I snorted as I woke abruptly. A string of drool had escaped my lips, and I lazily wiped it away with the back of my hand. At some point, I must have cried myself to sleep. I gently rubbed the crust from my puffy, sore eyes. Sighing, I leaned back in the chair and stared up at the plain, yellowing ceiling. It was devoid of Spackle, and the cheap paint had begun to peel off the waterlogged wood. I briefly wondered how long I'd been sleeping. Though the curtains were drawn closed, with a turn of my head, I could tell that Celestia's bright sun was low on the distant horizon. It would be night soon. "I've got to make it home, before too long," I muttered to myself, "I can't take this very much longer..."
I stretched and stood from my long-time position in the chair. I took a second to examine it. The red and tan corduroy was faded and ripped in spots. The seat had several cigarette burns scattered across its surface, likely for the very same reason the walls and ceiling had yellowed over the years. There was a small, dingy-looking mini-fridge in the corner of the room, and I eyed it hungrily. I became uncomfortably aware that the last time I'd eaten anything had been on the train, nearly two days ago. My stomach growled incessantly, further encouraging me to satiate my appetite. I stumbled drowsily toward the fridge, crouched down, and opened it.
It was empty. My stomach growled again, insisting I eat. To its credit, the organ was persistent. "I would give anything for some of that stir fry," I thought fleetingly. "I guess I'll just buy something..." Picking up my belongings, I walked out into the orange glow of sunset, noting the second room-key was back in my possession. The door slammed behind me, and I set course for the diner I had visited the day before.
"Things not goin' too well with your lady friend, Hon?" Bonnie asked as she set my plate of pancakes down in front of me and poured me a new cup of coffee. She looked genuinely concerned, and I didn't want to be rude about it, but I didn't much feel like talking at the moment.
I scoffed and took a sip of my freshly poured coffee. "That would be the understatement of the century..."
Bonnie frowned. It seemed she'd formed some sort of attachment to me. She didn't like seeing me upset, and she -once again- decided to take a break to talk to me, sliding into the booth across the table from me. "Why don'cha tell me 'bout it?" The smile she gave me was sad, but obviously genuine. It had the most miraculous effect on me. For some unknown reason, I suddenly felt comfortable. I explained everything; I spilled my guts to this mare I barely knew.
Bonnie kept silent for the most part, barely restraining light gasps at certain events, but when I spelled out the events of the morning, she couldn't help herself any longer. She slammed her hooves to the table and leaned over it to get closer to me, an angry expression plastered to her face for the first time since I had known her. "Why'dja do it, Spike!?" She growled.
I was shocked, to say the least. "W-w-what?" I stammered. "Do what?"
"Why'dja kick her out, Spike!?" Bonnie reiterated, "Mares...we're not the best at expressin' ourselves, but she was jus' tryin' to apologize!" I sat back on the booth with wide eyes, unable to speak between her sentences. "Sure, she got upset when she saw the paper. Sure, she started takin' it out on you, but'cha think she meant it? Right then, she needed some love and care, somethin' she knew you were good for, and you threw her out!" Bonnie shot daggers at me with her eyes. "Go find her right now before she does somethin' stupid!"
I gasped, "B-but my meal!"
"It's on me, now go get your mare!"
I nodded and thanked her silently before I ran out of the diner into the cold night air of Manehattan. In my urgency, I didn't even have time to appreciate how dismal it all was. Bonnie was right. She was going to do something stupid...
"I hope she holds on a little longer..."
My lungs ached from running in the cold, night air. Regardless, I decided to take the stairs. I decided that they would be quicker than the elevator, and I had to get where I was going as soon as possible. I wasn't even sure Rarity had gone back home. For all I knew, she could be on some Celestia-forsaken bridge somewhere. Finally making it to the sixth floor, I slammed open the door to her apartment.
It was quiet, but not silent. All the lights had been turned on. The buzz of electricity was only disturbed by the gentle sobs coming from the bathroom. I ran; I ran past the wreckage in the kitchen, barely gracing it with a passing glance. I ran past the immaculate den before stopping dead in my tracks between the bathroom and the picture of all my friends. I gave a pleading glance at the picture, as if to say, "Please make this all better again," before determinedly pushing through the white door acting as a barrier between...
Between...
This was a mess.
Pill bottles and beauty products strewn about the floor, curtain rod in the bath tub, shattered glass and blood everywhere, and there was Rarity, slumped down on her haunches in the middle of it. She looked defeated. "I...I couldn't do it," She whispered coldly. She gave a dark, sarcastic chuckle. "I'm so pathetic."
"I think you're strong for not doing it," I told her, staring warily at the blood-stained wrist she was holding pressure on with a shaky hoof. Tears dropped from her face and drew pink lines in the stains of her fur.
She scoffed. "Get out of here, Spike. It's not like you really care anymore. You made that all too clear this morning, and I did that to you. I turned you into that, and I deserve whatever I get. Just...go away."
"No."
Now she looked up to meet my eyes for the first time. Hers were bloodshot and red. They looked back and forth between my determined orbs, looking for just a slight break in my unwavering, strong and loving gaze. "W-what?"
"I said 'no'," I said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm not leaving, and I'm never letting you try to walk out of my life again."
Her tears began to flow almost imperceptibly faster. "S-Spike...Wh-...Wh- Whaaa!" She let go and dropped to the ground, choking on violent sobs that now came to her hot and wild. I took the two paces I needed to clear the distance and dropped to my knees before her. She wrapped her hooves around my waist in a tight hug, clinging to me for support as she cried into my lap. I never once asked her to stop crying. She needed to let it out, and Bonnie was right; Rarity needed to be loved, and I could always be trusted to deliver.
It took some time, but Rarity finally calmed down. We boarded the train, and as we took our seats, I could see Celestia raising the sun. I looked to Rarity. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and blood still stained one of her forehooves. She was sticking close to me and looked back to me solemnly. "Look, Rarity," I ordered softly, pointing out the window with a kind smile, "It's a brand new day. Everything is going to change. I know it." We had left everything in that apartment; we hadn't looked back. "I don't know where we'll be tomorrow, but as long as that big wheel in the sky keeps on turnin', we'll make it through to the next day."