Chapter 3--The Perplexing Spirit

I’ll be honest, Bo is a pretty nice roommate. Dare I say so nice that it’s uncanny. I don’t know, maybe I sorta had some kind of bad expectation, I suppose. The only other person I’ve lived with was the Noise.

Does that time I had to bunker at Pepper and Vigi’s count? Granted, they were—and definitely still are—married and both have their own jobs, I was still working, but… it was a little tense. Okay, tense on my end. I kept having to hide the fact—Jesus, aren’t I a drifter? I shouldn’t get carried away.

Okay, maybe it’s just because movies and TV shows have that whole “bum roommate that doesn’t take any responsibility” trope. Fiction is one dastardly specter, now isn’t it? And Bo is certainly no specter! I’m not necessarily sure how they’re spending a good portion of their time when I’m on the job, but they are surely are pleasant company. They’re great to talk to, they try to monitor their volume, they clean up after themselves—but then they offer to help me with chores.

It’s not like, to an obsessive degree; it just happens sometimes. Bo has joined me during my daily dinners, which is comforting to have somebody to join you in a fun activity and all—but then they’re like, “hey man, lemme do the dishes,” and it’s so strange to me. Like, I made the meal, I made the mess, so I should probably do the dishes too. Admittedly, I rather not to the dishes ‘cause I do them everyday at my goddamn job, but… sometimes I say no and he gets a little fidgety about it. I can tell they don’t want to weigh me down, but something about the rejection makes them uneasy. I’d say “I get ya, pal,” but I’d rather not jump to conclusions.

It’s nice, though. I don’t have to come home to an empty apartment for once in a while. There’s also the fact that we usually get by with a simple conversation; we end up finding a way to get something engaging out of a simple conversation, usually through some kind of antics. I don’t mind the mellow moments either, having a moment to think about something thoroughly and whatnot. Maybe I just like the company because it also gives me an excuse to make use of my CD collection. I’m sure my books won’t mind the break.

It’s been a week, though. Bo said they intended to stay a couple days, but they ended up extending their time. I mean, it can take forever to find a new job, but it’s not like Bo can’t do that if they already got an apartment.

I doubt they’re a “moocher”—our conversations can get pretty intimate and it’s very apparent there’s something bothering the guy that I don’t know the full story about. Always trying to stop themself from getting too crass. Bo seems to enjoy living with me too, must be hard to get your white collar back on after having a friend.

I’m not sure where they are now. They left this morning, telling me they had a “work thing” and that they’ll be back soon. They had a work thing… on a Sunday. Why wouldn’t an angel have Sunday off? I’ve heard they don’t got a lot of unions up there, so that’s probably—

A knock. There’s someone at the door. I don’t think I’ve ordered a package or anything. Bo doesn’t have a key to my apartment since they’re not like, a proper roommate, so maybe it’s them. I open the door. Oh my god!

“Fakey!” I call out, beaming with joy and reaching for a hug. Fakey barely fits within the hallway outside of my apartment so it’s hunched over. It places a large spindly hand on my back and embraces me, hunching down further and making a delighted hum. “What has it been, a couple months? I’m so glad to see you!”

“Good morning, leporidae lady…” Fakey quietly slurs. You can tell it still has a hard time talking, but it’s much better than it was long ago. They lean back to get a better look at me with their sunken, yet bulging eyes. “W-where’s your hat? Are you… ah, wh-washing it?”

My smile weakens. We’re besties and all, but I can’t really make myself ruin this moment and explain the full story.

“Oh, I stopped wearing it. It doesn’t really fit me now, and I wanted to try something new.”

Fakey frowns out of disappointment, slightly readjusting how its face sags. They turn their eyes away from me for a moment, then look back at me.

“Nothing wrong with new… but I suppose the nickname has been rendered,” Fakey heaves, “obselete, ha-ha…”

“It’s probs a good time to tell ‘ya that we’re here too,” the Doise butts in awkwardly, her waving hand peeking over Fakey’s right arm. Fakey crawls to the side to let the Doise and Doisette enter my apartment. Me and Fakey don’t visit often, but I have gotten bits of know-abouts for its relationship with those two. Apparently they’ve been fighting against that weird beast that’s been haunting the Doise for a while—can’t recall the thing’s name—somehow Fakey has won a couple of the fights with it. For some reason, it’s hard to imagine that thing being able to be even temporarily taken down.

The Doise approaches me with an odd amount of determinism. It’s a little daunting cause he’s real tall and I’m really short. Perspective sure is a blessing and a curse. Her eyes widen as they take a look at me. Doisette peers over her shoulder.

“Ah, so that’s how the ears stood up! Those big-ass horns of yours held it up!” The Doise remarks gleefully.

“Horns? I don’t see no horns. You sure they’re there, love?” Doisette questions the Doise softly.

Oh god, how am I supposed to explain this to him? Or anyone, really? Well, he has definitely seen that beast and plenty of those tower-cursed citizens, so maybe it won’t be too awkward.

“Ah—uhm, I know this is crazy buuuut, I’m a demon. You can’t see my horns and stuff unless you’re my client or if I do something really crazy,” I akwardly explain.

Doisette snickers, “I’ll buy it.” He then gestures to the Doise and Fakey, “I see these two pretty damn often, and besides, it’s 10 AM. I don’t think any of us needs to see some proof.”

We all briefly chuckle in agreement. I head into the kitchen almost subconsciously. I know these people don’t have much, so I should probably offer them something.

“Do you guys want something to eat or drink? I think I have some coffee,” I offer as I start conducting an inventory on my kitchen.

“Trying to switch to tea right now so if you have any, I’ll take it,” Doisette replies.

“Nah, I had a Monster Energy this morning. I’m ok,” the Doise replies.

“I’d like to eat your g-garbage, if that’s okay…” Fakey creaks. I pull out my trash bin. I don’t think the guy gets sick from eating this stuff so it’s probably okay. Beats throwing more junk in a landfill.

Doisette comments on the Doise’s reply, “you gotta stop drinking that stuff; doesn’t it give you bad heart palpitations?”

“Yeah—they’re real freaky sometimes ‘cause the skin around my heart hasn’t regenerated for a while now. I can feel the wind blow on it and stuff, and sometimes I can’t make myself ignore it throbbing, and it keeps me up at night. Beats being killed by Peddito though,” she shrugs. Doisette looks concerned and I tense up a little too.

I gain a more worried expression as I stand up straight again. “Why’d you guys come over?” I ask. The others don’t look happy about the Doise’s comment, not even the Doise herself.

The Doise snaps out of his solemnness. “Ah, this big ol’ lug just wanted to visit you and they wanted us to join,” She answers while patting Fakey’s shoulder. “Besides, I’ve been eh—I had a feeling that being in our apartment all day was takin’ a toll on me again, so I should uh, try to fight that.”

“I thought it would be nice to come over before I got the life sucked out of me from my retail job,” Doisette added.

Oh, I get that. Hope your shift isn’t a freak show,” I reply as I push my trashcan towards Fakey, who starts fishing in the bin once I give it to them.

“Even if it wasn’t, it’d still be hell on Earth—say, is hell like Walmart?”

“In more ways than you think, yes,” I smirk.

“It’s so much s-shame that these jobs make it hard to get together…” Fakey remarks, evaluating an old bone it found in my trash. I walk over to them and place a hand on their cold, ashy arm.

“I miss visiting with you, Fakey-buddy. Being around humans can take somebody out, doesn’t it?”

“A little… but being around these… Doise-y fellows—” Fakey wheezes as it accumulates its thoughts, “they’re strange in their own right, thus they are friends to me.”

“You’ve told me a little about it before, and I know them myself, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard about how you three crossed paths. How’d that all happen?” Oh shit, I have some tea. I should prepare that as Fakey answers my question.

Fakey raises its head and grazes the ceiling, humming with amusement.

“Ah yes… I will commence. I was prowling in my typical sense, absorbing the vague hum of the night. I still take it in for it is one of the only few creatures similar to me. That is, until that harpy, Peddito, careened out of the black as it chased after the Doise. My warranty was far from gone—it probably wasn’t even there to begin with—and I had found the answers to the mystery of myself. Yet I chased after the harpy like I had a life to depend on. I forced myself upon the beast, breaking its wings and twisting its jaw, I believe. Before it retreated, it looked at me…”

Fakey goes quiet. The only sound that I can hear is the bubbling of the kettle.

“And it looked like me. He is a being who understands what he is and what he must do. Cruel words do not often leave my mouth but… I hhh-hated it. Whatever this harpy stood for, I could not stand with it. To think it had the same sunken eyes as mine and wrinkled its face like mine, and it hurt others so consciously! I wanted him to cease! And then it retreated.”

“And then I bawled like a baby!” The Doise barges in. She chuckles and Fakey lets out canned laughter as sincerely as possible. The Doise then sighs, “but I mean like, it’s one hell of a miracle. When I saw Peddito flee for the first time, I was filled with such hope, like pure, sugary hope! Like even besides the whole ‘Peddito thing’,” she takes a moment to catch her breath, “we were still homeless, we weren’t legal citizens yet, Stick and Burton died not too long ago—but it made even that seem hopeful. If Peddito could be hurt, then maybe things could get a little better for me.” She has a deep smile from her reminiscing. Fakey’s teeth dully peek out as its curling lips, like a pearl in an oyster.

“I have made… an oath of such, to protect anyone that is attacked by that harpy and I’ve been doing good with that.” Fakey’s face scrunches up and they wheeze once again. Sounds like steam bleeding out of a pipe.

“It’s… frustrating despite that. Of course, there are moments where I lose the fight and the Doise suffers; that is tragic. But I feel like it would have died at some point. I’ve ripped its wings and legs, beheaded it, gouged its eyes, broke its chest, and left it toothless… but it still comes back. If I’m able to be mangled and mush beyond repair, then it must be possible for him too.”

“I mean, I’m thankful for what I have already. If it never gets better than this, then I guess I can live with that, man. You fight for me, I repair the damage that you get,” The Doise assures Fakey.

“We’re all doing what we can, Fakey. It’s none of our fault,” Doisette adds.

I can see it in the Doise’s face; she can’t accept her own words. Sure he’s better than we was before and he’s probably better at fighting off his own demons, but he still seems defeated. I guess I can’t really say anything about this situation… but I wish I could say something.

“I…” I begin. God, what to say? “They’re right. This is a tough situation. I wish I could help you guys more since I’m uhm, I’m more stable than you guys. Okay, I mean, I was a partner of Th-Thea so—

Fuck, I’m saying too much. I sweat a little and gaze at them. Their expressions haven’t changed. I continue, “Well, it isn’t for me to decide. If you want anything from me, I’m willing to give it, that’s all.”

“Noisette, dude—it’s been, what, almost twenty nine years?” The Doise sighs with discomfort. “You’ve haven’t been with him for, I don’t know, twenty seven of those years? And from what I know, you haven’t recently done some bullshit like you did in 2023. You’re a nice lady and a friend of a friend. You’ve changed, you’re chill.”

I lower my head in shame.“And from what I know…” as if there’s something I’ve done now that I’m ignorant to. They’re honest words, kind words, but I just can’t live with the uncertainty.

Fakey scoots over and reaches an arm over from the counter to comfort me. I forgot how cold its fingers are.

“If I could get a p-pardoning access to some-thing p-personal…” Fakey quietly rasps, “Did he not h-hurt you, as well? He treated you as some kind of t-t-tool…”

My frown grows deep. I have to turn away. If I let that last sentence ruminate in my head, I’ll lose it. Just breathe, okay?

“Fakey’s right. I mean, I forget about that sometimes, but they’re right. Don’t beat yourself up, Noisette,” The Doise comments in an attempt to console me.

“If a bit of reality would help you, Noisette, you can remember that the Noise is dead. You literally can’t get back with him… unless he’s in hell or something,” Doisette softly states.

“She can’t be in hell. She didn’t qualify for it. I don’t know where her spirit is, but she’s probably roaming the Earth as a ghost and can’t be seen by any of us. So I guess she’s in a different kind of hell,” I clarify. It ain’t entirely correct—I could see the Noise if I became a reaper, but I won't. I’ve visited him for the last time and I still keep it that way.

“So he’s suffering?” The Doise asks.

I turn around.

“It’s pretty likely he is. He can’t rest until he’s gotten over his mind, and he’s never taken off that mask, so he’s gonna be miserable for a long time.” Man, why is that troubling me?

The Doise looks away from me, eyes blank. Then he snickers, “Ohh, he’s never getting out of there.”

“I bet five bucks on that groomer already seethin’ and maldin’ that he can’t look at any furry porn no more,” Doisette snickers back.

“Oh please. I bet twenty she did that in the first hour of her being there!” The Doise and Doisette are cackling.

Groomer. He sure did have an impressionable audience that he took advantage of in his internet days. Of course, there was that whole relationship she had with the Doise—why do I feel guilty about this? I didn’t even like it when she did that; if anything, I hated it! Granted, I did enable his behavior from time to time… and also had a job that fed into his troubled nature… and I just had to help her realize she was non-binary, which led to her doing the… the stalking…

“Hey, Noisette,” The Doise speaks to me as she nudges my shoulder, “you can laugh along too. The fucker’s gone! We’re free!” Doisette stifles his laughing once he looks at me, probably out of concern for me.

“I… I can’t laugh about it.”

The Doise’s eyes contract with anxiety and he instantly stops laughing.

“…I can’t laugh about it either.” He’s hush in his tone.

Still causing problems, am I? God, what does she need to hear most right—the Doise jumps at the sound of my kettle whistling. As I rush over to finish the tea, there’s knocking at the door; it has that shave-and-a-haircut rhythm.

“I-I’ll get it,” The Doise blurts out, hunched out as he approaches the door.

She opens the door.

“Boy, do I have good news to share to—!” Bo beams before stopping their sentence.

They’re both unusually quiet. It’s giving me a bad feeling.

I let Doisette’s tea stoop and dart towards the door.

“Y-your face… fuck man, it—it’s just—” the Doise stammers. I peek outside and see that Bo is standing, their head all long and their jowls extended. I can’t tell if they’re scared or awestruck.

“O-oh! My bad, my face has a hard time looking consistent,” Bo nervously laughs. Their eyes quickly glance at me. “It’s an issue I’ve had for a looong time and I just can’t help it. Real sorry for—”

“You looked just like me.”

Bo’s face is filled with a deep sense of horror. It retreats back into that Noise-y shape and Bo feels it. They quickly covers their face with their hands.

“I—I uhm…” Bo begins to close the door. They’re too short to reach the handle, so they grab onto the end of the door with both hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

The Doise, buzzing with astonishment, pulls the door open in response. She pulls it so hard that Bo stumbles over and slides a short distance into my apartment. She looks at them with a serious look. What is she doing…

“You know him, don’t you?”

Bo looks away, thinking deeply and with tension.

“I do. I do know him.”

I adjust myself to be beside Bo. “I forgot to mention to you guys that I have someone, like, crashing at my apartment right now. This is Bo, a new friend of mine.” He still looks a little nervous.

“Oh okay. Why are they crashin’ here, if it isn’t private?” The Doise asks. Her face is blank, but her tone is innocuous.

“I can’t really answer b-big questions like that right now,” Bo exhales. Me and Bo exchange glances.

“They’re looking for a new job right now. Old one wasn’t helping them,” I reply as Bo rose up into the air.

Fakey properly approaches Bo and leans down to observe them. It does so just in time to see one of Bo’s typical form shifts, which prompts it to tilt its head. Once it gets in a comfortable position, it puffs its cheeks to look a little more like Bo’s current appearance and then spawns several rows of teeth in its… I guess “facial holes” is the best word I think of right now. Fakey then releases the expression to bellow, which they like to do when they’re happy.

“Oh yes… similar to us indeed,” It breathes. Bo lowers their guard and lets out a smile.

“Glad I get to meet you at last, fellow inconsistent thingy. Noisette has told me great things about you,” Bo greets, raising a hand to Fakey. “Well, I’ve also seen you out and about before, but I never had the chance to say hello.”

The Doise looks deep in thought. He’s probably suspecting a lot from this guy. I doubt she’ll hurt them, but I don’t think Bo can take too much probing right now.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Doisette asks the Doise.

“Is anyone else noticing the, like, elephant in the room?”

We stay quiet.

“What do you mean?” Doisette speaks, confused.

“They knew him, and we knew him too!” The Doise looks at Bo.

“I uh—yeah. Again, I… I knew him.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Bo lowers their head, as if flinching. They then look up at the Doise seriously.

“I tried to stop him from hurting people.”

I know there’s something up. We both were handed a troubling person as a part of our troubling jobs, so I guess it would be inevitable that we wouldn’t be giving our best help. I didn’t give him the words he needed to hear at first, and I hope I’m good enough now to make up for it. I doubt Bo is some awful guy, but I wonder what they told her. Guardian angels can do a much more thorough job than a fantasy partner can, so they’re much more of a stronger influence than me. All heaven and hell work is morally gray, but a job like that feels so dubious. I wasn’t there for every moment of the Noise’s life, but he really did make a bunch of awful decisions. I wonder though… how much Bo accidentally contributed to those actions. However much it is, it’s clear that it makes Bo very unhappy.

The Doise kneels and places a hand on Bo’s tiny shoulder. Their head is still lowered, but their eyes fixate on her.

“Did you get anything good come from that?”

Bo’s face scrunches up as their hat extends. “No. But I tried… I promise.” There’s a noticeable strain in his voice.

The energy of the scene is really getting to me. It’s putting a bad pit in my stomach. Seems like Doisette and Fakey are feeling it too.

But the Doise’s eyes are gaping. And they widen even further with each passing moment, as if she can’t handle what is crossing her mind right now. Is the grief really that heavy that she still can’t grasp it to this day? Is it fear? Distrust?

“We gotta kill that fucking bird,” The Doise states seriously. She stands up.

Doisette sputters for a bit, “Wh—I mean, okay—w-we don’t know how to do that, DeeDee.”

“No no, I think there’s some way to do it,” The Doise adds, holding his hands out. “Maybe, just maybe, if we deprived Peddito from its ability to regenerate and let it wither away… perhaps it’ll be gone for good.”

Fakey thought for a moment. “In some potential possibility it could require… removing a certain organ. The beast reminds me of my fellow clones—horrid killing machines—so maybe it could die in the same way. That usually involves removing their brain.”

The Doise nods and takes some time to reflect on what Fakey said. Doisette furrows his brow.

You only get like this when you have some kind of big idea. And it’s sorta out of nowhere… what got you so motivated?

The Doise’s eyes grow big once again and swings a finger towards Bo.

“This guy… Bo… they look like me…”

“Well, Noisette and I look like—”

“And then they don’t!”

That observation strikes Doisette to think about it some more. I worry about where this is going, though. Bo very obviously doesn’t keep a consistent form, and it’s hard to tell if it’s a personal choice or a personal issue. It happens when he’s happy and it happens when he’s sad. I haven’t heard their opinion on this—it’s hard to describe it as a habit, more like a symptom of some kind. Whenever that happens, I’d rather not coax them into talking about potential baggage like that.

“Where are you going with this?” Doisette asks, invested and serious.

The Doise looks at Bo once again, her hands lifting with hesitation. “I imagine I’m somewhat of a stranger to Bo—”

“Wait!” Bo intervenes. They quickly stop, anxious over the idea of continuing. But they lowly go on, “I… I never really talked to you but I’ve known of you for a very long time. Y’know, relationship with the N-Noise and all..”

“I should’ve figured,” The Doise began, “since you’re an angel, I imagine you have a similar experience to Noisette’s.”

A wave of shame hits Bo’s body, and their nose curls with their hat. I’m not sure where that shame is coming from, though.

“Anyway, considering our similarities and your… ability—okay, the plan’s really rough right now, but perhaps you could serve as some kind distraction, or bait, for Peddito as we finally kill him. Peddito hates me real bad, but there’s something about you… maybe you could break its psyche too…”

The Doise adds, “Look, it’s still a work in progress, but… are you willing to help?”

Bo, practically with no hesitation, shakes Doise’s cold hand and blurts, “Yes. I will give it a try.”

Doisette grabs the Doise’s other hand and tugs at her. “I don’t know about this, Daniel.” Doise’s hand slips from Bo and Doisette grabs the newly freed hand.

“Look, I would love for this shitty curse you have to just… stop existing. It would be great to kill this evil thing and have one less dogshit issue in the world to deal with. If there’s anyone who needs something good like that, it’s you. But I don’t know if this is a plan we can all handle. We don’t know the cost involved; what if the curse gets passed on Bo? Again, I’d love for everything to be better, but I’d hate to lose what we have now.”

The Doise and Doisette share a frown. But the Doise goes on to give a response.

“It’s great to have Fakey protecting me and all, but with Peddito out and about still… it’s hard to describe—“ The Doise starts to tear up. Her tears are slightly discolored with pus and blood. “Just like, with Peddito tormenting me every day, and I know she’s dead and I’ll never see her… it’s like she’s still around, y’know?” Either inside of me or within that goddamn bird, I can’t tell. And if we can get so far and have these special people with us… I think it’s worth a try.”

Doisette shakes his head and chortles, though he’s still noticeably teared up, “These damn 9-to-5s really be killing my fighting spirit sometimes, huh?”

The Doise laughs, “Bruh, as if sitting in front of a computer twelve hours a day doesn’t kill mine!”

“Oh please, I know that feel!” Bo adds, chuckling. Fakey quickly joins in with the laughter.

I’m not laughing. I guess I’m a little anxious about the plan, and I wonder how willing Bo is to commit to this ordeal, but it’s worth a try. I’ve never seen the Doise this hopeful, and the guy’s been in a better state in recent years; the consequences are seemingly the same for any other day of his life, too. But can I really join in on this? Can I really laugh? I’m always being redundant with myself, aren’t I?

And she looks at me. She isn’t sure what to do, but she slightly raises open a decaying hand as some kind of offer. Bo notices the Doise’s silence, and softly smiles at me, their face all rounded and warm.

“C’mon, I know you love that cafe, but I imagine it beats you down sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Despite all I’ve been through, I’m only so much like them.

Admittedly, the people I have to serve there make me almost blow my cap off.

I titter, “Boy, it sure does…”