The next afternoon hung heavy with Marshall's emotional hangover. He was on the sofa, watching a documentary about whales—though he didn't know what it was about, lost in self-pity over the defeat of the previous night.
Alyx had left early that day, leaving only a cold cup of coffee on the table and the silence of the room, broken only by the documentary's narrator.
The door swung open with a theatrical bang. There stood Barney, impeccable as always, as if stealing one-night conquests didn't violate Marshall's sense of loyalty.
"Rise and shine, soldier! The battlefield calls!" he said cheerfully as he entered the apartment.
Marshall didn't even look at him. "Go to hell, Barney."
"Come on, don't be like that. Last night was... a learning exercise. And to prove my good faith, I have a compensation plan."
Marshall raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. "What?"
"The girl with the number. Amy. She has—listen to this... a twin sister. Identical. I-den-ti-cal. 'I-den': same, 'ti-cal': person. Same person."
Marshall sat up. "A twin sister is not the same person."
"Of course she is! What part of 'identical' don't you understand? It's a second chance, Eriksen. A double date. You with the twin, me with Amy. Poetic justice. Redemption. The possibility that this time, you're the one who gets... the girl."
The idea of a second chance to prove to Barney and especially to himself that he could do it was enough to convince him.
"Okay," he said, his voice hoarse. "But this time, Barney, I swear by everything sacred, if you steal her from me..."
"No need! This is the new and improved Marshall Eriksen!"
"Fine, I'll go out with my twin, and I hope you don't change your mind and leave me with your used twin," Marshall said, accepting.
"Hey, she's a person," Barney said, offended, as if he hadn't invented treating women like sweets.
The chosen bar was different—more modern, full of a different kind of bustle. And there they were. Amy and her twin were indeed a perfect reflection.
For a moment, Marshall felt dizzy. He clung to Barney's lessons: mystery, confidence, a slight distance. And it worked. With the other twin, the conversation flowed; they laughed and talked about trivial things, but there was a spark—something genuine and faint, but it existed.
Until, at one point, he went with Barney to the bar for more drinks. Barney said, "Change of plans, my friend. You have to leave."
Marshall blinked. "What? Why?"
"I just had a chat with the twins. And well, turns out I've convinced them of a threesome with me." His smile was broad and shameless, like a predator's.
All the frustration, the humiliation, the feeling of being a toy in Barney's hands, exploded. "Again? You told me being single was awesome! Sweets everywhere! What a great adventure!" His voice trembled with rage.
Barney dropped the mask of the fun-loving wingman. His expression turned cold, almost cynical. He leaned forward, his voice a caustic whisper cutting through the bar noise. "Awesome? Marshall, listen to me well. The single world isn't a candy store." He paused. "It's a wasteland. Post-apocalyptic. There are no friends here. No 'us.' There's only 'me.' It's a fierce competition where friendships are the first dead weight thrown overboard. Everyone is looking out for themselves. Everyone. It's the law of the jungle, and you just got out of nine years in the zoo."
Marshall looked at him, and in Barney's eyes, he didn't see malice, but a cold, ruthless logic—a horrible truth that Barney accepted as natural. And in that instant, something inside Marshall that Alyx had watered and protected like a delicate flower hardened. It didn't break; instead, it got coated in a layer of ice.
If that was the nature of the game, the true nature, then he would have to learn to play.
Not for fun, but for survival.
Without a word, he turned around. He left Barney with his pirate victory and walked out into the night. He needed air.
And there, on the sidewalk under the neon light of a sign.
There was Lily.
She was real, wearing a coat he didn't know, her hair a bit shorter, different.
They looked at each other.
"Lily," he finally said, and his own voice sounded strange, as if coming from the person he was becoming, not from the one he had been.
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