"This was really nice, Ada. I appreciate that you put in the time to plan something like this."

Ada Vessalius, an incredibly attractive eighteen-year-old blonde, let out a small laugh at her boyfriend's words. "You always do the same for me, so I expect myself to always return the favor. It would be rude not to."

Her boyfriend Gilbert Nightray, who was an also-incredibly-attractive twenty-four-year-old with black hair, smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to Ada's lips.

"But I'm glad you did it anyway. I'll see you again soon."

Ada was indescribably grateful that Gilbert always put in such an effort to please her and make such extravagant dates. Admittedly, as of late, upon witnessing a restaurant's visual elegance and upscale atmosphere, the pleasant young woman wasn't surprised at all. Gilbert never failed to impress her, even if the shock factor had disappeared.

She felt it was about time she returned the favor.

All of the dates she planned were located at small, quaint bakeries or cute restaurants. There was nothing particularly bad about this, but the places she picked never had the same air as the ones he did, and it was obvious he spent more time picking out the restaurants and spent more money on them.

Ada never hesitated to perform good deeds. She cared for others above herself with ease, as if she'd been doing it since the day she was born—and hell, she probably had, knowing her. She dreamed of a world where everybody around her was at peace, where everybody wore smiles on their faces and waved lovingly at people in the streets they didn't even know.

She knew it was impossible—probably. Uniting everyone in the entire world was an insanely difficult task.

And even Ada herself wasn't safe from the clutches of greed.

She'd been proud to consider herself one of the few—perhaps one of the only—people who hadn't ever been affected by greed. She'd been proud to say she was selfless and never put herself before others, nor did she use others for her benefit.

She'd been proud to say all those things until the day they weren't true anymore.

Gilbert didn't go straight home after his date with Ada.

Both Gilbert and Ada came from wealthy families, and all the mansions in their neighborhood were gorgeous and Victorian-style. Most people would be happy to have the keys to such extravagant homes.

Ada might have been, but Gilbert couldn't care less.

Mansions had always felt too big to Gilbert, like they were swallowing their inhabitants. But that was beside the point.

While sitting down on a bench overlooking a lake, Gilbert watched two men and their girlfriends, laughing and talking up a storm.

He'd always felt so disconnected from things like that.

He cared about Ada, he really did, but they always seemed slightly awkward around each other. And perhaps that was simply their personalities. But Gilbert had longed to understand other people like the two men and their girlfriends, how such pure and beautiful relationships could stem.

He'd never been a victim of a pure and beautiful relationship.

Gilbert, at three, and his brother Vincent, practically at birth, had been adopted into his current family after being given up to an adoption home by his birthparents, who claimed they "didn't have enough money" to raise children.

Even though he was only three, Gilbert knew that was a lie. His parents hadn't been particularly kind to him over the three years he'd been alive, practically acting as if he wasn't there—and he knew they wished he wasn't. It was made obvious by his mother's horror at her second pregnancy that both he and his younger brother had been accidents, dirty little mistakes that weren't wanted.

Not that their current parents were any better.

It was clear by the time they were old enough to legally work that their parents had only adopted them because they needed more money to continue their lavish lifestyle. Despite the fact that their parents were rich, their parents already had Fred, Claude, Ernest, and Vanessa as blood children, and with that many children their money was bound to be drained from them. Therefore, their solution had been to get more children—except they wouldn't waste any time or money on these children, just wait until they could work and then demand a portion of what they made.

Gilbert and Vincent were hated by everyone in the family because their family was prejudice against anyone who wasn't related to them by blood—except Elliot, who was another of their parents' blood children, but who was born after they were adopted. Elliot watched them with mingled disgust and curiosity. And both Gilbert and Vincent could tell the disgust wasn't real, simply something Elliot's older siblings and parents and inflicted on him over the years.

They could tell Elliot still didn't truly understand what was happening, despite the fact that he was sixteen now and quite intelligent.

Gilbert had watched closely as Vincent gained girlfriends and then threw them away over the years, and it was practically impossible to not notice the gigantic mass of couples that walked around together. They giggled and frolicked and embraced each other lovingly, casting a bright light wherever they went, spreading the cheer.

Gilbert wished he could escape such things. All they ever did was make him feel like the odd one out. 

When Ada was about to meet Gilbert's younger brother—his blood-related one—he'd warned her she might be in for a shock, as Vincent was quite a bit different from him.

He hadn't warned her that his brother was absolutely stunning, or that he would be more intriguing than anything she'd come across, or that he wasn't just quite a bit different from Gilbert, but complete opposites from Gilbert.

Vincent Nightray had long blonde hair and hanging red earrings that matched the color of his eyes—one of his eyes, at least. One of Vincent's eyes was the golden of Gilbert's eyes while the other was a deep crimson. And his voice was ominous, and she couldn't quite grasp his true nature, and no matter what, he kept drawing her in.

Ada couldn't tell if he was trying to or not.

She'd seen him around town before, but she'd never gotten this close. She'd never really heard his voice.

Stay away from that man.

That man is no good.

Never get too close to that man.

I heard that man can make you feel like the only person in the world besides him, and then destroy you forever.

She really should have heeded the warnings when they mattered.

She really should have told Gilbert, I'm sorry; I can't meet your brother. I heard some things about him...

But she hadn't said a word, and she'd paid the price.

She'd paid the price of falling in love with her boyfriend's younger brother.

Gilbert didn't think he'd ever fall in love. He thought there must be something wrong with him—he was a defect.

Ada knew she couldn't be with Vincent, no matter how much her heart longed for her to be.

She'd asked Gilbert out because she knew her uncle and brother would be happy with her, and because he was one of the closest friends she'd ever had.

She never actually felt anything romantic for him.

Ada was both thrilled that she'd finally fallen in love and terrified that she'd fallen for Vincent.

Oh, why had it had to be him?

Everybody told her to stay away from him.

Everybody told her he was trouble.

Everybody told her he had horrible intentions.

And it wasn't like she didn't believe them—oh, no, she knew. She'd seen countless women come in and out of Vincent's house with him and then leave again, weeping. She knew he swayed women for only one thing and then threw them out like trash.

But Ada saw much more in his eyes than a shallow, manipulative man. She saw sorrow hiding in his smile and his eyes, and it made her want to know him—because she didn't.

How could she fall in love with someone she didn't know?

Someone as pure as Ada shouldn't ever go near Vincent's tainted darkness.

But sometimes Ada thought, not without fear, that perhaps that was why she wanted him.

Gilbert knew he should break up with Ada if he didn't even know if he was capable of liking someone romantically.

He certainly didn't like her that way.

She'd asked him out, and despite his surprise, he'd immediately said yes—because he didn't want to hurt her. He felt it was his obligation as her friend, and he didn't want to lose her, because she wasn't just his closest friend—she was his only friend.

Gilbert had others to lean on, like that annoying weirdo Break and his ladylike accomplice Sharon, but they made him feel uncomfortable and were more allies than friends. They'd take his side, but he wasn't comfortable around them.

Most people who were his age would be nice enough to call their siblings their friends, but Gilbert could say no such thing.

That reminded him...

Ada had met his brother, but he hadn't met hers yet. He was supposed to meet her brother sometime soon, she said—she just hadn't found time yet.

He was comfortable around Ada, and he always felt close to her.

But the longer they dated, the farther he felt from her.

Ada had promised Gilbert he would meet her younger brother soon.

What she'd told him was true—she hadn't found time yet. Her brother had a life too.

But she was also horribly nervous.

Oz Vessalius was not the easiest person to get along with, especially if you were one of his sister's boyfriends.

He was overprotective just like their uncle, and he always made sure to interrogate her boyfriends and glare at them like they won't make it through the night. And he'd be bitter and rude to them in order to see if they were, quote unquote, "good enough for his older sister."

Gilbert was sweet, but sometimes he was easily triggered despite his best efforts, and Ada really didn't want Oz and her uncle to force her to break up with him.

A long time ago, it would have been because she didn't want to hurt him by breaking up with him.

But now, it was because of selfishness.

If she and Gilbert separated, she'd immediately gravitate towards Vincent, right?

And what disasters would ensue then?

Ada had to deny herself what she wanted, because being with the Nightray she really wanted could only do one thing, she was certain—kill her.

Gilbert had heard things about Ada's brother.

Almost all of Ada's previous boyfriends had been dumped by the girl herself—but each and every boyfriend seemed to say it was undoubtedly the work of the untainted, gorgeous Ada's demonic brother.

They said his name—Oz—spitting, oozing spite and anger that they had to separate from such a beautiful girl because her brother was evil.

Even though he'd never say it to Ada herself, Gilbert was very certain he didn't want to meet someone like that.

If you weren't one of Ada's boyfriends, it still became hard to like Oz.

Oz didn't have any real friends except Alice, a loud, arrogant girl who seemed to think everyone should kneel at her feet.

All of the friends Oz had made other than her had left him.

Oz seemed cheerful and mischievous on the outside, but the more you got to know him, the more you began to see hints of something awful lurking—something dark and terrifying. And that had destroyed any chance of Oz making friends, because human beings were connected to a curse—being unbearably scared of what they didn't understand.

Ada and her uncle were the only ones that truly understood Oz, and she was still rather sure she understood Oz better than her uncle.

Oz wasn't the same person on the inside as he was on the outside.

The fifteen-year-old boy, who looked like a male version of Ada, was angry at the world, and he was terrified of it, and very often he wanted to die.

So naturally, that was scary to people who didn't feel the same way once they found out it was there.

He was far more bitter and petrified and depressed than he let show on the outside.

And Ada couldn't blame him after what he'd been through.

Ada had lived with her father and mother until she was three, when Oz was born.

Her mother Rachel had been witty and clever and always making sure her husband treated their daughter fairly and with care. Her father Xai, on the other hand, was an uncomfortable father who never seemed to know what to do with her. He would hold her little hand or ruffle her hair, but he never seemed quite comfortable, as if he was unused to showing blatant affection to anyone.

And he might have been, since he was never mushy and always stern and never showed his wife more affection than a hasty kiss on the cheek.

Ada remembered her mother gently telling her she'd have a brother in a small amount of time, and Ada had jumped up and down and squealed at the idea of a new playmate. She hadn't paid much attention to her mother's words after that, so when her mother mentioned the doctors saying she shouldn't have another baby but that she'd decided to anyway, it hadn't meant anything.

So Ada never guessed how wrong it could—and soon would—have gone.

Oz made it out alive. But his mother didn't.

And their father broke.

Ada knew her father was not particularly nice or outwardly loving, but she watched in horror as he got colder and more and more distant.

Once Oz was one, both he and his sister had been given up to their uncle, Oscar.

A few years before, Oscar's wife Sara had also been lost to childbirth, but their child had died along with its mother.

Ada couldn't help thinking her family had a curse.

It was only when she was older that she understood how cruel her father had become. She overheard awful arguments over the phone between her uncle and father, and the things she figured out her father had said were horrible things she wished she didn't know about. The few times her father visited, it was almost always on important business matters about the family's huge company of which he was the leader of—never to say hello to his children or his brother.

Ada should have known that one day Oz would be old enough to disobey her and go find out what all the screaming was about despite her warnings.

And he did. And it wasn't pretty. And Oz was only eight, so luckily he couldn't understand everything—but he understood some from a distance, and it made him sad.

And then Ada failed again with much worse consequences, when Oz was ten.

Their father visited and Oz begged to see him, tugging on their uncle's sleeve. Reluctantly, their uncle agreed to let Oz and Ada come along while he went to see their father in a local park. There was only one condition.

Oz had to stay with Ada at all times.

The thirteen-year-old girl—who was already absolutely stunning by then—knew what her job was. She had to make sure her little brother was always a safe distance away from getting his heart broken.

She failed.

She failed, and to this day she hadn't forgiven herself for it.

Oz escaped her grip and ran. He paid no heed to her calls to come back as he sprinted towards their father. He peppered their father with questions at the speed of light:

"Father, why don't you visit very often? Why don't you ever say hi to Ada and me? What's it like where you are? Why did you give us to Uncle Oscar? Will you come see us more if we want you to?"

At some point, their father had cut the young boy off and smashed him with a fist to the face, hitting his son so hard he flew into a tree about a foot behind him.

Ada would never forget Oz's face, bleeding from the mouth and nose and with bruises on his back she wouldn't find out about until later, as their father spoke six horrible words:

"You should never have been born."

"Hey."

Gilbert didn't register the man's voice. He couldn't hear anything besides a young couple sitting on a blanket a few yards away from him. There was that gentle laughter again, and sweet, cheery small talk...

"Hey."

The golden-eyed Nightray snapped out of his trance and turned to face the man. The man had one hand gripping the arm of the bench Gilbert wasn't already resting his own arm on.

"What?" Gilbert said, glaring. The man looked about his age, if not a few years older.

People always disturb you at the worst moments...

Not that this was a particularly good moment in the first place.

"Can my girlfriend and I sit here? Sorry to bother you."

There are too many couples...

Gilbert nodded silently and turned his gaze to the lake. It was evening by now, and the stars reflected prettily on the lake's surface.

Gilbert knew if he stared at the man and woman sitting next to him they'd surely notice, so he kept his ears open while gazing straight ahead at the lake.

He observed their playful exchanges without a word, the man constantly making witty, flirtatious remarks and the woman always letting out jolly, ringing giggles in return. They both seemed extremely happy to be where they were, and after only a few minutes it became obvious to Gilbert that they were still getting to know each other and had probably only been on a few dates beforehand.

It all made him feel terribly empty.

Vincent had gotten Ada into darker things, even if he didn't like them himself.

Ada had no idea whether Vincent was into the occult, but after being so incredibly intrigued by the dark, ominous air he had, she began seeing all the things she never dared to look at.

Soon, she was obsessed, buying a ridiculous amount of witch outfits, spell books and demonic artifacts, always trying to replicate some curse or potion she'd found the recipe for. Her interest in the occult wasn't common knowledge—in fact, the only one who knew about it was Ada herself.

But someday she planned to tell Vincent—when she was finally able to get close to him.

She'd let out her deepest secret before Vincent destroyed and corrupted her.

Anyway, she could still be considered innocent despite her questionable interests. Her secrets were nothing compared to Vincent's, or even her brother's.

Ada had found a fix to keep her satisfied when Vincent was out of her reach.

Gilbert stole a glance at the man and woman, now silent but wearing dreamy, warm smiles as they looked at each other with sparkling eyes.

Gilbert had no fix. He desperately needed one.

Ada went into her bedroom and turned out the lights, lying in her bed and gazing at the ceiling solemnly. She left the door open just a crack. It may have been babyish, but she didn't like her room completely dark, and she hadn't had the time to buy a nightlight.

Her green eyes glowed in the dark as