserve such glory. That I was forever doomed to wallow in obscurity.

I could've just taken it all the shoulder. I could've tried to prove him wrong and earn the respect for once. Instead I've just become more bitter, more manipulative, to the point that I may as well have fired that gun at Vince myself…

"Yeah, Howard, is this internal monologue gonna be over soon? Visiting hours are only till 7 and I wanna be back in time for EastEnders."

* * *

I half expected him to be sitting up in bed, reading one of his trashy magazines and flirting with the nurses when we arrived. Wrong. That's what I'd hoped I'd be seeing. Instead of what I feared I'd be seeing.

Vince lay asleep beneath the clean white sheets. He wouldn't be happy about that as he complained lately how white went out a year ago. He looked better than he was at the shop. But the bandage wrapped around his head seem to bring back the sick pain I'd felt back then. They'd cleaned off his make-up and he looked a bit more peaceful. But still ever so small.

Naboo and Bollo had gone off to get some food and leave me alone with Vince for…whatever they expected me to do. Bollo had nearly gone on a rampage when told I'd be left alone with his 'precious flower' but Naboo sedated him with some magic herb. Or drug, I wasn't quite sure.

I sat down on a chair beneath Vince's bed in a private hospital room. For a moment I just sat, twiddling my thumbs, not sure what to say. Not because Vince was unconscious. Just because…what do you say to someone who you left to die? I'm not good at this emotional stuff. Sure I can come up with an inspiring poem every now and then…but I doubt Vince would appreciate that, awake or not. Normal talking, expressing true feelings and admitting to being wrong - I was never good at that. Nor is Vince really but he's honest. Sometimes too honest but he wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he doesn't realise it. He's still a child really. He's open, giving and too easily trusting, as was probably his downfall today when he believed the human kindness might prevail in that young gun-man. He see's the good in everyone even when there's nothing to see but hallow emptiness.

Just like he does with me.

My hand moves to touch his. He's so cold he might as well be dead. But he's not. I feel a weak pulse beneath my fingers and hold his hand. It occurs to me that he's the only person I've ever held hands with. The only person I've ever shared a room with. The only person I've ever kissed.

All I have, all that ever has and ever will matter to me, is lying before me in a hospital bed that I might as well have put him in.

Vince's fingers suddenly curl around mine.

I gasp, edging my chair closer; "Vince!…Vince?"

A sleepy smile appears on his face.

"'Knew you wouldn't leave me."

And then my heart breaks all over again for the tenth time today. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming in a tearful rage of self-loathing.

Put to rest
What you thought of me

I drop my head and look down. Almost as if I'm not worth looking at him.

"…I did though. I did and…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just…I thought you'd be okay, you always are and you said yourself they wouldn't shoot and I was just so scared and I-"

"Shut up, Howard."

I did just that before I lost control of my lips.

"…I mean it though, Vince. I really am sorry. Not just for today but every time I've let you down. I just get so…"

"Scared?"

"Yeah…"

"…I'm always scared, Howard. I'm always scared when you do something like this and I have to sort it all out myself. Scared because I'm left all on my own and might die, yeah, but not just that. I'm scared because it makes me wonder if you actually care what happens to me."

"I…I do, Vince, I do!"

"Scared because if I'm not able to stop what's happening like today then you'll be on your own as well and feel as bad as I do."

…What could I say to that?

Vince opened his eyes; "…Scared because I'd've died or you'd died without knowing…"

"Knowing what?"

"…Doesn't matter now. None of it does, Howard. I'm alive, just forget about it. It's just who you are, you can't help it, it's not your fault, don't worry. How's my hair? Is it a bit too Resident Evil-chic?"

Now I had to let rip. I couldn't just let another moment slip by. Not again, not after today.

While I clean this state,
With the hands of uncertainty

"For God's sake, Vince, don't just wash over it all and pretend you ain't pissed off with me! You've got every right to be so just get it over with and say what you wanna say. Scream at me, hit me, whatever, just get it over with instead of slowly making me feel like crap for weeks because I can't take it anymore! The more you ignore it, the more I pretend I'm something I'm not and the same just happens again and again. I know that I'm scum, I know that I'm weak and I'm a coward - stop pretending it's okay for me to be that way when you obviously wish I was someone else, because if you actually think it's alright to forgive me every time I do this then you truly are the stupidest man ever."

"…Yeah well you do stupid things when you're in love, don't ya Howard."

"What? Who're you in love with?"

Vince just blinks at me. Then I feel him squeeze my hand.

Shit.

The sickness returns in waves. Any time soon it's likely I'll be needing a doctor seeing to me.

"…You're in love with me? Since when? How? Why?!"

Vince gives me a light smile.

"Yes. Since I was sixteen. Fuck knows. 'Cause even though you're a spineless, insensitive coward - you can actually be a real sweetheart when you wanna be. And you ain't got too bad an arse on you either, which is always a bonus."

My cheeks flush scarlet. No. This couldn't be. Vince Noir, my lifelong friend, in love with me? Vince Noir, the narcissistic Prince of Camden, in love with me? Vince Noir…liked my arse?

Love obviously did make you blind if it was that easy a reason for Vince to always forgive me. No. What was I thinking? That must have made it ten times harder for him. Sticking with someone to the bitter end, even if they shrugged you off like an unwanted leech, just because you were in love with them. I couldn't even conceive of having such strong feelings that I'd be willing to endure years of doubting whether they felt even a tenth of what you felt for them. All those years I pined over Gideon were bad enough until I realized, after two arrests and a restraining order, she was a mere infatuation and not the 'soul mate' I'd originally christened her as. God knows how Vince felt for all those years, being in love with me and watching me fawn over someone else.

And I thought I couldn't feel any worse than I already did.

"It's alright. You don't need to feel the same. But that's what I needed you to know." croaks Vince from his sickbed. "You're right, Howard, we can't go on like that. And I said to Naboo last night, m'sick of all the stupid games and fights. M'sick of treating you that way, even if you do ask for it."

"…Okay." I reply lamely. I was still having to process all this.

Perhaps I did know something about how Vince felt all those years. It's not the first time I'd wondered why I come back all those times I ran away. What for? The ridicule? The humiliation? Bollo's banana fish cakes? There was only one reason and I'd been too afraid to admit what it was before now.

Vince's grip tightens.

"'Oward?"

"Mmm?" I reply, staring off into space.

"…Do you promise, then?"

I look at him with a frown; "Promise what?"

"What you were sayin' in the shop before. Wherever you go, you'll always take me with you. D'you promise?"

I look into his eyes. They were identical to the same way he'd look at me before the robber had entered. Pleading. Desperate. And now I know what he's always been so desperate for. Something I've cruelly deprived from him for far too long.

"I promise, little man." I try to smile, rubbing his hand warm.

"Howard."

"Yeah?"

"I've just told you that I love you. Doesn't that scare you?"

"…Terrifies me."

"But," he smiles hopefully, blinking through tired tears; "…You're not running away this time?"

I smile back, unable to stop welling up myself. After everything that's happened today, not to mention all the times before, he's still holding onto me. He still wants me to stay. Forever. Vince Noir really is the stupidest person I've ever known.

"No. No I ain't."

I start again,
And whatever pain may come,
Today this ends

I lean over him and kiss his forehead, stroking some of his hair back and resting my head beside his on his pillow, never letting go of his hand. I stay there with him and listen as his breathing descends into slumber and he nuzzles against me in his sleep. I'll stay here all night, no matter what I'm told about visiting hours, even if Bollo rips my arms off while trying to drag me out. I'll stay and protect him from any other monster, be it human or otherwise, that wishes to hurt him again. I'll be brave for him even if it's smarter to run - I'll stay right here.

Howard Moon may be a coward. But a promise is a promise, yes sir. And love makes you do some really stupid things.

Reviews would be dandy. Thanks for reading x