Chapter Text
Growing up Vince had wanted for nothing.
Living like he did was the stuff of daydreams for many children. A cosy hut secluded in a picturesque forest. No school to speak of. Free to roam in the wild as much as he liked providing one of his many animal babysitters was nearby to supervise.
Oh yeah, and having the gift of being able to talk to animals? That was pretty cool, too.
It was perfect.
Well. Almost perfect. If Vince was pressed about the topic, then there was perhaps one thing that he thinks is missing from his existence. Not parents, no, he couldn’t have asked for a better pseudo father than Bryan (even if he seems to spend more time on tour than actually raising Vince) and as the man himself always reassured him - there was no use lingering over the pains of the past. Best to look to the future instead. So one thing Vince would have changed about his childhood? He wanted to go into the North of the forest.
It had been out of bounds for as long as Vince remembers, which of course, to a child, only makes it that much more interesting. Bryan would warn him every time he caught the young one staring longingly down the dirt path that disappeared in that direction. “You must never go North, Vince. No matter what.” Even the animals whispered things to him during the night times. Horror stories of creatures that lay in the depths. Flesh-hungry man-eating monsters by their accounts.
It was enough to keep a young boy terrified and complacent, but never satiated in his curiosity. Vince’s mind was too inquisitive to ever shake the feeling that something was waiting out there just for him. Calling him. Laying low for the right opportunity. Something out there needed him. At night he was sure he could hear it singing in the wind; a song trapped in his head for most of his life.
I’m spiraling down infinity
Which meant of course, eighteen years of these tales did absolutely nothing to stop him trekking North the first opportunity he was given.
Really, people should have expected it, what with the fact they had mentioned how forbidden the place was almost every day for his entire upbringing. Most of the population would define that as ‘definitely not allowed’ but Vince operated under his own dictionary and so what he heard was adventure . By all rights he had been led here by the hand and told “Look there’s something really cool in there, you’ll probably want to check it out." and then wished good luck as he disappeared into certain death.
Bryan has ventured off around the world again, and Vince squeaked his way into eighteen just days ago - therefore no longer in need of the constant babysitting he had been subjected to as a child. He had never been left alone for a moment in his youth. Not a second . If Bryan wasn’t with him then one of the animals would be. Hot on his heels and ready to supervise. Right into his teens. It was incredibly annoying and from his perspective rather pointless. There was no one but himself and the animals around, who was Bryan so afraid of?
Because he was afraid of something. Vince knew the older man well enough to see it in his gaze. How anxious he got the closer Vince had crept towards adulthood. Now that he could no longer be kept under strict rule. Free from the suffocating weight of Bryan’s protective nature. There was more than meets the eye going on here, and as far as Vince is concerned the answer lays in the one place in this forest he has never been.
There is no one watching him now. He is free to get gobbled up by whatever he finds lurking here.
At first it doesn’t seem any different to the part of the woods that he lives in. He must walk for at least half an hour and all he sees is more forest. Same grass. Same trees. Same everything. Even the air feels the same. A little humid for mid-May, but bearable. Birdsong carries on the wind and lulls him into relaxation. Distinctly not exciting. Definitely nothing worth developing nightmare inducing stories over, that's for sure.
But he catches something. A sound. Breeze ruffling his dark hair and whispering what sounds like music into his ear - and not the kind birds make naturally. This was an instrument. A tune he has been hearing since he was aware enough to register what music was.
I can’t see, I can’t breathe
It steals the air from his lungs and without knowing exactly why he spins on his heel and rushes down a path that is so overgrown he almost hadn’t noticed it was there in the first place. He isn’t paying attention to where he runs. He’s chasing the chords of a broken melody - he can’t even hear a voice singing but he can hear it. Which is utterly bonkers and he needs to find the source of the music or. Or he doesn’t know but it will be bad.
There’s a sensation. It hits him all at once. Forces him to stop dead in his tracks.
The only way he can describe it is like when you step out of the shade and into direct sunlight. A wall of heat that collides with you - a bit like that - but it isn’t heat, what he’s feeling. It’s nothing that can really be qualified in any language Vince might be able to speak; not even animals. It’s just a sensation of change , tingles over his skin and when he looks back the way he came it’s like peering through a window. Glassy and distant.
It’s only then he notices how everything has changed. The trees are darker, blooming impossibly coloured flowers. There are birds chirping here too but he can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s just dead silence that he has never known to come from an animal. Is this how normal people feel around them?
The grass is red.
In his panic he takes two steps backwards; that sensation again. Something passes lightly over him. He squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see where he has ended up this time, but upon opening them finds he is back in a normal, understandable, world. No red grass. No funny trees. Distantly a blackbird laments that her chicks are driving her up the wall with their almost constant bickering.
And it clicks.
When Vince had been told there was something in the forest he had assumed it was some kind of ferocious beast. Certainly Bryan and his menagerie had reinforced that idea with their storytelling. He hadn’t at all imagined that this is what he would find out here. A forest within the forest, secluded away where no one would find it.
Vince takes one big purposeful step forward and beams when he knowingly steps into this fresh new world.
Good thing Bryan won't be back for literally weeks.
***
The second the change occurs he can feel it. It’s like an electric shock, jolting through his whole body in a startling way - a tad uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to care much about that because it’s happened.
Someone is in his wood.
Howard discards his guitar with haste and scampers to his hooved feet. For a second he can’t really move except for darting his hands all over his person to check his respectability. Brushes a hand over his hair to tame rogue curls, twining the locks where they settle around his horns. Stray strands of grass are plucked from his furry legs. His heart’s pounding so loud it’s all he can hear.
Someone is in his wood.
Finally.
Howard Moon was a man of great resolve. Equipped with enough natural talents to keep himself entertained for any stretch of time you could imagine, but if he was to be perfectly honest, he can’t remember how long he has been here at this point and the lack of conversation was driving him a bit mad.
The fact someone had crossed the border from outside into this place meant a great number of things. A lot of them are rather important. Things written about in dusty great books. The literal definition of destiny, some might say. But the thing Howard was most looking forward to?
Seeing another person for the first time in many, many, years.
He jolts into action. Hurries himself as fast as his furry legs will carry him down the familiar path to the boundary. A place he has spent long hours pacing in front of just waiting, poised to be the welcoming committee for whatever kind of person found their way through.
That’s a thought. What kind of person is going to be waiting for him when he gets there? He imagines that it must be a pretty lady. From what he understands of this entire scenario, which isn’t a lot (they like to be vague, prophecies, don’t they), then she’s going to be beautiful. The book had described the person as ethereal. A beacon in the dark. Howard had spent many a day puzzling over the exact look of the wanderer. Perhaps she'd have curly hair like wool. Or long and straight, that would be fine too. Black hair; auburn? Maybe blonde. She will be smaller than him, that is for certain, he was a rather large man in terms of his build.
Will she have brown eyes or blue? What about green?
Oh gosh, he was too excited.
It doesn’t take him long to get within range, the track a familiar enough one that scampering down here takes barely time at all. The distinct sound of crunching leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of someone’s footsteps has him halting in his steps, poised subtly behind the bark of a large tree so as not to be seen. Branches are shifting on the other side as they maneuver around a person.
She’s right there. It’s really happening. Suddenly he doesn’t want it to be. He wants to back away. Leave. Turn his fluffy tail and run back to his cottage, which is silly. His whole purpose is waiting for him in this lady. Everything he’s been anticipating for all this time.
Even a man of action like himself gets nervous in the face of such a life changing incident, though.
But then he hears her. “Oh hello !” She coos, the dull thud of knees hitting the soft grass. No doubt enraptured by one of the other creatures that reside on this side of the border with him. Her voice is soft, high and effeminate. Wraps his whole being in silk, and it’s all the motivation he needs to peek around the tree trunk.
She’s kneeling with her back to him, gentle hand extended towards a pastel blue rabbit. She’s got dark hair, messy in a kind of intentional way. Dark trousers cling to her legs, a flowing white shirt draping off her angles in all the right ways. Shiny heeled boots.
Without seeing her face he already knows she’s perfect.
“Hello,” He says, and it comes out as nothing more than a breath.
It’s enough to startle her, no sooner has she shot to her feet than she’s turned on him with an expression of shock - and then the picture doesn’t quite add up the way it should. Because while effeminate, that is definitely a man standing in his woods.
“Oh! Uh-”
“Wow!” The person gasps; shock gives way to blatant curiosity. He takes one large step towards him and Howard finds himself taking one back in his confusion. “Hi!”
“I don’t,” Howard looks around frantically. None of this makes any sense. Why is he here? “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Vince,” The man says easily. He’s not bothering to hide the way his eyes dart from Howard’s head to his feet. A bit rude really. Didn’t he understand that a polite averting of the gaze is what is expected in situations like this? Howard feels a bit exposed, shrinks back under the scrutiny. “Don’t tell me, Mr Tumnus, yeah? I’ve always wanted to meet a goat man.”
***
Vince is certain he has never had a day as exciting as this one before.
Not only has he tripped through a portal into a completely new world, a world populated by strange coloured animals and sweet smelling foliage, but within ten minutes of being in this place a half-man half-ram hybrid has snuck up on him from within the trees. In some scenarios, the behaviour might be considered a little bit creepy. Especially when you take into account his shifty peepers that haven’t managed to stay still since they clapped onto Vince. But he seemed harmless enough in the way he stands now; hands twisting together nervously and a gentle flush to his cheeks.
Vince has never wanted to be anyone’s friend more than he has at this moment.
The fact that it doesn’t look like this feeling is reciprocated does nothing to put him off. If anything, it only encourages him. Vince hasn’t been blessed with knowing many humans in his young life, not when Bryan was so insistent on keeping him secluded from the outside world. So this? Even if it only technically counts as half a human, this is still one of the best things that could have come out of this whole adventure.
Whatever the case, he has been polite enough to introduce himself, and is met instead with more stony silence. The other is in no hurry to return the favour. He’s looking at him with squinted eyes like he’s the most complicated thing he’s ever seen and okay, Vince knows he has a tendency to dress a bit funny, but that surely doesn’t warrant being looked at in such a way?
“I’ll have you know that’s a rather offensive thing to say,” The goat man finally sniffs at him, tone dripping indignation.
“Wot, my name?” Vince asks, confused.
The man actually has the cheek to roll his eyes at him as if he were the one in the wrong here. “No. Calling me a Goat Man. A bit rude, actually.”
“Oh.” Vince shrugs one shoulder, not that big of a deal. He can learn from that mistake. A wide smile splits his face once more. “Alright, sorry. But you’re gonna have to tell me what to call you instead then.”
Hooves kick against the deep red grass as the hybrid considers him. Vince has come to realise he isn’t actually squinting at him, that’s just how he looks. Which comforts him some about the other man’s attitude. He is left patiently waiting for a decision. “Howard.” The man says eventually.
Bryan’s lessons in manners come screaming back to him; Vince offers his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Howard.”
They shake hands and even that action feels like it is performed reluctantly by Howard. He doesn’t respond about what a pleasure it is to meet Vince, though, and now he thinks perhaps he’s the one being rude. “Do you live here?” Vince asks, instead of getting picky over their mutual lack of correct etiquette.
“Um. Yes, sort of.” Howard replies. The eyes combined with the tense line of the other man’s bare shoulders gives his whole character a shifty aura. Like he’s up to something shady. There’s plenty of questions Vince finds he can ask about that too, what does a ram-man get up to in a forest all day. Not like they have NME here… do they?
No further elaboration comes from Howard’s vague reply. Vince finds himself chuckling at the man. “Not much of a talker, are you?”
This lights a fire under him, his expression scrunches into one of a person who has just sucked a lemon. Sour. “On the contrary, sir, I’m an excellent conversationalist. One of the great talkers of my generation.”
“Oh yeah?” Vince snickers. “And which generation is that?”
Affronted, Howard’s mouth drops open. “Probably the exact same as yours, you- you-”
“Go on.” Vince encourages, eagerly awaiting the end of that sentence. If he had a seat he’d be on the edge of it.
“You tit.” Howard finishes. For all the world he looks relieved for it. “That’s right. Coming into my woods and saying things like that. You’re a tit.”
Rather than be offended, Vince breaks into heaving laughter. “I like you.” He says, and he means it. All the man has done so far is acted grumpy and called him names, but still. He’s funny. A tad rough around the edges but when you get him going there is some passion in there, you just have to find it.
And when all he does in response to Vince’s expressed sentiment is blush and look at the ground. Vince decides he definitely likes him.
“You going to show me the rest of this wood then?” After all, who better than to give him the full experience than someone who supposedly owns the place.
“What?” Howard frowns at him, confused.
“Well you said it's yours right?” Howard nods dumbly at this. “Well, I’m a visitor and I want to explore. You can help with that, can’t you?”
The other man regards him with a look of utter bafflement for a moment. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing - Vince certainly doesn’t know what he’s said to inspire such a look. You’d think this strange goat man had never seen a regular human before. Maybe he’s just as secluded as Vince.
“Right.” He says after a while. “Okay, yes.”
“Genius!” Vince beams. “Take me to the prettiest place you know.”
***
Vince is so completely different to what he had been expecting when he went to investigate the intruder in his woods, but that by no means discounts him as good company. In fact, once he had gotten over the initial shock of the man, he finds he is quite tolerable to have around.
Fun, even.
“- And I’ve been living with him in the woods ever since.” Vince finishes his tale with a grin. “I never knew this was out here though.”
As he has been talking - and he does talk rather a lot - Vince’s gaze has been flitting from pillar to post like an excited whippet. There is the soft gleam of wonder in his eyes every time he discovers something new. Things that Howard had long come to understand as normal to the point he forgot they might excite other people.
He had expressed interest in seeing the prettiest parts of the forest, so naturally Howard was taking them to the only part of the place he thought was truly beautiful, the only place that no matter how long you’d been here could never be described as mundane - the river.
On their walk Vince stops every three feet. Dips at the waist to pluck multicoloured flowers from the grass and tuck them into the mass of his hair like a crown. Points out birds and rabbits, inquires if Howard can hear them talk. Or if they might potentially be friendly so he can pet them. The boy manages to find joy in the smallest of things and Howard finds himself relaxing into his energy of ease a lot faster than he probably should.
Miraculously, he has also managed to fill Howard in on most of his life story on their walk, and it is this that leads Howard to the conclusion that Vince has no idea who he really is. Nor why he is here.
Not that he’d know where to begin explaining that, either.
“How long have you been out here then?” Vince asks. One thing he has noticed is that the boy dislikes silence no matter how fleeting. But Howard is so unused to talking to people that he often forgets it requires words, thus there is a lot of silence to fill.
“Um… What year is it?”
Vince gapes at him. “Bloody hell, you’re well secluded from the outside world aren’t you?” he asks. Then answers the original question. “It’s 1991.”
“God. Too long.” Howard says, which he realises isn’t an actual answer, but following the stark realisation that it has been longer than he first anticipated he can’t bring himself to elaborate. It hadn’t felt excessively lengthy until this moment. All that time wasted, stuck here. Waiting for his escape.
“Ain’t you ever gotten lonely?”
And Howard laughs a little at that, but it’s mostly a bitter sound. “Yeah, actually. A lot.”
Vince frowns over at him, seems to put the context clues of all of this together. "You stuck here?"
Howard nods his head, melancholy. Vince doesn't press the issue further though, perhaps using some of that perception to understand that Howard doesn't want to talk about it. A fact he's thankful for. He honestly doesn't know how best to explain himself just yet. This has all come on a bit sudden. That’s the thing about these pesky prophecies, no matter how much they were written, how you spent your time learning and trying to understand them… it sort of knocks you flat when events start taking place.
Vince is the first real person he's seen in years; he doesn't want to scare him off now by explaining exactly how all of this works. What happened. Why destiny has and always will be a villainous bitch.
Thankfully they reach the river before either of them has to scramble for a new topic, Howard politely pulling bracken out of the way so the spot he likes to sit at comes into view. The water is a lilac, reflecting in the bright sunlight that seems to be present here all year round; a large rock seated directly in a patch of sun is present on the riverbank.
Five years and Howard has never grown tired of the picturesque little scene.
Vince gasps as he sees it, his whole body stalling in a moment of utter bliss. “Wow.” He breathes on an exhale. Almost immediately he turns to grasp at Howard's hand in his enthusiasm - but it's been so long since he last had human contact that he flinches away from it as if on instinct and snaps "Don't touch me.”
As he has been by all of Howard’s behaviour thus far, Vince is unphased. Regardless of whether Howard is following him, he rushes to the side of the stream anyway and falls to his knees to pull fingers through the trickling water.
Howard watches him. Still. Desperately trying not to analyse the way his skin prickles with the aftershocks of Vince’s fleeting touch. How his tail has started to wriggle with joy of its own accord just at the sight of his enthusiasm.
"It's so beautiful here," Vince says, awe clear in his tone. His fingers swirl in spirals, drawing invisible patterns in the water. "Everything back where I'm from is so dull."
"Everything gets dull if you live with it long enough." Howard finally forces himself into action. Settling himself on his favourite rock perch while Vince explores. "After awhile you start to miss green grass and blue water."
Vince looks up at him, considering. Then asks, "So you are from out there, then?"
He supposes it had to come up some time, Vince doesn’t strike him as the kind of person that can leave well enough alone for very long.
Carefully, like he’s expecting a slap rather than an interrogation, Howard nods his head. As expected, Vince takes this as encouragement to continue his inquiry. "Were you always a goa-" Howard’s glare catches him off guard. He clicks his jaw shut. Pauses. Recollects. "Were you human once?"
"You're very nosey, you know?"
"Prefer to be called curious." Vince shifts where he’s sitting, now cross legged on the grass at Howard’s feet. He’s beaming up at him from under his fringe; at least has the good grace to look a little shy about his incessant questions. “If it’s all the same.”
Howard can’t help himself, he scoffs at him with much too much fondness for how short a time he has known him. "I prefer not answering questions."
This is apparently a very amusing statement to the boy, who just giggles prettily at him. "You don't have to answer them. I'll probably just keep asking, though."
Howard glares down at him, Vince blinks back up, eventually Howard loses that staring match and instead rolls his eyes heavenward with a deep sigh. Honestly, none of the writings prepared him for what a cheeky brat Vince actually is.
"No, I wasn’t always like this. This is… Temporary."
“Sounds like an awful long time for temporary.” Howard huffs in response to that but Vince pretends not to hear it. He’s busy attempting to solve a puzzle he hasn’t got all the pieces for yet. Trying to cram conclusions and solutions together in his little head crudely. "So what, one day you walked in here and- wait. Oh Christ I'm not gonna get stuck here am I? Am I gonna grow ram’s legs? Is that how it works? Am I trapped?"
And as much as Howard didn't want to talk about it, the way that Vince’s eyes are suddenly overcome with panic doesn’t sit right with him. Those sparkling baby blues should never be subject to such negativity ever, not if he could help it.
"Calm down, you're not stuck here.” He insists. “You can leave whenever you please."
"Oh." Vince plants a hand to his chest and sighs his relief. "Thank God!"
But that perception he displayed earlier doesn't take long to kick in. "So you…" he frowns at Howard, sadness colouring his features, so intense in it’s sincerity that Howard finds he can’t look directly at it. Turns his head to watch the ripple of the water instead. "What happened to you, Howard?"
And that has to be where he draws the line in the sand. Vince sounds so sad for him. So much sympathy and unwanted pity crammed into that one question that he no longer wants to entertain answering it. Instead he kicks his hoof into the ground and tries to distract him with something else. "I have a cottage not far from here, I could take you there. Make you a cup of tea?"
It works at least, the sadness escapes that gaze only to be replaced with more insatiable curiosity. Vince bobs his head enthusiastically and Howard is mesmerised by the way his hair shifts as he does, strands framing his face and fanning out with every movement.
Belatedly, he does realise he now has to actually take this man to his cabin.
Bugger .
***
Vince isn't stupid. He's known Howard a handful of hours and he can already read him like a book. Not that it’s that difficult, really, for a mythical creature he has some rather human tells. Like avoiding eye contact, or how he’ll kick his little hooves against the ground. Pick at his own soft brown fur anxiously.
It definitely clues him in to the fact that there is another layer to what is going on here, something that Howard desperately wants to avoid having to tell him. Which alright, he supposes he is a complete stranger, so that's fair enough.
Doesn't stop his interest being piqued beyond belief, though, makes him wonder if it's got something to do with all the warnings he'd gotten as a child. If Howard had managed to fall on the wrong side of a being far more sinister than a soft goat man inside a secret forest.
One thing is for sure, he got a nice little cabin out of it. The log structure is quite homely, once Howard brings him back to it. Hearth full of ash that’s indicative of a fire having been lit there recently, a plush little sofa adjacent. In the small kitchenette there’s a kettle on the stove and jars full of a vast array of herbs and spices. If he sits at the small writing desk by the window then all he can see is this mystic nature of this place - it’s beautiful.
“So was this just here ready built for you or?”
Howard rolls his eyes at him again, hooves clicking on the wood floor as he sets about making tea. He makes a point not to answer, Vince had been expecting that. Resigns himself to keeping busy with his snooping- which he does with little care for how rude it must make him look. He scans the books on the shelves, all with lengthy smart sounding titles. Howard had scooped a guitar up from the grass outside as they entered, set it in the corner. The inkwell and quill on the aforementioned writing desk sit next to a stack of journals. It’s all pretty genius, it’s somehow exactly the kind of place he imagined Howard living.
“Could do with some art on the walls.” Vince says as Howard hands him a steaming mug of tea. “Bit of colour.”
“Hmm,” Howard agrees, cradling his own cup gently. “I don’t draw that well, though.”
“I’ll paint you something.” Vince didn’t consciously decide to make that promise, but now he has said it finds there is nothing more he wants to do than make something for Howard to keep in his house.
“You paint?” Howard shouldn’t sound as startled as he does, Vince doesn’t take offence though, just nods at him.
“Have to find something to do when you live in the woods all by yourself don’t you?” They share a look then, eyes meeting, something like understanding passing between them. Since walking into the little house the questions in Vince’s arsenal have tripled and the list just keeps on growing the more he gets to know this man.
Howard beats him to asking one, though. “Why do you still live in the forest?” He asks, sipping at his own tea. “Surely you’re old enough to go off on your own, now?”
Vince shrugs at him. Unlike Howard he has no qualms answering questions. “I’m a gifted child.” He answers easily. “Can talk to animals, well, I can on my side of the woods. Not here, they seem to speak a different language here.”
Something about this answer has made Howard still, brows furrowed, staring at him. Vince just keeps talking to avoid looking into it too much. “Bryan used to always tell me how special I am, anyway. I don’t reckon I’d do too good in a city. Not many animals there, are they?”
“Not unless you went to a zoo.” Howard says, breaks free of his staring.
“There’s an idea.” Vince moves back to the open doorway of the hut (Howard following him as if automatically drawn to his side), stares out at the sunshine filled patch of grass Howard has managed to make a home in. “I could get a job in a zoo. I’d be a brilliant zookeeper.”
“Well…” Howard cocks his head to the side, shoots him a knowing look.
“Shut up, I would be.”
There’s an ungraceful snort from his side, Howard chuckling into his tea. “As if. You’d spend all day asking the animals questions, drive them up the wall.”
“Nah. I wouldn’t need to ask ‘em questions ‘cause I already know loads about normal animals.” Vince explains eagerly. “I only keep asking you so many ‘cause you’re all unique and interesting.”
“Interesting?” Howard’s gaze is back on his; it makes his stomach clench in anticipation of… Something that he can’t quite put his finger on.
He just barely manages to choke out an answer around the feeling. “Yup. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
As best he can he tries to convey his sincerity with his expression alone, Howard is only scoffing at him in disbelief. “What, a Goat man?”
It’s somehow become the most important thing to him that Howard understands Vince wants to be his friend regardless of what legs he has (though, the ram’s legs are pretty cool). “No. Well, yeah a bit. But not just that.” He says. “I meant all broody an’ mysterious, like.”
From the corner of his eye he sees Howard’s little ram tail start wriggling in a subconscious expression of how pleased this answer makes him, but he doesn’t draw attention to it; afraid it would stop. A blush covers the other man’s features. It might just be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed and this time it's an organ distinctly higher and buried beneath his rib cage that gives a painful clench.
“I don’t mean to be rude or nothing, askin’ all my questions.” He continues. “I’m just trying to get to know you, is all.”
Some of Howard’s icy demeanor melts away, replaced instead with a shy smile. They sip at their tea in silence for some time and then Howard says, “Do you like music?”
***
It becomes obvious that Vince loves music. He talks for almost an hour about Gary Numan alone - regales Howard with tales of how brilliant he is and then goes on to make a in depth argument as to why he’s that brilliant. Howard can’t even bring himself to stop him because Vince is made of energy anyway but this is like witnessing a shooting star with how he vibrates with his giddiness. His perfectly manicured hands dart about as he talks, mouth going a mile a minute and yet he never seems to run out of breath.
And the kid doesn’t realise it… but he’s glowing. Not in a metaphorical sense, either, he is literally glowing. Begun to glimmer like a ray of sunshine as soon as Howard engaged him in conversation. It drags him back to the painful reality that Vince is indeed a gifted child, and one that isn’t even aware of it.
He really should say something.
Not right now though. It would be rude wouldn’t it? They’ve situated themselves back outside in the late afternoon warmth and they have been partaking in good natured debate over the various genres of music - it would rather ruin the mood he thinks. So he can afford to put it off for a bit.
Nothing ruins the mood as much as Howard mentioning Jazz, though. Vince wrinkles his nose up in utter distaste, sticks his tongue out like he’s tasted something unpleasant. “Ugh, I should have known you’d be a jazz freak. That’s disgustin’. I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.”
“Bit harsh,” Howard attempts to snap, but it manifests as a barked laugh instead. “Jazz is a musical work of genius worthy of recognition, sir.”
Vince has settled in the grass, reclined back on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him. Looking far too relaxed to be uttering insults like, “Jazz is the death of music.”
“How dare you.” And Howard would normally be quite annoyed at a statement like that. It should, more than anything prove that Vince is not the person he has been waiting for these five years. But then he grins over at him, teeth caught on his lower lip like he’s fighting a valiant battle not to let himself show how happy he is and it sets his heart beating in double time. “You take that back.”
“I’ll be taking nothing back.” Vince sticks his tongue out and it’s as endearing as it is childish. “I’ll be leavin’ that out there for all to see.”
“Child.”
“Dullard.”
It’s like music to him, the way they laugh together. So easy and relaxed you’d think they had known each other years rather than barely a day.
“We need some music now.” Vince says, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Then he hops to his feet, skips his way back into the cabin and fetches Howard's guitar - thrusting it into his hands. “Play me something.” He demands easily.
Howard laughs, nervous. “What?”
But Vince continues to insist; Howard has to take the guitar from him before it’s dropped to the floor.
“I don’t-” And the eager look in his new friend’s eyes prevents him from saying no but he still stutters over his stage fright. “I don’t know what to play.”
“Anything.”
Howard clears his throat awkwardly. Fingers trembling. He knows Vince really wouldn’t say anything against him or his musical talent but he still finds himself frantically running through every song he ever learnt how to play and wondering which would be right.
He’s still wondering what to play when Vince adds, “Anything but jazz,” the soft tease working wonders on the knot around his stomach. Releasing him from his panic and allowing him to strum out a few gentle chords.
It’s not really one he learnt, or ever remembers writing really. It was the kind of tune that appeared in his head the day he arrived in this place and had never left again since. Sometimes he thinks he hears someone singing it; in his head.
To his utter shock, a look of familiarity crosses Vince’s face, and the boy sings.
“ Are we to be married on the morrow my child or will I always be alone?
Are we to be together forever and a day or will life always be this way?”
Howard doesn’t even have to think, watching as Vince edges himself closer to the music, eyes locked on Howard’s. So many emotions flitting behind those cobalt irises - confusion, elation, intrigue. He sings back.
“Because I dreamed of a hedge
Where you laid your head
The grass was red
The seagull screamed
What can it mean?
Was it just a dream?
Am I too obscene for your eyes?”
It doesn’t stop there. They make it through an entire rendition of their shared song with no pauses. There’s no need, they seem to naturally know when one or the other will take over, even when Vince dissolves into a passionate rambling verse Howard can only watch him in awe - eyes closed and swaying as he is - dutifully keeping his melody going.
When it comes to its natural conclusion they are left, Vince breathing heavy from the exertion of it, Howard fighting the urge to avert his eyes. Because he can not mention all the things he knows, but that occurrence was a little harder to hide from.
“Did you write that?” Vince asks him eventually, how he keeps his tone level, Howard will never know.
“No.” He plucks at the strings just to give himself something to do. “No, I… I hear it.”
“Me too.” Vince says. Howard braces himself for another tirade of questions about what it means. About who they are. But it doesn’t come, instead Vince just beams openly at him. “That’s genius, do you think it comes from this place?”
As baffled as he is at Vince’s chosen points of investigation, he just gapes at him. Mouth falling open and closed again before he settles on. “Uh - I think so. It must. I only started hearing it when I got here.”
“I’ve been hearing it all my life.” Vince admits, he’s plucked a blade of grass from the ground, twists it in his fingers. “Used to wake up at night and hear it in my head, like something was talking to me.”
Something was. Howard thinks; astonished Vince hasn’t started to piece together the context clues as easily as he had the ones about Howard.
They’ve been sitting out here so long that the sun is setting, but Vince has no intention of heading home by the looks of things. Where he had shuffled closer to Howard, their shoulders brush with every movement either of them makes. Soft fabric of Vince’s shirt rubbing against his bare skin.
“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” He says, mumbles really, tries to conceal how little he wants him to go.
Vince shrugs carelessly, turns his head to look at him. “Why? You bored of me?”
“No. No, not at all.” He hurries to say. “I just - haven’t you got people at home waiting for you?”
“Nope, Bryan’s away for ages. I’d be on me jack.” Vince is picking at the grass again. “Besides, I quite like it here.” This serves to make Howard blush crimson once more. “That and I think you need some company on this side of the woods, don’t you?”
Lost for words, Howard just nods his head dumbly.
“Good. Got a spare bed then?”
***
Turns out Howard’s only got the one bedroom, but he’s a goatly gentleman and offers it to Vince without much of a thought. Vince tries to refuse, questions aloud how comfortable Howard’s legs are going to be on a sofa but that only makes the man more adamant to sleep there - as if out of spite.
He settles down for the night unsure if he’s going to manage any sleep at all with the way his mind is racing with questions.
Firstly perhaps the least important of all his wonderings but the one that has him most puzzled - why do his sheets smell so good? If anything one might think they’d smell a bit like ram (as rude as that sounds). But no. It’s earthy with a hint of spice to it. Warm. Comforting. Does he find himself pressing his face into the pillow and grinning over this discovery? Perhaps, but he’s not going to be the one to look too much into it.
Following that is the concern of Howard’s life here. It’s clear as day to him that the man is trapped against his will, unable to leave and by circumstances beyond his control. How had he come to be here? Has he tried to get out? And perhaps overshadowing all of that is the biggest wonder of them all - what he was like before he was the goat man of the woods? Did he have a human life somewhere waiting for him, a family. A girlfriend?
No, after a day he already knows there’s no way Howard would ever be able to talk to women. There’s probably a woman he’d always fancied but never had the guts to approach. He’d bet those journals out there are crammed with poetry or something equally as romantic. Lamenting the lost loves he never really had.
The thought sends a rush of annoyance through him, which is another one of those things he pointedly isn’t going to look into.
Next up on his contemplation list is Bryan, who would no doubt be furious with him should he know what was happening here now.
This jaunt into the woods still hadn’t solved the initial mystery of Bryan’s inherent over protectiveness either - simply added more queries onto the pile. Sure, he knew he was a gifted child with his ability to communicate with animals, but he couldn’t expect to be holed up his entire life could he? Not over something so easily hidden. There’s got to be more, and Howard was walking proof of that.
Sometimes he’d catch him looking at him. The hybrid is most likely completely unaware he’s even doing it, but he’s not very subtle. Stares at Vince like he’s the answer to all of his prayers wrapped in an unconventional coating. How he’d tensed when Vince told him Bryan told him he was special.
And the song. Drawing him here for a reason.
Somewhere along the line all these dots connect, he’s just not sure what kind of picture it’s going to leave him with.
It was going to take more brain power than he has after a day of excitement like he’s had. Energy seeping from him, a battery on low. No, first he was going to have to have a little sleepy and then he’d start figuring it all out.
After all, if his inkling was right then there was bound to be a way to break Howard free from here, and he was determined to find it.
***
Howard is awake before Vince, his body having long since set itself to the rising sun.
It gives him plenty of time to cobble together some sort of breakfast for them both, though. Unused to having guests, he’d forgotten to feed Vince at all the day before, was honestly astonished the young man hadn’t demanded food from him as easily as he’d demanded a song and then a place to sleep.
The thought brings a small smile to his face. Okay, it’s not a small smile at all. He’s grinning like a loon as he collects various fruits and starts to dice them, ready to put on quite a nice breakfast spread for his guest.
It seems only fair to feed him well considering he’d decided overnight that he can’t keep secrets from Vince anymore and intended to spill the entire sordid tale of what was going on here. Regardless of how it would more than likely send the poor lad screaming back to his pseudo father, leaving Howard trapped here for the rest of his natural born life.
But as he’d lain on the sofa he came to the uncomfortable conclusion that he’d grown to feel an undeniable amount of affection for Vince in only a day; which feels to be slightly creepy under the circumstances.
A fruity breakfast is a decent send off, right?
He’s in the process of setting all his sliced fruit into an aesthetically pleasing plate arrangement when a pair of sleepy blue eyes peek around the wall. “You got a bathroom or do you pee in the woods?” Comes a tired voice, and despite the fact he is clearly still half-asleep, he manages to inject a certain amount of cheek into his tone that has Howard automatically rolling his eyes in response.
“To the left of the bedroom, you berk.” He shoots back - the eyes retreat once more.
Once he hears the door click shut, Howard grabs the plate and the teapot he’s made and sets them on the small dining table. He’d never used this table before, tending to simply grab an apple to eat while he walked out of the door. Truth be told, there was a lot he had yet to use here - even in five years. Typically he would find himself spending most of his time in the great outdoors. Now that Vince has come along, he can imagine all sorts of reasons to keep using his furniture.
Vince emerges bright eyed only a few minutes later; all traces of sleep wiped from his face, replaced with rosy cheeks and a pearly white smile. He slots into the chair opposite Howard like he’s always belonged there.
“Morning.” He greets.
“I had the weirdest dream last night.” Vince replies instead of returning the sentiment, snapping up a few grapes and popping them in his mouth. He politely waits for Howard to indicate for him to continue before he goes on. “Something awful was trying to get me but I didn’t know what it was - all dark smoke and these glowing red eyes.”
The apple he’s munching on loses some of its appeal. The startling familiar image being described to him makes him gaze hopelessly at Vince, perhaps in terror - or maybe in pity.
He didn’t think it would get to him that fast. It’d barely been a full twenty four hours since he arrived.
“You alright?”
I should tell him. He thinks, what he says is - “Yeah. Fine. That’s a strange dream.”
“Well weird, isn’t it?”
“Hm.” He drowns his guilt in his tea. “What did you want to do today?”
It’s a blessing in disguise that Vince is as easily distracted as a small child; his eyes light up at the question. “Can we go back to the river?” He asks, eager. “And, have you got any paints or crayons or anythin’? I’d quite like to draw it.”
“Might be the only thing I don’t have here, to be honest.” Howard chuckles. “Only really got pens.”
“Yeah, and a fancy quill like an old English gentleman.”
“I am an old English gentleman.” Vince giggles around his mouthful of bananas. Howard forms a plan, “Why don’t you get something from home?”
The giggling stops, gives way to an expression of worry. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No!” Without thinking he reaches out to plant a comforting hand on Vince’s arm. “No, I’m just not sure how well you’ll get on with a quill - thought you wanted to give me some colour?” Vince mulls it over, Howard adds, “I’ll even walk you to the border and wait for you to get back.”
That’s the tipping point. Vince has many smiles, and Howard has already become privy to a vast array of them, the one he gets now is a gentle, demure thing. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Howard chooses not to mention that, as much as it’s going to hurt, somewhere deep down he prays to gods he doesn’t believe in that there will be someone at Vince’s home waiting for him. Catch him in the act of his secret mission and prevent him from coming back here ever again.
For his own good.
***
It feels horrible going back to his own side of the woods. Like the colour’s draining from the world right in front of his eyes; senses dulling. It's like being displaced from the place he truly belongs, he thinks, which makes him feel a bit sick to his stomach.
No time to linger over that saddening fact; he promised Howard he’d be back in no longer than an hour.
The quicker he gets back the better he will feel.
That’s why he all but sprints back down the dirt path to where Bryan’s cottage resides. A combination of trying to be as quick as possible and also trying to avoid the ever watching eyes of his many animal babysitters - the lot of them would take any opportunity to run to his pseudo father and tell on him.
Inside the house it’s a bit of a mad scramble, because actually being here it doesn’t feel like enough to put his art supplies in a satchel. In the end he reaches for a duffel from under his bed; crams as many clothes as he can fit into it along with his makeup bag, his toiletries, his art supplies, his magazines and his portable CD player.
He’s reaching for a second pair of boots to take when he hears the scrape of claws on the wooden doorway.
There’s nothing he wants to do less than deal with who he can already hear nattering on the other side of that door. But answering it is going to be the lesser of two evils considering the other option will likely draw attention to exactly what he’s trying to get away with.
“Alright, Jahuli.” He greets, swinging the door on its hinges to find the leopard stretching leisurely in the entryway. “Bit early for you, innit?”
Where have you been? Is the response that comes.
“What you on about?” He’s never been a great actor but he likes to think the confusion he puts on is convincing.
It isn’t.
I came looking for you last night and you weren’t home. The way feline features still manage to convey a rather human sense of a frown is nothing short of unsettling. I was concerned.
“Went out for a bit.”
Where?
Vince folds his arms over his chest defiantly, stares over at his feline friend with his hip cocked and his expression blank. The animal stalks inside the hut and stretches his neck to press his wet nose against the skin of his forearm.
Why do you smell like goat?
“What do you want, Jahuli?” Vince tries his best to keep his eyes from the half packed duffel on the sofa, lest the animal figure out something is afoot. “I don’t need a babysitter anymore, remember?”
Jahuli takes a slow stroll around him, scenting the air. You were with someone. Bryan won’t be happy you know how he feels about you meeting with people
“What people? The only other people I ever get to see are the postman and Bryan’s singer friends.” Vince snaps, snatches for his bag without a care - he’d figure it out soon enough anyway. Even at eighteen it was going to be fairly obvious when a child runs away from home. He was wary of the fact he’d promised Howard he’d only be an hour. Didn’t want him worrying. “I’m not a child anymore, he can’t keep me hidden from the world forever.”
Jahuli is hot on his heels when he storms away, heading for the North side of the forest.
It’s for your own protection, Vince, you know this.
“Protection from what!” He screeches, stops his marching in order to stamp his feet - childish perhaps, but necessary to convey his annoyance.
Jahuli only looks at him. Silence. Like there had been for eighteen years. No one telling him why he couldn’t see anyone ever. No one ever answering his questions. No one bothered to explain to him where his parents were or why he could talk to animals when no one else could. Why he was supposed to stay under someone’s supervision almost constantly.
“Right then.” He storms off again, duffel knocking against his side as he struts.
You shouldn’t go there, Vince! The leopard calls, hastens to catch up with him. He doesn’t stop and so far Jahuli isn’t trying to make him stop. At least not physically, but he tries his best to do so verbally. He’s dangerous.
Vince stops dead.
The implications of that statement are sinking in; and there are a lot of implications that can be explored from those two words alone. Enough that it must be a solid minute before Vince can even find it in himself to turn and lock eyes with the cat.
What he settles on is, “You knew he was out there?”
The animal's head dips in what Vince recognises as a nod. Vince is overcome with a wave of emotion. Deep and red hot in his veins. Not for himself but for Howard. Trapped in an (albeit beautiful) prison for years with no company to speak of. No one trying to find a way out for him. And they all knew.
“Why did no one help him?”
There are things you don’t understand, Vince.
He barks a humourless laugh. “You think?” He snaps. “I don’t understand why no one will tell me a fucking thing around here.”
When he’s met only with silence he asks a new question. “Is he what everyone wanted me to stay away from?”
Silence. Probably means yes.
“Look, you can keep all your fairy tales and your ghost stories.” He sets his shoulders, determined. “I happen to think he’s harmless.”
Then Jahuli’s eyes widen, in any other circumstance it would be a hilarious thing to witness, but Vince finds himself glad he’s managed to provoke a reaction from a usually stoic creature. Did you spend the night with him?
“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”
Jahuli is moving towards him now, a slow prowl. You need to come back to the house.
“No.”
I’m not kidding, Vince.
Vince just narrows his eyes. “You think I was?”
Jahuli’s stance shifts and Vince has only a split second to decide if he thinks he can out run a literal predator . Even then it’s going to be a gamble whether or not Jahuli will follow him through to the other forest with the intention of dragging him home kicking and screaming. Whatever the case, he thinks he’d feel much braver if Howard was at his side.
He goes for it. Turns tail and sprints. Jahuli is after him within a split second; sharp teeth nipping at his clothes and almost gaining enough purchase to stop him. But Vince has the advantage of having grown up playing tag with wild animals; he knows how to dodge out of the way of swiping paws and snapping jaws.
Tumbling through the invisible barrier finds him tripping over his own feet and rolling to land right at Howard’s hooves. He’s up in an instant, lacing his fingers with the other man’s and tugging hard to get him to his feet too. “We have to go!” He shouts, not ceasing in his urgent pulling despite how Howard seems to be unmoving. “Jahuli was at- at the house, he’s coming and-”
“He won’t come through.”
Vince pauses, panting for breath. “What do you mean, he was- How do you know?”
Howard sighs, seems to weigh something up mentally before he gives the hand he’s still holding a small comforting squeeze. His face is painted with shame, eyes downcast as he admits. “Because no one but you can get through.”