"That's a new form," I said.
He jumped a little, out of his trance.
"Huh? Oh...um...half form...."
He slowly started to fade away into his thoughts again, so I tried sitting across from his to see if he'd snap out of it for good.
"Yes?" he asked. "Oh, shit!"
"What?" I asked, a little worried.
He quickly faded into his usual form.
"You're not always a eunuch, are you?" I asked, close to laughter.
I started giggling, even though I knew it might make him angry.
"Jesus...people think my laugh is weird. You're a fucking man, and you laugh like a little girl,"
"Pot laugh," I said. "I was the pot smoking king when I was in high school."
"As long as you have a good excuse,"
I smiled, waiting for more sarcasm. There was only a moment of awkward silence.
"So...uh...what do you want?"
"Um...to say...I'm sorry,"
He started to laugh a little.
"You're apologizing...for me...slamming him against the wall and almost beating him to death?"
"No...I'm sorry he came after you like that,"
His eyes narrowed, like he felt doubtful.
"You are a straaange little dude, you know that?"
"Erm...why do you say that?"
"The first time you saw me, you fainted, and then got angry at me and started hating me, but then when your boyfriend 'comes after me,' you're sorry. Why?"
"I didn't faint, you attacked me!"
"I shoved you into a tree, and you fainted,"
"I fainted because you attacked me,"
"Nnnnnno, you fainted because you were scared of me. Trust me, I'm not that strong in this form, really my only weapons are speed and...these," he wiggled his nails. "Which makes your boyfriend pretty pathetic. And you pretty pathetic, really. At least physically, because not a lot of people get over their fears as quickly as you seem to."
"Gerard isn't pathetic, your nails are-"
"-not the only place on my body he could've shoved in order to get me away. But I understand they are hard to ignore. So maybe you two are not physically weak and strong in the mind, maybe it's the other way around."
"Why do you assume it's either-or?"
He lifted his hand and brushed my cheek with one of his nails. The sudden fear increased my heart rate and I exhaled sharply, wondering how easily his nail could break through my skin.
"Do I still scare you?" he asked.
"Only your nails," I replied after a moment.
He withdrew his hand and chuckled.
"Ask," he commanded.
"That's what you really came here for,"
"Well, actually...okay...yeah, eventually,"
There was another awkward silence.
"Speak," he said.
"What's a Duplicate?"
"You're a Duplicate?"
"I know that, but what does that mean?"
"It's means you exist in the real world, too,"
Well...that was a lot more simple than I thought it was going to be.
"You mean, like...wait, but I can't-"
"Basically...there was already a Frank...whatever-"
"Don't care. There was already a you in the real world. Morgan knew about that you, and this you came into existence. Therefore, she duplicated someone in her mind, and you are that duplicate."
It took a moment for that to sink in. I was cloned, basically. God, that made me angry. I wasn't Morgan's creation, I was a natural occurrence.
"She didn't even make me and she's trying to control me- [i]God,/] that's fucking retarded! What a bitch! And she didn't even tell me? God!"
I shot up, now determined to find her and verbally assault her yet again. Phoenix, meanwhile, only let loose his laugh.
Morgan was sitting at a corner table on the main floor, watching the holograms play. I put up a wall, just in case she wanted to know what I felt angry about before I bit her head off. She saw me coming, and smirked.
"Who am I a duplicate of?" I asked sharply.
"I wondered when you'd ask that...didn't think you'd be so angry, though,"
"And I was wondering when you'd tell me," I shot back. "But I guess it's a survival of the...mentally...."
"I'll interrupt, so that you don't embarrass yourself," she said. "Come with me."
She led me up the stairs in silence. Eventually she stopped, and brought me into the computer lab. My first instinct was to slap her for procrastinating. But then it occurred to me that she might be showing me.
“Have a seat,” she said, kneeling beside a computer and shifting the keyboard to face her.
I hesitantly took a seat, only then feeling nervous about the answer to my question.
She pulled up the internet, then started typing fast enough to confuse my eyes, clicking with the mouse every now and then.
“My Chemical Romance, Frank Iero, rhythm guitarist,” she recited, pulling back to reveal a scary picture of me playing guitar.
“I knew the last two things,” I grumbled. “What’s the first?”
“A band,” she stated. “A very popular rock band. You mean you didn’t suspect with all the tattoos, and peircings, and ‘mad guitar skills?'”
“No,” I muttered, wondering if I should’ve felt as stupid as I did.
“Well,” she said awkwardly. “That’s you. You can look up your bio on Wikipedia and your band’s website. You’re a klutz in real life, too.”
Even through my anger I had to laugh.
“You want me to leave you here to look around?”
“Yeah,” I said, anger beginning to pass into curiosity.
I waited until I heard footsteps on the stairs, then went on youtube. Youtube eventually led me to fan sites, which led me to fan art, which led me...well...everything else. I had mixed feelings of shock and confusion. How could I be a duplicate if I seemed so different than the original? Really, the only things we had in common were Gerard, tattoos, and arachnophobia.
Oh, and the original Gerard? He had a wife. Yeah...I didn't like that. It didn't help that she was absolutely gorgeous, either. God, that pissed me off. But at least I had a wife, too. I mean, if he can be a hetero-slut, I can. Ah, yes...I did say I was like a middle school girl when it comes to bitches, didn't I? Yeah, I meant that. Unless it comes to slapping bitches. Then I'm like a high school girl.
And right then, I wanted to slap a bitch.