//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: Today is Yesterday's Tomorrow // Story: Life on Bridleway // by SparklingVynegar //------------------------------// You’re in Coco’s office. She was seated in front of a sewing machine, her hooves working at a slow and steady pace putting together some piece of clothing. You swallow, aware of the difficult task ahead of you. You call her name to get her attention. “Coco, I have something I wanted to tell you.” “Yes,” she answers turning from her work to meet your gaze. You were once again swept into the light blue ocean of her eyes. There were no waves, nor struggle, and you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into that beautiful sea. “Coco, I don’t quite know how to say this, I mean I do know how, but I’d just look like a complete idiot, maybe. I- I wish I could tell you every last word of my feelings, but I’m afraid that that would take more time than either of us have in this world. “So, in the simplest way I can say it…” you lean closer to the beautiful mare of your dreams. Leaning in slowly you place a soft, gentle kiss on her left cheek. Moving your lips to her ear, you whisper the words you have longed to say for what feels like an eternity: “I love you.” Her eyes grow wide; from shock or amazement, you were not sure. “R-really?” she stammers out, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Yes.” “I-I…I love you, too.” She leans forward and hugs you close to her. Moving her head so your faces were only inches apart, she slowly moves in, her lips touching against yours. When she pulls back, the look of pure delight and happiness on your face was enough to make your heart melt. You and Coco could now be together in happiness foreve- CHKC-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB CHCK-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB CHKC-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB CHCK-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB You jolt up from your couch, shocked from the loud, encroaching noise. Groggily turning your head (a large contrast to your earlier motions), you gaze at the device producing such an intrusive sound. You slowly raise your hoof, and then quickly and then release your hold on the limb, causing it to fall quickly and forcefully onto your alarm clock, quickly cutting the siren short. Damn…just a dream. You lazily lean over to your side until eventually gravity takes hold of you and you tumble down on to the floor, belly-down. Heaving with all the strength you can muster (which isn’t much given the early hour), you shakily begin to stand up on your own. You stretch out your neck, pulling it side to side, then your back, leaning down and forward, then back up, much like a cat, and finally give your wings a steady couple flaps. Today, huh…? You still couldn’t quite grasp the concept that you had chosen today to be the day where you confess. All of the resolution that you had had yesterday had faded away. Instead of the triumphant confidence, you were reduced to disbelief, and possible fright. Not to mention the swirling questions in your head. What if it seems too forced? Shouldn’t this be some built up perfect moment? How in Cadence’s name am I supposed to work this into the conversation? Do I just blurt it out? The hell do I do? You pause your thoughts, hoping that perhaps some cosmic being would suddenly pop into your head and give you all the answers. That doesn’t happen. …well, guess I’ll just wing it. That always goes over well, right? Yeah sure, it does. You shake your head in an attempt to break your daydream state. Moving your legs in a slow, but constant pace, you groggily drag yourself towards your bathroom. Turning the knobs so that a small pool of cool water begins to collect in the sink, you gently place your hoof in and then splash it up against your face. You quickly shake your head, more energetically than earlier. Nothing like a cold splash of water to rinse that sleep out of your eyes. Lifting the nearby hairbrush up with your hoof (don’t question it, you just can, a’ight), you drag through your whole body, working especially on your mane and tail, pulling apart the various knots that have collected (since actually brushing your mane wasn’t exactly a daily occurrence, and you never brushed your coat). You look at yourself in the mirror. What looks back was certainly a…different…version of you, you didn’t know whether to love or hate it, since you never really cared about your own appearance before. Reaching over, you grab the white-and-red toothbrush from the ceramic holder. Picking up the toothpaste from the sink counter, you place a neat dollop on top of the bristles. Making sure to give your mouth a full scrubbing, you spit out the flavorless paste (mint flavoring in toothpaste for you was always unbearable. Instead, you opt for the better-working baking soda brand). You look back up at the mirror. Staring yourself in the eye you attempt to psyche yourself up for what you’re planning for today. “You can do this,” you tell yourself out loud, “Just go in and tell her. Remember, you may not have another opportunity, after all this is your last day.” You take a second to consciously process what you had just said to yourself. That’s right, today is the last day I agreed to work isn’t it. We’re almost done with all the costumes; we’ll definitely finish up today… The thought saddens you. Maybe you and Coco won’t ever actually be together anymore, even if only as friends. … An idea suddenly pops into your head. Hmm, maybe I should show her that I liked our time together. A celebration of sorts, like…like a mini party. A two pony party! Yeah! It could work! With a newfound confidence, you strut out of your flat, making sure to lock the door behind you. Trotting down the streets of Manehattan at a fast, but not running, pace, you head straight toward your first destination, which, no, wasn’t the theatre. You trot into the theatre with a smile on your face and a spring in your step (in fact, it takes quite a bit for you to contain yourself from full on skipping). “My, aren’t you in certainly in a cheery mood today?” you hear a familiar voice call out to you. Turning your head, you see the gray cellist you expected, and accompanying her… “Hey you two!” you call to Octavia and Vinyl, “So, did things go as well between you two as we all hoped?” “Even better!” Octavia exclaimed, “Vinyl created this lovely new song, just for me. It was so wonderfully beautiful…” “Aw, you know, it was no big deal…” Vinyl’s gaze shifted towards the ground, a faint pink tinge spreading across her cheeks. “Easy for the girl with a computer to say,” you tease, smirking, “You owe me one Vinyl.” “Wait, what?” Octavia looked confused, “Vinyl, what does he mean?” “Aheh,” Vinyl rubbed the back of her head with a hoof, avoiding her marefriend’s gaze, “I sorta, needed some help making that song, so I had to get a pony who knew about orchestral stuff, and since I couldn’t ask you, well…” “She came to me, instead.” You finish for her. “So…you knew that she liked me this whole time?” Octavia asked. “Wait, Octy told you she liked me, too?” “Yup,” You smile, “Why do you think I was so persistent? Just for the fun of it? Nah, I knew you two were supposed to be together, ‘cause you both wanted to be, anyway.” “That’s kinda cruel, don’t you think?” Vinyl asks. “What do you mean by that?” You cock a single eyebrow in confusion. “I mean, you could have just told us that we liked each other. I was practically beating myself up with worry; I can only imagine Octy went through the same, how come when we were so down you didn’t just say we liked each other?” “Vinyl, dearest, isn’t it obvious?” Octavia giggled. “Say what?” The white mare whipped her head back to look at her marefriend. “He couldn’t have just told us straight out, it wouldn’t of been natural that way. Think about it, do you really think a romantic-type like him would ruin the moment for us.” “It’s no fun to just tell two ponies,” you smile in agreement, “If love is to be confessed, best it be by those who possess it, rather than a third-party like myself.” “Whatever…” Vinyl shakes her head, “I’ll never understand either of you.” “Oh, I don’t think I should be so difficult,” Octavia says, “There is one thing you can be sure of.” And with that, the cellist planted her lips on Vinyl’s cheek, instantly causing the other mare’s eyes to shoot wide open, and a dark blush to spread across her cheeks. “U-um…I…uh…” Vinyl shutters. “Aww, you’re so cute when you stutter like that~” Octavia coos as she puts a hoof around Vinyl’s neck, laying her forehead against the side of Vinyl’s mane, her eyes closed. “Th-thanks.” “Well, you two seem to be enjoying each other’s company, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get ready for practice.” “Oh, we don’t have any for today,” Octavia says turning away from cuddling with Vinyl, “Story Time said that he thought we deserved a break for working so hard, so he gave us the day off.” “Really?!” You ask, fully shocked. “Really. Is that a problem?” Damn, I thought I still had more time. You turn to look at the saddlebags around your middle, remembering what you had planned. “N-no, that’s not a problem, I guess.” You say unsurely. Guess it happens sooner than expected… “See you guys around!” You call to the two mares. “Goodbye, tell Coco I said hi,” Octavia calls back. “Y-yeah, sure.” You say, probably too quiet for Octavia to actually hear. You turn toward the hallways that lead to the backstage rooms. Well, here goes, I guess. As you walk forward through the halls, you find each step closer to Coco’s office leaving your hooves heavier and heavier. You start moving slower and slower with every inch closer you reach your destination. However, even with your exponential slowness, you still eventually reach the door. You take a few moments to simply stand there, staring at her door, trying to build up the nerve for what you have planned. Dammit, why’d I promise Lyra today? I could have put this off a little longer, maybe a week…a month… No. No, it has to be today. Procrastination will only cause pain. You slowly brace yourself to knock on the door. Your hoof feels like it’s made of lead, and it takes all the strength you have just to lift it off the ground. Ever so slowly you move your hoof until it’s mere inches away from the door. You move your hoof carefully, very softly, and tap it against the door very slowly, your heart begins to pound against your chest, and you wait anxiously, waiting for her to answer the door. Your muscles all tense up. You can hear your heartbeat in your own ears. Waiting…Waiting… You sigh in self-disappointment as you realize nopony in Equestria could have heard a knock that soft. Come on, quite fooling around. Raising your hoof again, you quickly give three knocks against the door, this time making sure they could be heard. “Come in.” Ever so slowly, you turn the handle on the door and push inward. Peeking through the door, you see her standing in front of the sewing machine, her flan-*cough* excuse me- back turned to you. You watch her tail gently swish back and forth as she works. The sight brings an intense warmth to your face. Very slowly (has the world slow down?), you inch your way through the crack in the door, closing it behind you softly enough to not be heard. Coco press a button on her machine, and you hear the gears of the device start to slowly stop. The mare turns around; her eyes were still closed. A pleasant little smile adorns her face. She clears her throat softly. “Now, how may I-” midway through her introduction her eyes, open slightly, and then shoot wide open when she sees it’s you, “Oh…um…hello.” Her cheeks flush a deep red. “H-hey,” You reply meekly, rubbing the back of your neck with a hoof. “You’re, um, you’re here early.” Her eyes drift downward, so she doesn’t quite meet your gaze. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Story Time, the band director, gave us a day off since we had been working so hard,” you explain. “Well, that sure was nice of him.” “So, yeah, since I don’t have to be at practice today, I decided to come here early, I figured that, this being the last day, and since we’re almost done, I would help you get finished, so we can be done early today.” “Oh, that sounds nice, I guess…” her mood seems to have changed, and you can see the smile has left her face. Thinking about what you had said, you realize how it must have sounded. “N-not that I don’t like being here,” you blurt out, attempting to cheer her back up, “I mean, I really, really, like working with you Coco.” “Oh, well, thank you.” Her smile has returned, and you notice the blush on her face darken even more. You imagine the same was happening to you, considering the heat rising to your own cheeks from the sight of how adorable Coco looks now. The two of you stand there for a few seconds, simply feeling each other’s company. You perk up your head. “Oh, hold on a sec,” you say, remembering something important. You lay your haunches on the ground, letting your saddlebags drift from your back to the floor. Turning around, you open one of the bags with your muzzle. Reaching in with your hoof, you grab one of the items you picked up on your way to the theatre. “Here, I got these for you,” you say as you present the lovely bouquet of flowers to her. You had stopped by Liatris’ flower shop on your way here. The bouquet was made of four different kinds of flowers. The first type was made of several long, rod-like pedals, with several yellow centers, all of which was covered in tiny white hairs. The second kind was also white, though its petals were wider and more flattened, each flower has five petals each, with a small, dot of yellow in the center. The third type was a long green stem, with several tiny, white bells hanging down from the entire length. The fourth and final flower was composed of ball-shaped clusters of little red and purple colors. You realize, now looking at her, that you had subconsciously chosen the exact same flower that rested atop Coco’s hair clip. When Coco sees the flowers, her eyes immediately widen and she lets out a surprised gasp. “Oh! They’re beautiful,” she sighs, taking the flowers from you. Then, there’s that feeling again, the greatest you’ve ever felt. Before you can even realize it, Coco’s forelegs were once again wrapped around you. “Thank you…” she sighs into your ear. You feel your cheeks heat up (at this point, you may as well just assume you’re constantly blushing) but that doesn’t stop you from returning her tight hug, and a wide smile spreads across your muzzle. “Y-yeah…no problem,” Your voice was detached from your body, as if it wasn’t you talking but just some separate voice relaying your thoughts. As much as you want the hug to last forever, some form of sense overtakes you and you reluctantly pull back. Before you can leave, Coco pulls you back in for a few quick seconds before she lets go. “Okay, let’s get to work!” Coco cheers. You feel your smile widen, knowing that something you did made Coco happier. It brings such warmth to your heart to see her this happy. You let out a soft sigh (making sure Coco can’t hear) and then happily walk to your post to finish up the last few costumes of that day. “Just…one…last…stitch…aaaaaaaaand: DONE!” You exclaim as you put the final addition on the last costume: a blue and yellow dress for one of the backgrounders. Coco turns to look at the finished piece of work and then smiles wider than you’ve ever seen her before. This time it’s you who takes the initiative and throws your forelegs around Coco. She releases a soft ‘Eep’ in surprise, but was quick to return the hug. Although it doesn’t last as long as the first two, you still savor every moment of this small little contact with the lovely mare. As soon as the two of you break apart, you look into each other’s eyes for a quick second… Should I say it now? Oh, but she looks so happy, what if I ruin it by forcing her to reject me? I…I… It’s only Lyra. Yeah, she’ll forgive me, eventually, right? Yeah, just another day to put it off. Coco and me will see each other again, right? Right? I…I…I can’t tell her. Not today. “Is everything alright?” Coco’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. She looks directly into your eyes; her head was tilted slightly in concern. “Hm? Yeah, why?” You ask. “I…it’s just…you looked a little down, that’s all. Like you were sad about something you wanted to do but couldn’t.” This mare’s gotta be a mind reader. Despite her hitting the mark perfectly, you decide to shrug it off, “No, it’s nothing.” “Well, alright. Thank you, by the way, for your help. There’s no way I could have gotten this all done without you.” “It was my pleasure, Coco,” You assure her with a smile. “So, um…are you just going to leave?” Coco drops her gaze to the floor and drags a hoof back and forth, “…b-because I was thinking that we could…I don’t know, just…talk, i-if you want. But if you don’t I-!” “Whoa, whoa…” you interrupt her, “Where in Equestria did that come from? I wasn’t just going to ditch you here. In fact…” You trot over to your saddlebags and reach into the other compartment, this time, rather than flowers; you pull out a large bottle of Poney de Bêche champagne. Fizz, the owner of the winery, assured you that it was the best she had, and even gave you a generous discount when you mentioned a mare. It made you feel somewhat awkward for her to make assumptions like that, but you could not complain, since she had been spot on with your intentions. Along with the bottle you pull out two crystal glasses, you had bought them just for the occasion (you say bought, you just forgot your own glasses, so Fizz gave these to you. Quite the romantic, that one.) “I figured,” you say presenting the bottle to Coco, “That we should have a little celebration, you know, for all our hard work.” “O-oh my! More gifts? Well, thank you again, this is all very, very generous of you,” she dips her head slightly as a sign of thanks. You feel a small blush come to your face, but you maintain your smile. “It’s no trouble at all.” Using your hooves (Goddess forbids Coco sees you using your teeth) you awkwardly open the bottle, causing the cork to fly across the room with a solid POP, gaining a few laughs from you and Coco. You lift the bottle and carefully fill both glasses, hoofing one to Coco, who accepts in graciously. “A toast?” She inquires. “Sure, why not?” The two of you raise your glasses up, “To a great play, to both our success, and…” you hesitate. Damn, why can I never think of a third? Come on; think what a good third is. “-to Coco’s beauty.” You blurt out. …well s**t The mare you just named blushes a darker red than you have ever seen her. “O-o-oh,” She nearly squeaks out, “I-I, um…I don’t know what to say…” “I-I’m so sorry, I…I don’t know why I said that,” you tell her desperately. “N-no, it’s quite alright. Thank you; actually, it was a very nice compliment.” You notice a little smile form on her muzzle. “You sure?” “Mmhm.” “Alright, then: To Coco’s beauty!” you exclaim. The two of you clink your glasses together, and lift them to your lips, drinking the fizzy pink liquid. Now, at this precise moment, a very important memory comes back to you. It’s a certain detail about yourself, one that would have helped if you had not forgotten. You were rarely confronted with the circumstances required for this little fact about yourself, which sadly meant you forget regularly: You HATE the taste of alcohol. You were able to stomach it at the rare ‘high-society’ events that came with a job at a place like Bridleway, but you had to struggle just to finish two glasses of the lighter stuff. Coco, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the bubbly fluid. The second she swallows, her eyes light up in enjoyment. “Wow!” She exclaims, “This Champagne is amazing!” “Y-yeah…it’s…it’s great,” you mutter, a bit too unconvincingly. If Coco has noticed, she doesn’t show it. “So, how is your composition coming along?” “Hm?” You ask surprised, “I…never told you I was composing. In fact, I don’t think I ever told anypony about it. How do you know?” She shrugs. “It was pretty easy to tell, really. Whenever you played, you were always doing small little improvisations, and you constantly play the same things repeatedly, only making slight adjustments. Not to mention, you just recently got a harpsichord, right? It would make sense for you to want to make a song for a brand new instrument.” “Wow,” you say, your voice echoing the amount of shock shown by your face, “You were able to notice and put all that together?” “Well…” she starts to blush in embarrassment, “That and the manuscript paper that you had on your piano.” “Oh…right,” you feel your own cheeks redden, “But how did you know all about that, you don’t quite strike me as the musical type.” “My roommate at MU was a musician. She would always play this strange mountain instrument; I forget what it was called though. It was sort of like a guitar, only it was played lying down, strings up in the players lap, and only had three- no four strings. It sounded beautiful. Her style was a bit different than yours, though, she concentrated on more folk-ish songs.” “Wow, you figured it all out from listening to her?” “Uh-huh. She used to be my closest friend; we still keep in touch. In fact, when I was looking for a job, she was the one who introduced me to Su-” Coco stops mid-sentence, something she said, or was about to say, troubling her. “Introduced you to who?” You ask, concerned for the seamstress. “S-Suri, Suri Polomare,” Coco mutters, almost too softly to be understood. “Polomare…” The name seems familiar to you. Then it hits you, “Oh, isn’t she some fashion designer, I heard there was an upset at a competition recently. I remember seeing it in the tabloids.” “You read tabloids?” Coco raised her eyebrow in curiosity. “Nope,” you say, “But Octavia does, and I remember seeing it in one of hers.” Coco starts to giggle, but stops when she was reminded of what she was talking about. She reaches her glass towards you, and you happily fill it back up. “Yes. Suri is, or perhaps was, one of the big fashion designers in Manehattan. I used to be her assistant.” Your eyes widen in shock, “Wow, getting up close and personal tips from one of Manehattan’s biggest designers. That must have been absolutely amazing!” Your excitement was interrupted quite sharply from the sound of a sniffle. As you lower your gaze back to Coco, the sight that meets was heartbreaking. The little smile she always wore was torn away, twisted instead into a look of absolute despair, her eyes. Her eyes were screwed as tightly shut as possible, yet somehow you could still see tears coming from the corners. Your eyes shoot wide open in shock. “Oh my Cadence! Coco, are you okay?” You ask worriedly. Coco does nothing more than continue to sob quietly. “Coco, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I- I…” Without thinking, you slowly approach the weeping mare, extending your forelegs around her body and pulling her into your embrace. You do not hug too tightly, your more just there to lend her support, and to let her know that you’re there, that you care for her. Despite your efforts, her tears still leak. Maybe…I have never actually done it…maybe…I could try. As you continue to hug Coco, you focus down toward your chest, concentrating on your very heart. Soon, you can hear it- no feel it beating. Once your whole presence was focused to your heart, you focus your mind on the one task you knew that only you could give her at that moment. As your presence returns to your full self, you begin to feel the effects, a deep ache forms in your chest, you suddenly feel a great sorrow and sadness, like remembering your own shortcomings, your own defeat, and soon tears fall from your eyes. Your work does not seem to be in vain, though. You hear Coco’s sobs start to wane, and soon the tears from her eyes cease to fall down her cheeks you feel her muscles loosen their tension around you, and she leans more into your hug. “Why…why are you crying?” she asks, there was still a tone of sadness in her voice. You pull back to look Coco in the eyes, your forehooves still wrapped around each other. Even through your tears, the very sight of the beautiful mare brings a wan smile to your face. “Do you…*sniff* do you feel better?” You ask. “Did you *hic* hear me earlier, when I was *sniff* apologizing?” You manage to choke past your sobs. “Wh-what about it?” “C-cadence…I sa…said ‘Cadence’.” “Yeah, you’re Cadencian, and?” She still seems confused. “Haven’t you ever heard of the ‘Gifts of the Goddesses’?” “Hm? Yeah, I remember seeing it in the old legends I used to study. It was said that the followers of Celestia and Luna were given different powers. Celestials were given the power of friendship, and made friends with nearly everypony, while Lunar-worshippers were given blessing of advanced intelligence or magic, but usually lived in solitude, because of this, most ponies choose Celestia.” “That’s right.” You wipe a tear from your eye, “But what about Cadence?” "Nopony knows. There's nothing in the records because Cadence is such a recent princess." “Well then, I guess I should fill in the blanks,” you finally feel the tears start to stop flowing from your eyes. “Although Cadence is new she still does give a special power. Those few ponies that follow her, if they choose, can relieve a pony from emotional pain.” “You mean you can just take away anypony’s sadness?” “…y-yeah. But we can’t take all of it, and…there’s a cost,” you prepare yourself for what you're about to say, knowing Coco won’t take it well, “You see, emotional energies can’t just disappear. In order for a Cadencian to take the sadness away, we have to channel it somewhere else. In most cases, this means…ourselves.” Coco’s eyes widen in realization and she covers her mouth with a hoof in shock. “Y-you mean…” “That’s right,” you nod, “I took away your sadness, and in turn planted it in my own heart.” “B-but, why…?” she asks, nearly pleading. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, nor the tears that once again fall from your eyes. “Oh, Coco. Don’t you see?” You pull her back into a tighter hug “Even if I have to take the pain for myself, it’s worth it just knowing I can help you feel better.” Coco reciprocates your hug, and you think you can even feel her head nuzzling up against you slightly. “Thank you, but please, don’t ever do that again.” “But I-” you start to protest “No ‘but’s. I know that this is important to you, and I understand why you think this is a better solution, but think about just how badly it makes me feel when I have to see my own tears coming out of your eyes.” You had never thought of it like that. “Alright, I won’t do it anymore.” It was only a little lie, and it did make Coco smile. Besides, you were being somewhat truthful. You promise yourself to not use your Gift to such a strong degree, but, if only a little, you would still carry some of Coco’s pain, because…well, you had lied to her about that part of it, too. Coco pulls her forehooves back from you, but sits back on her haunches; you decide to join her on the floor, your legs feeling weak from standing for so long. “I think we both need another drink after that.” Coco says. You agree, if only for her sake, and fill both you and Coco’s glasses again (How did she drink her’s so quickly, I did not even notice it.) Clinking the glasses together again, the two of you once again raise your glasses to your lips, you quickly swallowing the pink liquid, so that it stays on your tongue for as little time as possible. You watch Coco as she finishes her third glass of Champagne in three big sips and tilts her glass in your direction. “Aren’t you going a bit fast?” you ask. You watch Coco as she blushes, but now you’re not sure if that’s from embarrassment or from the alcohol starting to run through her. “Well, this is supposed to be a party, right? And besides, you seem to be going quite slowly, and I’d hate to see fine Champagne go to waste, when you paid so much for it.” You open your mouth to tell Coco you really didn’t pay that much, but stopped and instead just filled her glass. It seems that your words have gotten through to her though, since she takes this one in smaller more restrained sips. As you gaze at her, you once again find yourself caught in your eyes, and now, you don’t hold back, you feel yourself swimming in the beautiful, light blue ocean of her eyes, feeling it surround you in bliss, and love and happiness. You feel like you could sit this way forever, and now that nopony’s here to stop you, you think you really can… Although the time you were with Coco was a few hours, to you, the experience seems like forever. The two of you had spent the whole evening simply enjoying each other’s company, conversing about this, that, or the other. You weren’t sharing any full, deep, meaningful discussions (the initial heart magic episode excluded). Just simple, idle chitchat about anything came to your mind. However, as much as you enjoyed this time (and you really, really, enjoyed it), you couldn’t help but be a little concerned by the amount of champagne Coco was drinking. Each time you questioned her of her drinking, she would respond with “It’s just very good” or “I don’t want it to go to waste”. This attitude, added with your avoidance of the drink, lead to Coco drinking nearly the entire bottle herself. Needless to say, this had started to take effect on her. It started with little signs: her laughter becoming more and more enthusiastic, her eyes starting to turn glassy, and an ever-deepening blush that you started to suspect wasn’t due to her timid nature, but now it’s turned to her turning full on drunk. You didn’t scold her, for several reasons, mainly the large grin on her face told you she was thoroughly enjoying herself (and because her intoxicated swaying, her constant laugh, and her occasional hiccup were incredibly adorable). You were finishing a story you were telling about how you one time accidently took a bite of a clay block in high school (gaining a hearty laugh from your seamstress friend), when you notice that Coco’s half-lidded stare had moved to the top of your head. “Hey, wha- whasup with your mane anyways?” She slowly gets out; you can tell she was making a conscious effort not to slur her words together, with little success. “My mane?” You tilt your head in confusion: Oh, right. I decided to do something a little different with it” You turn your head in order to give some semblance of a pose, “You like it?” Coco squints her eyes, either trying to get a good view, or possibly trying to make the double vision stop. “It loo’s good, I guess. But, it really does’n’ look like you.” “Huh? What do you mean?” “It’s just…well, I kinda liked the way you normally look a lot more.” “I- Really? You mean with my mane not even brushed?” “Yeah, like this…” She leans toward you and places a hoof on top of your head. Then, with short, quick motions, she tousles it this way and that, taking some extra time to flatten it and get it just the way she likes. “There! Just like that.” You turn yourself around to look at the full-body mirror in the corner of the room to see how Coco had done. What you see in the mirror was certainly different from what you had seen after your preparation this morning. Rather than the perfectly combed appearance you once had, your locks were now rummaged around into a large, shaggy mess. However, it was different from your usual look, rather than just your hair going in many directions and being utter chaos, it was somewhat more kempt, like organized chaos. “So, you like it messier like this, eh?” You say, turning to her with a smile. “Uh-huh. You look much cuter that way,” she says, smiling back just as wide. Your eyes shoot wide open, as your face burns red. Did she- I- How- Why- …what?! Coco just continues smiling, as if nothing happened. Okay, she is definitely drunk. “H-hey, Coco?” you stutter out unsurely. “Yeees~?” she nearly sings out. “Hey, not like I don’t want to be here with you, but it’s getting pretty late, we should be heading home. Coco pushes her lower lip out in a cute little pout, “Awww, but I was having so much fuuun.” “I know me too, but we can’t stay here all night.” Coco sighs and reluctantly stands up, though her legs were wobbling quite a great deal. It only takes her three long, slow, careful steps, before she collapses back down on top of herself. It was adorable, but also a bit concerning. Walking up next to her, you take one of her forelegs and wrap it around your shoulders, working as a support for her. She seems more than grateful for you, shifting her head so that it lays against your shoulder (needless to say, leaving you blushing even more). Together, the two of you make your way out of the theatre. Once you step outside, you can feel Coco shivering against you, despite the temperature being decidedly warm for a Manehattan night. You can even hear her start to breathe more raspily, as if she really was cold. You can’t help it; you just have to put your wing around the poor mare. It just wouldn’t be like you. …whoa, Deja Vu. “Coco, can you remember where your home is from here,” “Mmmmm? Y-yeah, I think so…” “Well, then, lead the way, I guess.” “Alright, from here, we need to go right.” She points with her hoof down a long avenue. Following her directions, you start your walk ba- “Wait…no I mean right.” Yeah, I can see where this is going. By the time you reach Coco’s flat, you had two realizations: the first was that it’s very possible an hour has passed since you left the theatre, and the second was that the rather small residential building was only three blocks away from your destination, but with your only guide being a pleasantly intoxicated Coco you weren’t entirely surprised that the trip took as long as it did (come to think of it, every time you started to approach this spot, Coco seemed to remember the “right” way back to her home). You half-carry the still-stumbling mare up the few, concrete steps. When you reach the door, you were surprised to find that it gives to your hoof, rather than requiring a key. The inside of the building has a very strong odor. Something equivalent to that of cigarettes, but slightly less offending and homier. “My apar’ment’s on the sec’nd floor,” Coco slurs out, not even bothering to hide the champagne’s effect on her speech. The two of you slowly walk your way up the stairs, Coco having trouble reaching a few. When you reach the door, you look at Coco in hopes she can find a key on her pony by herself. You were surprised when she instead pulls up the small “WELCOME” mat in front of her door. You would scold her for keeping such an important item in such a cliché spot, but you doubt that her drunken mind would be able to retain your criticism. You watch quietly as Coco reaches both her front hooves out in an attempt to pick up her key. “Do you want me to help you,” you offer. She shakes her head in refusal. After a solid minute or so of her fumbling with the single key, she finally rises from the ground with the brass opener held awkwardly in her teeth. Leaning forward, she places the key into the lock and twists her entire head to unlock the door. When she gives the door a weak shove with her head, you were stricken with a mixture of impressment and pity. The creamy-coated mare wraps her hoof around your shoulders again. “Down the hall, second door on the left,” Coco instructs. The two of you slowly and easily make your way to the door, opening it you see a plane white room with a large bed in the center with a purple comforter stretched over top, on either side of the bed was a simple wooden stand. On the left stand were a clock/radio and a plastic mold of what looks like a pony’s neck. Atop the right stand was a simple lamp along with an unmarked, green, hardback book and a small glass vase that was empty for some reason. You walk to the side of the bed and lay the now half-conscious Coco down onto the mattress and back away from her, feeling her hoof drift off the back of your neck. You take a second to take in the sight before you. Coco was laying on her side, with her eyes closed, but not too tightly, and her mouth slightly agape. Her breath was coming in a slow and steady rhythm. You weren’t sure what it was that comes over you (perhaps the alcohol, perhaps your own decision and desire, perhaps both) but you lean in to the sleeping mare and plant a soft, loving kiss on top of her forehead. Satisfied with the night, you turn to walk away from the mare. “...wait…” You turn around to see Coco, eyes half open looking up at you with a pleading look on her face. “Don’…don’t…leave…” she says between her slow breaths, still on the cusp between awake and asleep. Despite her being almost knocked out, you can still vaguely tell what she was asking for. “C-Coco, I don’t know if-” “Shhhhhhhhhh…” she raises her hoof into space. She opens her eyes all the way now, and gives you the most adorable, most compelling, most amazing puppy dog eyes. “Please…” You could tell yourself that you don’t know the exact reason you decided to accept her plea. You could say it is the miniscule amount of alcohol you have in your system, the amazingly adorable face Coco was giving you, or that you’re tired and delirious from the late hour and the long walk to her house. However, let us not feign ignorance. You gently climb onto the bed and lay yourself down facing Coco, and the reason that you do was that ever since you entered her house, you had secretly been hoping she would ask such a thing. When you have finally settled yourself down, you feel Coco’s hooves wrap around you. Near the foot of the bed, you feel her tail gently intertwine with yours. And then, a voice as sweet and golden as fresh honey whispers the three most amazing, most beautiful, most profound words that anypony could ever utter. “…I love you…” Your heart skips a beat. You question if you had heard that correctly (of course you did). You look at the mare in your arms to see her now only a few seconds from sleep. And the widest, greatest, most genuine smile spreads across your face as you snuggle closer the wonderful, lovely, beautiful mare you have ever met. And just before you drift off into the greatest sleep you have ever had in your life, you say just one last thing: “I love you, too, Coco…”