Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He isn’t supposed to be here.

Many things could cross Howard’s mind as he lays his eyes upon the newest addition to their school. For example, what his name might be. Maybe even why he is dressed the way he is--in what looks like little girls clothes. Perhaps even why exactly other children have surrounded him, sneering and snapping like a gang of hyena. 

But screaming over all of those thoughts the most prominent is that he definitely does not belong here. 

It isn’t even a scathing thought; not intended to shame or humiliate, which is a new type of inner monologue for Howard. Even at eleven, Howard looks at most of his peers as if they were beneath him. This is mostly because he has no other choice. If people won’t be your friend you have to reason that it was because they already knew they were way below your social standards. Other children refusing to interact with him is surely nothing more than them doing him a favour. 

Surprisingly, when Howard looks at this boy, he doesn’t want to reprimand him or indict him for being hopeless, strange or anything of the sort. There’s something deep inside that wants to protect him, maybe. It’s a foreign feeling so it’s difficult for him to classify reliably.  

And the thought immediately following that need to protect (?) is wondering why on earth he’s up a tree?  

Howard’s attention has only been drawn in the first place because a group of the other children from the school are gathered around the base of the large oak at the edge of the playground, giggling and pointing up between the branches. At first, he assumes that maybe Mrs Pelham’s cat has gotten trapped up there again; the poor creature is half-blind and often needs someone to get it down. 

It’s only a little funny. 

But then he hears a voice (if that’s what you can even call it) coming from among the branches. It isn’t talking but… growling. A low continuous sound that is clearly intended to warn off an attacker. It can’t be a cat, there is too much bass in it to be a cat, and it definitely isn’t a dog--because how would a dog get up a tree? 

The sound itself is… twisted. Filled with terror but it’s the same way a snapping predator might vocalise; afraid but unwilling to show it. Puffing itself up in the hopes whatever is bothering it will go away eventually. It hits Howard right in the centre of his chest and inspires something in him; something that makes him actually take action. 

He hastens over to the base of the tree as fast as his sensible brogues can carry him, and like expected, as soon as he is within spitting distance the other children are departing. Nothing was cool or fun so long as Howard Moon was involved, and he has just (quite smugly) robbed these bullies of a plaything. 

The children retreat, and Howard looks straight up. 

He definitely doesn’t belong here. 

He’s got eyes like a stormy sky, Howard notices. Big and blue but… dark. They’re clouded over with adrenaline and his features are twisted in a vicious snarl; teeth on show, low rumbling in his chest that demonstrates exactly how unpleasant he finds Howard’s presence. The mousy blonde hair hanging about his face is wild and stuck up like he’s been pulling on it or running his hands through it with stress. He’s clinging on to the thick branches of the trees with such force his knuckles turn white. 

He’s terrified. 

“Hello there,” Howard starts, much to the displeasure of the boy, who frowns down at him. At least the rumbling stops. He appears more confused as he silently considers Howard’s prone form. “I’m Howard. Howard Moon.” 

The child says nothing. He clicks his jaw shut hard enough that Howard hears his teeth connect, he winces on his behalf. 

“Are you okay?” Is his next question, but that doesn’t receive much of a response either. Howard’s rather running out of things he can say, he isn’t exactly clued up on his social interaction skills. Where does one go next with conversation? 

“Do you want to come down?” Seems like a reasonable follow-up. 

This has some marginal success. The boy still isn’t speaking, but he shakes his head. Any fears Howard had been harbouring about this child not speaking English are abated. Whatever the situation, he at least understands him. 

“Okay… Do you--Do you want me to go away?” And he isn’t sure why he’s hoping the boy will say no, but he would understand if he did. Maybe he needed space to climb down. Thankfully, the boy shakes his head again. The tiniest ghost of a smile has made it onto his features. Alright, Howard can work with this. “Can I sit here then? I have quite a bit of Homework to do, and if you want me to stay but you won’t come down, then we haven’t got a lot of options.” 

This makes the boy grin, a wonderful, Cheshire cat grin. It lightens his eyes a bit, makes the storm clouds disappear. Howard takes this as a yes, he settles at the base of the tree and pulls out his science homework. 

He must be there for at least half an hour, trying his best to focus on learning about photosynthesis, before the rustling of branches catches his attention. The boy is sliding down from the tree, he lands right beside Howard, looking him up and down with those bushbaby eyes. Howard automatically straightens his back under the scrutiny, tries to smile politely like his mum has taught him to do in the face of meeting someone new. Somehow Howard thinks offering his hand to shake won’t be welcome though, so he freezes in place waiting for approval. 

“Vince.” The boy says, his voice is hushed like he’s trying to avoid unwanted attention. “My name’s Vince.” 

Howard wonders if this is what making friends feels like. 

***

Howard’s friendship with Vince develops at a strange pace. After the initial tree incident, it takes only a week or two for the two children to be seen together almost every hour of the day. 

They become practically joined at the hip, and Vince certainly finds his voice. It had taken a day or two, Vince appeared to be the type not to form trust very easily and had initially seemed quite content to let Howard ramble on about all sorts (jazz and stationary and his schoolwork). During those first few days, Vince just listened. It wasn't until the third day of their acquaintance that the strange child piped up with his own opinions. 

He talks about Bryan Ferry, and the music he likes to listen to. He tells tales of life in the jungle. About Gary Newman and Iggy pop. Howard isn't inclined to agree with his musical choices, but he is glad Vince has learnt how to talk with him. 

By the fourth day, it is expected that Vince will be following him wherever he went. At school, they are both identified as the outcasts in their respective years--Vince is three years younger and subject to a completely different level of teasing than Howard. He is singled out for vastly different reasons too. 

Vince isn't entirely sure how to deal with big crowds of children, he spooks easily. Not only that but apparently he isn't dealing well with the idea of classes either. Where he came from no one was expected to sit still for such long periods of time. Sit still, quietly at that. As far as Howard's preteen brain can put together, the other child just isn't cut out for all this order and all these rules. Vince was used to playing chase with leopards. 

It's around this time Howard begins to understand just why Vince is the way he is. For all intents and purposes, the boy isn't used to a human world. He'd been raised somewhere vastly different--his guardians were furry and his playmates came with claws. 

Howard begins to wonder if Vince has ever met another two-legged person other than Bryan in his thus far short life. The answer likely being--no. 

Still, it doesn’t pose much of an issue between them. Vince takes remarkably well to a one to one friendship. He is full of energy which balances out Howards more reserved nature, and on the days where they do match each other, both darting to heights of excitable rambling (over very different topics but with a burning passion just the same) then they are a blur of cartoonish child chatter. Even Howard can perhaps understand why other children are put off by them so.

Their first hurdle arrives four weeks after they meet. Spending time together before, during, and after school hours is commonplace. Vince waits on Howard’s doorstep each morning and they walk to school. During break times and lunch period, they find one another across playgrounds and lunchrooms. After school Howard waits outside of Vince’s classroom and they walk home together too. If the weather is nice (and Howard has checked with their parents) then they will stop at the park too. 

On this day, they're strolling through the park. Vince wants to sit so they find a patch of sun and relax together. Howard, naturally, has a large children’s encyclopedia he's trying to get through before his parents will allow him a grown-up one, and he happily munches on an apple as he does. 

At his shoulder, Vince is nibbling on strawberry bootlaces and watching the birds flit by with peak interest. His shoulders shifting, his eyes wide. Howard imagines pointed ears on his head twitching and a fluffy tail swishing side to side. 

The whole afternoon is lovely, Howard is content. They don’t have to be back at their houses until just after five--just in time for tea--which gives them plenty of time to simply enjoy the sun and each other’s company. 

It’s fun. Right until he feels something nudging at his shoulder and upon turning his head to figure out what it is, he realises it's Vince's face. Rubbing his cheeks against him like an affectionate kitten. 

"Don't touch me!" he snaps without pausing long enough to consider what he’s saying. Howard flinches away so violently his book and his apple go crashing to the floor. 

Vince looks just as startled. He's jumped back as he tends to do when something frightens him, and he looks Howard from head to toe like he is no longer a friend but instead a threat. 

Howard’s tummy ties itself in knots over and over again, he feels a little sick. He doesn't know what just happened but he doesn't get a chance to find out either. The hurt flashing in Vince's gaze causes him to clam up. He reverts to the wordless, skittish, defensive mess he had been the day Howard had met him. He doesn't say a word, just stiffens, then scoops his sweets from the floor and hurries away on light footsteps.

Howard watches him retreat into the nearby woods with a puzzled expression, and he does consider following, but he isn’t entirely sure how he will fix this if he does catch up with his friend. 

Besides. His mother would be incredibly cross if he is late home. 

They can fix this at school tomorrow. 

***

Vince is not in school the next day. 

Howard looks for him but doesn't spot him anywhere. He can't exactly ask the other children in Vince's class either, despite being younger they are still intimidating creatures to someone like Howard who could be bullied by a toddler (if the toddler happened to find a good enough reason to bully him). So he's left to put the pieces together himself like a kind of private investigator. 

Naturally, his investigation (since witness statements are out) begins with some fieldwork. He checks all of the usual spots for his friend that are on the school grounds; he certainly can’t wander off out of the school until the day is over that would get him into trouble. The first search takes place at the trees and foliage on the far end of the playing field, Vince likes to play here when he has some energy in need of burning off. He will run around and climb through hedges, scale the treetrunks and scrape his knees on the ground. He isn’t there. 

The second location is a secluded corner of the playground where they would sometimes sit and talk, that’s their spot on the days Vince is lethargic, and simply wants to lay on his back and see what shapes they can find in the clouds. He is not there either.

Howard tries the lunchroom, Vince has a hit and miss relationship with food but he will sit there because Howard often has something to eat. He also checks the school library, Vince hates it there but it is the last place anyone would expect to find him and as such a good hiding spot. The boy’s toilets, Vince’s regular classroom, even a weird empty cupboard sort of room they had come across once and Vince had been convinced was a portal to a different dimension. Nothing.

Vince is nowhere to be found. 

It's at this point Howard starts to think he may have gone wrong somewhere. Vince hates school but he has never skipped a day before because he may struggle to sit still and he may snarl at other children when they give him funny looks but he likes seeing Howard every day. At least, that’s what he had told Howard. Somewhere along the lines of declining Vince to rub up against him like a feral tom-cat and this morning, Howard has made a grave mistake in their friendship. 

Which is the thought that makes it click. 

That day after school, Howard goes to the library--the public one, which has a lot more books than their little school library which only caters to people with the intelligence of up to eleven years old. Howard may be an eleven-year-old but he’s much smarter than one. Thus far in his short life, Howard has never had a problem he couldn't solve with a book. Books had all sorts of knowledge tucked away in them, surely they would be able to tell him something about Vince and his behaviour. 

And how to fix it.

Naturally, the first place he goes is to the animal section. Because despite only having known Vince for a short while, Howard is fairly sure of multiple things about this boy. 

One being, that despite his perfectly good grasp of English--he wasn't exposed to that many people growing up. He's startled by crowds. Other children confuse him. Interaction is rather uncomfortable with anyone except Howard and that’s because Howard also struggles with interaction beyond talking at someone. 

The second being that while there was a human caregiver present up until this point in Vince's life (Bryan Ferry apparently) his parenting style was that of delegating. Passing off responsibility while he spent most of Vince's young life on tour… and the people he delegated to? 

Animals. Wild animals. 

So the fact of the matter is, in Howard’s mind, he might have chosen the strangest child in the whole school to make friends with. 

A fact that becomes increasingly clear as he pulls out every book on Big Cats he can find (Vince had said his main babysitter was a leopard, so that’s where he starts) and takes in as much information as he can. 

There's no exaggeration involved when Howard concludes that, for all intents and purposes, Vince Noir is a feral child who grew up imitating his caregivers. 

Predators. 

Hunters. 

Wild animals. 

Suddenly a lot of his behaviour begins to make sense, and with newfound determination, Howard snaps the book shut, stuffs it in his bag, and scurries back home for further investigation.

***

The next challenge in maintaining his friendship with Vince is going to be finding him, but thankfully, as Howard has mentioned previously, no answer cannot be found between the pages of a book. 

He'd read that when large cats, such as tigers, leopards, cheetahs, were feeling under threat they would retreat to a 'home base'... which you think would be easy to find. But sadly, the territories of felines--specifically leopards--could span up to 30 Square miles. And Howard wasn't entirely certain just how many habits Vince had picked up from his pawed parents. 

Was he roaming that much all day? Or did he stick to a traditional house? Did he sleep in a bed?

God, what did he eat? 

Thankfully, when school is a no show for the second day in a row, Howard goes about searching the other obvious places Vince might be hiding. He doesn't know where the child lives, but he knows he has got a certain draw to nature (and now he knows why). Vince’s favourite place in the world is the green park on their way home from school and he especially loves the woodland walk that it has. Many times Howard would be dragged along as Vince ran off as fast as his tiny legs would carry him and forced to supervise as Vince got up to no good among the greenery.

That’s the next place he checks, and if he was old enough to do so he would be cursing himself for not checking before now because here he has some luck.

Howard hears Vince before he sees him, hears the chattering of his southern tones, rough around the edges with his outrage. Howard can't even discern any words but he knows for certain that it's likely about him and the insult Vince is perceiving from his actions the other day. 

He follows the voice, creeping on his toes so he doesn't disturb the little man in his moment of passionate ranting, but of course, Howard has already forgotten Vince's heritage. Quite silly really. 

Vince whips his head around the second Howard is within his earshot, and if he had fur, his hackles would be raised. "What do you want?" he snaps, and the Crow beside him is doing an awfully good job of looking just as threatening.

"Vince, I'm sorry."

"Piss off, Howard."

It’s a great feat to not scold Vince for his use of bad words. Instead, he’s too focussed on the venom with which he is being told to leave--and he probably should. Distantly, in his mind, he reminds himself that he has no idea what Vince is really like. A few weeks wasn't a lot of time to really know someone, especially not someone who was slightly on the feral side of the equation. But he finds that leaving is the exact opposite of what he'd like to do. 

"I'm sorry." He repeats, and this time, before Vince has the chance to spit some more insults and curses at him--his features are already twisted in a snarl--Howard leaps to explain himself. "I am your friend, Vince. I'm not mad at you, I didn't mean to snap at you the other day."

Vince is still tense, but his eyes go wide and curious. It’s as close to an indication to continue that Howard has any hope of getting. 

"I just--well, I'm not used to anything like that. The touching I mean." Howard takes a few careful steps forward on wobbly anxious legs. "But I know now you were just trying to be friendly. Only, we don't really do that here."

At this, Vince's anger melts away. Though the suspicion lingers. Howard is reminded of the day they met. Storm clouds for eyes. "What do you mean?" 

Howard takes this enough of an invitation to engage that he stumbles a little further towards the little boy and drops to his bottom beside him. From his bag, he produces the book. 

Vince's features remain curious but they are painted over with something extra--fear. He’s a cocktail of wanting to hear Howard out but also being terrified of what he’s about to say, and his tiny fingers pluck anxiously at the hem of the shirt he is wearing. 

"I read this, because of all your stories about the jungle, I thought it might help." As expected, as soon as he's sat down, Vince is--consciously or not--shifting closer to Howard's side to peer at the book. "See, animals and people are different Vince. We have different rules here." 

"Rules?" Vince hates that word. Rules, order, structure. It doesn't agree with him, Howard understands a little more why now. "What rules."

"Maybe not rules but... things that animals do that people don't do." None of this explanation works, Vince's brow continues to furrow with confusion. Like he doesn't quite grasp what Howard is getting at. "Right. Um, for example, Jahooli, he was your friend right?" 

Vince nods. 

"So how would you say hello to him?" 

Suddenly, like a light being turned on in a dark room, Vince's face lights up with understanding. Though it's not the light-up of joy, it's the intense burn of shame. "You don't do that here, do you?" 

To his credit, he picked up on Howard's meaning fairly quickly. Vince wasn't unintelligent by any stretch of the word (even for an eight-year-old) he just had very specific areas of expertise. Howard agrees to this with a bob of his head. 

"I wasn't mad at you, it just shocked me," Howard admits. "I don't really like people touching me."

Vince's little features look crushed by this, and Howard wants to ask exactly what he was trying to convey by butting his head against his shoulder, just to help him translate this language into something that works for both of them but the boy is already ahead of him on that. 

"So how do you do it then?" And God bless him, he's sat straighter, ears pricked. He's actually listening. Howard feels his tummy flutter but can’t examine that too closely right now.  "How do you say hello?" 

"Well, people will--" 

"Not people, you." Vince insists. "How do I fix it for you. "

"Oh." Howard is nearly bowled over. That Vince would so obviously be considering his needs. He's never had someone like that before, even his own parents (who adored him) struggle to cope with his need for touch avoidance. So Howard spends a moment just blinking at Vince. “Just saying hello works.” 

“But what about the other times?” Vince asks innocently. 

And this had been exactly the kind of conversation Howard was afraid of having. Logically, he had known whatever Vince had done wasn't about saying hello. They'd been friends for a while, they'd spent the day together. No, Vince butting his forehead against Howard's shoulder and nuzzling there had more been like he was trying to say something. Build something.  

"What about when you just like someone?" Vince is twisting his hands in his lap as he asks, shy, it’s probably the shyest Howard had ever seen him. Even when the other children spooked him, his natural reaction wasn’t to shy away- it was to defend. This was real vulnerability. “Because at home, that’s how we make friends. An’ your family, you need to rub ‘em so they smell all like you.”

Howard’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Smell like each other?” 

“Mhm,” Vince nods, his cheeks have gone pink. “That’s how you know who’s on your side, and who’s a stranger.” 

Howard contemplates this thought for a long time. How they had sat side by side in the sun and Vince had leant over to brush his face into his shoulder. Was he just trying to leave a smell on him? “You-- you were doing it because…” 

“Because you’re my best mate, ‘oward.” This time when Vince says it, it is with the utmost sincerity. “And I weren’t sure how you lot go about making friends with someone properly, but that’s how we do it. Jahooli and Tienne the tiger cub; even the wolves did it. Lyra and all her babies. When you’re friends it’s normal.” 

Not just saying Hello then but rather, a sign of affection. Howard has to spend another embarrassing few minutes just blinking owlishly at him while he tries to think of a good way to respond. This kind of thing doesn’t really happen to him, you see.

“But if you don’t like it I’ll try my best not to do it anymore,” Vince says after a moment, voice tinged with sadness. Not dramatic, sobbing, sadness either. Just resigned, tired sadness. 

And if that wasn’t the most heart-wrenching thing Howard had ever heard. The defeat in his voice as he said it, but there was nothing more to be done really. Howard wasn’t going to develop a like for being touched overnight, but maybe, with enough time, he could figure this out for them. 

Howard is after all, conscious his friend (his best friend!) is already having to force himself to change his behaviours in a lot of other departments too. If he could find a compromise that would be nice for them.

It isn’t going to happen instantly though, so Howard simply nods his head and mutters. “Thanks, Vince.” 

Vince literally shrugs him off. He bounces back quicker than Howard expected and starts excitably climbing to his feet. 

Howard knows all is well when the younger boys asks, “Have you had your pocket money this week? We should go get ice cream.” 

***

Vince is not a quick learner. 

He is trying though, and that’s as much as Howard can ask for. Over the next month or so, Vince puts as much effort as an eight-year-old can into being as mindful of his behaviour as possible. Which is a hell of a lot more than most other children his age would.

After that first initial conversation, it was easier; the change is at the forefront of his mind. Vince sits with a little more distance between them. When they walk home from school he doesn’t hang off his shoulder. At lunchtimes, he chats like normal but makes sure to keep his waving hands firmly to himself. It’s pretty admirable, that someone so young holds himself to such responsibility. Howard is proud of him. 

But, as is expected, he sometimes slips. 

It’s not his fault. He’s a child, and one making a pretty big adjustment. Frankly, Howard, even as a child himself (though fast approaching his teen years), is surprised that he has lasted this long in the development before falling off the wagon.

It’s been nearly a month since their conversation when it happens again. They’re enjoying a sleepover at Howard’s house, which is a common occurrence these days. Howard doesn’t know too much about Vince’s home life, but he knows it isn’t pleasant for the younger boy. He briefly mentions foster parents and unsavoury other children--given how Vince reacts to people that aren’t Howard he can imagine it isn’t a fun living situation--so often he is holed up in Howard’s room. 

They stay up all night, they tell each other stories (even if Vince says Howard’s stories are boring), they listen to records and read books. Vince lays on his belly colouring with crayons and Howard tries to join in but gets anxious at how Vince seems to ignore the lines they’re supposed to stay in. Vince eats more sugar than he weighs and Howard watches on and pretends not to slip a flying saucer for himself now and then. 

This night, in particular, Vince coerced Howard into building a kind of fort on his bedroom floor using mops and desk chairs as their structure and blankets and pillows as their walls. Vince makes them climb inside and use only torch lights to keep their vision. Howard’s mum provides hot chocolate and biscuits and wishes them both a goodnight before they’re left truly alone in their den. Safe from the outside world.

As they drift off, Howard on his back and halfway into a dream, he notices that Vince has rolled onto his side, also half asleep, and is pressing his face into Howard’s clothed shoulder. 

And because he’s tired (and perhaps also because he thinks Vince might have earned it) Howard does absolutely nothing. He lays there as if he hadn’t noticed it happening at all, and lets himself fall asleep being nuzzled.

***

The next time they face an issue is almost six months into their friendship. Vince is turning nine, and along with his slow acclimatisation to their no contact rule, Howard is noticing some other developments being made. Like the fact Vince is learning how to get what he wants. 

A lot of the time, Howard will still snap not to touch him. Almost all of the time Vince doesn’t even bother to try; but sometimes, the sod knows exactly what he’s doing. At eleven (twelve in two weeks, he likes to remind everyone), Howard is not above calling Vince a cheeky shit. It’s a word he shouldn’t know but is the only thing he can think of to describe his little friend when he gets too clever for his age. 

Too clever for Howard, but Howard’s not running around admitting that, now, is he.  

And perhaps the worst part is that Howard is becoming less and less likely to call him anything.

Somewhere along the line, he realises that Vince’s adjustment was going to be harder than simply expecting him to stop trying to scent Howard or greet him with a little cheek rub. So Howard has been trying to be less ‘snap at you for making a mistake' and more, gently reminding the little man that he personally didn’t enjoy it. 

Which was fine, right up until the point Vince ‘cheeky shit’ Noir had noticed he wasn’t getting snapped at anymore and had assumed this was permission. 

Fine, Howard admits he could live with the occasional trailing of fingers on his arm. Or a sleepy brush of cheek on whatever part Vince could reach. But what got really annoying was when Vince lost himself to his instincts and tried to initiate reciprocation. 

Howard’s read all the books he can find on exotic felines to know what’s going on. This, considering he thinks Vince is only aware of himself doing it around 30% of the time, makes it that much harder for Howard to tell him to stop it. Because the 70% Vince isn't doing on purpose he was just looking for connection. Seeking friendship the way he knew how to from his upbringing. 

The book said that when two cats were a part of the same pride or familial group, transferring scent wasn’t the only benefit of this constant nuzzling. It was building trust. It was much the same as human friends getting to know each other through spending time together, and by not returning the gesture Howard was pretty much unwittingly saying he didn’t consider Vince on the same level as Vince considered him. 

It isn’t even that Howard didn’t want to try and show Vince that he too was Howard’s best friend, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t as easy for him to just… initiate contact. 

So the more Vince tries the more Howard is reminded of his failings as a friend and the more irritated he gets with the whole situation. 

It all comes to head-on Vince’s ninth birthday. For once, Howard had been invited to Vince’s house. They were only here briefly, though, Vince has expressed his want to be at Howard’s for the birthday sleepover they had planned, but he needed to get some clothes first. 

Howard isn’t sure why he finds himself so surprised at the mess that Vince’s room is. There are clothes all over the place, half-empty bottles of perfume and pages upon pages of sketches scattered everywhere. He had jam jars on the windowsill with paintbrushes in them. There are picked flowers and leaves all stuffed into mugs of water. 

It suits him, the disorganisation. Howard may find it panic-inducing but the aesthetic of a messy, artistic, somehow still very pretty bedroom, is Vince to a T.

Vince isn't even actually sorting himself some clothes, he's dancing around the room to the record that's playing. Howard perched stiffly on his bed and watching him with an amused grin and pretending his foot isn’t tapping along to the harsh electronic beat. 

It's a comfortable afternoon until Vince's little body drops across his lap. He's breathless with his exertion, and the first thing he does is turn his face to Howard's shoulder and press himself there. 

"Vince!" Howard snaps, more irritable than he has any right to be. He immediately shoves the boy off his lap and Vince goes crashing to the ground with a painful thump. 

"Howard!" Vince cries right back, less in anger and more in upset. 

"We talked about this!" 

"Yeah but then you stopped tellin' me off so I thought it was okay now!" 

Howard has no choice but to give him that. He had stopped snapping at Vince anytime the boy sat too close, and recently, even when he touched him. The reasonable point doesn’t stop Howard from being stubborn though, and he needs to show he is the one in the right here. "Well, it's not! I still don't like people touching me."

Vince manages to pout and look furious at the same time. "I can't learn if you're gonna be changing your mind all the time."

"I’m not changing my mind."

"You are!" 

Howard pouts right back. He perhaps loses his temper. "It's not that's hard to grasp, Vince!" he snaps. "You're not an animal you're a person. Act like one."

It is cruel, he knows it's cruel, to expect that all of Vince's upbringing would just stop as soon as Howard expects it to. Vince's eyes get misty with rejection, and Howard immediately feels the slap of what he's said. 

Vince scrambles pathetically to his feet and turns his back. Concealing his weakness as he sniffles in the direction of the wall rather than towards Howard. 

"Vince…" Howard tries, knowing he's going to have to be the one to fix this. 

"No, it's fine." It doesn't sound fine. Vince won't turn his face, he reaches for his clothes and starts shoving them roughly into a bag. Which is perhaps the saddest part, the fact he's still going to come to Howard's house when they're fighting. When Howard has hurt him. “You're right."

Normally, Howard would jump at the chance to insist that yes he was right. He was the smart one, after all. But this time he thinks he isn't right at all. 

Howard Moon doesn’t know much about having friends, but he knows this isn’t how you’re supposed to treat them. 

He casts his eyes about the room desperately searching for a way to amend his wrongdoing and what he settles on is absurd but… it might just work. Vince loves absurd (case and point some of the colourful scribbled creatures currently pinned to his wall) and he especially loves when Howard is absurd. 

Howard hops from the bed and goes to Vince's messy little vanity table. Roots around among paint pots and half scribbled sketches, pots of makeup Vince is (in his opinion) too young to use, and he finds a half-empty bottle of perfume. It's fruity and smells sweet, and once Howard has his hands on this prize he turns back to Vince. 

Vince is watching him with watery eyes. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as Howard offers him the bottle. 

"What?" Vince asks. 

Howard presents him with the bottle again. "Compromise," Howard explains. Naturally, being that he is only turning nine today, Vince has no idea what he means. 

Howard explains for him, as he often has to. "I don't like touch, but I know it's important to you, the thing you learned. The scent sharing right?" Vince nods his head. Howard insists on the bottle again. "So make me smell like you in a way that doesn't involve touching me."

Vince looks at the perfume bottle, considers and then a wide grin splits his features. He takes the bottle. "Are you sure?" 

Howard nods, and Vince gleefully sprays him with the scented liquid. 

"Better?" Howard asks. And he doesn't even flinch as Vince's smaller frame shuffles a little closer to sniff the air around him. 

"Better."

"Okay, then we're agreed.." Howard takes the bottle and tucks it into Vince's bag for him. "From now on you carry this with you, okay? And when you want to do… that, you can get it out." Vince looks at Howard as if he is the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, a soft smile painting his pink features, and Howard blushes furiously. “Okay, we need to go, finish packing your things.” 

***

For a while, the perfume bottle solves all of their problems. They go quite a lot of time without incident. 

They are still inseparable, and Howard starts becoming used to the fact that, when he needs to, Vince will whip out his little perfume bottle and Howard will present his wrist for him to spray it. 

What does become a bit of a problem, is the patterns Howard picks up on. He starts to notice when Vince wants to share his scent with him--meaning almost any time he is happy. When they are lounging in the sun giggling together and when they greet each other after a long spate of being away. Howard starts to equate the smell of Vince’s perfume with affection because that’s what Vince is doing. He’s displaying his affection the same way he would with one of his feline friends--minus the rubbing--by imprinting his scent on him. 

Howard, for all intents and purposes, was part of Vince’s ‘family group’ now. 

Christmas comes and goes, Howard proves himself an incredibly thoughtful friend by making sure his younger friend has a selection of new scents to spritz him with since the original bottle is running low. 

For a while, it works perfectly. 

But one thing Howard forgets is that the scenting was only one part of Vince’s personality that didn’t gel with the human world. He was also wildly untamable in terms of his hyperactivity level and aversion to other children his own age. He has more emotions to deal with than simply affection for a best friend and not all of them were good. 

The contact may have been a way for Vince to express affection but it was also a way for him to seek comfort and reassurance when he comes up against something his tiny nine-year-old feelings can’t process.

And Howard wants to be able to provide that for him, being that they’re best mates and all. The book he’d read on friendship once did say that being able to comfort each other was a big part of forming a bond. That book had clearly never met Howard Moon. A pre-teen who admits his own struggles with intimacy already because he was just that self-aware (and also because his mother regularly used the term ‘emotionally unavailable’ around him and he’d been forced to look it up).

The books on animals had taught him all that time ago that Vince does the things he does to form the aforementioned bonds, and Howard has yet to find a way to properly return that favour.

Howard wants to be able to show Vince that he means a lot to him too. 

He has tried just saying it but even that doesn’t feel quite as impactful to Vince. As much as the younger boy will smile and nod, even thank him for saying it. It doesn’t feel enough. Because it isn’t really speaking Vince’s language, per se, all the while Vince has been trying to learn to speak Howard’s language. 

It becomes especially apparent as Vince arrives on his doorstep late one summer afternoon, his features small and unsure, shoulders hunched. He has recently moved to a new foster home and Howard already thinks this must be why he’s here. 

Despite a turbulent upbringing, Vince had only one family group until he was forced into society. All this moving around (and it was a lot of moving) is no doubt upsetting for him. 

Howard invites him in and Vince, as he is wont to do when he is trying to protect himself, doesn’t say a word. He curls himself into the smallest ball possible in Howard’s bed. Buries himself under the sheets that smell like his own perfume, and he sniffles his sadness into a silent room. 

Howard watches him for almost forty minutes from his desk and in this time has several thoughts... But the loudest one is that Vince comes here any time he is sad. He always comes to Howard, and yet, never expects anything but his proximity. Because he knows asking for anything else will get him rejected. 

Howard suddenly hates himself for setting himself up as the kind of friend that takes all of Vince’s kindness and understanding but never returns it. 

It’s at this point he resolves to try and be different. 

Howard walks across the room and lifts the covers; Vince whimpers pathetically and peers up at Howard like he’s expecting to be scolded. Instead, Howard slides in with him. It’s an awkward process. He settles on his side facing Vince first, then reaches out with his hands, stalls, tries again. Howard doesn’t touch anyone; not when he thinks about it. He doesn’t mind tugging on Vince’s elbow or guiding him with a hand on his shoulder. This was touching with intent, though. Very different. 

Eventually, he has to mutter. “What can I do?” 

Vince peers at him with wide eyes and then shuffles closer. Howard doesn’t stop him, but Vince pauses periodically as if ensuring that he won’t be told off for the motion. Eventually, he settles, face tucked into Howard’s chest, and Howard stiffly throws an arm over Vince’s frame. 

For the first time since he arrived, the boy's sniffling stopped. 

Howard resolves to try much harder at being a good friend to Vince. 

***

For a very long time, they reach an equilibrium. 

Howard still flinches when contact is sprung on him, but in very specific instances, he can find it in himself to pat him on the back or allow him into his space for a cuddle if it was an extreme circumstance. 

Howard notices everything in his bedroom smells like Vince these days. A combination of the boy always spraying him, or just being here in person almost all of the time. 

Vince educates him on other ways that Howard allowing a little contact is okay. He teaches him how to be okay with Vince holding his hand as they walk home from school. Howard finds this contact much easier to deal with than the intensity of a hug or the startling appearance of a nuzzling cheek on his shoulder. 

Similarly, Howard starts asking Vince to simply warn him if he would like something from him. 

The perfume bottles are still a staple of their relationship, but now it isn’t the end of the world if Vince asks for Howard to pet his hair (one of the pre-agreed methods of contact Howard is comfortable to give) and it certainly won’t kill them if Howard gets brave enough to give Vince a snuggle while they have a sleepover. 

As Vince gets older, his understanding of boundaries gets better, they find they rarely disagree about contact anymore. 

Of course, they still disagree about everything else though--especially music. 

Generally, their friendship, with Vince approaching twelve, and Howard bordering on fifteen, is at its strongest. They have been friends for nearly four years and in that time Vince might not have tamed himself very well, but he tries. 

Howard wouldn’t have him any other way. 

***

Vince finally makes the transition from primary school to secondary school the same year he turns twelve--meaning he’s now in the same building as Howard rather than in the one reserved for younger students. 

Naturally, he’s overjoyed by this. Howard remembers when he had moved out of the primary school building and Vince had been distraught at the few extra hours of separation. Now, the world seems right again for Vince Noir. 

It increases their socialisation time greatly. 

But what it also means, now that he has fully leapt high school, is that external factors are more volatile, Howard notices Vince’s temper tantrums get worse over pointless triggers. It seems while they have dealt with his outlet for the positive emotions (Vince very rarely tries to touch him without pre-warning anymore) the negative ones still need dealing with because they’d never had reason to deal with them before.

Vince’s natural reaction was to defend himself. Always. Howard has never asked what kind of things he would have to face living in a jungle, but he has read enough books to know that predators often target young--because they’re easy. If Vince grew up among animals, how often was he required to defend himself? 

It means that bickering escalates quickly with Vince. 

It means that other children’s teasing escalates quickly. 

Years since reentering society and Vince hasn’t mastered the art of socialisation with anyone but Howard--many other children aren’t ready to accept the quirkiness of a child that talks to animals and has to spray you with perfume to communicate what he means and up until this point, this has never proved much of a problem. Vince has been happy investing in his friendship with Howard, Howard is more than happy not trying to make friends with children that aren’t Vince. They may be three years apart in age but they connect. 

Howard answers all of Vince’s questions and Vince tells him jungle tales. 

But, things take a turn dramatically one cold week of January. Howard is out of school that morning, his mum is insisting on taking him to the dentist, and when he returns for his afternoon classes he finds that no matter how he has viewed a soft comfortable side to Vince who wants to display his affection through scents, there is still something of a feral animal residing inside of the young boy. 

Howard, as agreed upon before even going for his appointment that morning, goes to find Vince in the lunchroom. He’s difficult to miss, sitting with his legs tucked under himself and his bag of sweets spilling out over one of the not so pristine tabletops. He’s flicking through a copy of NME quite happily. 

And look, Howard really shouldn’t be surprised at the cruelty of other children, especially not when it comes to himself and Vince, but sometimes he still is. Enough that he doesn’t expect to be ambushed by some of the boys from his year. 

He’s barely taken three steps across the room and he finds himself shoved bodily into the wall, the raucous laughter of three teenage boys alerting him to who it is doing today’s bullying. Lee, Andrew, and Jimmy. They are a pack wilder than Vince could ever hope to be and Howard really isn’t in the mood. 

He tries to just scurry past them but Andrew sticks his leg out and catches Howard in the shin, he crumples to the floor pathetically. 

There’s not much you can do in the face of bullies but pretend they aren’t bothering you, and Howard is trying to think of how best to go about doing just that. He considers maybe playing dead. Or perhaps insinuating they had helped him out because he had been trying to take a nap on the floor of the dining hall in the first place. 

It’s a pointless venture, before he can try to formulate a way of outsmarting these idiots there’s a yell from across the lunchroom. 

“Oi!” Vince. 

Howard doesn’t look up immediately, he’s still bracing himself for further punishment, but he soon sees the sparkling boots Vince is becoming fond of wearing appear in his vision and realises his friend has come to his aid. With that vote of confidence, he scrambles to his feet and stands shoulder to shoulder with his younger friend. 

“Oh look, it’s Howard’s ugly girlfriend come to save the day!” Jimmy teases, voice pitched up and grating where he taunts. 

Vince isn’t even slightly put off that he is facing off against three boys of Howard’s age. At twelve, Vince has a lot more bravery than Howard has ever had. It’s honestly something Howard remains in awe of every time something like this happens. 

A three year age gap means nothing to Vince when he gets defensive, and if there is one thing Howard has learnt over the years--with the perfume and all the animal books he could ever read--is that Vince is wildly protective of those he considers to be part of his family group (he tries not to be too smug over this, but can you really blame him?).

Vince squares up to the other boys without batting an eye. “Piss off Jimmy, you rotten twat.” Howard makes a mental note to school Vince about his language later, but right now he thinks it is at the bottom of their priority list. 

“Or what,” Jimmy sneers.

“Or I’ll tell the whole school what I heard you say yesterday,” Jimmy looks only confused by this threat, Howard looks between them desperately. Vince, still grinning a twisted grin, decides to give him some extra context clues. “During fourth period, outside the chemistry labs. Should have been in class but you were gossiping with your mates--remember?”

The air around them stills. Howard is still holding his breath for fear of retort, and he is trying very hard to pretend that he isn’t hiding behind Vince. Vince himself remains where he is, but he shifts his shoulders periodically. Howard has read enough literature on behaviour to know what game Vince is playing and he has to wonder if the boy picked it up from his babysitters too. 

Wherever possible do not be the first to attack, it leaves you open for rebuttal. Defend over all else. Be ready to retaliate should your opponent strike first. Pause. Calculate. Do not appear a target. 

It may not be the same as a leopard calculating a hunt from a hidden position in the overgrowth but it smacks the same. Vince stalks around this school like a panther in the treetops and he listens. What he does now is a careful warning. An opportunity to avoid physical confrontation but when Howard looks down at the little twelve-year-old he calls his best friend what he sees is a hunter making a plan and being prepared to execute if he needs to. 

Luckily, he doesn’t need to. 

Jimmy seems to remember whatever Vince might be referring to and he goes a sickly shade of white. So pale Howard is shocked he can’t see right through him. 

“Jimmy?” Lee asks, likely confused why they aren’t pushing around their two favourite weirdos.

“C’mon,” Jimmy orders instead, and turns to leave, “Not worth our time anyway.”

Howard can’t help but sag with visible relief as the three boys turn and venture off in the direction of some other hapless victims. Vince wastes no time turning to him with a smile as bright as the mid-summer sun. “Alright?”

“Fine, yeah.” Howard lies. 

Howard lies because he adores Vince, unquestionably. He even likes the annoying feral parts of him--especially when they come in handy as they have just now. But there’s a worry that eats away at Howard’s conscience. A worry about the darker parts that remain so close to the surface of Vince’s character. 

Things that are hidden beneath layers of sunshine. 

Vince is a child who is apparently adjusted; but is he really adjusted? 

“Good,” Vince announces, and then he is plucking small fingers at the sleeve of Howard’s school blazer. “Then come sit with me. How was the dentist? You still got all your teeth or did they have to pull one out of you--can I see your tooth gaps?”

Howard takes a moment to get over the whiplash of Vince returning to normal--but he forces his uneasy feeling down and starts following his friend to their table. “I don’t have tooth gaps!”

Things will be fine. They’re always fine. 

***

When Howard leaves secondary school and starts sixth form, it comes with its pros and its cons. 

The pros being that he doesn’t have to wear a school uniform anymore, but that also functions as a con because his dress sense isn’t that far off from being a uniform anyway. His shirts are just slightly more colourful than what a school would give out. 

And other than that, if he is being perfectly honest with himself, there’s not much else in the pros column. There’s plenty of cons though. Namely being that he has been moved a whole other building away from Vince. A building that is streets away. It has its own lunchroom, all its own classrooms. A library. Everything. There’s no longer any need for himself and Vince to be in the same vicinity. 

This in turn, wildly affects Vince’s already turbulent thirteen-year-old moods. 

What Howard means by that is the boy has become frightfully clingy as of late. Every day that Howard has classes (which again, the fact he doesn’t have regular classes anymore is a con, Howard likes structure and schedules) he will always finish in time to be waiting by the school gates for his best friend to walk them both home. He even does it on days he doesn’t have classes. He will walk all the way to the school just to meet Vince at the end of his day because if he doesn’t there is a tantrum. 

Any time they do spend together, the perfume bottle is becoming more frequent as Vince struggles to process the extended separation they are experiencing. Vince has never been all that good at regulating his own emotions anyway, but this is taken to a new extreme as they adjust to seeing less and less of one another. 

The move has a knock-on effect on both of their lives. Drastic knock-on effects. 

Which become obvious in the spring. A whole six months after the change, Howard walks through the school gates ready to meet Vince after his classes and finds a teacher trying to separate two fighting students.

One of whom is Vince. 

And he looks positively wild. 

Before the teacher can drag a still snarling Vince off of the other rumpled student, Howard makes himself known. He jogs over to the scene and is snatched by the frantic looking member of staff to assist. 

It becomes Howard’s job to wrangle Vince, and it helps that the boy is practically made from paper. Howard lifts him around the waist despite the fact the younger boy’s arms and legs are still swinging. Vince is spitting and growling threats that make Howard nervous to be near him, but he’s adopted the role of Vince control and it would be irresponsible of him to back down now. 

The teacher goes to the aid of the other boy and instructs Howard to seclude himself and Vince in the school’s cooler--their detention room. 

Howard is genuinely afraid that if he puts Vince down properly the boy will launch off again, so he bodily drags him through the familiar corridors to the empty room. The whole way there, Vince vibrates with feral energy. He has a scratch on his face, his cheeks red from tears--not sadness but fury-- his usually perfectly styled hair is a mess and Howard wonders if the other assailant had been pulling it. 

He wonders a lot of things really, like what the hell caused this. If he should have seen something like this coming. If there was anything, as the older one in the relationship, he could have done to address this side of Vince’s upbringing long before it ever got to this. 

As soon as they’re shut in the room Vince is wriggling free from his grasp and throwing himself dramatically into a chair. He immediately clams up the same way he has always done when he feels threatened. 

“What happened?” Howard demands. Vince doesn’t say anything. For a thirteen-year-old, he’s incredibly stroppy. He folds his arms over his chest and scowls down at the table. Howard finds himself rolling his eyes. “I’ve got all day Vince, I’m in sixth form now, I have no classes today.” 

This more than anything makes Vince's features twist in fury, and Howard reluctantly accepts that this change may be the root of the problem. Vince has always been a bit mouthy towards others, but Howard had prided himself in being something akin to impulse control. He could act as the level-headed one. 

Not now he can’t. 

“They’re going to call your foster parents.” 

Again, Vince doesn’t say a thing. 

Howard recognises this for what it is. A defence tactic. The same as when Vince is sad he will crawl under a duvet and make himself a small target, when protecting himself against Howard’s disappointment he will do the same thing. Shut himself off and not let himself feel a thing. This part of Vince he hadn’t seen since he was chased up a tree--the fighting part. The part so terrified it resorts to claws and teeth to protect itself. Howard knows he is guilty of forgetting that Vince is as much of a predator as any big cat. The only difference is that he walks among people every day. 

It’s at least ten minutes of silence before Vince cracks. He sniffs his (not upset but indignation) for being treated like a child despite the fact he is most certainly acting like one. 

No. Not a child. Children don’t act like this. Wild animals do. 

He still isn't saying anything and Howard starts to lose his patience. He's only 16 years old but he's always felt rather mature for his age and if he has to act like a parent to get Vince to pay attention then he isn't above that. 

Sometimes animals need training, and Howard will do it. 

"Do you realise how embarrassing that is?" Howard snaps, and that gets Vince's attention. His fury filled eyes turn on Howard instead of the table. "You can't just show out when you feel like it."

"Piss off Howard, you weren’t even here!" 

"No, I wasn’t,” Howard agrees, he doesn’t even recognise his own tone. Low and stern as it is. “They had to ask me to come over and help because they think you've gone rabid." Vince’s top lip is curling in a snarl and Howard glares defiantly back. Vince may be used to frightening others away with his animalistic tendencies but Howard's been dealing with them for long enough that he just rolls his eyes. "Put it away, Vince I’m trying to help you."

"You're trying to change me." Vince snaps. “Like you’ve always tried to change me,” 

Howard has to stumble a step back with the force of that statement. It hits him like a slap, sharp and painful because… Well, Vince isn’t wrong. Ever since they’d met Howard had been chipping away at the behaviour he didn’t see as correct for human society but… 

But Howard was doing it for his own good. "I'm helping you adapt!” The stern tone falls away, Howard suddenly feels as if he is the one defending himself now. “Tearing the throats out of people who disagree with you might have been okay in the jungle but it's not okay here. It's barbaric. I've never seen you act like this."

Vince resorts back to stubborn silence. But tears are leaking from his eyes. 

It at least makes Howard feel guilty enough that he stops what he's doing long enough to reign in his frustration. Howard wasn't entirely the victim here. Vince may have trained himself out of a lot of habits the past few years, but sometimes, instincts overtook logical thought. 

No one could argue the fact all of Vince's instincts were animalistic. 

"What happened?" Howard tries again. 

Vince shrugs. He looks defeated. "Got fed up."

"Fed up of what."

"Not the same since you moved over to sixth form. No one else…" Vince scrubs roughly at his face to clear himself of his tears. "Matthew called me a freak so I kicked his head in. That's all."

There's almost certainly more to this tale. Howard can see it in his eyes. There’s guilt there. Agony, real, soul-deep agony. Vince is flushed from the exertion of his scrap but he’s also trembling. He won’t even look Howard in the face. 

Not just that but Vince had been getting called names since he had scrambled up a tree to escape other children. Howard had been getting called names since he was born. What was different? Why today. What kicked off this attack? 

"You have never hit anyone before, Vince." Howard insists, like the seriousness of his actions might convince him to open up. 

It does not. "He deserved it."

"Doesn't matter if he deserved it," Though Howard was fairly sure he probably did deserve it if it's the same Matthew Vince always lamented about in their youth. "It's not proper." Vince rolls his eyes so hard it surely must give him a headache. "If you're going to be a brat I'll just leave."

That drives another growl from Vince’s throat; a warning sound that makes Howard swallow thickly. "I don't know why you're always on my back about this."

"Because it's not normal. " It’s oscar worthy how level Howard manages to keep his tone while he assesses Vince’s sour mood from across the room. He hates that it does, but Howard does wonder if Vince is going to add hitting him onto his list of new behaviours today.

"You aren't normal either," Vince argues, thankfully remaining prone in his seat and showing no signs of moving. "Look at you, Howard. You're a walking nightmare of fabrics. You listen to weird music. You talk like a dictionary--don't kid yourself by thinking I’m the only weird one!" 

"Okay, fine." Howard puts his superior acting skills to use and turns for the door. "If you're going to behave like this."

He almost misses it. The tiny whimper/snarl that comes from Vince's mouth. The fury mixed with hurt. It’s barely there because Vince is trying to smother it under his posturing. Like he always does. If there’s one thing Vince despises is letting anyone see he’s weak… except Howard. 

Not that he can show him now though, they’re fighting. 

With that realisation, Howard pauses, sighs, he looks to the ceiling like some omnipotent presence might be able to give him the strength to deal with Vince's changing nature. They both know it's not Vince's fault. Anyone with a brain will know it's not. These things are rooted deep in his bones and triggered by things out of a child’s control. 

Vince is wild crammed into the unassuming body of a thirteen-year-old. Sometimes he's pushed too far. 

"I'm not mad at you Vince, I'm just confused." Howard finally admits. He turns away from his threat to leave and crosses the room in three quick steps to hover over the younger boys shoulder. 

"I didn't know what else to do," Vince mumbles sadly. "I lost my temper."

"Losing your temper is fine, Vince,” God knows Howard does it all the time, Vince finds it hilarious. “But hitting people isn't."

Vince turns his face up towards Howard. He’s losing a lot of his baby weight, Howard’s noticed recently. His features are sharper, and the paleness of his skin makes the red of his split lip stand out uncomfortably. He blinks at Howard, seeking the kind of comfort he can’t just ask for. He's still steadily leaking tears but he's not drawing attention to it, even when his weakness is obvious Vince would still prefer to pretend it isn’t. 

He doesn't even have to say anything, Howard can read it in his face. Vince loses his temper, really loses his temper, so infrequently that his brain just clocked back to what it knew and the boy was already regretting it. 

Vince is scanning Howard’s face critically, he’s trying to make sure Howard isn’t going to abandon him because of this mistake. 

Howard slides into a vacant chair beside Vince and reaches out to pat a hand on his shoulder carefully. "Okay. Well, maybe we need to find a way for you to vent that that doesn't involve terrorising all the other children."

Vince doesn't say a word, he collapses into Howard's side and whimpers again. Howard lets it happen, it is after all an extreme circumstance. He pets Vince’shair and resolves to figure out how to keep a lid on Vince's feral behaviour. 

After all, it’s always been his job to protect Vince from himself.