Guilt sucked. Really badly. Like, worse than Edward and Bella's relationship dynamic in Twilight. And if you're a Twi-hard (whatever the eff that is), and you're offended by that, then... Well, then, I'm not even sure I want you reading this.

Anyways, as you might have guessed, I was kind of on a guilt trip about Fang going all screwy and storming out. Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but it was 10 PM and his parents were getting all worried about him and, honestly, so was I. To hell with the whole 'I hate Fang' business. Not having someone to argue with for that long made me restless. Mr. and Mrs. Warden had confined me to my room, not wanting to have to deal with two missing children, but I wasn't really one for following rules. So, I did the only thing that was logical to me. I grabbed the coat Nudge had given me and walked into the night.

Now, this proves just how guilty I really was. It was probably negative two degrees Fahrenheit outside and I merely had a light jacket, yet I continued to search near and far for the Emotionless Emo. Being Fang, he couldn't just sneak out to one of those normal places like... I don't know, illicit strip clubs or raging parties. Oh no. He had to be an anti-social prick and find the most invisible spot ever.

Looking for said invisible hide-out brought me to a great number of places I would prefer not to return to. Sketchy bars in the middle of nowhere, bonfires under docks on the beach, a dumpster. All the places that would soon be crime-sites with Lifetime movies centering on them. The idiot wasn't there. The moon was climbing in the sky and a frigid breeze was dancing through the air. I shivered, crossing my arms to me for warmth. All familiar landmarks were long passed, and it didn't take a genius to tell that I wasn't in the nicest part of town. A crag between two buildings lead to a long alleyway, the stereotypical headquarters for some kind of drug dealer.

"Fang," I hollered huffily, stalking down the alley. "You better hope to God I don't find you here." Guess the dumbo didn't hope hard enough, because sure enough, he was casually leaning against a grimy wall that was sure to give you some kind of STD just by touching it, hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, obviously still not pleased about our earlier spat. I could tell he was at least a little bit surprised I had found him.

"I'm asking you the same exact thing, dumb ass," I said through gritted teeth. "Before your mother flips a shit."

"Language," he reminded me grumpily of my own rule. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm freezing cold, I have a headache, and this town is giving me the creeps. I'm allowed to curse."

"Just sayin'," he mumbled lazily. Straightening himself up, he continued, "Is there a reason you're here? You know, I kinda thought you hated me. Unless you've succumbed to my total seductiveness?" Well, I was prepared to say that I didn't hate him, but when he went and said that, I forced myself to think of a new excuse for being there. Looking around, I commented on the first thing I lay eyes on.

"Your hair," I said cryptically. He gave me a look that screamed What? "It's too long. It... It covers your eyes, and you're gonna like, um. Walk into a knife or something. So you should cut it."

"You came here to tell me that I should cut my hair."

"Yup," I confirmed, popping the 'p.'

"I'm not that dumb."

"That's news to me," I blurted out, forgetting that we were in the midst of a hate fest and I was no longer allowed to joke around like that with him. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"You probably shouldn't be here," he warned. "A lot of sketchy people. Guys like Jeb."

This is what I was talking about with the whole 'treat me differently' thing. I wasn't a helpless little puppy, lost in a big new city. I was a girl with a sucky life. To other people, there didn't seem to be a difference. To me, there was a big one. I still had direction and sense. I wasn't going to go running headfirst into dangerous situations. I wasn't an imbecile.

"Are you implying that I couldn't have taken them?" I snarled. In a very Fang-like gesture, he only managed to shrug before studying the wall opposite him.

I tok this lull in the conversation as a chance to examine him. He was still wearing the same thing as earlier, of course. In fact, he hadn't changed one bit. I didn't even know why I bothered looking for some imperceptible difference, seeing as it had only been a matter of hours since we'd last seen each other. Something just felt (and smelt) off. And then I saw it.

His right hand was jammed in his pocket which has curls of smoke drifting away from it. An ash spot was growing larger on his jeans, burning a sizable whole.

"Fang," I said calmly. He shifted his head toward me. "Are you... smoking?" I kid you not, he jumped about two feet in the air. A small blush graced his cheeks and he slipped his hand behind his back.

"Of course not," he lied. "That kills you."

"Then what's that cigarette in your hand, idiot?" Blinded by rage, I stormed over to him, fighting his stiff fingers for it. Holding it up, I forced him to look at me. "Do you know that this kills you?" I asked solemnly. "And it's a totally unattractive quality. You'll smell like shit 24/7 and age ten times faster. Plus, your lungs will slowly, slowly begin to shut down. You won't be able to figure out what's happening to you as your mind loses its will to think. Everything will be muddled, and you'll have no one to explain it all to you as everyone will have left you for starting to smoke when you were only 17-"

"Enough with the lecture, Max. I don't even smoke. A, uh... A friend of mine thought I was stressed and just... Offered me one." I gaped at him.

"So you accepted?"

"Uh, manners, right?" he tried to defend himself. I ignored this.

"I seriously pissed you off enough to make you take a cigarette off of a stranger? Were you absent in all of elementary school? And middle school? I mean, do not look to me to carry your little oxygen tank around in twenty years. You'll be the living dead! And think of the people this is affecting! Nudge, your parents, anyone around you will all be second hand smokers and die because of you! And honestly, as your friend, I have to tell you that if you keep smoking you will never get laid by anyone remotely attractive and end up being an old miser with a tumor so big it looks like a man-boob. Do you want that to be your life?"

Decidedly, I swiped the cigarette out of his hands, pinching out the flame. I let it float to the ground, where I ground the tobacco out of it with my heel. Fang watched me dumbly as I did this, raising an eyebrow at the fierce stomps I used to ensure that any light was out.

"You... Smoke... One more time," I huffed. "This will be you."

"Max, I wasn't-" he protested. "That was only my first one." I glared at him.

"Good. Then you shouldn't have too much of a problem quitting."

"Quitting what? My non-existent addiction?"

"Just come on. I'm not staying out here any longer and I don't know if I remember the way home."

"Now you need my help," he mumbled almost inaudibly. I punched his arm deftly, walking a few feet in front of him.

"Where next?"

"Left."

"You're an idiot."

"So you've said."

We continued like so until Fang's neighborhood edged on the horizon. Unlike my old house, here there were not miles between homes. It looked like it had popped out of a cartoon: the white picket fences, flower pots and artificially greened grass. The night cast a mysterious glow on all of them, making them seem ghostly. Only a vision of what could be; not really what was there. It reminded me of how everything felt when I was with Jeb. Any happiness was only temporary; the morning would chase it away in a second flat. I shivered at the memories, imagining just what Jeb was up to at that very moment. There was no way he'd file a Missing Person report. Not only would this seem to be his free ticket to become a super smart scientist, but if he told, he knew I would too. The fact that I hadn't returned for so long taught that to him. Of course, I didn't have a choice. But, in the end, I suppose I was grateful nonetheless.

A/N: AWW! Sweetness... Cheese to the max. Haha, anyways, please review! Pretty please with ten cherries on top!

(I never understood that expression because honestly, cherries are pretty nasty.)