Love Is Not a Scale

Is This Truly Hate

 The fridge was nearly empty, leaving much space for Pepsi to crawl to the top shelf.

The middle shelf now left only the small, yet large identity of Dr. Pepper, who twisted his cap as a form of goodbye.

The top of the fridge was cold, holding but a few bottles of water and a suspicious orange liquid, which Pepsi identified as Fanta. He shuddered at the dangerous environment, as spilled soda meant despair was near.

He trudged carefully into the environment, deciding to rest behind an ice maker to pass the time and think.

This doesn't feel right, Pepsi thought to himself. The area was uncomfortable and surprisingly lonely. Usually, when he wanted to clear his mind, this was perfect, though now it felt wrong.

He stared over at the Fanta spill, bubbling with worry as he saw it. Not just anyone can spill a Fanta bottle, especially not one of that quantity.

Though it wasn't anything to get used to, this was normal for wasted bottles. Bottles are not considered alive to some, and that chilled most to the core.

The odds of another bottle doing this were very slim, causing Pepsi to just brush it off as another "human accident" case. Still very dangerous, though it left a small bit of comfort.

He straightened back up, checking his surroundings before finally moving to the back of the fridge shelf.

Creeping slowly, he walked behind a random pack of popsicles, sighing with relief as he again realized that no bottle was around or near his area.

With the creeping anxiety and danger around him, he couldn't help but want to go back to the middle of the fridge, and he felt stupid for not going back when he saw the spilled Fanta.

There's no turning back now, Pepsi thought to himself as he looked toward the Fanta spill now feet away.

He shivered.

He turned forward, straightening up and shaking off the fear as he did so.

As he walked through the fridge, he heard groans ahead of him.

'I must be imagining this', he thought to himself, slowing down as he walked.

No other soda could have survived in this temperature. Especially this deep in. Not for more than 40 minutes at least. It was impossible, right?

He continued to move deeper into the fridge, the groans becoming louder the more he walked.

Nothing could survive here. That thought was the only thing that kept him going. That is until he heard the maniacal laughter that could only come from one soda.

"Mtn Dew?"

(5.5)

"I just don't understand what's going on. Pepsi, Coke, who cares?"

Dr. Pepper spoke in a low tone to 7up, who had been hidden in the fridge for nearly years.

She shook her head, staring down in sympathy.

"I never understood the soda debate either. Of course, it's not like humans can always agree on things, but it would at least be nice not to have to compete."

Dr. Pepper nodded in agreement, looking back at her.

Of course, she would know this. She's been through it firsthand.

Dr. Pepper stared at her, thinking about her background before being snapped out of it by footsteps in their area of the fridge.

7up crawled back into her hiding place, watching through a tiny crevice as Coke began to speak.

"I'm better than Pepsi, right?"

His eyes were wide, and he looked as if he were on the verge of a fizz.

"Woah there, are you okay?"

Dr. Pepper examined Coke, looking at him with surprise.

"I just want to know, am I better than him? I was made first. I deserve it. I deserve everything."

Coke began to bubble, condensation leaking from his eyes as he mumbled.

"What happened to you?", Dr. Pepper muttered with confusion. Just 20 minutes ago he was fine. What could've happened to him?

"I just don't know anymore. I can't tell if I'm better anymore. I don't want to be worse. I'll never go back again. I don't want Pepsi to look down on me because I'm better!"

Coke continued to bubble and condense, staring at the ground with despair.

Dr. Pepper on the other hand couldn't help but be confused by his sudden change of emotion. This wasn't like Coke.

Dr. Pepper gasped.

For once in his life, Coke felt insecure about himself.

(*'꒳'*)

Coke couldn't help but cry. The thought of being worse than a soda made him bubble, and the simple thought of being worse than one made him shiver.

He knew that by crying he was giving up his walls of confidence and style, though he couldn't control it.

Throughout his entire relationship with Pepsi, he always knew that Pepsi was equal to him.

They tasted similar, came from similar beginnings, and grew up together. Whatever Coke did, Pepsi seemed to do too. It was a pattern and Coke knew it was because of biased patrons and the similarities in flavor.

Deep down, anyone who knew how Coke and Pepsi tasted would also know that they tasted similar if not the same.

After centuries of this comparison, Coke began to convince himself that it was wrong and convinced others too.

He had changed, and he and his ingredients reflected that.

This was the breakdown that Coke had held in for years, and it would've felt good if it wasn't related to Pepsi.

It wasn't Pepsi's fault. No, he was just a product of jealousy and success. Coke had continuously fought with Pepsi over something that wasn't even his fault, and that was a horrible and guilting revelation.

He just wanted to say sorry, though that would completely erase the "rivals" narrative that had been set up for centuries.

He knew deep down that it was never really any soda's choice to become rivals with another, though that left him no excuse to keep the rivalry alive for years after.

Maybe they were equal. Maybe... Pepsi vs Coke was pointless.

Coke wiped away his condensation.

"Where's Pepsi?"

(8.8)