Richard woke up, his mind refreshed after the well earned rest. He sat up and stretched, a burning sensation ran down his spine in response. “Ow. Dick, what the hell?” Richard groaned as he tested out different body parts, searching for each sore body part. But it seemed like finding the parts that weren’t sore would be the easier task. All the way from his shoulders to his calves hurt like crazy. “Ugh, did we get hit by a bus?”

  Richard looked over at the nightstand and, with a painful creak of his neck, found a small note on top of his charged phone.

  I put in a lot of OT at the job site over the weekend. Your probably going to feel it for the next couple of days. And Jorge may or may not have dropped a hammer on our toe, forgot my work boots at the apartment. I don’t think its broken, just don’t wiggle it too much. I left you a protein shake in the fridge. Should help some. Money’s in the box.

  Richard sighed and grabbed a pen, fixing the error in the note. Waking up sore wasn’t anything new in Richard’s life. He couldn’t count how many times he woke up in pain after a day of Dick’s antics. Richard was thankful it wasn’t something worrying, like during Dick’s club phase when he apparently bet four bystanders that he could quote “down seven shots of straight tequila while doing the best damn handstand you’ve ever seen.” Richard shivered as he remembered all the undeserved hangovers Dick put him through. He was at least being productive this time.

  Richard stood up, feeling the full brunt of the soreness and injured toe. He winced with every step to the bathroom. He finally gathered the courage to look at the injured appendage once inside.

  Blue. Nasty dark blue at that, but he could bend it properly, so not broken. Probably. He hoped not. Richard dropped his health insurance a few months back. His nose scrunched as he looked at the tortilla chip that was his toenail, then at the foul black blood trapped underneath.

  No sandals for a while. Eh, it's getting cold anyway. He wobbled over to the kitchen after a quick wash.

  The blender bottle filled with chalky chocolate protein sat on the top shelf of the fridge waiting for him along with a few other odds and ends, even some leftovers from the looks of it. Richard’s lips pursed as he saw the nearly full gallon of milk next to it.

  How many times do I have to say it? Half Gallons. I don’t drink the stuff so it always goes bad. I’ll have to remind him at the Round-Up tonight. Richard shook his head before crouching down to the waist high fridge.

  As Richard reached for the bottle, a sharp stabbing pain exploded from his toe as he bore his full body weight down on it. He closed his eyes and clamping his fist, but only partially, as if something stopped it. He looked down and saw the bottle in his palm, then at the empty space on the shelf. Time halted as he stared at the bottle, his brain unable to comprehend why it was in his hand, at least until another jab of pain shot through his foot.

  Richard fell backwards, dropping the impossible bottle. The lid popped open when it hit the floor; light brown liquid ran across the linoleum. He stood up just before the liquid wet his shorts. He rubbed eyes before his gaze returned to bouncing between the bottle and the fridge. “How?” He mumbled.

  Richard shook his head. It was nothing. I’m just a bit sleepy still. Must have grabbed it at some point and just forgot. Yeah. Anything else is just impossible. After putting his trust in Occam’s Razor, he put the bottle on the counter and grabbed a hand towel to wipe up the mess, cursing at this Jorge every time a fresh wave of pain coursed from his toe.

  Richard walked over to his phone after cleaning up the mess. A missed call from Lester. More market prediction notifications. A couple of emails, spam mostly. “Oh,” he said as he read an email from a company he debated on interning for. He made a mental note to read that one in depth later. He continued his ritual of clearing notifications, they always backed up when it was Dick's turn. Then Richard paused on one particular message. It was a text. A text from Emily she sent Sunday evening. Last night. He opened it up.

  Hey, I know you're super busy this weekend buuut seeing how its almost over…do you maybe want to go for a walk? I know its sudden but its a full moon tonight and theres supposed to be an awesome, albeit small meteor shower too. Let me know…

  Richard just stood there, toe throbbing, staring at the text. After reading it a few times, he lowered himself onto the bed. He wanted to go. Almost more than anything. He looked at the time stamp. 8:46 pm. Last night had already moved on. And he wasn’t at the wheel, it was Dick’s time.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Frustration flared up as Richard wanted to berate Dick for not messaging her back. For not telling her that he was busy. Something. Anything. Then Richard’s better judgment reared its annoying head, reminding him of how he scolded his alter ego for going through his phone back in high school. Dick was only respecting The Rules, the ones they laid down together. Richard shouldn’t be upset. But the single tear that fell down his cheek said otherwise.

  This was his life, ever split in two. It was beginning to wear on him. He shook his head and scoffed to himself, it had worn on him for a long time now. Richard couldn’t count how many times he missed out on events, how many times he had to turn down opportunities or cancel appointments. Richard looked at his calendar. And now it's about to get even harder.

  How were they supposed to split time when Richard got a full time job after college? Dick didn’t have his knowledge or experience. And Finance isn’t so easy that you can fake it. Not starting out at least. That only left weekends, which would be unfair to the both of them. It was a measly two days for Dick and no free time for himself.

  They weren’t kids anymore, real life was about to make everything so much trickier. Richard took a deep breath. I’ll figure something out. I always do. He put the phone down and hobbled back over to the kitchen.

  Richard picked up the half-empty bottle from the counter. He shrugged. No sense in wasting it. Just as he took a quick swig, awful metal music blared through the wall, making him jump and drop the bottle, again. Except this time it fell right on the bruised blue toe. Breath slowly left his nostrils as anger replaced it. He walked over to the wall and closed his eyes. He balled his fist, raising it. He thought of the wall, imagining the hole he was about to put in it, then released his fist. He didn’t need to lose his security deposit over something like this. But his indignation wouldn’t be sated that easily.

  Richard open-palm smacked the wall as hard as he could. But his hand didn’t hit drywall. Instead of the smooth and hollow wall he expected, his hand landed on something solid, its surface rough and furrowed with a slight curve. Tree bark? Richard pulled his now stinging hand away from whatever he hit. He opened his eyes and saw that he was correct, it was a tree. He recoiled, almost tripping from the ache in his toe. It was dark out, night time had descended somehow.

  He looked around wildly, finding nothing but trees and foliage. He was in a forest in the dead of night. His surroundings, lit only by the glint of the full moon, were completely foreign to Richard. He’d never once in his life gone camping or anything of the sort. Sure, an evening stroll in the park or those trips with Emily, but not this. Humans spent hundreds of years perfecting the indoors, why waste all that?

  CRUNCH…

  Something shifted in the bushes behind him. Without waiting for a single thought, Richard bolted, heading in the exact opposite direction of whatever lurked behind him. Underbrush and assorted shrubbery whipped and slapped at his ankles and legs, but he ignored it all. It didn’t matter. Getting out of this godforsaken place was all that mattered.

  After a few short minutes and running out of breath, Richard slowed down. He stopped at a small clearing in the trees. Braving to look behind him, he turned.

  It was clear. Just trees, though the observation did nothing to slow his racing heart. “How…how did I get here?” He choked out. Is it a hallucination? A delusion? Did Dick put something in the bottle as a joke…again? No, I barely sipped it. Then what? He stepped forward and pain flared from his foot. He bent down, instinctively holding the injured toe he really shouldn’t have run on.

  As Richard pondered on an explanation, his surroundings brightened. But not as if the sun was coming up, more like the white soothing light of the moon was intensifying. Richard looked up at the moon. His jaw dropped.

  It was magnificent. Just simply awe inspiring. The moon hung just above his head. So close he felt as if he could touch it with a simple stretch of the arm. As if he could simply reach out and caress Tycho, Richard’s personal favorite of the moon’s craters. As his hand moved for the beautiful heavenly body, a supernatural wave of calm suffused his whole being. All his worries simply floated away. The unknown forest, the problems at home, worries of the future, all drifted away as he stared.

  As if reacting to his call, pale moonlight flowed from the celestial body into his outstretched arm before streaming through the rest of his body. All of his fatigue from the sprint vanished and the pain in his toe disappeared completely.

  Only a single notion sat in his mind: Peace.

  Then a voice came from somewhere.

  “See, see my champion’s already…oh uh. Ahem. Soon, my champion.”

  Richard whipped around only to find that he was back in his tiny apartment. The mysterious forest was completely gone. Heavy metal music played from the other side of his wall as he dropped to his knees, unable to comprehend what just happened to him.

  Is it happening? Am I actually going crazy? Were they right all along? He looked over at his nightstand, at the note.

  Richard didn’t rise from the ground until his phone’s alarm went off, the alarm letting him know he needed to head to class. His injured foot slipped as he reached over the bed, smacking the bedpost. He clenched in preparation for the overwhelming pain that was about to burst forth.

  But it never came. Aside from the usual dull ache of stubbing one’s toe, his foot was fine. He looked down. It was a perfectly healthy toe. No dark blue bruise. No corn chip toenail. Hell, the toenail looked freshly manicured. Something he only noticed because his other toenail was a solid half inch longer.

  Richard walked over to the bathroom, turned the water on, and promptly sat down on the shower floor. Warm water fell on his empty head.

  ***

  Dick watched from the dark room. “So, it's not just me.” He looked down at his hands. “What’s happening?” He looked at Richard. His fists balled up. “ And more importantly, who is coming?”