A/N: Hi, so my friend, let's call her Mod, has been writing these fantastic scriddler fics, and I asked if I could upload them for her, so hehe... here's the first one.

Please review and Woohoo!


"Go away."

"Jonathan, what's wrong?"

"Get away from me."

Jonathan felt Edward's arms circle his waist, he cheek pressed against the taller man's back. "Let me help."

"Don't touch me," he muttered halfheartedly, not bothering to try and push him off.

"Was it the crows again?"

Jonathan nodded, squeezing the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles were white.

"And was she in it?"

He nodded again, forcing his eyes shut. It wasn't dark enough. He needed the dark. It comforted him.

Coward.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, shuddering slightly.

Eddie squeezed him tightly, pressing his lips against his neck gently. "Shh…" he murmured. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks," Jonathan croaked. "I've woken you up twice already."

"It doesn't matter."

Hate.

"Yes, it does. You shouldn't have to—"

"Jon, it's okay. Really."

You hate him.

He jerked away, out of Eddie's reach. He began to pace around the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving. I have to keep moving."

You want to hurt him.

He cringed, clenching his fists.

Afraid?

"Jonathan, snap out of it."

He whirled around, snarling, "Why can't you just leave me alone you bastard?"

Eddie stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly.

He fears us.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the smaller man demanded, moving over to him.

Jonathan growled and lunged towards him, his hand closing around his throat. His vision was tinged with red. He was fear. He was evil.

He was alive.

Eddie's eyes were wide as he fought for air. The terror painted so clearly over his perfect features… it was like a drug.

Good.

"Are you gonna snap my neck?" he rasped, looking absolutely terrified. "'Cause if you are, do it now."

And with those few words, everything fell back into place. Jonathan released Edward's neck, letting him fall limply into his long arms. He stood there, paralyzed as the latter gasped into his shirt, shivering like a child.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, resting his chin on top of his messy orange hair. "I'm so sorry."