I cocked my head, looking up at the small insect fluttering in the air in front of me. I turned towards the open bar, weighing how much I cared, and finally turning back to the breezie.

"I feel like we're supposed to have some kind of natural resentment towards each other."

"Where's the time for that? We're both bugs. We're both going to die in a few days. Can you get drunk?"

"I can open my mouth and swallow alcohol."

"Close enough."

I took a seat, leaning my weight against the bar and laying my head on the counter. The breezie softly alighted stop my head, and I ordered a couple of alcohols without much interest in quality. The breezie on my head scooted further down to my forehead, gripping into my horn and leaning to look me in the eyes.

"Aren't we, like, fighting you?"

"Maybe? I have no idea. Statistics shouldn't question their places, they should follow orders and shoot whoever the bottle points to."

"Cheers to that, fellow bug."

---*---

I theatrically finished my first bottle, throwing the bottom to the air and closing my eyes as if soaking it in. The breezie kept his own laying in its side, using the freakishly long hummingbird tongue he apparently had to clean the last remaining drops.

"Hey, question."

"Shoot."

"Is it true that breezies are like, subgenres of fae? You've got like, secret societies and I should refuse any food you give me?"

"Oh, see, that's the thing, a lot of people see us as a race of boogeymen behind every bad thing, but the truth is exactly that, in fact. Just yesterday I stole children from no less than fourteen families and replaced them with your kind. Also punched a few kitties to top it off."

"Yeah? You think you're a dickbag bug? Yesterday I woke up, had a spot of tea with some souls of children I stayed up late sucking, filed my fangs, called myself vile in the mirror to prep myself up, and sacked the kingdom of Olenia all before lunch."

We started cracking up, as if our jokes were funny. I decided to order another round.

---*---

The breezie was doing loop de loops in the air around me, occasionally touching down to take a few more sips. He giggled a little as he flew, tracing figure eights through my legs. I laid my head on the table, laughing contagiously with my tongue out. He stumbled to a stop in midair, collapsing right on top of it.

"Do you think if we become respectable war heroes we'll get cool nicknames from our platoons?"

"Oh, of course. I'm thinking Worker and Parasite."

"Oh, come off it bug, these are ponies, they'll pick something more respectable. I'm thinking Buttercup and IHateZebras69."

"Oh, you're so edgy, making xenophobic jokes."

"Dude, they kicked the Diamond Dogs out of Hoofington after they broke their backs to build it. I can spare a few bad zingers."

He mockingly punched my tongue, and I withdrew it, sloshing him around in my mouth for a few seconds amidst his annoyed breezie noises, tickling my cheeks with his large wings. Finally I lifted my head, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. He balanced on the end daintily, lifting his head like a model on a catwalk and taking a bow to an invisible audience despite being sopping wet. I stifled a laugh, pulling him back in as he angrily squeaked, ordering another round through squirming cheeks. The barkeep rolled his eyes.

---*---

I began beating my head on the table, trying to fall into a beat, hindered by my complete lack of rthymn. The breezie was curled up inside a hole in my foreleg, perfectly fitting inside. His ears perked up as I began rambling between bangs.

"This is how we were going to end up, isn't it? Even if fate is some made-up stuff designed to sell Little Golden Books, we weren't going to live full lives."

"Speak for yourself buddy, I could've been a seamstress prophet in a hidden little whimsical village built in the liminal spaces beneath toadstools, getting that stomata on the daily."

"Must be nice. My options were fight some horses and get paid, slave in caves for my life, spy on horses and get paid, or become a traitor and live my whole life on paranoia of getting found out by those I consider friends."

"That's rough buddy."

---*---

I hugged the breezie tight against my cheek, and the two of us loudly and bombastically sang as a duet, in completely different tones and beats.

"Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein Und das heißt: Erika!"

"Heiß von hunderttausend kleinen Bienelein Wird umschwärmt: Erika!"

"Denn ihr Herz ist voller Süßigkeit, Zarter Duft entströmt dem Blütenkleid. Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein Und das heißt: Erika!"

---*---

"I didn't want to do this. I'm going to die tomorrow. I'm going to die unremembered. I'm just... Another body people jump over without a second glance. I'm not going to do anything worthwhile, the world is going to keep on turning, and then it's going to burn out and the entire lifespan of the universe is going to pass and the stars will die and I'll be less than a speck. Less than a dust mite. No mother but a tyrant who doesn't care about me as anything more than a drone, nobody I can convince myself will care or remember me after I go on, no life or personality different than the thousands of others like me, nothing. I'm just a cell, smaller than that, a cells cell, designed to do one job and die and never be thought about as anything more."

"I'll remember you."

I opened my eyes, seeing my breezie friend sitting on the end of my about, looking sincerely into my eyes. I sniffled a little, noting his sudden sobriety.

"Please. Please don't forget me. If you forget me I'll never have existed."

"I won't."

"You can't die out there, buddy. You're going to survive, and you're going to go home and be a seamstress and get whatever the hell a stomata is and you're going to not... Forget me..."

"I never will."

"I don't have anything in life but the space I take up in thoughts. If you keep those I can die out there, unfairly and young, and it will all be over and sort of okay. That's how life works, I think."

He didn't respond, and I hugged him again, best I could against my cheek. One of his feelers gently patted my snout, and he began peacefully hushing me, calming amidst everything.

"You know, buddy, I can't keep you in my thoughts without a name."

"I think... Just Bug will do."

"Alright then, Bug. I'll survive this, and I'll remember you."

"Thank you so, so much."

---*---

"Wishing that... Makes you cry, and I hate hoping... Someday I will go... Outside and see you okay..."

The breezie opened his eyes, listening to Bug murmur parts of a song. Making sure their eyes were closed, he quietly slid out of their grip, flittering around their head and balancing atop the tip of a fang sticking out from their lips. Their eyelids were fluttering, and the breezie sighed, wondering if he should point it out. He didn't have to; Bug slowly opened an eye, seeing their bar buddy still watching him.

"Alcohol doesn't have any effect on you either, huh?"

"Been sober as a priest this whole time."

"Me too."

"That makes things awkward."

They scratched their head, trying not to move too much with the breezie still perched on him.

"I should... go."

"I understand. Hey; maybe I'll have the honor of killing the great Bug tomorrow."

"Heh. Maybe."

Author's Notes:

The picture that prompted it