Oh my God... you never thought it would happen... but it has... I've written something HAPPY.

I don't know what's wrong with me! But this just came to me when I was listening to the beautiful song "Collide" by Howie Day, and I had to write it. It was actually very fun to write! I felt it was really morning. Got a shock when I looked outside and it was dark!

Anyway, summer has put me in a mellow mood. Also, I wanted to write something happy and sweet after depressing you all so much! And I'm feeling all sentimental about "new beginnings" because I officially left school today.

Disclaimers:
Mighty Boosh characters belong to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding.
The song lyrics quoted at the beginning and the end are from "Collide" by Howie Day (which I would recommend to everyone, it's gorgeous. Thanks Danielle for recommending it to me!)

Morning

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I
Collide

The golden sunlight streams over the rooftops of London, dyeing them a brilliant early-morning gold. The rays catch the windows, making them glisten, and glances over a railway bridge, skimming the roof of that morning's first train so it sparkles dazzlingly and sends the rays refracting all over the street below. They spark off the pavements with last night's beer cans and cigarettes scattered about lazily.

Somewhere, a radio is playing cheerful, bright acoustic guitar music.

A light breeze blows down the road, skimming the white line and making some crisp packets dance, and stirs the curtains of an open window above a small shop: Nabootique. As the curtains blow open, the sunlight floods into the room in yellow-white lines that catch floating dust and slip across the sheets of the bed in the room.

In the bed, under the white bedclothes, two figures lie curled up together, heads gradually coming into the light as the sun rises higher. The sound of breathing is barely noticeable. The room is so silent, their heartbeats are almost audible.

Slowly, warmly, one of them stirs, snuffles, snuggles closer to the other.

Then the white sheets shift as the second figure, a man, moves. His arms stretch out, getting streaked with sunlight. He rubs a hand over his eyes, his face with its morning stubble, and up across his tousled brown hair. Then he turns to the other figure in the bed next to him. Another man, slightly younger, nestled close, one side of his face visible with the other pressed into the pillow. The angle of his cheekbone just catches the youthful sun, making his pale skin appear almost white, making his black hair glow, highlighting every long dark eyelash.

The man gazes down at him for a few moments as though he cannot believe this creature is in his bed, legs wrapped round his legs, chests close. It is as though his companion is a child of the sunlight itself, brought in by the rays, sure to disappear again as the earth turns and the window no longer catches the light.

A mumble from the sleeping sunlight child brings the man back to reality. As he leans closer, the sunlight child opens his eyes, revealing light blue orbs, coloured like a morning sky even when glassy with tiredness. For a few moments, he looks without seeing – and then he focuses on the man above him, and smiles. A soft, gentle smile.

"Mornin'." He burrows a little further back into the duvet.

"Morning," the other man replies. He watches as the sunlight child lies still for another few moments – and then the blue eyes open again.

"You really are 'ere," says the sunlight child.

"Of course I'm here. You didn't think I'd just have my way and then get up and –"

"S'not what I meant." The voice is soft, husky from sleepiness. The sunlight child doesn't seem to want to explain. He stretches out one arm, across the bed, his skin catching the light even more brilliantly. The man in the bed watches, breath catching slightly in his throat as his companion emerges slightly from the duvet, white-gold and brilliant. Shining.

The sunlight child turns back, slightly more awake now, and slightly more aware.

"Are you 'appy?" he asks.

"What?"

"Are you 'appy, about what we did... last night?"

There is silence.

"Howard? Are you not –?"

Howard reacts to that. "No. No, of course I'm – oh, Vince, of course I'm happy."

The sunlight child – Vince – blinks at him slowly, as though he did it on purpose, the light flickering over his eyelids. His eyes themselves look even brighter when he opens them again. He looks at Howard questioningly.

Howard's hand slides across the pillow to where Vince's are resting. Their hands meet, and Vince starts a little, then smiles as they join. Their fingers entwine as though they have been waiting to do this ever since they were created.

"Of course I'm happy," Howard says again. "You think I haven't – haven't –"

"Haven't?"

"Haven't... wanted this for... well, for ages; for so long now..."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Me too." Vince looks at their hands on the pillow. Looks at the way they find the way to fit around each other. He shifts under the covers, and his leg runs over Howard's. Howard smiles, now.

"That's why..." Vince looks embarrassed suddenly. "That's why I said, when I woke up, that you were really 'ere. In case you weren't. Case I was dreamin' again." He bows his head.

"Well, you – again?"

Vince nods.

Howard stares at him: head still down, dark fringe falling over his face. His lips mesh together slightly, unconsciously, adorably. He shines. He shines, and he is here, telling Howard – Howard, of all people – that he has been dreaming of him.

"For – for how long?"

"I dunno. Ages. Practically since I met you, I reckon."

"Since we met?"

"Yeah." Vince looks up now. He looks anxious.

Howard runs a finger down his face.

"Me too."

Vince stares at him for a moment – and then lets out a faint, disbelieving giggle.

"We're the biggest idiots."

"Why?"

"Why didn't we do this sooner? Cos... it was amazin'." Vince smiles coyly at Howard, who flushes slightly.

Maybe they should have done it sooner. Much sooner. They've lost ten years, almost eleven, when they could have been with each other..

But they wouldn't have had this morning.

"It doesn't matter."

"Why not?" Vince looks curious.

"Because last night was... perfect. It couldn't have been more perfect."

Vince gives a shy, delighted smile at that, and stretches up to kiss Howard, very gently, lips brushing. Howard kisses back, eyes closing so he can focus simply on the feeling of the other mouth against his, moving ever so slightly. The kiss tastes of dawn, and morning, and everything new and hopeful.

When it is over, Vince lays his head against Howard's shoulder. Howard strokes his hand over Vince's hair. The sun lights up the room, the white sheets, their bodies fitting round each other. Outside, a radio plays uplifting acoustic guitar music. The sun streams over the London rooftops. The earth turns. Galaxies combine. Two crisp packets whirl together across the tarmac. Howard wraps an arm around Vince's body and pulls him closer.

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
You and I
Collide

Gosh.

The angst will return, I'm sure. But I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I liked writing it.

violence x