Erase Me 9/10
Vince considered a dozen yarns he could spin for Howard, tales that made him sound a bit better than in reality. In a few scenarios, he was a borderline hero.
"I was angry and jealous that you chose Gideon over me so when you lost your memory, I told you that you were a virgin and afraid of women."
Howard just nodded.
"Don't you get it?" Vince persisted, "I didn't want you to find someone else, so I did my best to make you doubt yourself. I wanted you to be all mine, but then you wouldn't even make a move on me! I did everything I could to get your attention, but you just kept up this mentor bullshit and acting like I was a little kid..."
Howard's expression remained placid, but Vince was waiting for the blow-up. Naboo had explained to him how the human mind had a natural tendency toward "meaning making", and that memory loss spells only worked because the human would always find a way to make sense of their memories, no matter how nonsensical. Howard was no exception, he was eccentric as hell without his memories, but he seemed to think nothing was amiss. He was just a good looking man in his mid-twenties who had never managed to kiss a girl or hold her hand. Howard chalked it up to being too young-looking for his old soul so he grew a mustache.
He'd always had a fondness for jazz, something he shared with his beloved late grandmother, but he became a fanatic. He would listen to jazz night and day, going into 'jazz trances', even developing a bizarre fantasy as to why he could play the trumpet like a madman but had no memory of learning the instrument. Howard had lost his virginity to his 45-year-old trumpet instructor. Vince would have liked1 to have met the woman, as she really seemed to balance teaching and sleeping with Howard rather well. Howard was both a skilled trumpet player and a lover. Some would call her a pathetic woman past her prime, but Vince thought she was a terrific multi-tasker. Having discovered the joys of sex through music lessons, Howard would forever associate music lessons with romance and passion - thereby deleting all his musical memories. Where his memories failed, his imagination kicked in and drew the logical conclusion that he was a musical genius and had probably sold his soul to the Spirit of Jazz (whom he met at a get together at Naboo's).
Ironically, Vince had set the stage to be the only love in Howard's life, but he'd also tripled Howard's fears of intimacy. Vince could wear a skin tight jumpsuit and lipstick, flirt shamelessly and refuse to give Howard one inch of personal space and their relationship still remained platonic. At the Zooniverse, it had been sad to be so close to Howard and yet so far. Once they were sharing a flat and a bed, it was unbearable, but Howard remained immune to Vince's flirting and provocation. Even the double date with a couple of goth girls didn't trigger a memory in the Northerner. Vince's heart broke on a daily basis, and yet he could not be unhappy. Howard was nearly untouchable, but he still belonged to Vince in a way he never had before. This Howard needed Vince.
Howard made Vince's tea just as he liked it, 80% sugar and milk, while looking deep in thought.
"I didn't mean to hurt you... Well, I did. I was really mad at you," Vince confessed, "Because of the spell and because of Gideon and because..."
"Did we make love in front of Vanessa?" Howard asked, still staring at the tea. He didn't look angry, just thoughtful.
"She married her first boyfriend," Vince offered, "She never sowed her wild oats... before you, that is. She wanted to try a threesome."
Vince had only ever been with Howard. He liked the way girls looked and smelled, but it was an aesthetic appreciation. Vince no more wanted to shag a girl than he wanted to get off with a nice oil painting. When Howard nervously put forth the suggestion, Vince didn't hesitate to agree, because he hadn't been allowed to touch Howard in four months. Howard was trying very hard to be faithful to his married girlfriend.
"I know it's wrong to even ask this of you," Howard explained, "but I hate to deny her anything and... we have history, Vince. You know I'll be careful... gentle, and I know you won't, you know..."
Vince knew what he meant. Howard didn't want anyone to threaten his relationship with Gideon (other than her husband), so he wanted someone who didn't fancy girls. It was insulting and degrading, and Vince said yes because he was desperate to be with Howard one more time.
Howard slumped against the counter, "It's all a bit difficult, this."
Vince threw his arms around Howard, knocking the tea cups out of his hands.
"I've been a prick at times, but I love you, Howard. I just want to be with you." It felt good to say it out loud. "There's never even been anyone but you... and sort of Gideon."
"Sort of Gideon?"
Vince enjoyed Gideon's breasts, which were as soft and touchable as he'd always imagined tits would be, but he wasn't overly interested in anything else she had to offer. Howard guided Vince's hands between her legs, showing him how to make her moan and beg for more, but all Vince cared about was the big hand holding his own and the look of fascination on Howard's face.
"She and I never... there was just a bit of petting between us and then you, you know, sorted us both out."
Howard looked thoughtful for a moment before his lips began twitching beneath his mustache.
"Sorted you both out? You have a way with words, Little Man."
Vince couldn't help but smile. He'd gone into that evening convinced he'd never be able to perform in front of Gideon, but unable to resist the chance to be with Howard one more time. Fossil could have been watching, and Vince still would have been on his knees, whimpering like a puppy as Howard fucked him. Vince couldn't be without Howard and it was apparently a two way street. It was less than a month after their ménage a trois that Howard was giving him a feel up in the aviary, and swearing him to secrecy.
"All I ever wanted since I was fifteen was to be a rock star and be your boyfriend," Vince explained, "sometimes I fuck up, I know I fuck up, but I really love you. I've always loved you."
"I know, Little Man," Howard said, fondly, "Now help me clean up this tea and we can go upstairs and... create some new memories."
It was so cheesy, Vince had to laugh. He'd always loved Howard's old fashioned sense of style and sense of humor. He'd tried to bring those sides out in his new and improved Howard. He had a feeling it made him kind of a bad person, but Vince couldn't be sorry for the Howard he had created. For his failings, his Howard was something rare and special. He was a gentleman spanning the decades. He mixed fifties and eighties fashion with music from the 60's and the naughties. He would have been equally strange at any point in time, because Howard was truly unique and refused to toe the line when it came to fashion or any form of normality.
"You're not mad?" Vince asked over his shoulder as he ran to get a tea towel.
Howard looked somber as he squatted down to sweep up the shards. Vince knelt next to him and started mopping up tea.
"When you came home last night, looking so dejected," Howard finally began, "I hated whoever or whatever made you so unhappy."
Vince decided it was better he not bring up Harold Boon. Harold had been kind to Vince, he didn't deserve an eyeball full of glass shards.
"I hate how often I've made you unhappy," Howard continued, "It's making my head hurt."
Vince wrapped his arms around Howard, this time a bit less vice-like, and rocked them back and forth.
"I was sad last night, because I had found a way to be so close to you, to be better mates than we were before, but I made it so I couldn't touch you. I'm not a sex fiend or anything, but I love being with you."
Nothing ever made Vince feel as good as he felt during a bit of post-coital snuggling. It never lasted long (Howard being big on hygiene) but for a few moments, Vince could lie in Howard's arms and feel totally at ease with the world.
Howard fussed with his hair and explained that it was the jazz fusion that made him such a skilled and attentive lover.
For all his talk, Howard was shy about actually returning to the bedroom. Vince would not say no to another bumming, but good sense told him he needed a break. When he tried to explain it to Howard, he was shushed.
"I want you to, well, that is... If you wouldn't mind, I thought we could... Hmm."
Vince listened to Howard stammering while his mind screamed, He does not want a bumming! Howard could never even joke about letting Vince, or any man, top him. It was a line he couldn't cross.
"I've always been afraid," Howard continued, "but I'm not afraid, now. Make love to me, Vince."
"Bollo be sick."
Vince and Howard both jumped at the sound of Bollo's voice. The shaman familiar/Camden DJ/gorilla was on the stairs, looking horrified.
Vince could hear Naboo snort and mimic, "Make love to me, Vince. Yes, sir, right sir. Chicka-chicka..."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Howard announced, his chest puffed out with pride, "what Vince and I have is a love that defies convention. It is a greater love that you have ever witnessed and it is to be admired and celebrated. Now if you don't mind, Vince is going to roger me senseless."