Getting to Know the Morgans

by buongiornodaisy

This is quite possibly the most meta thing I have ever written. My thanks to Andi, who read this over before I made it public. My undying resentment also goes to Andi, who introduced me to this fandom.


I recently had one-on-one conversations with both Morgans to better understand the perplexing nature of their relationship. I talked first to Mr. F. York Morgan, being the more social of the two. Mr. F. York Morgan, who prefers to be called York, is a peculiar man who speaks fondly of his partner, Mr. F. Zach Morgan, otherwise known as Zach. "We've known each other a long time," York Morgan begins, "since we were children. I never once considered having Zach as more than just a friend. There were...reasons for that, which I won't get in to here. Suffice it to say it's more complicated than you can handle soberly."

I offer Mr. F. York Morgan a drink in response. He accepts, and proceeds with his comments: "I will say now that Zach and I are not related. We've been asked that several times. Given our resemblance it's a logical thing to ask, but it's gotten tiresome. Zach and I are no more related than Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck." A comparison I soon discover is apt.

"As for how Zach and I became involved—that story seems more interesting to us than it does to anyone else. We'd fallen out of contact for no intended reason, then ran into each other unexpectedly at an old hangout. We had a few drinks, caught up on old times, one thing lead to another, and, well... It's one of the two greatest things that have ever happened to me."

Mr. F. York Morgan smiles (an expression I find both horrifying and fascinating, as I have never, in all my years of social aversion, met someone whose teeth were the same shade of green as their eyes); he then proceeds to avoid divulging what the other greatest thing is in lieu of discussing assorted trivia concerning the favored films of himself and Mr. F. Zach Morgan. During this digression, Mr. F. York Morgan consumes a great quantity of alcoholic beverages. Once the table has become cluttered with Mr. York Morgan's empty bottles of beer, I broach again the subject of Mr. F. Zach Morgan.

"Zach's the greatest! Didn't we already talk about him though? But he really is great. The greatest man that ever lived. I know everything about him. I can tell you anything, absolutely anything. Did you know when we were kids he wanted to decorate our bedroom with-"

How did you make the acquaintance of Mr. F. Zach Morgan?

"That's a secret."

Do you think it's odd that you and Mr. Zach Morgan bear such a close resemblance?

"There's a reason for that, but I'm not telling you."

Why are you so secretive about your past with Mr. F. Zach Morgan? Is there truth to the suspicion that the two of you are related?

"No. Absolutely not. We are not related by blood. Look, Zach's had a rough life. I'm not going to air out his problems for the benefit of voyeurs like you just so you can—why are you so interested, anyway?"

I have my reasons. Your relationship is peculiar.

"He's not the first man I've slept with."

You misunderstand me, Mr. York Morgan. It's...given your physical resemblance, I find it hard to believe that you aren't twins in an incestuous relationship.

"For the last time. Zach and I are not related."

Then explain your resemblance.

"It's a coincidence. You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth."

Why don't you try?

"All right then: I'm Zach's other self. His alternate personality. I don't actually exist. He made me up in his head."

You're right, Mr. Morgan. I don't believe you at all. You've had too much to drink. Would you like me to call a cab for you?

As expected, I find Mr. F. Zach Morgan less open to speak freely about his relationship with Mr. F. York Morgan. He has much praise to give for Mr. York Morgan, but declines to say more on account of a distaste for talking about himself. I offer him few drinks in the hope that this will free his tongue. However, Mr. F. Zach Morgan becomes quieter and more pensive under the influence of alcohol. Eventually, though, he speaks:

"Why."

Why what, Mr. Morgan?

"York...why...I love him but...why?"

Love is unpredictable. You can never select the person your heart goes to.

"Yeah but...my God. Why."

I remain silent, feeling that Mr. F. Zach Morgan is on the verge of a soliloquy.

"He's...so... He has these ideas he thinks are romantic, but they're... And I put up with it. Because I love him. But why do I love him? He's not even real."

Mr. York Morgan seemed real when I spoke to him.

"He's real now but he used to be..." He waves a hand around the side of his head. "I like having him here, but sometimes... He is a very, very strange man, and so am I, but I can't...imagine what part of me came up with that."

At this point it seems Mr. F. Zach Morgan is talking more to himself than he is to me. I tend to my business, taking notes, allowing Mr. Zach Morgan to drink himself into a pensive stupor. Towards the end of our meeting Mr. Zach Morgan excuses himself to make a phone call. Shortly after he returns, Mr. F. York Morgan arrives to take his partner home—but not before making a comment about my interrogations.

"You writers really are something. What were you hoping to find?"

The truth, I say. A story.

"You don't need to talk to us to find your story. Just write it. I assure you it'll be far more interesting than transcribing an interview. Besides, we aren't the most reliable narrators."

So I've heard.

"By the way—what did he say about me?"

Not much. Only that he loves you.

Mr. York Morgan stares in silent astonishment. I detect fear in his gaze, uncertainty—and hope. It is at this point that Mr. Zach Morgan, who had fallen asleep whilst waiting for Mr. York Morgan, sluggishly comes to life. He appears on the verge of toppling to the other side of the bench. Mr. York Morgan, snapping out of his daze, moves to catch his partner before he falls. There is tension in Mr. York Morgan's posture, as if he is uncertain how to handle a man who supposedly loves him. He holds Mr. Zach Morgan a short distance away, trying to discern in Mr. Zach Morgan's face the veracity of my statement; but Mr. Zach Morgan, having a difficult time staying awake, makes a low mumbling sound intended to be speech, alerting Mr. York Morgan to the forgotten task at hand. Mr. York Morgan helps Mr. Zach Morgan to his feet, and, with Mr. Zach Morgan's arm thrown around his shoulders, and with one last curious glance towards me, carries home his old friend, his current lover.

I stay behind, tapping my pencil against my notes, considering Mr. F. York Morgan's advice. They certainly have a history, the Morgans, one that might make an interesting, off-beat love story. In theory. Who on Earth would read it, though? There's hardly a market out there for derivative romantic fiction featuring two men with a previously established platonic (or familial, or antagonistic, nor non-existent) relationship, nor is there much, if any, interest in derivative romantic fiction featuring two men of close resemblance. The idea is absurd, and Mr. F. York Morgan an absurd man.

But then I, myself, am a very absurd woman, and should perhaps take a lesson from Mr. F. York Morgan and embrace the absurdity.