Author's Note: The song I've used belongs to the sexilicious and talented Ryan Gosling!! I found this song, and I'm like, "Gah! He's amazing!" and I read the lyrics and I thought parts of it would suit a Murder By Numbers fic nicely. I didn't use all the lyrics, though, because not all of it worked. If you haven't heard Put Me in the Car by Ryan, you're missing out, so download it!

Richard wandered downstairs, bored. He discovered his parents eating supper, together, but miles apart. While his father read the paper silently, his mother sipped at a tall glass of wine, probably not her first or last drink of the night.

"Why didn't you call me for supper?" he asked. He was slightly annoyed, but he still felt apathy for his parents, no matter how little they did for him and how much that used to hurt him when he was growing up.

Neither replied. It didn't surprise him a great deal. He grabbed his red jacket off the back of a chair and snatched up his car keys from the kitchen counter and headed out to his car.

Shadows are my friends

And the light hits my face

And hides behind the clouds and its institute of grace

And our children warm their beds with dreams of growing old

But deception has run rampant

And their future have been mistold

Though it was a cold evening, Richard rolled down his window and let his hand surf through the wind. His cigarette was not helping him calm his mind.

What the fuck was wrong with his life? Everything around him was filled with a giant emptiness that echoed with weakness and repetition and hunger and deceit. Yes, everyone wanted to walk in his designer boots for a day, have what he had, but no one actually gave a shit about Richard Haywood.

But why should they? When had he ever treated anyone as an equal? When had he ever done the right fucking thing?

Richard reached the bluff and saw that Justin's car was already there.

Perfect, he thought.

But Justin did care about him. Justin was frighteningly intelligent. He was so smart that he could not relate to anyone around him--except for Richard. Justin craved his company, his voice, even his cruelty, and Richard knew that too well. He took advantage of Justin. He raped him of his self-confidence and ability to be on his own without him.

Under his maliciousness, Richard cared about Justin deep down. He would not admit it out loud, but Justin was his best friend.

As he walked closer to Justin's car, he saw that it was not empty. Justin was reading a book in the front seat, apparently lost in the world of the words. Richard tapped on the window, making Justin jump slightly.

Seeing he wasn't alone, Justin gently and slowly pushed his door open, careful not to hit Richard. He got out and closed the door behind him. "Richard," he muttered, not happy to see him, but not exactly disappointed.

"Good book?" Richard asked, gesturing to the thick paperback. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you're doing."

Shooting him a dirty look, Richard demanded, "What am I doing, Justin? Please enlighten me."

"Escaping."

Richard raised his eyebrows, a mocking smirk on his lips. "Really."

"You wanted to be alone but I was here," Justin said, his quiet, husky voice tentatively confident. "You wanted to be alone so you could be sad."

"Is that why you're here," Richard asked. "Because you're sad?"

"Usually am," he replied, lifting and lowering one shoulder in a weak shrug.

"Justin," Richard said. His voice was uncharacteristically soothing. "I don't want you to be."

"So what's wrong with you tonight?" Justin asked, ignoring Richard's concern. He usually did not believe when Richard was showing any kind of empathy. "I know you probably don't care, but we are friends."

The fear Justin's voice trembled with as he said the word 'friends' was almost endearing to Richard, which was pretty weird. Normally he relied on lust and passion to tell him what he was feeling. But right now, he was feeling something else. It was tender and gentle, and Richard lifted his hands to hold Justin's face softly. "Damn right we're friends. Fucked up friends, but friends just the same."

"So what's wrong?"

Richard averted his gaze away from Justin's open, vulnerable face. He jammed his hands back into his pockets. "Emptiness."

"What?"

"I can't feel anything. There's nothing."

Justin shook his head, staring at him curiously. "What are you talking about?"

Richard's eyes were strongly lit with some kind of yearning need. "I want something more. "

…Freedom teaches nothing

If only to create

Lately innocence is jaded

Only preachers hate

"Something more?" Justin murmured, hating himself when Richard caught him looking at his lips.

"I want to do something that matters," Richard said passionately. "Something more than being the popular asshole at school that everyone hates but secretly envies. Something more than just having and consuming. Something more than just existing."

Justin studied his face. The wide, serious blue eyes, the adamant eagerness…He tried to keep his eyes away from the parted lips, and just as he gave in, Richard leaned over, stopping just maddeningly short of kissing him.

"You're something more," Richard whispered, as always with that cocky, seducing tone. He was so close that every time he spoke, his lips brushed against Justin's. "I'm sick of all this. Let's just drive tonight. Just take me somewhere, anywhere, Justin."

Just put me in the car

And drive so far

Until I'm free again

And whisper in my ear

That all these years I've been dreaming

Then kiss me goodnight

And it'll be all right

Justin's left hand rested lightly on the wheel as they drove, the ocean their view.

Richard looked over at him and

It'll be all right

smiled. "You taking us anywhere in particular, Justin?"

"Just away," Justin replied simply.

It'll be all right

They drove. Didn't talk often. Justin was a little mad at Richard for teasing him with that kiss he had wanted so badly, and then taking it back just because he wanted something from him. Something more.

Richard let his head fall lazily against Justin's shoulder, still feeling like he was spiraling into a never-ending nothingness; an emptiness of not mattering. He had not kissed him because with Justin, he did not want to seduce him for sex. All he wanted was a life.

It'll be all that I have ever asked of you.