Party

"Is it sad to say that I actually kind of miss the old conversations we used to have?" I asked Good and Bad. We were once again at the coffee shop, and slowly, more and more things began to grow color. The table was a light oak, as well as the chairs with their wrought iron frames. Yellow and orange decals were attached to the inside of the coffee shop window, advertising a new drink.

"You must really be bored then..." Bad carried on, clenching a cup of coffee in his hands.

"No." I replied. "I'm just tired of this. I want it to be back to the way it was."

"We got invited to a party tonight." Good said quickly, looking between Bad and I.

"Party?" Bad asked.

"Tonight?" I stuttered, both of them looking at me. "I thought it was always day?"

"Who's throwing the party?" Bad asked Good, ignoring me.

"I think you know who."

"Let me guess." I chimed in. "More voices to meet?"

"I think this will be the second to last batch." Good droned, looking away and counting on his fingers.

"You've pretty much met all of his cronies." Bad stated, nodding towards Good. "But not all of mine."

"Yeah." Good answered himself. "Second to last."

"But what if I don't want to go to a party?" I asked, both of them beginning to stand.

"There will be cheap beer." Bad teased.

"I don't care. It's a party. I don't do parties."

"You don't really have a choice though." Good added.

"What are you two gonna do if I just sit here instead?"

"One would think that you owe us after tearing our souls apart." Good winced.

"Well..." I sighed, looking between the two of them. "You've got me in a corner here."

"How about you go," Bad grumbled, "or I drag you there by your ankles?"

"Fine." I groaned, getting out of the chair. "But if there isn't cheap beer there, I'm gonna have a bone to pick with you."

They led me off the patio and down the street, into the neighborhood. The houses began to grow color as well. I could see faint pink stucco sidings, green garage doors, and blue front doors. The trees rocked back and forth in a silent breeze. Good and Bad walked next to each other, occasionally looking at the houses around them in silence. Off in the distance, I could hear a rhythmic booming. They turned right on the sidewalk, and stopped; turning away to let me in front. The faint blue sky quickly rolled over to darkness. The streetlights came on to shower the roads. At the end of the street was a cul-de-sac. All of the houses windows were dark, except for the furthest one. The windows faded in and out of a spectrum of colors, timed to the beat. I could hear the voices of hundreds, but no shadows hugged the windows.

"I'm guessing that's it right?" I asked Good and Bad. There was no response. I turned around, but no one was there. Good and Bad vanished, leaving me to the party. I looked back at the house, sighed, and moved on. As I went to grab the handle, the door opened itself. A dance track deafened me, and the silhouettes of people dotted the house. But a figure off in the kitchen drew my attention. He pranced over, pushing people out of the way. It was me. He had much longer hair that was tied back in a bun. He was dressed in a long sleeve oxford with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of slacks and a matching suit vest.

"What's up buddy?!" He called over the music, hugging me and shoving an open beer can into my chest. "There's more in the fridge!"

"Who are you?!" I yelled back at him, but he didn't hear me. He had pushed himself back into the crowd. I sighed once more, and took a long drink of the beer. Off in the massive living room, I could see Love intertwined with a group of figures. But one of them was another woman. Love looked back at me and smiled with a raised eyebrow. She turned to the woman and said a few things. The woman turned around to look at me. It was her.

Oh no. I said to myself. Not now, please. I was frozen in place. I wanted to go up and say something. To go talk to her. But I couldn't move. It became less and less of a lack of courage, and more of a grip on my shoulder holding me back. I turned, and another figure was behind me. A black leather jacket, black jeans, and skeletal hands. But his hood covered his face.

"You'll mess it up." He grumbled, the music quickly fading. The strobe light wandered in his direction and he flinched.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Get off me!" I added before he could answer. I turned back, and she was distracted, back to Love's conversation.

"I will not see you do well." The hood mumbled again. "Don't you know how much I hate that?"

"I just want to go talk to her!" I shouted, again trying to pull away from him, but to no avail. "Come on, I finally have courage, let me use it!"

"I will not let you!" He hissed, grasping tighter.

"What's goin' on guys?" The host came back with more beer.

"I'm just trying to go talk to her." I replied, nodding in her direction. The host looked over, and laughed.

"Good luck dude." He smiled, pushing another beer and my free hand. "I don't know what's up with you, but all I need is more alcohol."

He walked back off into the crowd, and I was again left with the hooded man.

"Is there any particular reason why you won't let me go?" I asked him, trying to push the new can into his hand.

"I hate it when you do well." He replied, throwing the can on the ground. "I always have. And I will do everything I can to make sure you fail."

Love came waltzing over with a large smile on her face.

"Hi Misery!" She called. "How are you?"

He nodded slightly, but his hand was still latched on my shoulder.

"You wanna help me out here?" I asked her, motioning behind me.

"Not my problem." She laughed, looking behind me into the kitchen. "Hey you haven't happened to see Host around anywhere have you? I need more social lube."

"Host?" I repeated.

"Yeah?" She questioned. "You know, the host of the party?"

"Okay, I give up." I said, finally pushing away Misery's hand.

"What's wrong?" Love asked.

"I get who this is." I pointed at Misery. "He doesn't want me to do well, he never has, blah, blah, blah. Who the hell is Host?"

"I'm just a guy who enjoys a good party now and again." A voice laughed from behind me. Love went up and hugged Host, and then whispered something into each other's ear.

"Beer?" He asked me.

"No I don't want another God damned beer!" I screamed. Then, all of the silhouettes disappeared, including her.  Now I was left with Love, Misery, and Host.

"Dude, calm down! Host shouted back. "See, it's people like you who I don't invite to parties. You're such a buzzkill!"

"I'm the kind of person who fucking despises parties." I retorted. "But apparently I don't have a choice."

"Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had just gone and talked to her." Love stated.

"I tried!" I screamed, turning around to Misery. "But this asshole wouldn't let me!"

"Don't blame him." Host corrected.

"Why not?"

"Blame the side of you who took too long to push him away."

"Who do you even think you are anyway?" I asked him

"Dude," he stuttered, "I just like a good party. It's a good way to cap off the week, you know?"

"No I don't know." I hissed as he brought a beer bottle to his mouth. "Dude how many of those have you had?"

"Not enough." He laughed, beginning to walk back into the kitchen. "The life that I gain from these bottles give me an escape from the everyday. A new unconscious."

"That's not healthy!" Love chimed in, visibly distraught.

"Just leave me to my own vices!" He shouted back. "Let me drain the bottles that drain me!"

I looked over my shoulder, and he was gone.

"So now what?" I asked Love. "She's gone. The party's over. I fucked up. Now what?"

"My job here is done." Misery laughed, following Host into the kitchen, and eventually disappearing.

"Are Good and Bad just out to mess with my head?" I asked love, looking out the window to see the light approaching.

"I can't say that I know Bad too well." She replied innocently. "But I don't know why Good would be out to get you."

"Thanks." I replied without tone, shuffling towards the door. It creaked open, and the hueless light swallowed me whole.

Split

"Okay seriously," I asked, "how many more of them are there?"

"I dunno." Bad replied, leaning back in his chair. We were sitting on the patio of a coffee shop this time. The world slowly began to regain color, but only in certain, random spots. The liquid that steamed in our cups was brown. The sky was a light blue. The umbrellas that arched over the tables were pinstriped, but only halfway; one was dark green, and the other was light gray. Good and Bad still wore white and red, just as they always have.

"I just want to be done with this meet and greet." I stated, clenching the cup with both hands.

"You're not the only one." Good said, mirroring me. "I thought that there would be fewer people than this."

We both looked at Bad, anticipating a remark, but he remained silent. He had his eyes set across the street on a small apartment complex.

"Is that where we're going next?" I asked him.

"I think," he hesitated, looking down the street, "unless something else catches my eye."

"So why are you guys just bailing on me the second I walk into a house?" I asked them as I rose from the table.

"Because you don't need us." Good groaned as he stood up as well. "This is your journey, and you need to be the one who makes it. We already know who all of these people are, but you don't."

Bad got up and rushed down the patio stairs.

"Should I be worried?" I hollered at him. "I don't want to meet another Hollow-type."

"I wouldn't be." Good said from behind me. "Hollow is the creepiest. But let's be realistic here, are you really that afraid of what makes you as a person?"

"Sometimes," I started, glancing back to look at him, "yes, I am."

Bad continued to rush across the street toward the complex. As we drew nearer, the doors started to fade into the walls. The doorknobs disintegrated, and the white wood doors started to blend with the faint orange walls. Bad led us up to the third floor, and down to the end of the hallway, where the only door still remained.

"Here." He said simply, motioning towards the door.

"What?" I said with a smile. "No fanfare?"

His face was solemn. I would have thought that he, of everyone, would have been taking joy in me having to come to terms with myself. But he did not smile. He looked tired. Not even disappointed.

"Just go in." Good laughed as he nudged me from behind. I grasped onto the doorknob, and I could feel the lock click in my hand. But before I could push forward, he door once again swung open for me. I walked in, and it shut behind me.

The apartment was split in half like Good and Bad's house. One side was brighter and cleaner, while the other was dark and dusty. They were both identical as well. From where I stood I could see the full kitchens in both of them, the living and dining rooms, and the two hallways that led to the bathrooms and bedrooms.

"Who's there?" A voice called from the dark half.

"It's me?" I called out, confused. "I kinda don't know how to introduce myself to any of you."

"God damn it." The voice echoed back. "I didn't want him here today!"

"But I like him!" Another voice called from the bright half. I heard a small jingle and then a thump. A shadow appeared in the door of the bright bedroom.

"Uh." I started, taking a step back into the door. "Hi?"

The shadow grew closer, and it was followed by a small corgi, waddling out of the bedroom. It stopped, looked at me, and started to pant.

"Hi." It said, sitting down along the break line.

"Uh." I stumbled once more. I can understand Hollow, I thought to myself, but why is there a corgi?

"You're probably wondering why I'm a corgi?" He said once more.

"Yes." I said, flustered. "How on Earth could you have guessed that?"

"I'm in your head." He smiled before getting up and waddling over to his living room.

"Anyway," he heaved as he jumped onto the couch, "my name is Could. I represent your feeling of optimism. I always like to think about what could happen if you do something."

"I really don't want you to be here." A voice grumbled from behind me, making me jump. I turned around, and another version of me was standing in the archway of the dark hallway. His clothes were old and tattered. He hadn't shaved in a while. His hair was thinning on top, and cut short around the sides.

"And you are?" I asked, hesitant for an answer.

"Hopefully something a little better than a fucking anthropomorphic corgi!"

"Oh take off, eh?" Could barked.

"Sorry," he paused, "let me correct myself. An anthropomorphic and Canadian corgi."

Could drew in a breath, but then paused and released it.

"Name's Would." He said, still leaning on the frame. "I'm the opposite of that little rat."

Could quickly looked up at me, and started to pant while wiggling his butt back and forth.

"So do you want to explain to me why Could is a dog?" I asked Would.

"It's pretty simple." Would replied, standing up and walking into his kitchen. "He's happy go lucky. He only see's what he wants to see happen. That's it. No forethought it put into planning for either good or bad things. Just go fetch the ball that's on the couch. But ignore the fact that you're too short and you're just going to inevitably eat shit on the edge."

I looked over at Could, and the tennis ball that was at his feet. He looked down, and pushed it off the couch with his nose.

"Okay so what do you do then?" I asked Would.

"I'm what would have happened." He drew on, taking a long swing from the milk carton. "What would have happened if you had studied for that test a little more? What would have happened if you had asked that girl out for coffee? What would have happened if you had done something differently?"

He sighed, and then switched doors to the freezer. He pulled out a bottle of vodka, uncapped it, and then took it over to the counter to face us.

"So what is it that you would like to know?" Could whimpered, looking between me and Would.

"I don't know." I stated. "Good and Bad just throw me at a door and tell me to go in."

"You seem surprised that we aren't arguing." Would mumbled through the mouth of his bottle.

"Actually yes." I sighed. "I don't know what to do now."

"I don't know, what could we talk about?..." Could trailed off. I looked over at Would, who was peering deep into his bottle.

"What?" He shouted. "You think just because he said 'could,' that I'm gonna go off on him. I'm better than that."

"That's a good one." Could laughed. "You do it every time that he's not here. You did it just the other day—."

"Shut up!" Would screamed, Could backing down in submission.

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked.

"The other day you were thinking of that girl." Would dribbled through another drink. "We thought about it. We argued about it. That's how it normally goes down here."

"All I was trying to say was what could have happened had you actually spoken your mind." Could stated.

"And all I was trying to get across is that what would have happened is no greater than what actually did happen."

"So let me get this straight." I said, nodding at Would. "You're a growly, depressed shithead."

He shrugged, and then took another drink. I pointed at Could.

"And you're a happy-go-lucky child who can't see anything wrong with the world?"

Could looked at me and smiled without saying a word.

"Cool." I exasperated. Reaching for the doorknob. "Bye!"

"Not so fast." Could stopped, the doorknob falling through the door. "You do have something on your mind, don't you?"

I sighed, and placed my head up against the door.

"I suppose I've been thinking a lot about this fantasy career where I spout fiction all day."

"Good luck." Would laughed.

"You just don't have enough faith in yourself." Could whimpered.

"Please." Would mumbled, walking away to his room. "I can't be bothered to hear this argument again."

"The dream that you want to succeed in; becoming a wealthy and fully independent artist who makes there living off of doing what they love: writing fiction novels. A lot of people have that dream you know? Except forget the whole "slim to none chance" thing, that I know you're thinking right now. If you try to fulfill your dreams, there will always be a chance. There is only a zero percent chance in the minds of people who cannot fulfill their own dreams."

I finally turned and looked at him. I could see the light burn brighter through the partly closed shades.

"To put it into perspective. You're standing 5,000 feet away from a paper target, and you want to hit a bull’s eye. But all you've got is a little dinky BB gun. Is it going to be hard? Yes. Will it take a lot of shots? Yes. Will it take time? Yes. Practice? Yes. Could you get lucky and hit it on the first try? Extremely unlikely, but yes, possible. No matter how you look at that target, it's going to be a hell of a lot easier to hit it than if you don't have a BB gun in the first place."