Another day's reverted to a trivial night. Now that it's almost at its end, I want nothing more than to climb into bed and drown my sorrows in whatever I can find. Whether it's alcohol, a one night stand or even a soap opera, it doesn't matter to me. As long as I can find something to distract my mind from the reality of my situation.

The fleeting city lights shine in through the tinted windows of my car with each light pole I pass. With the empty road of me, it dawns on me that I can go anywhere I wish to, but I don't know where I would go.

As if like a dream, another version of myself, one that knows me better than I know myself, appears in the seat beside me.

"You knew from the beginning that it would end so why act like you were the one who wanted to end it?" He asks me, joy laced in the words leaving his lips.

Of course, I know I'm hallucinating. The night breeze is getting to my head. Little by little, I'm giving in to the darkness consuming me without caring about it. That's how he came to be. 

It was a mere accident, but it's still comforting to know there's someone I can talk to. Even if it means I have to talk to the same one who make my life more miserable than it needs to be.

"I'd rather not indulge in conversation with you," I reply, keeping my eyes on the barren road ahead of me.

"Don't give me attitude, darling," He hisses, seeming to be distraught at the idea of me not wanting to talk. Not another moment goes by when he continues to say, "I already have one of my own."

He's not one to be quiet when things like this happen. I can't say I would blame him. We're similar in the most common ways, yet we despise each other more than we can fathom.

"You seem much quieter than usual. Cat got your tongue?" He taunts me, his eyes locked on my every move.

I know he's not going to leave me to be in peace with myself, but I don't have the energy to protest against him even if I want to. I have other things to worry about and he's not going to be one of them. I want nothing more than to end our conversation before it can go any further.

"I'm not in the mood," I hiss, letting my anger get the best of me for once.

"Aw, don't get upset. It's not a pretty color on you." He continues to tease and taunt me, yet again, getting me more upset than usual.

I expect that of him. He's someone who mirrors me, but he knows all my weak points better than I do and there's not a thing that fazes him more than they faze me. I know he has a weakness, everyone does. But why can't I ever find it no matter how much I search and goad him about it? Why is he never vulnerable around me?

I turn to him, meeting his cold gaze. Within those eyes of his, I see a certain glint I never thought I would see in his eyes. One that shows some sort of emotion or sign that he can feel the same way I do.

"Why don't you consume me and end it all?" I ask him, startling him a bit.

"I will deny you death until I deem you worthy of it," He says to me, pausing our first conversation for the day once things get somewhere before he continues to say, "Death is too good of a reward for someone like you. Get going."

My gaze returns to the road ahead of me. The silence in the car is dull and drab. A tedious reason to be silent results from our conversation all because he wants to keep whatever this is going. In the back of my mind, I know things are better this way because we both have someone to talk to on this lonesome earth.

Being alone is something we may like, but it isn't something we fancy. It's odd for me to be speaking of him as though he's an actual person and not a figment of my imagination. 

It's something that makes me think I'm crazy quite often. I can't say I'm not, but it gets me thinking for a while. A better distraction than I would like to believe it is, but sometimes not even that is enough for me to last the night until I drift off to sleep, entering my worst nightmares.

"Did you not see the breakup coming? Or did you not want to look ahead of you?" He questions me, letting it all out at once.

No matter how much I search my mind for an answer to his questions I can't seem to figure out the right answer even if I want to. Either way, the answer I give him won't be the one to make him leave me alone for the night or any other night for that matter.

"This is a first," He says, sounding as though he can't believe the assumptions he's made about me.

It seems our moment of silence has answered his questions whether or not I want to admit he's right. Even if I tell otherwise, he knows better than I do that he's right.

"I'm surprised you're not getting ready to throw a party yet," I state, wondering why he isn't reacting the way I thought he would.

"No. Not this time, at least."

As usual, he leaves me in my thoughts to assume he's not going to test my temper even more. It's rare to find that he's casual about things like this or anything else for that matter. Of all things to be so normal about, I don't think this should be one of them.

"Whatever makes you happy you son of a bitch." A bitter chuckle betrays the attitude I attempt to portray.

"Hey! I should be saying that to you,"  He retorts, surprising me in the least bit.

Maybe this is how things should be between us. Whether he's a figment of my imagination or someone I dreamt up out nowhere or even some spiritual beings sent here to protect me, I don't care. He means to me as much as I mean to him.