A/N: So, guess what? A) I really hate this story. It sounded so much nicer in my head than it ever came out. The idea of Adara was one I'd been entertaining for some time, but I believe some things are just not meant to be unleashed. And B) no one ever read it to begin with. So, really, I am just relieving myself. And I sort of feel awful, but not really.

Days go by, miserable, agonizing days. Already my mind is attempting to block them out, that freak albino and the junkie biker. I've known a lot of strange people, but it seems that my small home town was nothing compared to the real world. I still have to squeeze my eyes shut when I think about the things Nothing's done to get us here.

Here. We are sitting side by side in yet another diner as the biker- Spooky, what the hell kind of name is that- slumps against the surface. My eyes have been staring out the window. I am trying not to pay attention to Nothing, who is trembling slightly. I refuse to believe that he just shot heroin into his veins. Pot is one thing. Junk is… another. Another league of drugs entirely.

"We should go," he murmurs, his voice almost emotionless. There is a slight rush to his words, though. I swivel my body around on the vinyl of the booth until we are facing each other. Our legs are pressed against each other, but I'm trying very hard not to notice.

A million words want to pour out of my mouth, but all I can do is sit there and stare up into Nothing's eyes. I've seen those eyes a thousand times before but I don't think I've ever felt so uncomfortable. Nothing and I have been through everything together. There isn't supposed to be any awkwardness between us now. Yet I'm having a hard time swallowing and my stomach is alive with butterflies.

"Adara," he says at the exact same time I blurt out, "Nothing."

With a shaky laugh, I nod a little. "Go ahead."

He shakes his own, the black tresses dancing around his pallid face. There is something frighteningly beautiful there. It scares me and enchants me all at once. I know that I am safe with him, though. Nothing would nevernevernever do anything to hurt me.

"You first," he tells me.

"Fine," I say with a tiny smile. "Why did you want me to come with you?"

Nothing looks at me in astonishment. All the while I'm wondering why I can never seem to keep my mouth shut and take a good moment for what it is.

"You're my best friend, Adara. Of course I wanted you with me. And I couldn't very well leave you with those posers, could I?"

My smile grows wider, brighter. "No, I suppose not."

Nothing reaches out, then, tentatively, to take my hand. His slender fingers wrap around my own, ice cold on my bare flesh. They are tracing patterns, shapes, words- I don't really know. But there are chills running up my spine and shudders threatening to overtake my body. My mind is wandering into places I know it shouldn't, wondering how it would feel to have his hands all over my body, his mouth against mine, his-

No.

"Your turn," I say breathlessly.

Nothing grins a little, looking quite devious indeed. "Never mind," he replies. "I think I already know the answer."

We are still holding hands when we emerge from the diner into the blinding sunlight. Spooky had finally gotten us to the North Carolina border, and now it's all a matter of getting to Missing Mile. A shiver runs through me at the mere name of the town. It sounds very dangerous indeed, and certainly the type of place Nothing would come from.

"So, now what?" I ask him. I'm hungry and tired and the last thing I feel like doing is hitching a ride with another creep who just wants Nothing or me to blow him.

Nothing stops walking then, and because we are holding hands I have no choice but to do the same. He somehow manages to turn me around so that we are mere inches apart. I let out a gasp, my gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips and back again.

Just when I think he might lean forwards and quite possibly kiss me, there comes a loud screech of tires from around the corner. Nothing all but rips himself away from me, leaving me dazed and confused.

My gaze moves to the road, where I see a black van hurling itself around the corner. The windows are rolled down; I can hear the obnoxious wail of Bowie coming from within.

Nothing's eyes are wide and glossy. His lips part and two words tumble out. Two words that ensure that from this moment forth things will never be the same.

"They're here."