A/N: God, I can't believe I'm doing this… But I actually will step away from my AdamLawrence-obsession and write an AdamOC-fic! But don't worry, the affection Adam feels for Lawrence that we all know is there shines through most of his actions.

Prologue: A Night Like Any Other

Adam will never remember this.

This moment.

He will never remember it.

It's happened too many times before. You don't remember what happens every night, what happens every fucking night and especially the one night every week when you actually get to sleep.

That's why he'll never remember how Lawrence limps into his bedroom. All his balance rests on his one foot and makes him falter with every step. He'll never remember Lawrence's face, all white, so deadly and white, like an extra moon in the darkness. Why the hell would he put out the light before he went to bed? He knows he's afraid of the dark now!

Adam will never remember Lawrence's eyes, clear, sharp and blue, as he sits down on the edge of Adam's bed and takes his hand that lays on the covers, strokes it with his thumb in a way that's supposed to be comforting, but that really just spreads his cold and his death into Adam.

It really doesn't matter. These dreams are awful, but they're still Adam's favorites. Because there's no way in hell he'd rather dream of what really happened, about that worst day of his life, about that day when the paramedics carried him away from Lawrence's body and said that dreadful mantra, over and over: He is dead. He is dead. He is dead.

But Lawrence isn't dead. He's sitting right here. Fills Adam with cold and with reassurance, and Adam doesn't even notice that the tears are streaming down his face as Lawrence slowly opens the mouth that's just a gaping, black hole.

"I have to go now, Adam…"

"No…"

It comes out as a whimper, but Adam doesn't know what else to do. He knows better than to reach out and try to grab Lawrence. He doesn't have these dreams a lot, life isn't that kind to him and it never has been, so he rarely has these dreams were Lawrence actually is here with him, touches him, speaks with him, but the times he's had them have taught him that when Lawrence says this, he really has to go, then there's nothing Adam can say or do to hold him back.

"I have to go now, Adam…"

"No… Stay with me…"

"I have to go…"

"No…"

And Lawrence doesn't really go. But he disappears, fades away into the air that's heavy with cigarette smoke, and once again leaves Adam alone, all alone, so overwhelmingly, terribly torn apart and alone.

Just like all the other nights.