Figment

Dejection hanging over his head in its permanent little grey raincloud incarnation, Pete tromped up the stairs to his attic bedroom. The worn rubber of his sneakers slapped against the wood with each step all the way up. With a sigh, he pushed the door open.

As expected, just as it was every other day, the figment in the trucker hat was sitting on his bed, strumming out a blues melody on its guitar. Raising its head and looking up at him through thick lenses, it gave him a blue-ribbon smile. "How was band practice?"

"Don't patronize me, it's a poor quality in a hallucination." Pete dropped his bass and his messenger bag in the corner before flopping down on the unoccupied end of the bed. "You live in my head, you know how it went."

Chuckling, the figment kept strumming. "I figured if you wanted to talk it out or something, it would be a good opener."

"Just shut up..."

They sat there for a while, just the imaginary sound of the guitar punctuating the silence. The figment grew restless, smirking as it segued into a Smiths songs. "I am human and I need to be loved... just like everybody else does..."

"Oh, fuck off, would you?"

"Just recalibrate your meds, and I'll cease to exist, sunshine."

"Why, why, why did I think you up? From what weird hidden sunny corner of my mind did you fall from?" Pete grabbed his pillow from under himself and covered his face.

The figment rolled its eyes and set down the guitar. "Do you really hate having me around that much?"

"It's not... it's not that I don't like you or anything... you're just not the type of thing I'm used to imagining. You've been up there, you've seen all the creepy crawlies tearing the place up."

"Dude... I'm imaginary... You can make me whatever you want. Watch this action." The figment took off its hat. Smirking knowingly, it gave a quick shake of its head, turning its strawberry blond locks to jet black. "Trippy, right?" It giggled, replacing its hat.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... brunette doesn't suit you well."

"Eh, I'm more of a summer anyway. What do you think about neon pink? Or maybe a nice-"

"Just go back to blond, it's weird enough having an imaginary friend without him having hair that matches mine."

"Suit yourself, boss." The figment gave another shake and changed back, moving to lay down next to Pete. "So, you wanna talk, or what?"

Re-burying his head in the pillow, Pete groaned out. "What is there to talk about? You live... in my head... you were there when the shit started hitting the fan and that huge argument broke out. For all I know, it was you doing the talking for me when I called Chris an overgelled cunt."

The figment giggled quietly. "Nah, that was one of your other demons. I was responsible for the crack about Joe's mom, though. That was a good one, you have to admit. That was the sort of joke you have to snap after." Glancing over at Pete, it sighed a bit. "Dude, do you want to hear my god-honest opinion on this?"

"Well, you're a part of my subconscious, so it's really my opinion, but whatever-"

"Shut up with all the crap your therapist keeps pumping into you. It hurts my feelings when you talk about me like that." The figment reached over and moved the pillow from his face, looking him straight in the eye. "Arma Angelus... it's not working out. There's a fight no matter what the line-up is, and all this screamo bullshit is starting to blend together and sound the same. My recommendation would be to scrap the project and start fresh. Bring in some new blood, maybe."

Fidgeting under the figment's stare, Pete let its words sink in. "...you're right... you're fucking right... the other shoe needs to drop, and I need to axe this thing. I mean we've had almost as many line-up changes as The Misfits. And y'know, Joe did say he wants to introduce me to this drummer kid he knows. Says he's like a musical prodigy."

"See? Things all work out for the best." The figment bent down and placed a kiss on Pete's cheek with a grin.

Shock froze the troubled young man. "...why did you just kiss me?"

"Like you need to ask, you crazy son of a bitch. You wanted me to," the figment giggled, retrieving its guitar and beginning to play again. "Actually, you subconsciously wish I'd do more, but you're not comfortable with that part of yourself yet, so for now I'm a PG-rated hallucination."

"Whoa, whoa, chief, what the fuck?!" Pete jumped up from his bed and stared at the figment. "I'm not gay!"

"Gay, bisexual, whatever you need to tell yourself," the figment grinned happily. "I'm surprised you haven't realized it yet."

Pete sputtered indignantly, unsure of how to reply to this. "I am not bisexual, I'm completely straight. I like breasts, and pussy, and-"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Rolling its eyes, the figment grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him forward, connecting their lips in a kiss that felt all too real. Pete gasped in shock, his eyes sliding shut when the figment took advantage and dipped its tongue inside. Fuck the fact that this was all in his head, it was the hottest hallucination he'd ever had.

Pulling back, the figment licked its lips contentedly and sighed. "See? Life is so much more fun when you stop lying to yourself. It's not even as though that was your first kiss with a boy. Get over yourself."

His eyes glazed over as he stared at the figment, as though it was the first time he'd ever seen it. "...who are you?"

"Me?" The figment refocused on its guitar and plucked hesitantly at the strings. "I'm your creation. Your Galatea, as it were. I'm everything that you've ever wanted in a friend, a companion, a partner, and way deep, deep down, a lover. You're just too afraid to really look down that black hole of horrors. When that time finally comes, though, I'll be like I am now, instead of how I really am."

"...what?"

"Too vague? Alright, I'll be more specific on that." The figment raised its kaleidescope eyes towards the window and gazed wistfully at the dusk. "You see that first star, just to the left of that tree? You've wished on that star so many times, it had no choice but to start listening. You just never wished out loud. And I'll let you in on a little secret... if you just take a deep breath and finally wish it out loud now, I'll finally be all-the-way real."

Pete blinked hopelessly, jaw slack, words twisted together into a futile knot. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be wishing for..."

"It's simple, dude," the figment mumbled in a sad tone. "Look at the star, and repeat after me: I wish for Patrick."

Swallowing back a jumble of emotion, Pete wet his lips, closed his eyes once, twice, and took a cleansing breath. "I wish for Patrick."

When he looked over again, the figment was gone. Somehow knowing that things were as they should be, he curled up under the covers and went to sleep.
~
"It's complicated, I don't wanna talk about it right now." Pete tapped a finger against his knee anxiously, watching the trees and houses go by.

Joe shrugged and made a right. "I'm just saying, dude, you seem kinda mopey today. I keep telling you, you're forgiven for that thing you said about my mom."

"Just drop it, Troh, I'm just not in a good mood today. I promise I'll fake it when we get there, but for now, just let me stew." Joe didn't say anything else, shaking his head and focusing on the road.

It wasn't long before they pulled up in front of a cute little suburban cottage in Glenview, with a patch of daisies growing around the mailbox. "OK, do what you can not to scare the kid, alright?" Joe smirked as they walked up to the door. "He's a little skittish around new people. Plus he's sort of got this like man-crush on you, since he's heard all the legends about Arma Pete. Oh, and if he's wearing something weird, just let it go and move on. He's a mess."

"Do you want me to meet this kid or not?" Pete stopped mid-giggle as he watched the door open. Who was on the other side nearly knocked the wind out of him.

He was skinnier, for one. No hat or sideburns. And he was wearing the strangest fucking outfit, shorts and an argyle sweater. But he'd know those eyes anywhere, those lips. He couldn't hold back his smile. "Patrick, right?"

The boy furrowed his brow and tilted his head in confusion. "Yeah. So you're Pete..."

"Yeah." Pete grinned and pushed past Joe to get into the house. "I'm here to interview you for the position of my best friend."