Yo! Sorry I haven't been updating here lately but, like a lot of authors here, I've retired to LiveJournal to mainly just share my stories with the people on my f-list. I've got quite far with this new story though, more than I expected myself to and thought I'd share it with fellow slashers on here who don't have LJ. Yes I know I have other fics on here that need continuing but they're on hiatus for the mo. However, I may have plans to update WDT in the future. Emphasis on *may*. At the moment this is my passion though.

So this new story started out as a one-shot of my own belief how Vince and Howard met and then turned into an on-going story about different interludes that built up the foundations of their relationship to how we see it in the show. 'Filling in the gaps' in other words. It's pretty angsty, but then it's written by me so it would be, wouldn't it? Bits of fluff here and there though. Also, in my head and from the descriptions of Hackney that Noel has described in his stand-up - this is how I actually imagine nine year olds from there to be; swearing, violence and all :P No offense meant but this is the world of the Boosh were everything is about exaggeration and breaking the bounderies.

Disclaimer: I have a confession......*deep breath* I...do....not....own....The Boosh!!! The lyrics at the beginning are from Bon Jovi's "I Wanna Be Loved" - hence where the title is from as well. I don't own this either. Yeah, full of surprises today, aren't I?

I had a roof over head,
Had shoes on my feet,
Yeah, sure, I was fed,
But no one was there,
Not when I was in need...

I've heard people say that it's funny how things change.

That's stupid. I don't see the funny side in it. And this is from the man who sees everything through rose-tinted Dolce & Gabana sunglasses. I wish I could find it funny. I bet you will. Everyone seems to when I tell them. Most of the time they don't even believe me. On some level I think I prefer it that way. It makes it less likely to be true and I can try to forget it ever happened.

This may come as a shock. You see, as a child, I was hideous. No, seriously! You wouldn't think it looking at me now. You wouldn't even think it looking back at the all the pictures of me at school. Ah, ain't Photoshop genius? But it's true. I was Hackney's ugly duckling. I weren't raised by ducks or anything, I just mean symbolically. Is that the right word? Or is it metaphorically? I used to know this stuff.

Another thing you might not believe. I used to be smart. Bright. Teacher's pet, they called me. Not sure what went wrong there. I wasn't very good at maths or science. Nothing to do with logic. Art, sociology, textiles, performance studies, history (the interesting bits at least. There were a couple), English lit and language - as long as a spell-check was on hand. These were my babies. I remember running home from school with a story or project that had been marked A* and showing it to my parents. My mum would give me a big hug and ask me whatever I wanted for a reward, whilst my dad would pin it up on the fridge with my favourite giraffe magnet before ruffling my hair, saying he was proud of me.

Back then, I didn't give a toss about the things I do now. I didn't need to. I had two parents that treated me like I was the centre of the whole world. Maybe that was all I needed. That and my books, my paintings, my sewing machine and my stereo. As long as I could read, write, dance and colour then nothing else mattered. I never got lonely. Mum and Dad loved to fill the house with pets. We had a lazy ginger tabby cat called Jahooli, a chocolate-coloured labrador called Brian Ferry (Dad was a fan), and I had a pet lizard called Kalooni. We also had two floppy eared rabbits in the garden called George and Mildred. Animals made the best friends. They were so easy to talk to and didn't treat you like a freak just because you liked different things. On top of all that, I also had my imaginary friend Charlie, who was wicked because he was made of bubble gum. I think Dad was scared of Charlie. Especially when I told him Charlie liked to watch him in his sleep. Mum laughed. Dad just went pale.

I didn't have any human friends. The other kids at school left me alone most of the time because I was so interested in whatever teacher was saying. Even if I wasn't in the lesson I liked, I'd distract myself by designing a cool new outfit or plans for a story in my notebook. I didn't want any human friends. Didn't need any. And until I was about eight I didn't really stop to realise why I should have any.

Then, one day, I was walking through the shortcut towards my school and talking to Charlie, who always walked me to school which Mum said was sweet of him. We were talking about how Mildred had been accusing George of sleeping with next doors rabbit, but how George kept saying that was impossible, mainly because Dad had paid the vet to cut his genitals off two years ago. I was deciding on the best way to get the try and get the two to kiss and make-up when something sharp and hard came out of nowhere and hit me in the side of the head. Then everything went black.

"GOBLIN!"

"FREAK!"

Suddenly I was lying face down on the pavement. There was a burning sting in the side of my head and I saw, not far away from me, the rock that had been thrown against it. Blinking through tears, I looked across the small road to see a couple of kids from my year pointing their middle fingers up at me, snarling at me like vicious wolves.

I got up to my feet and felt the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I was crying because I was crying, more than anything. I never cried. I never had anything to cry about. I was always happy. The Sunshine Kid, Dad always called me. Now I didn't feel like a sunshine person all of a sudden. I felt like the thick, grey, clouds that always brought cold rain. My eyes were now doing just that. I turned to Charlie and asked why he didn't attack the boys for me. But Charlie wasn't there anymore.

Little did I know back then how that one little thump to the head would begin the destruction of the rest of my so-far perfect life. All of a sudden I began to notice how the kids would look at me shiftily, whispering to each other behind their palms as if it rendered them silent - not that they obviously wanted to be. I felt more and more objects begin to be thrown at my direction. The other boys would corner me in the playground at break time and shove me against the wall when there were no grown-ups looking. I'd have to give them the two euros Mum had given me for lunch to make them go away. Not that it would always work. Most of the time they'd snatch the money and then kick me in the shins until I fell down again.

I couldn't understand. Why was this happening to me? Why now?

Then I began to think that maybe it wasn't just starting now. Maybe it had always been like this; I'd always had these things done to me, but I was too buried in my own magical world to notice or care. Now I was getting to double digits, and it was as if I could feel the magic beginning to slip away from me. That's what scared me more than anything. More than the bullies. More than their insults and attacks. I didn't want to grow up. Growing up meant having to do boring grown up things. Growing up meant never having time for fun and stories. Growing up meant your parents growing up as well and then….

One day in Science class, we were studying evolution. Adam Crowe, who sat behind me, put his hand up and said out loud: "Sir! Don't worry about the Missing Link - we've found it!" The class burst into laughter, and I turned around to see that he was pointing straight at me. Then the laughter got louder and louder. Even the science teacher seemed to be stifling a smirk on his lips. I ducked my head, blushing, continuing to scribble something in my sketch book. It was then snatched out of my hands.

"He thinks he's bloody Van Gough!" Adam chanted, holding the open page high to show the rest of the class. My face flushed again, tinged with a bit more anger this time. I was going for more Andy Warhol.

One of the other boys grabbed at the book; "Oi, Noir! You should try what that geezer did and cut off your ear. Don't think it could make you look any uglier."

More laughter. More. Funny, funny, funny. I just didn't get it. I didn't want to get it.

Just as the teacher had reached the end of his tether, nothing to do with sparing me from any more humiliation - just wanting to get on with his lesson plan, I jumped up out of my seat, stuffing my books into my bag, before storming out of the class room. I didn't care anymore. Not that I'd ever cared about science much but I did like learning stuff about animals. At that moment I just wanted to go home. I was always happy at home. Always.

As soon as I entered the house I dropped my bag on the kitchen floor and bolted upstairs the bathroom. I managed to catch a glimpse of Mum in the living room watching one of her mumish shows but I didn't stop to make eye contact. I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled up my stall to look in the mirror - I was freakishly small for my age. My eyes met my own in my reflection, tinged with a furious red from where I'd been crying since running out of school. My cheeks were burning hot and my hair out of all sorts, even more so than usual. I'd stopped crying now. I was still gasping from all the running and struggling to get my breath back.

A knock on the door nearly made me topple off the stall.

"Is that you, Vince, love? You didn't say you were coming home for lunch."

Mum. I wanted to answer her back but as soon as I opened my mouth, it appeared my tongue had decided to have a little sleepy. Just more gasping came out.

"Sweetheart? Is everything alright?"

Alright? Of course everything was alright. Everything always was. I gripped the edge of the sink and continued to stare into the mirror. Until I saw it. Until I saw what they were all on about for the first time in my life. I really was ugly. I didn't look….right. My lengthy dirty blond hair was all over the place. Completely unmanageable, despite the amount of times Mum tried to attack it with a hairbrush. And my eyes. Mum always said I had the most beautiful eyes in the world. They were my grandfather's eyes, she said. Perhaps that's why they look so hideous - because he didn't put them in my eye sockets properly. They were far too big for my face. And my nose was too sharp, too crooked - it was like a witch's nose. My cheekbones jutted out below my gigantic eyes as if they were close to bursting through the skin. I reached my quivering hands up to touch them. Fuck. I really did look like a freak. A goblin. Monster.

I retched, a new wave of sobs shuddering out of me from no where, my body curling forward. My feet left the stall and I crouched down on the cold tiled floor, tightening myself up into a ball under the sink, digging my fingertips angrily into my god-forsaken face. Why had I never noticed it before? I could've spotted it and asked Mum and Dad to pay to give me plastic surgery or something. I let myself walk around like…THIS? No wonder Charlie didn't come and see me much anymore. No wonder the animals didn't wanna talk to me lately. No wonder relatives wouldn't come and spend time with me much. No wonder I didn't have any real friends. How could I when I looked like this? Who would ever wanna hang around with a disgusting freak like me?

By this point I was sobbing so loud and I'd forgotten that Mum was just outside the door.

"Vince! Vince, what's the matter, baby?…Vince, please, open the door for me, please!" I could hear the pitch in her voice. Now she was close to crying too.

Great. Not only was I hideous but I'd made my mum cry also. As if I couldn't feel anymore worthless. The last thing I could do was open the door for her to let her see me like this. I must have looked even more ridiculous with my hair all windswept and face all scrunched up as I openly wept. I told her, or what came out more as a wail, to leave me alone. Of course, being Mum, she didn't. She sat there on the other side of the door, continuing to ask me what was wrong and if I wanted anything. I never answered her, I just kept on sobbing for god-knows how long. At one point she left me for two minutes, saying she was going to make me a Nutella sandwhich in case I wanted to come out. I assume she also found the time to use the phone because barely half an hour later Dad came home from work two hours early. He ordered me to open the door, his bubbling anger unfamiliar and scary to me, so I froze. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he kicked the door in.

Mum pretty much pushed past Dad to rush towards me. She tried to take me into her arms, holding my wrists so I'd stop scratching my now close-to-bleeding face, but I shook her off and shuffled further back, hiding myself from them. When Mum let out a heartbroken sob at her son's pain, Dad took action and grabbed at me more firmly with a strength I couldn't even bother to fight against. He held my hands down at my sides and I screwed my face up tighter, shutting my eyes and biting my trembling lip. Dad demanded that I tell them what was wrong. Through his hard tone, I could hear the blatant worry in his voice. I told them about what the other kids had been saying and doing to me. I told them I was scared of growing up and no one liking me. I told them that I knew now how ugly I was. When I was finished, they both just went quiet and looked at each other. Looks that I immediately guessed meant "Well he is right, so how do we break this to him gently?"

I'd never know what they were thinking to each other in that moment though. Parents seemed to have one of those weird 'telepathetic links' between them. The next thing I did know was that I was behind pulled, gently but fixed, against my dad's soft body. Mum smooshed up beside him and lifted my legs up so that I was sitting across both of their laps, her warm hands taking mine. Dad's hand was rubbing soothing circles into my back. Before either of them said anything, I felt the sunshine worming it's way back into me. The fact I was nine years old, sobbing like a baby and having to cradled by both my parents before I could calm down wasn't the least bit embarrassing. It felt good. I felt loved. Maybe that's all I've ever needed.

They told me I was beautiful. Unique. That I was their special little Prince and they loved me. "Your ol' dad wasn't always the looker he is now, y'know." said Mum jovially. Dad had mockingly glared at her before agreeing; "She's right. I had to grow into my looks. And so will you, son." They were incredibly good-looking, my folks. My mum wasn't much taller than me, had perfect bone structure, a figure that you'd never guessed had produced a kid and luscious blond hair like Sleeping Beauty. Dad on the other hand was tall, not buff but chunky, with blue eyes like mine and also impressive dark hair. I only wished back then I'd believed what they said about growing into your looks. I just thought they were saying what parents said. It was enough for me to feel slightly better though.

Even Charlie came back to see me that night after Mum tucked me into bed. He apologized for having run off but he'd decided, on spur of the moment, to go to an Alice Cooper concert. He then told me the story of why he'd come back looking like a pink vacuum cleaner. I snuggled down to sleep that night, with Charlie continuing to babble on about those poor Inuit's, beside me, beginning to think that everything would be much better from now on.

The next morning, Dad came into my room before leaving for work for a 'man-to-man' talk, as he'd call them. I loved that he'd always make me feel like a man. Not a lady-man, not a 'little man' - just a man, even if I was only nine. He told me that if any bullies at school gave me more agro, not to be afraid to fight back if I wanted to. Of course Dad was a born and bred cockney bitch. We used to practised play-fighting all the time in the garden. Never anything too hard as he knew that Mum, who was from a more upper class upbringing - her brother being a French duke - was against such thuggish behaviour. Hence why Dad was sneaking into my room at this point while Mum was still asleep. He told me that people have to learn to get as good as they give. Those words sank into me deeper than I'd ever have known at the time.

An hour later I kissed Mum on the cheek and left the house, bouncing to school for the first time in weeks, humming along to The Human League on my portable stereo. Dad's talk with me had left me feeling so elated, so ready to face the world head on, even if my head in question did have a close resemblance to the Elephant Man's. He didn't do too bad, from what I hear, nor would I.

I suppose some things are funny how they turn out. This was, a little bit. It turned out I wouldn't need to practise any 'moves' on any kids trying to scare me into handing out my lunch money again. Not for a while. Lady Luck must have had a thing for me that day - Pedo! Turned out that there was a new kid in school. He'd just moved in from Leeds. He was put in the same year as me but he can't have been the same age. No one believed that for a second. We'd eventually find out that he'd been held back a year or two. Or five. Though, from the looks of him, anyone would think he'd been held back a couple of decades. Yeah, you see where I'm going with this now, don't you.

Howard was told to sit next to me. I could sense immediately from the tension in the room that all of the other kids eyes were on him, just as mine were. He looked so…old. Not old and frail like Grandma and Grandpa. Not even old like the blundering half-deaf science teacher. Just old. It wasn't just down to his moustache either - though that was a bit creepy - it was more his size. I wondered if everyone was like that in Leeds. It must have been like Gulliver's Travels going up there. I made a mental note to ask Mum and Dad to go on holiday in Leeds to see that! Or maybe Howard could tell me about it…

"Alright?" I asked softly, with the friendly smile Mum always told me to wear when meeting someone new. A couple of the other kids turned their heads to stare, either surprised as to why I was talking to him or waiting for his response.

Not that I got much of one. He turned his head to the side and looked me up and down with his small but oddly piercing brown eyes, a firm serious frown on his face. For a split second I felt incredibly vulnerable. On the spot. As if this boy (assuming he was really a boy) could see right through me. Which meant like everyone else that he'd shudder at me before blanking me completely. So it was a tad surprising when his stern lips shifted into somewhat of a crooked smile, nodding his head to acknowledge me.

Something in me, something small and fuzzy and like a bumble bee, buzzed warmly against the pit of my stomach. Howard had turned his attention back to the blackboard, whereas as I kept staring at the side of his head, at his shaggy brown curls. I wondered if he'd mind me practising some of my 'Midnight Barber' techniques on him. Then the teacher caught me not paying attention and snapped at me to focus. I pretended I did. That was the best I could manage.

My disfigured face had become yesterday's news in the playground now. Everyone was too busy muttering about the New Kid. As I shuffled through the halls to get to my locker, I passed a group of kids who would've normally taken the opportunity to trip me up or slam my face into a wall. Now they were too occupied with whispering rumours they'd 'heard' (I.e, made up) about Howard.

"I heard he's really a teenager sent to spy on younger kids. Y'know like in that Never Been Kissed movie…"

"I heard he's just a creep who hypnotised the teachers into believing he was just thirteen and held back…"

"I heard a similar thing - but he was a prossy on the streets and someone asked him to dress up like this, but he liked it so much he wanted to be a kid again."

"I heard he's just got some freaky aging disorder. Or like he fell in the Fountain of Aging…"

"I heard Noir likes to eavesdrop on other people's conversations 'cause he secretly wants to get his ugly head smashed in."

Of course I ran off at that. Fortunately they didn't chase me out into the playground. Once I was out, I breathed a sigh of relief, just as I spotted an unusually tall figure in a school uniform sitting on one of the benches across the netball court. I cocked my head to look at him. He looked so lonely. It's amazing how loneliness can even make someone that big look…small. Though that was probably to do with how far away he was. He was just eating his lunch quietly, reading a maths book in his other hand, which by the tense look on his face I could see he was struggling with.

I skipped over to him, the same way the kids a few years below me would do, to invade the little anti-social bubble he'd made up around him. He didn't seem to hear me coming. Either that or he just didn't want to look up.

"Wotcha!" I chimed. Howard, whose mouth was busy chewing on a sandwhich at that moment, stopped chewing. But it turned out it was only to swallow.

"D'you wanna play guns?" I asked. What right-minded boy didn't wanna play guns?

Howard's eyes finally looked up to meet mine. He then joggled his book in his hand a little to indicate he was busy. Obviously this boy then.

"Oh, okay….C-can I join you?" At nine years old I had no sense of the word 'too needy'. Howard paused for a moment, then shrugged. That was good enough for me.

I plonked myself down beside him, smiling up at his face which was once again fixed on the boring book. Christy, he was massive. Not even Andrea, the morbidly obese girl in year six, made me feel this tiny to be near. It wasn't a scary kind of massive though. He looked strong.

"You're the new kid, right? Howard Moon, yeah?" I didn't wait for a response. "I'm Vince. We sit together in form."

Howard widened his eyes without looking at me as if to say; Yes, I do know, that was just an hour ago, imbecile. Odd how I guessed that was what he was thinking even if at the time I didn't understand the word imbecile.

"Ey, guess what my last name is?" I asked, keeping the bouncy tone in my voice even though I could already tell he wasn't interested in speaking to me.

He didn't reply.

"Noir! Genius, innit? Vince Noir - The Star! S'got a ring to it, yeah?"

Howard lifted his head up, his eyes meeting mine; "…Not really."

I frowned. "Ey?"

"Well it doesn't roll off your tongue or anything. You don't even say what sort of 'star' you are." He said critically. "Just the star. Star of what? Andromeda?"

"Rock n' Roll star, of course, y'nonce." I chided, elbowing him slightly. "Ey that is better though…Vince Noir, Rock n' Roll star….Ha! That does fit!"

"Congratulations." said Howard, deadpan, looking back to his maths book.

"Let's come up with one for you, ey? Howard Moon….uh, Howard Moon….Greasy Spoon!" I burst out laughing, immensely impressed by my own wit. Howard didn't laugh. He just cringed and pretended he didn't hear me. "Oh, c'mon, that was funny."

"Sure it was. But I'm a bit busy here, alright? I've gotta catch up on loads here and none of it is going in…" He muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the formulas as if they were an alien language. We hadn't been taught Xooberon, Martian or Welsh yet.

I looked over his shoulder, recognising the work that our class had done just a month before. "Ah, that's easy! Even I know that. It ain't difficult at all. Only a retard couldn't get that-"

"It's only easy if you know the answers, you little titbox! And I don't - got it?" Howard snapped at me. "And don't start going around saying I'm mentally slow or anything, 'cause I'm not, you hear?!"

"Alright! Alright!" I said, getting up off the seat, frightened. I put my hands in my pockets and walked away. I should've known that he wouldn't like me. Still, can't blame a guy for trying. It was just one new guy though. I didn't even know him. Why was it that his rejection had caused my cheeks to flush like they were doing?

I didn't try and communicate with Howard after that for a while. He scared me a bit with his outburst, more so then I'd thought at the time. I avoided his gaze when he walked into class, hid behind my fringe if he was walking towards me (or just hide completely), normally resulting in me slamming my own forehead into a hard surface. One time in form, he asked if he could borrow one of my pencils as his had broke. My hand was shaking as I'd gingerly passed it to him without saying a word. Not even the kids who bullied me made me feel like this. They didn't make me want to constantly hide myself as if my face didn't deserve to meet their eyes. What was wrong with me?

A month passed, roughly, and I was walking out of the school building one afternoon a minute after the bell had rung to send us home. Charlie was beside me and we were talking about how annoying that school bell was. It was just a plain, shrill, high-pitched ring. Talk about boring. They should've had a music themed one. Something that could be themed to get us all excited about lessons starting or lunch beginning or just home time. "How genius would it be to go out of the school whilst listening to Together In Electric Dreams, ey?" I was saying to him out loud. We were out in the playground and Charlie was just about to argue back, his taste of music different from mine, when-

"Oi, Noir! Talking to your invisible friends again?"

Adam Crowe. He'd obviously got bored of muttering about the new kid and was now back to picking on me. I kept on walking, stuffing my hands in my pocket, ducking my head to hide behind my long fringe. Mum had said that if anyone bothered me again, just to ignore it and rise above it, even though Dad had said to fight back. I was all set for following Dad's advise before, but I just wanted to go home and watch the new series of Colobus the Crab.

This was a bad move, however, as I felt a pair of hands grip my shoulders and haul me backwards until I was pinned against the brick wall of the gymnasium. Adam's face glowered manically close to mine. His gang of dumb gorilla-esque (no offence, Bollo) mates crowded behind him, eager for a show of some sorts. Not the kind that I'd dreamt of ever being in either.

"Don't - EVER - walk away when I'm speaking to you, goblin!" Adam snarled. I swear he got some sort of sadistic thrill at holding me against the wall like this. No surprise he now works as a male stripper gram. "Or you really that fucking mental?!"

Obviously I wasn't that mental. Charlie had disappeared on me again. He always seemed to leave at the most inappropriate of moments. I gulped, trying to hide the fear on my face from Adam and the others, which is difficult with eyes as big as mine.

"Speak, then, retard! We know you like to sing and dance and all that ponsey rubbish - so SING for us!" The toe of his foot came to my shin again. I let out a whimper, but tried hard not to crumble to the floor like I had before.

Instead, I looked up at him, my eyes ablaze: "Fuck off, Crowe. Just 'cause I saw you prancing around the studio in your leotard after school last week!"

Adam's face went white as a sheet. A gasp swept through Adam's gang, plus others who had gathered to watch, which morphed into sniggering. I almost burst out laughing as Adam's cheeks began to burn red and his brow furrowed.

"That's a fucking lie!" He growled. I'd only been making it up at first, now I could see I'd chosen the right lie to pick out. The laughter didn't stop. Adam brought a fist off to smack me hard in the face. I heard - more than felt - something crack in my bone structure, a searing pain forming below my left eye. I didn't let it defeat me though.

Give as good as you get, son.

Smirking, I brought my head back up; "Like that Shakespeare bloke says; I think the lady does protest too much!"

Before the crowd of blood-thirsty school kids could erupt into laughter again, Adam clenched his teeth before pulling something silver out from his pocket. He snapped it open with his fingers - and suddenly I found that a Swiss army knife was being held to my face. Adam leaned in closer; "What the hell did you just call me, bitch?"

A heavier whimper left my lips, my eyes darting down to the blade in Adam's hand edging slowly towards the skin of my neck. My stomach was clenching, my body shaking - I was gonna die. At not even ten years old, I was gonna be killed. It had been years since the thought had crossed my mind but I was now ready to wail it for all to hear. I want my mummy!

The cold steel brushed like a whisper of ice against my pulsing skin.

"Say goodnight, Noir." Adam hissed against my ear.

A hushed, fearful silence had fallen upon the whole school.

"Hey!" Some deep, almost foreign voice decided to cut through it.

Adam sighed, irate, turning to who had interrupted him; "Who the fuck is….OH, CRAP! LEG IT!"

The cold steel left my skin. The knife dropped to my feet, just missing the pointed end of my shoes. Adam ran. Everyone ran. Except me. I was left standing upright against the wall, as if still being held up by some unforgiving invisible fist. My eyes were shut tight. My legs suddenly turned to jelly (strawberry, I'd think. You can't really see me as orange flavoured) and I was sliding down against the wall until I was sat on the ground. I was shuddering almost violently, even though it was July, and a hot July at that. I was too in shock to cry. Tearless sobs seem to shake hungrily from me.

I could have been killed. He really could have killed me. No one cared enough to stop him….but then why wasn't I dead? I put my arms up to hug myself pathetically. I still felt real. Alive. What had happened? Charlie? Dad? Unkempt brown loafers stepped into my tilted line of vision.

"Are you ok?"

I looked up, slowly, firstly to see a large hand reaching down towards me. Secondly to be met with a pair of small but twinkling brown eyes. I stared up at him, my jaw hanging loosely, my throat dry as Rivita. Howard. Howard Moon. My hero.

"Are you ok?" He asked again, his voice so caring and silky smooth. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head, still gawping up at him as if I was doubting he even existed. Which, at the time, I think I was. Howard's hand was still held out in front of me. It was like some divine relic behind held out by God to me. Just for me. I slowly moved my hand towards it, clasping it gently as if it would disappear on me at any moment, whilst he wrapped his fingers around my smaller hand so firmly that I gasped. He then hauled me up to my feet, steadying me with his other hand.

Now back on my feet I felt a wave of dizziness, as well as a crushing kick to the stomach of what had just happened to me. Tears that had been forming since the knife had been placed to my neck were at last bleeding out from my eyelids. Howard kept one hand on my shoulder, whilst the other came up onto my wet cheek.

"Hey, hey…it's alright. They're gone. You're safe now. Don't cry," He half-soothed, half-pleaded with awkwardness. I didn't want to cry. The relief of being alive was just as overwhelming as almost having had my neck slashed up. Howard's thumb continued to stroke my cheek.

I looked up at him, trying to form some sort of smile through my scrunched up mess of a mug. What came out felt like a dazed, blinded, inane grin. "You saved me." I said breathlessly.

Howard blushed a little, running a hand down the back of his neck; "Well…I didn't really know what was happening, I just came along and said 'hey' and they-"

"You…saved me." I repeated, not taking in any of the words he'd just said. I knew what I needed to know and I was saying it in all three words that were needed.

Howard's eyes narrowed; "But, I-"

"He was pressing a knife to my throat!" I exclaimed, glancing down to see the blade lying deserted and unthreatening on the ground. Howard saw it and winced away from it, as if it could jump up and have a mind of it's own. Zombie knife. I looked back to Howard; "H-he was gonna k-kill me….b-but you made them go away. Y-you're like…s-superman." I smiled drearily at that last bit.

Howard let out a modest laugh. His brow then curved for a moment as if he was thinking of something he didn't want me to know. He then straightened up and smiled proudly; "I suppose I am a bit then. Happy to have been of service."

He nodded his head curtly. If I hadn't been so in shock I may have made a joke about him coming from 1870. All I could manage to do was just keep staring at him. This, he soon noticed, when he started to look wearily at me. He shuffled his feet.

"Uhmm….I better scoot. Got homework to do." He muttered, his feet already starting to step away from me.

I dunno what made me do it. I can't even remember thinking about it. But for some reason I leapt forward and wrapped my arms tight around his waist. Cor, he was so comfy. I could barely feel my weedy little arms all the way around him. I felt him tense up like the brandy snap he is straight away, his hands raising up so as not to touch me back. I didn't care. I clung onto him with every bit of gratitude in me.

"Uh…listen, lad, you're welcome, yeah? C-could you please-"

"Walk me home." I chimed, craning my head up to look him in the eye. His own head reeled back again in surprise.

"What?"

"Walk me home. Please. S-stay with me. Let me hang out with you. Th-they won't hurt me if I'm around you! Please, Howard…" My eyes were still blurred with tears, but I managed to make out his reluctant expression.

His hands came down to land onto my own that were wrapped around him. Not to hug back. Not to remove them either. He looked at me seriously.

"Noir, yeah? I like to be left alone. And I really don't like people-"

"I'll do all your homework for you!"

Howard blinked; "…What?"

"I will!" I squeaked, "I'll do it all. Everyone knows how crap you are in….well, everything."

"Is this your way of making friends?"

I gasped, almost knocked back by the thought; "…Could we? C-could we be friends? I mean; it'll work so well. You're a freak, I'm a freak. We can be freaky friends together."

Howard looked to be fighting a smile, maybe even a giggle, "I dunno, Vince…I don't think we have anything in common."

"What you on about? We go to the same school, we're both nearly ten…apparently. We wear the same uniform. We both have no other friends so this is the best offer we're gonna get."

"Uh, I'll have you know, I've had loads of offers for friendship, thank you."

"Yeah, right!" I grinned back, "Someone even comes too near you in the lunch-line, you storm your way to the front like a jugger-naught, stamping everyone in your path."

"I happen to be very fond of beef steak and kidney pie is all."

"Beef steak and kidney? Everyone knows they make it out of the so-call 'retired' teachers who are put out of their misery. I found old Professor Carlson's wedding ring in there the other day."

"Hmm, I didn't think cows wore hearing aids." Howard mused disgustedly.

I giggled up at him, my tears now dried up, remembering I was still latched onto his middle. "You see? I could do this forever."

"Not sure I could…"

"Oh please, Howard! Y-you can be Superman and keep me safe from Adam and other dickheads like him. I could pay you back by doing all your homework. A-and we can watch the new series of Colobus the Crab together at mine, yeah?"

Howard's mouth was twitching, working away thoughts that I thought your mind was meant to do. He looked down at me, the right side of his lip slithering upwards. "I do kinda like that show."

I nearly exploded with happiness. It must have shone on my face because it began to sting like it was being overly stretched. I held onto Howard even tighter.

"Is that a yes?!" I practically bounced, "W-we can be friends? Really?!"

"Yes! Fine! We can be…'friends'." Howard conceded, sounding similar to the way my dad does when he gives into buying me sweets when he knows they'll spoil my tea. "On one condition…"

"What's that?"

"Please stop touching me!"

I made a coy smile, my arms releasing Howard quickly. The bigger boy brushed himself off at the waist, watching me curiously, probably regretting his choice already. When he was finished, he cocked his head towards the entrance. "C'mon then, you little pimp."

"Aright, small eyes." I niggled back. He frowned for a moment, which didn't help to disprove my insult, before continuing to walk.

Before we'd even reached the gates, I'd linked my arm into his.

Howard sighed; "What did I just say?"

"No touching." I smiled. He raised an eyebrow and I added; "Which we're not doing. Our jackets are. You can't tell jackets what to do. If you could, they'd probably disagree and take over the world. Imagine that; Revenge of the Parka People!"

Howard laughed. Not a proper, child-like, normal laugh. More of a repressed, weakened, yet spirited laugh. But it was a laugh all the same. And it made my heart soar. I really miss that laugh of his.

Hoped you like. And, remember, reviews dry bullied ickle Vincey's tears.