Ha! I told you it would come! Very very late... um...
But first, something completely different- I was thinking at some point I might try writing a load of fics based on songs (think fanvids from someone withot any moviemaking software). One of these would be When You Were Young by the Killers (someone did make a vid to this song, but I'm putting my own take on it) for some of my trademark angstyness, and also Lovesong by The Cure for something nice and sweet, and possibly Song to Say Goodbye by Placebo, tho I'm not entirely sure about that one because I don't want to overload on tragedy. So bascally, two questions: 1) Do y'all think this is a good idea? and 2) Any requests?
Anyways, this story will depart heavily from series 3 canon later on (it's based mainly on throwaway comments from series 1), which also happens to be why it's rated. To reiterate: TEEN PROSTITUTION. You have been warned.
Enough of that, it's a long 'un, so enjoy :-)
Disclaimer: T'ain't mine, it's Mr Barratt's an Mr Fielding's. They may assassinate me for not discaliming, and I don't want to take chances.
The Secret History of Howard Moon
Howard Moon had been robbed of a birthday. He had been told it would be best for him; he was about to begin his first GCSE year, and needed the best education that could be found. His parents couldn't hope to afford to send him to public school or anything like that, so by some strange logic, getting the best possible education meant moving down south. They had said that Leeds and London weren't too different, but that didn't matter to Howard. What mattered was leaving his friends. And at that particular time. August the twenty-fourth. Eleven days before his fifteenth birthday. Leaving Leeds to early to celebrate there, arriving in London too late to make any friends to celebrate with there.
"You should brighten up," moaned his mother.
Howard didn't say anything. He just went upstairs, wanting badly to collapse on his bed and sulk, but couldn't because it didn't have a mattress on it.
He knew Ruth would have taken his side if she'd been there. But Ruth was away in Asia trying to figure out what to do with her life after she had failed to get into university and was being used as an argument in their parents' favour.
"Are you hiding out up here?" the oppressive voice of his mother shouted through the door. "Give me a hand with your boxes, or some of it might just go missing."
He slumped up and down the stairs a few times, carrying and depositing boxes in his room, not bothering to unpack them. There'd be plenty of time to do that later. Two years, at least.
Sitting on the wooden frame of his bed, his eyes fell on one particular box. It was a box of presents he had been practically forbidden from touching until his birthday. He had had to sit through a lecture from his terminally odd mother about not opening presents before he had something to celebrate, and then she had refused to speak to him for two days after he had tried to explain, as politely as possible, that he wanted his friends to see him open them. And that he hadn't ruined his birthday because he still had his presents from his family, who never usually saw what they got him again. And that if anyone had ruined his birthday, it was her for taking him away from his friends in the first place. But some people just don't see sense very easily.
"Howard, if you're not going to do anything useful, why don't you just go and… explore or something!" that shrill voice screeched again. "I don't want you sitting up here moping and getting in the way all day."
Sullenly and silently, Howard left the house and went on to the street. He stuck to main roads, making a mental note of where he went, and just wandered around until his feet got tired and his mindbox got bored of being pissed off. Instinctively, he looked at his wrist, but then remembered that there was nothing there because his watch had broken, and he couldn't use the one Nick had so thoughtfully got him for his birthday because he hadn't had his birthday yet.
Turning a corner, he spotted some random Schwarzkopf-headed waif milling around looking at a wall.
"'Scuse me, mate!" he called. "Got the time?"
The skinny boy on the corner turned round to see him, and Howard was met with a face that made him gasp. The pronounced cheekbones, down-pointing nose and huge blue eyes all indicated the face of someone he had honestly thought was never going to come into his life again. A homeless boy he had become close to back in primary school and helped to run away, who he hardly ever thought of any more, except thoughts along the lines of "how many people will that ever happen to?"
Before he even realised what was going on, his arms were around Vince Noir's neck, squeezing him for dear life, and Vince's were wrapped just as tightly under Howard's arms.
"Oh my god… I thought…"
"Me too."
They flung their arms around each other again, Vince pushing his face into Howard's shoulder, and Howard squeezing Vince with his fingers.
Vince's eyes barely left Howard as he took him to see his digs. Vince's main hideaway was a room in an unused house in a slum quarter of town, protected by seclusion and the loyalty of the local tramps, which looked like nothing at all from outside, but inside was like an extension of Vince himself, full of patchworked beanbags, bright and shiny salvaged things, a broken wardrobe painted in bright colours by Vince himself, a small pocket TV and a well-used sewing machine. Howard told Vince the situation in his old town and the way his parents constantly let him down, and Vince filled Howard in on London life and the history of his hairstyles, and how he had finally come to settle on having it auburn with black streaks, and aside from the fact that Vince now spoke with a perfect South London accent, it was as though they had never separated at all.
"You used to tell me I was so lucky not to have parents," Vince reminded Howard, laughing to himself.
"Parents are a pain in the arse," replied Howard. "More so as you get older. I wish I had run away with you before."
"But then you'd be here anyway," Vince reasoned.
Howard laughed, and decided not to reply. Vince's logic didn't seem to have been made to argue with. He had learned that four and a half years ago, and now the latent information had come flooding back to him like Vince had opened up a dam that time had built in his mind.
The daylight outside faded, replaced with the sickly bright glow of the streetlights, and Vince turned on some cheap battery-powered lights. As the evening drew in, Howard decided he had better return home, fearing that his mother would have gone past the point of sympathetic worry and into the dangerous realms of "where the hell have you been, you're having a laugh if you think I'm letting you out in the next four years" territory.
"Hey, I was thinking," Vince said as Howard was leaving. "It's your birthday soon, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is," Howard replied, surprised and touched to learn that Vince still remembered even after so long.
"Well, you remember how when I first met you you took me out for mine?"
"Yeah."
"Well… d'you wanna go out with me?"
Howard grinned, and then laughed. "The way you just said it," he giggled. "It sounded like you were asking me out."
"Did I?" Vince asked, laughing with him. He stopped laughing, then asked again. "Do you though?"
Howard smiled. "Yeah."
When he got home his mother was faintly pissed off but not enough to cause any trouble for him. Howard decided he didn't care.
Howard's new school began the day before his birthday. He found himself waiting at the gates, watching people, watching them relate, interact, know each other. Just like he didn't. Couldn't.
"Hiya!" Vince squealed at him, creeping up behind him and squeezing his sides. "What's up?"
"Nothing," said Howard, perhaps a little too defensively "I'm just-"
"You busy tomorrow night?" Vince asked, grinning like a bobcat.
"No," Howard sighed. His parents still hadn't finished sorting the house out, and the cost of this was his birthday celebrations. Of course they had rescheduled them, but celebrating when he'd already been fifteen for over a week just wouldn't be the same.
"I've got a surprise for you," Vince teased. "But I won't tell you what it is."
"Of course not," said Howard. "Then it wouldn't be a surprise." He smiled acceptingly, enjoying the slightly affronted look on Vince's face as he failed to provoke a reaction.
"We'd better go in," said Vince as the strained sound of a ringing bell floated through the playground.
Howard was happy to find that he and Vince had been put in the same form, but rather disappointed to find as he received his timetable that they shared no other classes. Howard tended to be in the higher sets for Maths and Science, while Vince struggled in them, and while Howard could barely make himself understood in French, Vince was allegedly top of the year, and better than most of the year above, according to some people. They were placed in different classes for English, though apparently both were the same ability, and while Howard had elected (mainly by the incessant coercing of his mother) to take the full GCSE in Religious Studies, Vince only did half. And they had chosen different options; Howard took Engineering, to please his father, Geography, to stop his father disowning him, and Music, his passion and his compromise, while Vince indulged his own passions in Art, Textiles and Media Studies.
"Shit," Howard muttered.
"Well…" thought Vince. "We've got Citizenship. That's just an hour of nothing. And after school. You won't be able to get rid of me after school." He grinned. "And don't forget about your birthday surprise."
"Like I could, you've been reminding me of it for the last half an hour," smiled Howard.
For a while, he thought he might have been overreacting when he declared his hatred of London. Well, not so much overreacting as not seeing the bright side. But the feeling didn't last.
Without Vince to guide him through London life he felt vulnerable, and couldn't shake the feeling that he was being scrutinised or mentally attacked. It seemed to him that most of his classmates associated being northern with being thick, and he even got the same vibe from one of his teachers. He kept his head down through the morning, working hard to prove himself, but nervous, afraid that he might not be able to.
It came as an enormous relief when he went to meet Vince for lunch. He found him in the corner of the canteen where Vince had said he would be, chatting with a tableful of other boys and a few girls, all of whom had made some attempt to accessorise their uniforms, though none managed it quite as well as Vince did. Thankfully, Howard didn't recognise any of them from his lessons that morning.
Howard sat down and noticed Vince's friends regarding him warily. Vince either hadn't noticed this or was ignoring it, and slung an arm round Howard's shoulders and introduced him. Howard didn't feel any real acceptance or interest when they said hello to him, and it made him nervous. But Vince, as he continued the conversation he had been having when Howard arrived, kept throwing him glances and smiles, and one cheeky little wink, and that made Howard feel better. As long as Vince was there for him, it didn't matter what these others thought.
The bell rang for afternoon lessons and Howard's heart sank. His first lesson of the afternoon was Geography, which he actually felt he might enjoy of he didn't have his father expecting perfection in it. He supposed he might like it yet if the teacher was nice.
He just saw, out of the corner of his eye, one of Vince's friends whisper something into his girlfriend's ear. Howard didn't hear what he said, but he saw Vince's face pale, and an odd look which Howard thought must be rage crept onto his face. It didn't suit him at all, Howard thought.
"Take it back," said Vince, his voice low.
The other boy laughed. "Vince-"
"Take it back now!" Vince shouted.
The other boy laughed again, but it was cut short by a sharp punch in the mouth.
He stood and stared for a split second before hitting back, catching Vince just above his belly. Vince swung his fist back, face twisted in vengeful rage.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?"
In fifteen years Howard had never quite heard anyone shout quite that loud. Vince and the other boy immediately dropped their fists, looking at the red-faced teacher in ashamed anxiety.
"To lessons, the rest of you!" the teacher ordered. "NOW!"
Glancing back to Vince's worried face, Howard was forced to leave with the others. He hoped Vince wouldn't be in too much trouble.
Howard was waiting on Vince's corner. Vince had been a little pissed off the day before because he had been given detention, but he had cheered up because it wasn't till Friday and wouldn't interfere with what he had planned for Howard's birthday.
Just what he had planned remained a mystery. He had been teasingly aloof that day at school, but, and Howard was extremely thankful, not to the point where Howard felt ignored, which was probably what the majority of Vince's other friends wanted.
Vince had just told Howard to meet him on the corner at eight. And so Howard had done, and when his mother complained that he could be helping her sort out the last few boxes of books and miscellany, he had stormed out of the house and walked away while she shouted after him.
He looked at his watch, now he was finally permitted to wear it. Seven fifty-six. Soon.
"Boo!" cried Vince, and Howard jumped, suppressing a yelp as he felt sharp fingers prod him on either side of his waist. He looked round to find Vince leaning round the corner and giggling. "Scared ya," he teased.
"I let you," defended Howard.
Vince rolled his eyes. "Come on, anyway," he grinned, taking Howard by the arm and pulling him along. He led Howard to a rusted old table, probably thrown out by some café somewhere, covered by a simple white cloth and adorned with some strange object that, Howard noticed as he looked a little closer, was made of twisted wire and cloth, though what it was meant to be, Howard wasn't sure. Maybe it wasn't meant to be anything. Things didn't have to with Vince.
Vince sat him down, pulling out his chair and bowing, and giggling as he did so. He disappeared into an alley where Howard could see a warm glow, and returned a moment later with a shabby-looking but smiling woman, each of them carrying something on a plate.
"This is Margarita," said Vince. "The only person I have ever met who can get any kind of decent food off a tyre fire."
Margarita smiled, put the food down on the table and turned to go back into the alley, but Vince took her arm and whispered something to her. She looked shy and reluctant, but eventually conceded, and came and sat down next to Howard. As Vince disappeared again, Margarita smiled shyly.
"And now," shouted Vince, who had by now returned and was stood on a sort of impromptu podium made of cinderblocks, bricks and bits of scaffolding, "presenting the vocal talents of Mr Tony Ice!"
Grinning, Vince hopped down and left the makeshift stage to one of the biggest and most frightening-looking people Howard had ever seen. But he smiled an easy, relaxed smile, and his stance was so casual and open that Howard couldn't help but like him as he opened his mouth and released some of the most beautiful words Howard had ever heard.
Vince came and sat on his other side, helping himself to a meal of his own. The food was lovely, much better than the half-hearted efforts his parents had been making since they arrived in London. It made him feel quite ashamed to have been anxious about eating something that had been cooked on a tyre fire.
As he finished, and Tony Ice finished a strange and lyrical ballad about a traveller, a shooting star and a yew tree, Margarita got up and left, and Tony, after taking a bow, followed her.
"Thanks, Vince," said Howard, turning to his friend, and grinning when he saw that Vince was holding a rather large tub of Ben and Jerry's.
"Stole it myself," smiled Vince with a wink. "From Waitrose."
They dug in, and between them had finished the whole tub in under half an hour.
"I got you something as well," said Vince, looking perhaps a little bashful. "Sorry it's not wrapped or nothing."
He held something out, and Howard took it. He grinned. It was a bandana, hand-customised in Vince's trademark style, bright and flashy. Howard tied it loosely around his neck, then watched Vince twitch slightly, and laughed as Vince's hands shot up to adjust it.
"Thanks," said Howard.
Vince just smiled. "Happy Birthday."