Lipgloss Chapter 5

[jellyglitter.livejournal.com]

Lipgloss Chapter 5: 
Pairing: Howince
Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Howard, Vince, Tony Harrison, Kirk, Saboo, Alex, Dennis, Dudley, Rose Moon.
Word Count: 1840
Rating: PG (may change over later chapters)
Disclaimer: I'm not Noel, Julian or anyone from Booshland so yeah, I don't anything. I have been contacted about artwork so when I've got some, you will get it too!

Chapter 5

If you had been in a certain point, many thousands of miles away, at the time that Howard was talking to his sister, you would have seen a very odd sight. A long carpet, flying in incredibly tight circles at such a speed that it appeared to be blurred.

If you had been close enough, you would have seen that it had a number of people sitting on it, one of them almost hanging off the end, and heard their shouted conversations.

"Hold onto the crash handles!" One of the people shouted, a tall bald man whose face was rippling with the G-force. One of his comrades bellowed back at him-

"For god's sake Dennis, what's going on?" The man named Dennis attempted to turn around but unseated himself in the process and nearly fell off the carpet, causing a gale of laughter until a short man with long black hair and a turban grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

"Dennis, you ballbag, sit still until we can stop this bloody thing." The man said. Dennis righted himself and shouted instead of turning backwards.

"Thank you, Naboo. As for you, Saboo, it is not my fault if my shaman powers do not always function as they should!"

The man named Saboo rolled his eyes as best he could while holding onto a carpet for dear life.

"Yeah right. Cut the crap, you just got pissed, you lightweight, and did some shitty spell to make this thing go faster!"

"Exactly!" A pink head groaned from next to Saboo. "You tithead Dennis! This is an outrage! Even Kirk could do a better spell than you, and he's a liability at the best of times."

Dennis looked around, puzzled. "Where is Kirk?”

Saboo and the pink head looked sheepish. One of them mumbled something under his breath. Dennis glared at them over his shoulder. "Tell me, or you'll meet the crunch."

Tony ground his teeth at him.

"You know nothing of the crunch!" Saboo cried, enraged as he usually was by any mention of the crunch.

"I've met the crunch actually,” a small voice piped up. They all turned round- to see a sock the size of a small toddler sitting casually amongst them and speaking through a hole near the toe. It had bright blue googly eyes which kept wandering around inside their sockets, giving him the look of a drug addict. It giggled as they stared at him.

“I met him at a Chicks on Speed gig. He’s seven foot three with an afro made of pure glitter.”

There was silence as the shamans goggled at him. Then Tony Harrison looked even more sheepish than he’d done when Dennis had asked where Kirk was.

“This is Dudley.”

Naboo raised one eyebrow while attempting to steer the out of control carpet. Dennis just looked at Tony, with a look that said “explain.”

“Tony, why the fuck is he here?” Saboo moaned.

“He’s Kirk’s friend, don’t blame me!” Tony exclaimed, waving his tentacles for added emphasis.

“Where is Kirk?!” Dennis asked again, annoyed now. “If you've replaced him with a talking sock, there’ll be trouble.”

“Kirk’s here.” Saboo muttered.

“Where?! Unless he’s invisible I doubt he is!” Dennis shouted.

Saboo looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“He’s gaffa-taped to the bottom of the carpet, you idiot!” wheezed Tony, who was in hysterics. “He deserved it, he was so high he couldn’t remember which side he was supposed to get on.”

Below them, Kirk watched the stars go by with a dazed, yet happy stare.

................

The return to the flat was less calm than the outgoing journey. Howard sat on the Tube blankly staring at his hands, only faintly aware of the passengers moving around him, their conversations fading into the background.

Was what his sister said to him true? Did he have...feelings for Vince?

It would explain the strange jolts that went through him when he saw him. And the nights dreaming of him, the afternoons wondering if he’d walk through the door, the mornings spent listening to him singing in the shower.

After all, people had always asked if Vince was his wife. Not quite accurate, but the principle...

Howard was jerked back into reality when the loudspeaker announced in a tinny voice that he had arrived at his stop. The rest of the journey was a blur.

Would he tell Vince?

Could he?

What if he was rejected?

Several minutes later, he had decided. He would tell Vince. He had to. Rose was right, there was no way he could just bottle his feelings up. In the end they just leaked through, until he’d begun to poison everyone around him, Vince included.

Adrenalin pumping through him, he practically ran the rest of the journey, dodging the pedestrians and bumping into a fair few as well. Heart thumping and blood pulsing round him, he tore into the shop and up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

“Vince! VINCE!”

No answer.

Howard frowned. Maybe he had his headphones on, although he’d said he had a headache. He strode into Vince’s room- which was empty.

That was odd.

He swiftly checked the rest of the flat, and found it empty. Trying to keep calm, he rang the hospital, Vince’s friends, and Naboo (engaged). No-one knew where he was.

Shit. This couldn’t be happening. Vince wouldn’t have left. Would he?

It was the sight of a half eaten pancake on the kitchen table that finally reduced him to tears.

..........

One week earlier:

Seen as they wouldn’t be able to drink during the International Shaman’s Conference, the Shamans had taken it as a sign to get completely smashed before-hand. Apart from Naboo, that was.

 “Fucking ‘ell Naboo!” Tony Harrison whined, sitting on the bar counter. “Have a drink!”

Naboo shook his head irritably. “No, Harrison, I’m driving.”

“Oh, go oooon!”

“No.”

“I’ll be designated driver for tonight, Naboo.” Dennis pronounced grandly.

“Only cos you can’t handle your liquor,” mumbled Tony, quietly.

Naboo rolled his eyes and ordered a drink.

And another one...

Another...

Just one more...

Well, maybe two...

About an hour later, he’d had the better part of ten drinks and the room seemed to be spinning. Harrison was attempting to drink two bottles of whisky simultaneously; Dennis was in the corner weeping, and Saboo was attempting to dive into a sofa.

Naboo groaned and thumped his head into his arms. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

A voice close to his ear startled him and he jumped up, hitting his head on the tap.

“Sorry fella,” came a voice, which belonged to the figure sitting next to him. The figure was cloaked and hooded, so that his face was in shadow.

“Who the fuck are you?” Naboo said, confused. “Chert Hithe.”

Naboo stared at him, stony faced.

“I’m a legend, mate.”

“Riiiight.” Naboo replied cynically, but the man was off on a tangent, bellowing what seemed like his life story. Naboo started to see the funny side after ten minutes, and was soon chatting with this odd person.

“...I’m here with this dozy lot, the Board of Shamans” Naboo slurred, gesturing to the other Shamans “and we’ve gotta go to this stupid conference, plus my shop in Dalston, the Nabootique, will be a wreck when we get back because of Vince and Howard, bloody wankers...”

He was so inebriated that he didn’t notice the figure suddenly take a keen interest in his drunken monologue.

“Hmm, Board of Shamans. Isn’t that interesting? What did you say that shop was called, boy? You a shaman yourself?” The figure said, sounding excited.

“Yeah, I am. The shop’s called the Nabootique. It’s in Dalston, near the statue of the golden duck. Vince’ll be shop-keeping, Howard’s useless at it. Ask Vince for help if you need it, he’s got long black hair and wears sparkly jumpsuits, tell him Naboo sent you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” The figure said, and with that strode out of the bar, leaving a bemused Naboo behind him.

...........

The next week

Vince was bored. Bored, alone and sore from having his head kicked in the day before. Painkillers could only do so much, and he was feeling grumpy, annoyed with Howard and in pain as well.

Plus, he’d had to mind the shop while Howard was out. Vince usually loved being the resident salesman, in fact he’d always wanted to go on Dragon’s Den, but today he just was miserable. Instead of stocktaking, he was slumped on the counter, hoping that there’d be no customers in that day.

He wasn’t just annoyed with Howard, though. Beneath all the anger and annoyance and moodiness and hate- he was sad. Sad because he could remember all the times they’d had together, the days when they’d comforted each other while they were upset, the trips out and the evenings in and the takeaways in front of the telly.

Those were the days that he’d never imagined ending.

Howard was the one person who he could always come home to, no matter what happened. How could he cope without him? No matter how drunk he was, how awful, how rude, whatever, Howard had always been there.

What had happened? These days, it seemed like Howard just hated him. Vince was at a loss. Although he was furious at Howard for ignoring him- he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault, somehow. Yes, they’d both whinged the other before, but it’d just been a joke, some fun to disguise what they both knew they’d have to face one day.

That they needed each other more than anyone else.

Now, it seemed like the fake-hate had become real. Bile rose up inside Vince’s throat as he hurriedly wiped a scratchy sequin sleeve across his eyes. He missed how things used to be. He missed the knowledge that everything would be all right in the end, as it always was when they’d had each other.

Sniffing violently to stop the tears, Vince grabbed a few tissues and blew his nose. The noise was so loud that he didn’t hear the tinkle of the shop bell signifying that someone had entered the shop. Therefore, it was a surprise to him when he looked up to see someone standing over him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “didn’t hear the bell.”

The figure nodded, and spoke in a voice that was vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t place it.

“Got any of those toy cars, boy?”

Vince realised that the figure was dressed in a long, black, hooded cape that left his face in shadow. Goth, he thought, and bent down behind the counter to grab one of the toy cars.

“Yeah, all the range, these are...” He said, trying to summon some of his old swagger into his voice.

Before he could straighten up, however, something crashed into the back of his skull, and a wave of dizziness overtook him. Vince slumped to the floor in a dead faint.