For once in the history of their house, it was silent. The dim lighting casted by the candles danced in the still. The calming scent of lavender filling the air. Perhaps to the world, this night would be a pleasure. Their child born in the night. Love and passion shared.

George couldn't help but think of the irony. Night was their domain. When agents would protect, so others could have just that. The time when they had to sacrifice their emotions to serve.

Of course it would be night when he broke. The world was twisted. For in a night you could gain it all, and come sunrise it would all be striped of you.

George combed a hand through his blond hair. With a groan, he crashed down from his upright position on his bed. The springs gave a small noise from the sudden weight.

No matter what, his thoughts wouldn't derail from these thoughts. Of the world and it's unfair nature. Teenagers like himself and Lockwood, having to grow up before the rest of the world. While normal teens shopped with their friends and worried of grades, they had to fight. George grinned to himself. The world was so cold.

So he just laid there. The night's silence slowly suffocating him. George didn't even try to defend himself from it, the feeling was too close to a hug. He hadn't had one in so long. He really hadn't had any human affection lately.

Perhaps it was the brake in the silence that stirred him. Maybe it was fate. Possibly, it was hunger. But all George knew was that suddenly he wasn't in bed anymore. He was standing outside a door. Not his own door, but Lockwood's.

George knew the man was up. If he couldn't sleep after that day, Lockwood was twice as bad. George hated when Lockwood got sad.

George didn't know how to explain it. It was something about how he would act. Lockwood would eat little, drink enough tea to rival the amount from the Boston Tea Party, and read constantly. He wouldn't talk to anyone. If you tried, there would either be silence, a small nod, or a head shake.

Without much thought, George found himself lightly knocking again the wooden door. There was a faint muffled voice behind it. The voice seemed to stop once it heard the knocks. Their was a few moments of silence before George could no longer stand it. "I know you're in there. C'mon, open the door please," George asked in a hushed voice.

There were a few more seconds before George was met with Lockwood's face. There was a forced grin on it. George frowned a bit. He didn't like it at all. "Ah, George! Lovely... Lovely surprise! Say I was abou-" "Lockwood," George cut him off.

The hoarseness and light cracking of his voice had betrayed himself. Lockwood knew he couldn't fool his best friend of years. Contrary to popular belief, they knew each other quite well. George had pretty much been with him since he started Lockwood and Co. Although, after what had happened to Robin, they somehow drifted apart in a way. Since Lockwood knew there was no fooling George, he settled for plan B. Turn his face down and pray George wouldn't notice the tears.

Unfortunately, that one didn't work either. And once Lockwood felt a warm hand on his shoulder, the tears came down faster than they had in the darkness of his room.

The two collapsed against the wall together. Lockwood, with his face buried into George's shoulder. George, trying to calm him down by running his hands through Lockwood's hair.

They sat against the wall like that for what seemed like an eternity. Until Lockwood was reduced to hiccups and a sleepy state. "Hey George?" Lockwood's voice strained.

"Yeah?" George answered quietly, afraid to scare off the older teen.

Lockwood's grip on George tightened a bit. Almost in a needing manner to know George wouldn't leave him. "How come good people are always the ones to die?" The question rolled off his tongue.

George stopped running his through Lockwood's hair. He just let it lie there, doing nothing but being an assurance of his being. "Because when you pick flowers, which ones do you pick?" George managed to reply.

Lockwood finally looked up at George since they had collasped. "You... you pick the best ones," Lockwood answered, feeling kind of like a child afterwards.

George gave Lockwood a soft sad smile. George himself was on the verge of crying, however he felt like that would hurt both more than it could cure. So instead, George used his slightly too big plaid sleeve to wipe away some of Lockwood's tears. At the moment, neither were concerned for the oddness of it for two close friends.

No more had to be said between the two. Lockwood shifted slowly so they were sitting next to each other. They just sat next to each other, enjoying the presence of the other. Tonight neither could bare to be alone with their thoughts. It was almost like if they left, the demons haunting them would catch them.

Tomorrow was the day they had feared. It loomed it their minds. Consumed their mentality. Neither ever wanted to go through it again. The first time was traumatic for both. But it was merely something they couldn't avoid. There was no running.

Tomorrow marked the funeral of Lucy Carlyle and Holly Munro.

XxxxxxxX

Ok, so I know I should be working on Library, but I just couldn't ignore this!

If you want me to, I'll continue this fic. I'll most likely add a 2nd or 3rd chapter, but if you me to continue it so it's like 6+ chapters, tell me! If that's a popular demand, I'll actually write a chapter every 2-3 weeks because I really REALLY love this story idea! Sorry for any grammer errors.

I based on the song World So Cold by 12 Stones. If I continued, the story would be kind of like the lyrics. It would also get pretty dark and angsty.

Please review and favorite if you thought it was good! Or if there's something you think I should improve on! (I know the characters are sort of OOC, but I kind of had to improvise for this setting)

-Stars