It was late, very late. Or very early, Vinyl thought, she couldn't tell. Being a reasonably successful disc pony, Vinyl could afford to frequent the more up-scale nightclubs; the kind of places that an old Vinyl would've been turned away from. She even had enough recognition within the night scene to be granted VIP status. Not that she let this relative fame get to her head; she often preferred to go out to the clubs she had always went to, from back when she was an under-age filly with a fake ID. The up-scale nightclubs, to Vinyl, always seemed to be the preserve of the foals of rich ponies. She never liked those sort of nightclubs; they seemed too exclusionary, and were almost invariably filled with the particular type of pony that Vinyl hated. The worst part of these types of clubs was that they were always so clinically clean, to a fault, which never failed to annoy Vinyl.
Yet here she was, in the most exclusive nightclub in Manehattan; "näy". The club, for the most part, was a pristine white, in places there was a royal blue and purple trim, though that may just have been the lighting effects, and the music was as loud as one would expect from any nightclub on a Friday night. Vinyl sat at the main bar, relatively separate from the bulk of activity on the dance floor, but still more surrounded than she would've liked. This was the first time Vinyl went out to a club without playing a set since her split with Octavia, and she wanted a somewhat relaxing evening. The music, as loud as it was, still wasn't as aggressive or harsh as it would've been in other clubs, and there was a nice, soft ambience to the place, relatively speaking.
She stared at the impossibly expensive cocktail in front of her for several minutes, before downing it in one great swig, as one would drink a shot. Then she ordered and a different, random cocktail and did the same. She had been doing this all night, without saying a word to anyone except the bartender; and even then only to order a drink. The colours of each drink were rich and varied; some multicoloured, some dark and some light. As she stared at her current drink she saw that it was a deep, royal purple, not unlike her eyes, Vinyl thought to herself. A thought which she immediately shook from her head.
But the thought kept returning, again and again. It seemed the more she tried to not think of Octavia the more she did. Everything around her seemed to at least provide a passing reference to her. Even the very walls around her seemed to turn a darker shade, becoming grey in certain places. Everywhere she looked all she saw was grey and purple, grey and purple. At one point she was certain she had spotted a treble clef. The room seemed to spin around her; Vinyl lost her bearings and was forced to cover her head with her hooves, and rest on the bar table. This would've been a more conspicuous event, had it not been for the relative crowdedness of the club and the time. What ponies did spot Vinyl sheltering herself just concluded that she'd had too much to drink, which was a fair assessment. Every now and then she heard a passing comment; usually along the lines of "Isn't that that DJ Pony?", but no-one actually bothered to intervene. The bartender did ask if she was alright, but Vinyl muttered something back and he left her alone. After a short while Vinyl become cognisant of how she must've looked and excused herself, to no one in particular, before going to the bathroom.
The bathroom, much like the rest of the club, was pristine and white. Vinyl stared at herself in the self in the mirror, out of nothing but a sense of necessity; it seemed like the right, normal thing to do. She was clean, almost as white as the immaculate porcelain. It gave her a sense of reassurance to see herself like this, normality. Not the other day she had looked physically ill, and at least now she looked better. She didn't exactly feel better, but as long as she looked normal than she had won a victory, of sorts. A victory over whom, she did not know, but a victory nonetheless. From what Vinyl could see, she was alone in the bathroom, and so allowed herself to rest and reflect. The loud, repetitive music droned on in the background, and the room was a solid, well-lit colour, and so Vinyl was able to gather her thoughts in relative peace.
Despite the time that had elapsed since the split this was the first time she was able to fully think, unhindered. She thought about her anger, an anger that had been nagging her constantly, and she tried to place it. Why was she angry, who was she angry at. Of course this was something she had thought on before, but she was never able to think of an appropriate answer. The obvious target for her anger was Octavia, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that this was not a great answer. She truly had no right to be angry at Octy, she realised this much; it wasn't Octavia's fault that she didn't love Vinyl the way Vinyl loved her. The next obvious target for her anger was herself; for allowing herself to seemingly grow this dependent of Octavia, and even take her for granted at times.
For the longest time it seemed as if it would last forever; as if we were meant to be. It just seemed so natural, so right. Maybe it was foalish of me to think this way, but it just seemed to work, me and Octy. Sure, at first we seemed like total opposites, from two different worlds, but she seemed to understand me, in a way that no-one else does; in a way that no-one else can. When she said it was over it was as if half of me had died; in a way half of me did die, the pain was certainly real enough. I couldn't understand how someone I loved and admired so could tell me that she didn't love me any more. I was confused, betrayed, upset; she had wounded me for no good reason. A part of me detached itself entirely, and she didn't even have the heart to tell me to my face why. Of course time has healed the initial wound, but there will always be the scar, constantly reminding me of what I used to have. Vinyl thought these thoughts almost out loud, as if she would be forced to orate her thoughts to someone who cared. Not that anyone would care; her parents stopped caring long ago, as did every other pony she'd ever loved.
In the background, during Vinyl's soliloquy, there was a horrible noise, a noise that was all too familiar to her. It was the usual soundtrack of the bathroom of any club late at night; retching. Vinyl initially paid no heed to the noise; it was presumably some unfortunate pony who misjudged how much they were drinking. However, when she stopped thinking the noise infected her mind. There was something about it that made Vinyl unable to concentrate. Whoever it was seemed to be in a bad condition, anyway, and there was something about the situation that made Vinyl feel obliged to intervene. She approached the stall that she had discerned the sound to be coming from and gave a quick shout to the pony inside.
"You alright in there?" She asked the as yet unknown pony within the lavatory cubicle. The only response she received was an unintelligible murmur from within, and it didn't seemed to be directed to anyone in particular. Vinyl asked the question again, slightly louder this time, but there was still no direct response. The retching had stopped, so too had the murmuring, so Vinyl assumed that the other pony had passed out. You can't just leave her in there, Vinyl thought to herself, alone and passed out. At least make sure she can get home safely. She pushed the door slightly, to check to see if it was locked. The door moved without much pressure, and so Vinyl decided to go in and check on the other pony. Slowly she crept into the cubicle, making sure not to push the door onto the passed out pony, or trod on her herself. When in the cubicle she was able to get a look at the other pony, whom she recognised instantaneously. Her coat was unkempt, her mane tangled, but Vinyl immidiatelly recognised her.
"Octy?" she asked, arbitrarily; she'd recognise Octavia anywhere, plus it was doubtful that Octavia was able to hear her. Octavia was, indeed, unconscious, and she was draped over the toilet bowl in a rather undignified way. Carefully Vinyl pulled her off, and sat her against a wall, hoping to try and wake her up. She shook her, lightly at first but soon picked up pace when Octavia was unresponsive. After a short while she finally regained consciousness, and slowly opened her eyes. Only now did Vinyl actually look at Octavia. Her eyes were blood shot, her make-up smudged and her mascara running down her face; she looked terrible.
"Vinyl?" Slurred an obviously drunken Octavia, "What're you doing here?"
"Well I wasn't about to leave a pony face down in the toilet now, was I?" She smirked, before attempting to lift Octavia to her feet to leave the toilet. Octavia, however, was not overly cooperative; shrugging off Vinyl's help and opting to stand on her own. Of course, in the state Octavia was in, this proved to be a near impossible task; with Octavia slipping endlessly as she tried to get her bearings. Eventually, and somewhat reluctantly, Octavia allowed herself to be assisted, though gratitude was not forthcoming.
"So why are you here, Octy? You always used to hate these sort of places." Inquired Vinyl, who was only hoping to end the silence that had reigned for a few minutes, as well as hopefully spurring a real conversation.
"My friends, they insisted on it. They said it would help." Slurred Octavia again, who appeared to only be talking in a conciliatory fashion. It was clear to Vinyl that Octavia would much rather be with any other pony in the world besides her. Nevertheless she persevered.
"Help with wha-" started Vinyl, before Octavia turned and glared at her, a contemptuous look on her face. "Oh, right. That." She finished, wishing she'd never ask. "So where are your friends now? Would've thought they'd be pulling you of the toilet and not me."
"I don't know, Vinyl." Said Octavia, bluntly. "They probably left a long time ago. You can leave, too, Vinyl."
"I'm not leaving 'til I know you can get home safely." said Vinyl, softly, hoping to not cause offence.
"Why do you care about whether or not I get home safely? What consequence is it to you?" shouted an indignant Octavia, as they made their way closer to the exit, though luckily the music was loud enough so that nopony else really noticed.
"Because I still care about you, Octy." Vinyl stopped for a moment in order to look Octavia in the eyes, "And I know you still care about me." These words hung in the air as the two stared at each other, neither pony willing to break eye contact. Eventually Octavia continued walking to the exit, not saying a word. Surprised at this, Vinyl followed Octavia out the door and into the street, she tried to call on her but to no avail. The only words Octavia spoke were the words "Taxi," as she hailed a carriage down.
Vinyl watched in despair as Octavia entered the cab and gave the driver his instructions. This despair turned into confusion as the carriage didn't drive away, as Vinyl had assumed it would; instead it stayed stationary. Vinyl trotted up to the cab and when she arrived she saw Octavia motioning her in. Slowly, a bewildered Vinyl opened the door and climbed into the carriage.
Octavia looked at Vinyl and merely said, "We need to talk."