Vince loses his temper and then his best friend. How will he cope?



Genre: ,


Warning: ,


Length: words

Notes: This is my first fanfiction therefore I am slighty nervous about posting it!

Comments are always welcome, as are ideas to improve :] Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all characters affliated are the creation of Mr Noel Fielding and Mr Julian Barratt.

This is purely the work of fiction.

I am not making money from this because if I were, Party would have ended in a very different way.

An updated version of Regrets, I wasn’t very happy with the last one. Please give feed back cause i’m not sure that it’s better than the other one. =]

Regrets by sxcbaybee123

The rain battered against the window pane and Vince Noir sat on his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes, that were usually like gleaming, bright, blue pools, were murky and dull.

He took a few short, sharp breathes, trying with all his might to keep the threatening tears at bay.

“Why him? Why did you have to take him away from me?’ he shouted towards the sky as he lost his battle and the hot tears spilt over their rims and fell down his cheeks, dripping onto his black top. He clawed at his skin, hoping that it would make him feel better.

It didn’t.

Vince’s flamboyant nature just seemed to fall away when Howard Moon, his best friend, had died. He didn’t want to dress up in cheerful, bright colours any more, he didn’t want to style his raven black hair, he didn’t even bother to brush it now. He didn’t want to sing or dance along to cheesy 80’s pop music, as his carefree self had done when Howard was alive. He just wanted to see his friend again.

He was scum, no better than a murderer. That’s what he was, he supposed.

Vince felt so guilty. And it was tearing him up inside. He wanted to see Howard one more time, just to tell him that he was sorry. To tell him that he didn’t mean anything he had said and was sorry he hurt him. To say that he had got angry because he was upset…

One month ago…

“ Vince, will you please stop prancing around and sit down. You’ve been in front of that mirror for three hours now. You’re like a bleeding budgie! Don’t you ever get bored of your own reflection?… Actually, don’t answer that, I know exactly what you’ll say.” Howard sighed, irritated by his best friend, who was posing in front of the mirror, in at least the 25th different outfit he had tried on in the last few hours.

Vince, who was strangely in a bad mood as well, spun around to look at his friend,

“Look, just cause you can’t be bothered to look good, don’t blame it on me! I’m Vince Noir, Rock ‘n’ Roll Star, if I don’t look amazing then there’s no hope for anyone!”

“How dare you, Sir! I do look very smart, in fact I’m in my best corduroy slacks this very moment!”

“Howard, you’ve gone wrong! Corduroy Slacks?! That is so many crimes against fashion it’s unbelievable! You’ll never get a girlfriend looking like a maths teacher! Your a freak!” Vince cried, meaning it to be a harmless statement, to lighten the mood, but as soon as he said it, he saw the hurt puppy-dog look in his friend’s eyes and immediately regretted his words.

Howard looked wounded. It wasn’t as if Vince hadn’t put Howard down in such a way before but this time it seemed to upset him. But before Vince could apologise Howard sneered…

“Yeah, well neither will you prancing around like a transvestite gone wrong! Or maybe is that what you want? Do you want all the trannies to notice you?! Are you that twisted?! You make me SICK!” He spat out the last word with so much venom that it made Vince cower slightly against the wall, as Howard moved towards him.

Now it was the younger man’s turn to look upset.

The one thing that Vince longed for was praise from his best friend, he wanted his mate to notice him. Really notice him and now he’d found out that Howard thought he was nothing more than a joke, nothing more than ‘A transvestite gone wrong”

And so with not one more word, Vince, almost blinded by the anger and hurt in his eyes, launched himself at Howard, biting, scratching and kicking him as much as he could.

Howard yelped, as the searing pain from a particularly nasty bite to his shoulder smarted, sending shock waves through his body.

But Vince didn’t stop.

“I hate you! I hate you! Your supposed to be my best friend! I bloody HATE you!” Screamed Vince, his punches becoming increasingly more aggressive, even though he was now crying.

So Howard stopped trying to fight his friend off him and instead curled up into a ball, covering his head. This brought Vince out of his rage and he froze, staring down at his now blood covered friend, tears cascading down his face. He tried to touch Howard’s wounds but the terrified man beneath him flinched and stood up, running from the room. He was sobbing as he slammed the door behind him, clutching his throbbing cheek.

Vince stood, rooted to the spot, choking on the tears that now formed puddles on his clothes, as he realised that he would never see his best friend again.

The hours past and Vince paced the flat. He absently fiddled with the beaded bracelet clasped around his skinny wrist, twisting each bead in his fingers. He stood watching them crumble in his hands.

It was a twisted pleasure. Seeing the beads break was like punishing himself for what he had done to the one person he loved more than anything.

He then collapsed into a sobbing heap on the sofa when he remembered that Howard had bought him that bracelet.

He’d searched for hours at Christmas in town looking for it, even though the thought of venturing into town at Christmas, where there were irate mothers with screaming babies in buggies and teenagers willing to start a fight with anyone that even dared to look at them, sent a shiver down his spine.

And all because he knew that Vince would love it.

Vince argued with himself as to whether he should go and try to find Howard. He felt so helpless and guilty. The clock on the wall chimed and he realised it was 4 o’clock in the morning. He didn’t know what to do. Howard never stayed out this long.

Hell, he never stayed out at all.

He should go and look for him. But even if he found him, there would be no way that Howard would want to speak to him.

He’d lost him forever.


This scared him more than anything and shook him out of his daze. He regained control of his legs and shakily took off out of the front door.


Dalston was so different in the middle of the night, so sedate. He looked everywhere he could think: The Jazz Bar, The Be-Bop Café, everywhere that Howard would go. Nothing.

Nasty thoughts bore into Vince’s head. His stomach lurched and he had to fight the urge to be sick, as worry seeped through his veins.

Suddenly, out of the distance a siren sounded. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, Vince just knew…

The ambulance raced past Vince, in the direction of the canal. He took off after it, only to be stopped by a policeman halfway down the road.

“Sorry Sir, you can’t go through, there’s been an accident.” He said, forcefully moving Vince to the side of the road.

“What type of accident? Who is it? I need to know. Tell me, please!” Vince cried, craning his neck to see behind the officer in front of him.

“ I can’t really say anything, sir. It’s police information.”

“Look, my best friend, Howard-Howard Moon-we had an argument earlier and he stormed off. I haven’t seen him for hours, he never stays out this long. I’m really worried about him. So this is really important, CAN YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAS HAPPENED!” Vince screamed, tears stinging the back of his eyes.

“Look, I’m not really supposed to tell you… but we’ve found the body of a male. We’re still trying to work out the cause of death but we believe he may have thrown himself into the canal. Can I ask what Mr Moon was wearing when you last saw him?” The police officer said, producing a notebook and pen from the top pocket of his uniform.

“ Um… I – I think it was um… a blue shirt, Corduroy slacks and… and brown sandals.” Vince replied, he was bordering on hysterical now.

The policeman disappeared for a moment to talk to one of is colleagues. He returned with a solemn, sympathetic look on his face. He drew his hat from his head and spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Sir”

Vince collapsed into a shaking heap on the pavement. His whole body shuddered as he gasped for air.

He didn’t identify the body. He couldn’t bring himself to see Howard again after the argument. He didn’t want see what he had reduced his best friend to.

The police said that Howard had left a suicide note, which they found when they pulled him out of the canal. Vince trembled as he held the note. He sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest and he wiped his already tear stained eyes on his black top.

He took one deep breath and started to read:

Dear Vince,

I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you but I have to, I have to do it, for myself.

I don’t blame you, not for anything, not ever.

I blame myself, the things that I said should have never been said.

I know that you were angry, I know I should have never upset you like I did and for that, I am truly, truly sorry. I never meant a word of it, not really.

All of these feelings have been bottled up inside of me for a long while now and that’s why I have to do this, because I just can’t cope any more. You know, I sat crying on my bed the other night, while you were asleep and I thought ‘What do I really have to live for?’.

None of this is your fault.

Please don’t ever think that it was.

The last thing I want is to ruin your life. Because that’s what I realised I was doing, I was stopping you, holding you back. You don’t need some weird old jazz freak in your life. You need to be around exciting, young, fashionable people, people you can go for a drink and have a laugh with. And that just isn’t me, that will never be me. I realise that now.

It’s so hard to admit but I’m absolutely bloody terrified.

I’ve never been more scared in my life.

Right now, I am standing near the edge of the water, looking down into the darkness. It looks so cold.

This is it.

Vince, promise me one thing:

Go and live.

Get married, have kids, moan about your wrinkles and just enjoy life. For me, Vince. Please do that for me.

Sleep tight for me, little man, and I’ll see you very soon

Love You Always and Forever,

Howard x

End Notes: I know it was a little bit harsh but I was in a bad mood!

I might have a go at some good old fluff next time though. :]

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