A/N: This is the first time I have wrote anything involving these two, as I was having trouble brainstorming ideas. I thought I would try this; put my music on shuffle, then write about the song. I know you're only meant to write as long as the song plays, but I have problems with stopping, but who cares, right, the more the merrier.

I was going to do 10, but I sort of wrote myself out and got bored. So please enjoy these 8.

Do not own these characters.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated.

Kimberly Glide – Robert Downey Jr (4:53)

Blinding pain was there one minute then gone the next. Saying he had a headache was an understatement, but now his mind felt clear. Well, as clear as his head could be.

Nny could only remember flashes of the events that lead up to where he was now. The first, vivid, image being of Edgar, standing in the doorway, a look of pain and panic spreading across his face. His, once white, shirt now sprayed with a mist of someone else's blood.

With the next one, Nny figured he must have fallen to the floor because he could see the ceiling behind Edgar's head. Some of the blood coated his face and glasses, and he looked too preoccupied to try to wipe it away. At the edge of his vision he could see a blood splattered hand clutching a hand that must have been his own. He didn't remember feeling it, but he could see it.

Another flash brought the last image, and the hand had moved to his face. Nny could the feel the sharp contrast in heat as the blood cooled his flushed skin. Edgar had been muttering at this time, using hushed tones and whispers that Nny couldn't really understand. Though, now, he guessed the words had been more for Edgar's benefit than his own.

During all this, the pain had slowly been spreading through Nny's body, starting from his head and working its way down. By the time Nny noticed the tear tracks staining Edgar's face, he had gone numb all over. He met Edgar's tired eyes one last time before everything went black.

When he woke up again, all traced of ever having been in pain were gone. His head wasn't swimming with a thousand different voices. And, Edgar was no where to be found.

Of course Nny had known all along that he would be alone; he had known the inevitable outcome of his life for years now. So here he stood, surrounded by hell fire.

The unexplainable blind rage that shrouded everyone and everything was so thick that it was almost choking. And as he stood, part of him was grateful that Edgar would never join him.

Time Is Running Out – Muse (3:55)

Edgar wasn't entirely sure what was happening to him. He remembered standing in what classed as a kitchen in Johnny's house. He remembered leaning against a counter, facing a blue haired figure in a chair. He remembered saying something in response to something Nny had said. He couldn't recall the words, but could remember his mouth moving in the shape of a sentence.

However, he couldn't remember the few precious seconds leading up to the situation he was in now.

He could only describe it as drowning, despite knowing full well that it was nothing of the sort. The burning in his lungs felt like he was taking in gasps of water, instead of the air that he desperately needed. If he didn't get any oxygen soon, he was sure he would die from asphyxiation, on Johnny's dirty kitchen floor.

Spots started appearing in front of his eyes, and Edgar found he couldn't remember how long he had been like this.

Using the last bit of breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, he managed to wheeze out one syllable. It wasn't much but Edgar hoped it was enough to prevent whatever was happening to him.

"…Stop…" The word sort of gurgled out of his throat, and Edgar didn't think it was even understandable, but to his surprise, he felt the pressure on his neck lessen. The spots faded and his vision cleared considerably.

Finally, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs until they were fit to burst. He felt his neck twinge at the sudden intake of air, but he ignored it in favour of getting his brain functioning again.

Looking up, he saw Johnny looking down at him. He had a pained expression on his face; Edgar wondered if it was because of him.

Johnny didn't move for quite a while, he stayed straddling Edgar's legs, his arms wrapped around himself, hands clutching his shoulders.

Edgar couldn't remember what it was that he had said that set him off, if that was even the reason. Sometimes it didn't need to be anything to get Johnny to go off on a tangent. Though, he was sure that one day, quite soon, Johnny would be the death of him.

Ballad Of A Teenage Queen – Johnny Cash (2:12)

Edgar couldn't remember the last time he had been out in daylight. From what he could gather it must have been more than a few months since sunlight had touched his skin. Though, despite this, Edgar found his complexion to be holding on. He didn't have that sickly pale look he would have thought he'd have by now. In fact, Edgar thought he looked quite healthy.

When Edgar turned to peer at the figure walking beside him, he had to admit that even Nny managed to keep from looking like the living dead. Though the lack of sleep did take its toll on the bags under his eyes, Nny had an otherwise normal complexion.

Trying to work all this out by the light of only the moon was a bit difficult, but Edgar had no choice. The only source of light outside was the moon and the stars; every lamppost the pair passed seemed to be out.

As they walked along the sidewalk, side by side, Edgar thought back to a few minutes ago. The events played out the same way they always did. The late night infomercials had taken the place of scheduled programming and Nny had instantly returned to reality. His focused eyes had shifted over to Edgar, and Edgar could already hear the words that were going to come out of his mouth.

"I want a Brainfreezy."

Cue the pair walking down the street at about three in the morning. Edgar didn't like to think of Nny as being someone predictable, but the past couple months of being around him had brought a lot of routines. The almost religious TV watching, before an early morning snack, was one of the more normal things he did. The others, though, he didn't like to dwell on them.

After a few more minutes of walking at Johnny's slightly quickened pace, Edgar began to see the familiar light from the 24/7 off in the distance. Fishing into his pocket, Edgar double-checked that he would have enough change. He wasn't sure how Johnny had paid for them before Edgar was here, but now he always paid. It was just another one of those routines.

The walk there and back was usually silent. Both parties stared at the stars, and the silence would become comfortable. Edgar would always thank Nny for inviting him, despite the fact that Nny never said a word about inviting him and didn't even attempt to pay for his own freezy. Each time Nny would stare blankly, and then grin at Edgar like he had just been praised for doing something good. So Edgar found himself repeating the action each time, getting a smile in return. It quickly became a routine.

Door To The River – Manic Street Preachers (4:41)

Everything itched. It felt as if ants were crawling under his skin. He didn't care how clichéd it sounded, but the first thing he remembered, after returning to consciousness, was this unbearable feeling of ants. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He was aware that there was floor underneath him but he couldn't feel it, the cold had numbed him long ago.

Attempting to sit up turned out to be a more difficult task than he had anticipated. The un-welcomed sleep seemed to be pulling him back down. When he finally did, he manage to open his eyes as well, it took a second for the 'just woken up haze' to disappear. The room he found himself in was dark, but he recognised it instantly; he was in his living room. All around him were the familiar grimy walls and dirty floor, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed something that seemed out of place.

Even through the darkness, he could make out a blue tinted pile on the floor near where his head had just been. Pooled around it was a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood. His claw-like hand slowly reached up to his head only to find it nearly bare. Somewhere around the back of his head, he noticed the blood had already dried.

His knees had moved with his hand, and were now pressed against his chest. In an effort to work out what was going on, he wrapped his arms around his knees and put his head down on top of them. That was when he heard a voice coming from the shadows to the right of him.

"You're alive."

The words were spoken with such quiet astonishment that made him doubt he had heard anything at all, but when he really listened he was surprised to find he could hear breathing. Then, sure enough, when he looked to the side he saw a figure huddled up against the wall. The man was mirroring his position, knees up, one arm draped across them, while the other threaded its way through the man's hair. He wasn't recognisable from this distance, but he could guess who it was, because who else could it be.

The man obviously didn't care about the mess that was on the floor, as he crawled on his hands and knees towards him. Edgar's face came into focus when the distance became shorter. The thing that startled him most, though, wasn't the fact that Edgar was even here in the first place, but the smile that was plastered on his face. It was rare that he ever saw such raw emotion being directed at him, that wasn't fear or disgust. It was different.

When Edgar reached him, that full-blown smile still on his face, he kneeled in front of him, his hands poised in the air. Something must have clicked in his head, at this point, because the hands were quickly returned to his sides.

"Nny?"

Nny didn't move. His eyes were glued to Edgar's face, glued to his smile. He wasn't use to this kind of attention and he didn't quite know what to do with it. Head still cocked to the side, he placed it back down on his knees.

After this moment of silence, Edgar's smile faltered. However, it wasn't replaced by a smug look like he was use to; it was replaced by something worse than the smile. Edgar actually looked concerned, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. And at that, Nny found himself smiling back. He'd been resurrected, but was no longer feeling blue. Who ever said 'your best wishes were just lies' was wrong.

Good People – Jack Johnson (3:28)

Edgar sat still on the cushions. The arm rest held most of his weight, as he was having trouble doing it himself. The frequent flickering lights and flashing colours brightening up the dank room, also helped keep his body from slumping uselessly to the side.

To the left of him, on the opposite side of the couch, was the only other figure in the room. Johnny sat hunched over, knees drawn up to his chest, spindly arm held high, claws clutching a TV remote. Every so often, he would press down harshly on the remote; his sharp eyes watching the stations shift. From where Edgar was sitting, he could see the far away look in Johnny's eyes; his face was passive and slack.

Edgar glanced down, taking in the odd coloured stains marking the material he was sitting on. A particularly large, reddish, one started at the edge of the cushion and then disappeared under his leg. It took a lot of self-control to keep himself from inching away, but he was convinced that this was a better course of action considering the unstable figure next to him. He couldn't see sudden movement going down well.

The sporadic clicking grew louder and increasingly faster. The amount of dark and light in the room was here and gone so fast, it was almost like a strobe light. When Edgar finally managed to tear his gaze off the stain, he noticed the look on Johnny's face gradually changing. It was no longer expressionless, but growing in annoyance at each passing second.

Before he had a chance to react and stop him, Edgar watched Johnny hurl the remote across the small room. It hit a space on the wall opposite them. It didn't splinter but made a noise that startled them both. After it crashed to the floor and sat motionless for a moment, Edgar slowing turned in his seat to face Johnny.

His thin, claw-like hands were buried in his dark blue, almost black, hair. Clenching and unclenching, grasping at clumps close to his scalp. His face was hidden in his drawn up knees.

"Nny?"

His head shot up, looking slightly surprised, like he had forgotten Edgar was there. His shadowed eyes were wide and staring right back at Edgar. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but no sound followed. So he simply closed it again.

Eyes still trained directly on him, despite the silence, Edgar took this as a sign of Johnny wanting him to say something instead. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to bring himself to speak up. His mind felt sluggish from the lack of sleep, and even his body didn't seem to be responding to his will. He found himself mimicking Johnny; his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He wanted to say something. He really did. Anything, just to get Johnny to stop staring at him like that.

Judging by the look that crossed Johnny's face, this wasn't what he wanted. At Edgar's apparent refusal to say anything, he leapt up from the couch. Claws digging into his own palms. With one last look at Edgar, he stormed out of the room. Edgar watched his go, going, gone.

Never Know – Jack Johnson (3:32)

After a while, they all begin to blur into one. The endless screams all sound alike. Their pleading and sobbing falls on deaf ears. If he could get rid of the memories, he would. He would gladly give the imagery back, but he knew it wasn't as easy as that.

People are vile, disgusting creatures. They're nothing, but clueless, empty-headed things. The workings of their mind were not complex, yet they are the most confusing things to understand at times.

However, there were a few exceptions to the rule. He had met very little of them, and he liked to believe there were more out there somewhere. But usually he just found another one of the creatures, and he lost another bit of faith because of it.

Most people weren't even worth having a conversation with, their words coming out obnoxious and rude. But, sometimes, he could see himself sitting on his couch and having a conversation with Edgar. He didn't know what it was that allowed himself to do this, as normally he abhorred getting an insight in to the minds of other people; it just reminded him of the crossed wires and broken circuits that existed in his own head.

But Edgar was different. Edgar was intelligent. Edgar was amusing at times. Edgar was beautiful. Edgar was perfect.

A part of him regretted the fact that he would have to eventually kill him. But then he remembered the muddle of wires in his head, and was reminded that he didn't have feelings. Edgar would be perfect just like the others.

Shatter – Feeder (3:02)

There was, maybe, a split second before it happened where he could have moved out of the way. But he didn't. He made a conscious decision to stay where he was. In fact, when he thought about it later, he might have even moved closer. Something told him not to trust his memories as they weren't the most reliable thing in the world, but when he replayed it, he had definitely leaned in.

They're disgusting creatures. You're growing weak. Soon you'll be just like them. Empty of anything substantial.

Lately, the voice in his head had been getting louder, harder to ignore. Sometimes other voices joined that were not his own. Each one stepping on the toes of the last, constantly contradicting one another. On rare occasions, there was a flash of hot white, followed by a dull throbbing in his head, as if one of the voices had just won out over the other. He had learnt to drown out most of it, but sometimes certain words caught his attention.

Edgar. He was mentioned the most over anything else. Though never positively. The snide voice would always point out the stumbles in Edgar's words, would twist them around to confuse him whenever he couldn't find anything wrong with them. It was beginning to get difficult to unwind the lies from the truth.

He's scared of you. He doesn't want to be around you. Can't you tell by the way be talks, always pausing, trying his best not to set you off. He thinks you're going to kill him.

All this could very well be true, but he didn't like to think it was. He liked to think Edgar wanted to be here, wanted to be around him out of his own free will, but every so often, the ugly words of the voice successfully distorted his so called reality. There were many instances where, after the white flash cleared, he found himself with a hand dangerously tight around Edgar's neck, or sitting above him, knife poised in the air threateningly. He had never actually succumbed to the urge, but did get increasingly closer each time, each time it took him a little bit longer to recognise it was Edgar under his hands. It was always the wide eyed, panicked look on Edgar's face that brought him back. He never uttered an apology because it wasn't him that was doing this, it was the voice. Or at least that's was what he kept telling himself.

However, there were times when his head felt relatively empty of noise. Only his own thoughts would echo in his ears. For some reason, the voices gave him a break every so often. During these times, he would find himself smiling back when Edgar would attempt to, awkwardly, lighten the tension in the room. His choice of words was great sometimes. When he would put a warm hand on his cold, bony shoulder he wouldn't jerk away, and the heat from the skin would thaw his joints.

And that brought him back to the situation he was in now. They hadn't been talking about anything particularly poignant, so he didn't quite understand where it came from. He'd been watching some infomercial, for what was probably the third time that night. Sitting in the usual position, knees drawn up, arms circling them, chin rested on top. He'd felt the air next to him shift, and then when he looked, Edgar was sitting closer than he ever had on the couch. His eyes fixed on him.

He had expected the voices to speak up at this point because the look Edgar was giving him demanded analysis. Though, instead, they kept quiet, leaving him to try and work out what was happening. After what seemed like hours, Edgar finally made a move. Out of the corner of his eye, since his gaze never left Edgar's, he could see a hand rising into the air. It gently brushed past his face, the hot and cold components making it tingle. That was when realisation dawned on him; it made sense that Edgar was now leaning in slightly. He wanted to kiss him.

You could kill him now. It would be perfect. He obviously wants to be out of your life. Why else would he be doing this? He wants you to kill him.

It didn't take long for the voice to mutilate the moment, but he had to admit, these very thoughts could be passing through Edgar's head. He didn't like to think this, but Edgar could be looking for a way out. The more he thought about the more it began to seem like the truth. He could feel himself sinking under these thoughts.

Then, in a flash of defiance, he pushed everything out of his head; anything that led to Edgar was roughly thrown away until there was nothing but silence. His eyes quickly refocused on Edgar, who was still sitting close, and he closed the gap. Just like every thing else, Edgar was warm whereas he was cold.

He had definitely leaned in.

Gouge Away – Pixies (2:43)

Edgar's arms had long since gone numb. The tight straps and manacles around his wrists, torso and ankles had been distorting the blood flow throughout his body for hours now. It felt like he was being pulled in two different directions, his chest ached and it hurt to take deep breaths. Every slight movement shifted the straps, and Edgar was sure that it was now beginning to gouge away at his skin. He hadn't felt the cool trickling of blood yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

Although his mind was hazy, Edgar counted several hours passing while he hung from the dark, splintering wall. The other walls were empty apart from the two identical paintings that hung on each of them. Opposite him, there was a door. Nothing had moved in or out of it, it just stood there. Unmoving.

Edgar guessed he must have dozed off, because when he lifted his head up, he saw a thin figure standing below him. He hadn't heard the door open and that surprised him; he was usually a light sleeper. He blamed it on the exhaustion racking his body.

The figure was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted and his eyes questioning. The sallow skinned stranger didn't say anything, but stood unmoving, just like the door.

Another jump in time and Edgar found himself unchained and kneeling on the floor. His palms stung and his knees burned. Although, he couldn't remember getting out of that contraption, something told him it probably didn't happen smoothly.

Taking in the change in perspective, Edgar now had to look up to meet the man's eyes. They looked pitch black due to the shadows in the room, but they were definitely staring right back at him. It took Edgar a few tries to get to his feet, the first attempts were met with sharp intakes of breath as the pain in his hands flared up again, but eventually he made it. He levelled out as being at least a few inched taller than the man, and had to, again, take into account the changed perspective. The height difference didn't seem to daunt the man, as his expression didn't change when he turned his back to him and marched towards the door.

Edgar didn't move. The man opened the door; it creaked on its un-oiled hinges. Still, Edgar didn't move. Some part of him wanted to follow, while the rest of him kept him rooted to the spot.

The man halted, his hand resting on the open door. He sought out Edgar's eyes when he spun back around.

"You can stay, if you want to."

He shrugged, his bony shoulders barely shifting the material that sat on them. With that, he left and started up the stairs that were hidden behind the door.

Edgar quickly followed.