//------------------------------// // Hangover Square // Story: A Story of Love (Among Others) // by TheMareWhoSaysNi //------------------------------// My head felt like cotton. I tossed many times before I could open my eyes. What happened last night? My body hurt, it was as if I had slept on a mat made of needles and everything seemed to be spinning around. I didn't dare waking up. It was Saturday, I could allow myself to sleep a bit more... Wait. Something was wrong. Almost despite myself, I slowly opened my eyes. Our room had no windows, only a narrow loophole which gave way to the artificial light of the corridors. Yet, in the subtle darkness of the advanced twilight, I could sense I've fallen asleep with my clothes on. My television was still on, sound at the very minimum and pictures were flashing up on it for no one in particular. I sat up straight with a smirk, grabbed my remote control and pressed the "off" button before gently falling back against the mattress. Suddenly, a vision caught my attention. A human being, sleeping on my floor, in a sleeping bag. Blue hair and flat shoulders. Everything slapped me back in the face. Soarin, his lock issue, our night spent laughing together, drinking and eating... I insisted for him to sleep on my bed, but he was able to convince me not to by fooling around... What a dummy was I! Once again, I sat back, but hurriedly. It felt like I was on top of a merry-go-round, it was almost as if an ear-splitting bell was echoing through my mind. I shouldn't have drunk so many beers. I ran my hand through my hair. At the back of my head, I could feel a my fingers bumping into knots the size of a tennis ball. There was no need for me to check myself in the mirror to know my complexion probably was as corpse-like as someone who hasn't eaten enough, but has drunk too much and spent the night in a dreary dive. I pressed my hand against my mouth and exhaled... Very bad idea. My eyes drifted from my scruffy appearance to Soarin's body on my floor. He was peacefully sleeping, his breath regular. He looked like a serene child in the middle of some pleasant dreams. His features were so even it made me want to film it in a glamourous black and white close-up. At any moment he could wake up and note the damages done by the night. In front of my friends and family, it never mattered to me whether they saw or not what I look like in the morning. But Soarin... I wanted to impress him, even a little. I could feel something going on between us, something indiscribable floating in the air whenever I was in front of him, or him in front of me. Maybe I was only fantasizing. Or maybe not. All I knew then was that if he saw me in such a pitiful state, things could change and not for the best. Promiscuity between us stopped me from behaving the way I wanted. The least restless noise could get him out of his peaceful sleep. So I acted exactly as if I were Sandra Bullock in "Gravity". Inside my closet, I unearthed the trendiest clothes in my possession. In Canterlot, conversely to Cloudsdale where I was born, girls were really into their appearance. They liked to dress well and to have nice haircuts and clean shoes. And I guessed boys liked that too about a girl. One last glance at the sleeping bag on my floor. Soarin was moving. He turned around, tossed the blanket over his face, as if trying to shield it from an attack. His face disappeared inside the bag. He probably would open his eyes any minute now. I grabbed my key, took a towel and my shower stuff as fast as I could, and got out of the room. My key fell at my feet and I cursed while picking it up. It made an old lady laugh, as she passed me by with her basket full of food. I've often wondered what the life of these ageless ladies who lived here all year long looked like. Didn't they have a family to accomodate them? I remember I asked myself this question as I went to the common bathroom where, lucky me, the both cubicles were free. This block of the hostel had about fifteen residents living on my floor, and there were only two shower cubicles. In each of them, there also was a toilet. They both closed thanks to a sliding door that was to be locked with a hook, except said hooks were rusty and wobbly. An accident never occured, since generally when you saw the doors were closed, it meant someone was using either the toilets or the showers, but I was distrustful. I hated the idea that someone uninformed could open this door and surprise me in my birthday suit. On the closed basin, I put down my clothes, hung my towel on the pegs near the door then positioned my toiletries on the tiny sink at the angle. This was my morning ritual, an important ritual, key to my full waking up, as much as drinking coffee could be. But I had no time for a cup of coffee. However, today wasn't an ordinary day. I didn't want to fool Soarin. I wanted that, if there was a chance he liked me, that would be for the good reasons. It would be for who I really was, with my flaws, my qualities, my origins and my influences. If he had some time, I could ask him to go downtown Canterlot with me, though I was supposed to finish my homework and write for my job. A small break never killed anyone, after all. A towel wrapped around my chest and another around my hair, I actively massaged it to make them dry faster. There were no mirror in the cubicles so I wasn't able to see what I looked like exactly. All I could do was hoping this little scrubbing by the book has upgraded my appearance. I wore a black denim pleated skirt, a light black sweater with a long woolen jacket of the same color and a scarf around my neck. That was simple, trendy but not fashion-victim style. If I got his personality right, he might liked it. I really wanted him to look at me with that expression that said "pretty". It was a mechanic I could fully comprehed only once it was launched: I wanted him to want to know me better, that this lucky encounter hasn't been nothing but a pleasant digression in our well-oiled life. I fixed my hair the best I could. A purple-haired boy was getting laundry inside our only washing-machine. He smiled at me and I saw nice orange eyes. His kindness proved that my appearance was good, even though I had no makeup on. I brushed my teeth above the other small sink and the young boy patted my shoulder. He wanted me to explain him the way the machine worked. Perfect timing, dude! A few minutes later, I was burying my key inside the lock of my room and pushed it. I didn't know what to expect. Maybe Soarin would still be sleeping, maybe he would be already up. All I knew then was that I wanted to ask him what he wanted to do this afternoon, so we could extend the encounter and convert the try. The light was on. Soarin was sitting on my bed, his legs folded under his bottocks. He was leafing through an issue of the magazine for which I was working then, his pants crumpled, his blue hair a bit tangled. He smiled at me, with that smile that always caught me off-guard. Even like that, he was handsome. And it dawned on me... I really liked him. In so short a time, something has woken up inside of me by being near him. It was pleasant and scary at the same time. I put my things back into place, asked him whether he had a good night and if he wanted to have some breakfast. Behind my back, I could hear him letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rainbow Dash. I've called the manager and he's arrived. He's waiting for me. I wanted you to be back from your shower before I told you. It was as if a huge rock from Pinkie's childhood farm crushed against my body. With a very few words, he's murdered my slow and precise work. No matter what happened between us last night, no matter the thread tangled from him to me. He never came here to get to know me better. He came here because he was in trouble and I was the only one who was able to help him. How could I forget the most important detail of it all? My back on him, I made sure my voice wouldn't betray how disappointed I felt, as I acted as if I was tidying one of my drawers. "That's nice of you." Behind me, I could hear sound of clothes against my sheets, slats of my bed crackling. I closed my drawer, my heart like lead, but I gave him a reassured and comforting smile when I turned around to face him again. He politely waved at me and I felt so awkward. Last night, we were like two old friends. This morning, very reserved, he treated me as if I were his elder in school. "Thanks a lot for helping me. I don't even know what I would have done without you. It was very sweet of you." I just couldn't believe everything would end like that. I knew if I wanted to hold him back, it was all up to me because, after all, he couldn't read my mind if I did my best not to let anything show. I should do it but something prevented me from doing it. Words were bumping into my mind but they never crossed the barrier of my lips. I stood there in front of him, a smile on my face though I wanted to frown. I don't know why it seemed like I was expecting everything to come from him. Maybe because I didn't want to take the risk to hear him say no. He put one hand on the knob, opened the door. In a few seconds, he would be away and who could tell when I would get the chance to be so close to him again? I cursed myself for not being able to do anything, thus letting him slip though my fingers. One last time, he turned around and smiled at me, his cheeks chubbier and getting a subtle shade of pink. "Thanks again. You're good people. I'll never forget what you've done for me." Soarin closed the door behind him in silence. I couldn't even hear his steps in the corridor. He was gone and I haven't said a word, not even to make him understand how much I enjoyed spending a night in his company. My legs were like moss, my arms like bits of scrap iron. Gently, I dragged my feet toward my bed and fell against the mattress. A strand of blue hair has fallen against my pillow, as the ultimate memory of the boy I let go.