Warnings: Mild swearing, self harm, eating disorders and suicide attempts. BUT IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING :L

Disclaimer: Boosh belongs to the lovely Julian Barratt and the gorgeous Noel Fielding.

Catch Me

Vince Noir was falling.

He knew he was falling.

They knew he was falling.

Everything, just collapsing around him.

It shouldn't have been so beautiful that day. The day Howard left. It should've rained, because it was all washing away. It should've snowed, because all that was left was the cold. The sun shouldn't have shone, because Vince didn't shine anymore.

The Sunshine Kid was a mere shell when he pushed his reason too far. Pushed him away and out the door and now he wasn't coming back. He was never coming back.

X

"Howard, Howard where you going?" the events were hazy in his memory, now. Little details kept in, like how Vince had only lined one eye when he heard the faint click of suitcase fasteners, or how Howard's small eyes hadn't looked so small that close up. The obvious details had been lost in the fog, though. Like what outfit he was wearing or what time of day it was.

"I'm leaving, Vince," the answer was cold and detached and un-Howard-like. Momentary confusion flared up in Vince's mind, before his brain cell switched on the red flashing warning lights.

"What? Leaving? Why?" his voice was too high and too close to cracking to pass of as natural.

"Why, Vince? Why?" Howard spat. "Because I've had enough! I thought that you missed me, maybe, that you'd actually care! What happened to 'Howard, oh, Howard, you can't go, you're irreplaceable!'?" Vince winced at the cruel mocking tone of his own words uttered just days before. "Then you go get some chump off the streets hours after I leave?"

Vince's nose crinkled in confusion before he remembered Adam. See? The 'replacement' didn't even place in his memory. Why couldn't Howard see that?

"Howard, you can't leave," his voice was small and weedy and nothing like enough to make Howard stay.

"Why can't I, Vince? You don't own me. You can't just click your fingers and expect everyone to bow down and do as you say. Or do you think that, Vince? Because if you do you have some serious growing up to do."

And then he'd left. Just like that. Vince was stunned, staring at the slammed door, waiting for the realisation to hit him. He heard the silent tear of his heart and the little flutter of it as it crumpled to the floor by his feet, like worthless scrap paper. He stared at the nothingness for a while, then, before it hit him like a bomb. Howard had left. He'd left. Vince's shoulders sagged and he slumped backwards, sliding down the luminous shop counter, crawling up on the floor by the remains of his heart, hugging his knees and wishing he had the ability to rewind time.

X

That was exactly one month ago.

It was exactly one month since Howard had gone.

One month since Vince had stopped caring.

One month since Vince had stopped eating, or had forced up what he'd forced down.

One month since Vince had begun cutting.

One month since Vince had begun falling.

One week since Vince had attempted suicide.

X

Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it.

The words revolved inside his head as he placed the gun to his temple. The thing was alien, strange and heavy in his hand. Loaded. He looked in the mirror and back stared a person he didn't know. A person who was too pale, whose cheekbones were too high, whose face was deprived of make-up or any mask at all. Howard had made him that person. He'd made him the skinny, hollow shell who didn't even bother with a suicide note.

Do it.

He pulled back the hammer and swallowed. And as he closed his eyes a pair of small, gentle hands slowly took the gun from him and placed it back on the bed-side table.

"Don't be such an idiot," Naboo said softly. Vince opened his eyes and nodded slowly. Naboo chewed his lip, considering what to say. "I'm gonna call Howard," he said eventually. Vince didn't even flinch. "Vince, you can't go on like this."

X

Naboo and Bollo were still trying to pull him back from where he was inevitably heading. Exactly where that was, they weren't certain, but it wasn't going to be good, that was for sure.

"Vince," Naboo's lisp sounded tentatively outside his bedroom door. Vince opened his eyes slowly, waking from a sleep he didn't particularly want to be woken from. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains and he groaned, head burning with a hangover. Naboo pushed forwards into the room, trying hard to ignore the fact the arm Vince was using to shield his eyes was riddled in cuts and grazes and scars, or that it was far, far too thin. "Vince, me an' Bollo are goin' out. We got someone downstairs mindin' the shop, just thought I'd tell you."

Vince mumbled something incoherent as a reply and rolled over, unintentionally pulling a section of duvet away from his bare back. Bony vertebrae stuck out and his ribs looked like the rungs of a ladder. Naboo chose to look away.

X

Half an hour later, Vince swung his legs off the side of the bed. He pointedly ignored his mirror, dragging on a pair of lime green skinnies and an old Stones t-shirt. At first he considered the protection of a hoodie, but decided whoever this nonce Naboo had hired was, he wouldn't care about the strange skinny bloke who lived up stairs. Shoving his feet into a pair of Converse, Vince finally dragged up the courage to look at his reflection. He looked normal. Well, in the sense that he wasn't wearing a purple cat-suit or glittery platforms. Despite dropping almost everything else; he still shaved, no make-up, no Lego jewellery. Vince glanced down to his scarred arms, and up at the hoodie, before deciding he wasn't bothered.

Traipsing downstairs, he grabbed a magazine from the side- Cheekbone- passed Howard, mumbled an 'Alright?' and slumped down in the barbers chair by the- wait, what?

Slowly, oh so slowly, Vince raised his eyes. Howard. Howard was standing behind the counter, smiling ever-so-slightly. Shakily, Vince stood up. He walked over, out-stretched a trembling arm, and placed a hand on Howard's chest. He looked up at the jazzy Northerner's face, and back at where his hand lay.

"You're real," he whispered. "Howard?"

Howard brushed a hand down one of Vince's cheeks and gently tilted his chin up, looking into those big blue eyes, smiling like he did back in the zoo.

"Hey," he said. Vince's mouth opened and closed, face riddled with so many emotions at once.

Before he exploded, he let out a breath he wasn't entirely aware he was holding, launching himself at Howard, burying his face in his lapels.

"You're real," he repeated, voice choked and breaking. Tears began to soak into Howard's shirt and the maverick wrapped his arms around the smaller man, wondering how he could have ever even considered leaving him.

"Vince," he whispered. "Oh,Vince, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" he swallowed his voice before it had a chance to crack, rubbing his hand up and down Vince's back, alarmed at the jutting bones. "Vince, you're so thin."

Vince didn't reply at first, still shaking violently. Breathing in the familiar and greatly-missed smell that was Howard, he calmed himself.

"Sorry," he whispered, drawing away. Tears streaked his face and he reached up, wiping them off with the palm of his hand. Howard took his wrists in his big hands and he pulled them gently away from Vince's eyes, staring at the scabs and cuts. His throat went dry and he felt a little ill. He'd done this. Him.

"Oh, Vince…" he sighed, because there was nothing else to say. Vince looked down at his feet, unable to meet Howard's gaze. "Vince, Naboo called me," Vince's eyes flew upward. Shit. "He said he found you in the bedroom with a gun to your head."

He bit his lip.

"I didn't want to," he said quietly. "I… I was lost, I just-" his voice trailed off as more sobs threatened to rip through his skinny frame. Howard simply shook his head and took Vince up in his arms again. They were going to have a long discussion later, but now wasn't the time.

It was pretty certain Vince Noir was falling.

But at least he had someone to catch him.