//------------------------------// // A dance // Story: Shell Shocked // by Featherflutter //------------------------------// The warmth of Celestia’s sun stirred the sleeping colts, the light that passed through their eyelids made it all the more advantageous to wake up. Pipsqueak’s eyes resisted however, being stuck together by dried tears of the night prior. Flashes of last night ran through his head as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. The fear, the worry, the mix of anger and relief, all for one colt. One colt that was still mud covered and smelly from his urban escapade. “Get up, will ya?” Pipsqueak knocked Featherweight on the shoulder, “We don’t wan-” A jolt and a sharp scream from Featherweight filled the room, scaring Pipsqueak and sending Featherweight to an immediate upright position. “What’s going on? Where am I?” Pipsqueak moved in and put his hooves on Feather’s shoulders, “Easy, you’re in the hotel. Don’t you remember what happened last night?” Pipsqueak kept hold of featherweight, He’s already shaking Feather cringed, the brief snippets that he recalled not leaving a good taste in his mouth. “I do now.” He turned to Pipsqueak, whose face bore that expression of concern that Featherweight had turned away from for too long. He looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry about that. I’m...not ok.” “I know.” “I caused you so much grief, thinking that I was sparing you from it, hurting you as well as myself. I’m sorry.” Featherweight nursed his sore foreleg in his lap, rubbing it every so often. “I outta punch you in the gut right where you sit.” Pipsqueak said, keeping a firm hold on Featherweight’s shoulders. “You already did, last night. I’d understand if you want to do it aga-” Pipsqueak moved in, Featherweight bracing, only to find a warmth encompassing him, like a blanket. Pipsqueak was hugging him. Pipsqueak inhaled quickly, his nose sniffling. “I’m just so happy you’re here! When ya left, I jus, I jus didn’t know what to do.” Pipsqueak held on tight. “You’re shaking again.” Featherweight felt uncomfortable, the physical contact setting him on edge once again. “I’m-” Feather caught himself, taking a moment to think, “I am. Ever since the incident, I haven’t felt right when other ponies touch me.” Featherweight said, blushing at the ridiculousness of that statement. Pipsqueak immediately recoiled, “Oh! Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t know.” “Because I thought I could deal with this stuff by myself. Didn’t work out too well, did it?” Featherweight looked from the ground to Pipsqueak. A small flash of a smile was offered before returning to morose. “Not one bit. There are things I know you can overcome alone, no prob. But this, I can’t even start to understand what’s been goin on with you.” Pipsqueak scootched up next to Feather, his legs hanging over the bed, swaying freely. Featherweight stared straight ahead, his legs set firmly on the floor, the rest of his body shivering from overstimulation. He closed his eyes, focusing on his trembling breath. The air around the two pressed upon them, threatening to let out all the words that needed to be said, only to be neglected by the silence. Bursting through the door, Filthy Rich yelled, “Pipsqueak! We might have a lead as to where Featherweight went. I’ve got some constables here  to get more details on what happened.” Filthy ran up frantically to Pip, looking more disheveled than the two had ever seen him before. “We gotta go,” Filthy looked to Pip’s right, “You too, Featherweight. We gotta go,” Filthy grabbing onto Pip and escorting him toward the door. Not four steps later and he stopped dead in his tracks. “Featherweight?!” Filthy whipped his head around to double check and make sure his sleepless eyes weren’t seeing things. The colt in question weakly raised a hoof and waved at the frazzled adult. “Hi, Mr. Rich.” Featherweight slowly cowered in front of the adult who walked towards him, feeling even more guilty as Mr. Rich towered over him. Putting a hoof on the shivering colt’s shoulder, Mr. Rich sighed, “Son, you have no idea,” He cut himself off with a yawn, “How happy I am to see you back.” Featherweight looked up in confusion, “Happy?” “Well, a combination of happiness, relief, and just a hint of anger. You had Pipsqueak and I worried sick. Luckily, the other parents and student council members didn’t notice, so the whole affair can be kept internal, but what in Equestria drove you to do such a wild thing as runnin away like that?” Mr. Rich put both hooves on Featherweight, making sure that he was right in front of him. “I’m...I’m not ok, Mr. Rich. I haven’t ok since the incident.” Featherweight blushed, being even more embarrassed after telling an adult than after telling Pipsqueak. Mr. Rich lowered his hooves from Feather’s sides. “I see,” He took some time to reply, ruminating on the situation, at least that’s what Pipsqueak thought he was doing. “Well, that will have to be dealt with later. I’ll see to it that you get proper help once we get back to ponyville. As much as it pains me to say it, this can’t be helped now. Not properly, at least. All I can do is keep you monitored and wait until we get back.” Mr. Rich sighed, “I’ll go down and call off the search. As for you two...Go get some breakfast, I guess. We’ll discuss things later.” Mr. Rich nodded to the two and left the room. Featherweight rose his head, turning it from his hunched over position to peer at Pipsqueak, who was looking directly at him. “So.” Pipsqueak, still experiencing polarizing feelings, huffed, “So.” Scanning the ground, trying to pick words to progress the conversation into something more than it was, Featherweight gave a wayward smile, “Breakfast?” Pipsqueak chuckled lightly and nodded, “Breakfast.” ………….. The night life flourished around the four ponies walking down the cobble street, lights illuminating the way towards one of the many beating hearts of the city that night. The Orpheum, lit by mellow spot lights and humming street lights, opened its doors for the four, and all others who had the time and money to see Noteworthy’s world famous touring orchestra. The day had gone by preparing Featherweight for the night’s event. Word got to Mr. Rich that Featherweight didn’t have any formal wear to speak of, and he swiftly began to deal with that problem. Rushing throughout the city, trying to find a Boutique that was able to do a swift order was what took up most of their time, the rest devoted to finding a better bag for his camera and getting everypony else ready for the event. Though stiff, Featherweight maneuvered to his seat well enough through the crowds of ponies with his new tuxedo on, his coat smelling faintly of some prench cologne that he hadn’t bothered asking the name of. Sitting to his sides were Mr. Rich and Pipsqueak, Diamond Tiara sitting to the other side of her father, looking as if she were in her natural habitat with the way she sat, spoke, and gestured. It was the taste of high life that Featherweight never thought he would have the honor of taking a glimpse of. The lights dimmed and everypony took the queue to quiet down as the curtain open, revealing the orchestra and conductor. A sudden mixture of hoof stomps and claps filled the air. Featherweight squirmed in his seat, his heart beat rising, it all reminding him of- A hoof rested against Featherweight’s own. It was Pipsqueak. Just the action alone began to ease out the tension that was rising in Feather, his heart rate beginning to slow back down. “It’s ok, buddy. I’m with ya.” Those short, but reassuring, words allowed Feather to take a deep breath and smile. A part of him still wanting to hide, to get away from all the loud noise, but the other wanting to stay right beside his friend. “Fillies and Gentlecolts,” Noteworthy’s voice boomed throughout the hall, “thank you and welcome to our performance. Tonight, our orchestra will serenade you with a few new pieces of mine, concertos and full orchestral performances. Enjoy” With that and a tap of his baton, an almost uncomfortably long look to his cellist, Oh, Is that Octave? Featherweight thought as he looked closer, seeing the grey musician smiling back at the conductor. The music began. Featherweight closed his eyes, knowing that one does not experience music through a camera lens, absorbing all the unique sounds and rhythms that the orchestra produced, Octave’s cello leading the beat towards even better sounding tones and melodies that resonated with his soul. All the while, his foreleg and shoulder being a resting spot for Pipsqueak, their hooves intertwined, letting each other know that they are there for each other. Visions popped in and out of Featherweight’s mind with the introduction of each new song. Some sad, others happy, all being shared with Pipsqueak. And before either had the chance to realize, the concert was over. Featherweight blocked out the rising anxiety as he clapped and stomped, adding to the already booming applause for the orchestra. Standing ovations were given and the clapping held stable for a full three minutes. By then, it was just Octave and the conductor standing there, foreleg draped around one another, bowing once again to the crowd. Once the clapping had stopped, there was a foot traffic backup of ponies wanting to get out, leaving to restaurants and homes, ready to recount what a beautiful performance they had just witnessed was. Featherweight, on the other hoof, waited patiently, much to the confusion of the rest of the group. Once the majority of the crowd had dispersed, Featherweight started to make his way down towards the stage, followed in tow by Pipsqueak and the others. Peeking behind the heavy curtain, Featherweight located Octave, who was talking with the conductor and another member of the orchestra. He walked up nervously, the thought of being near such iconic ponies getting to him. Octave caught a glimpse of him and turned to face him, smiling. “Ah, Featherweight! You were able to come.” The conductor and the other orchestra player turned their attention to the slim colt. Octave turned back to the two, “Allegro, Noteworthy, I’d like for you to meet Featherweight. He is a journalist and talented photographer from Ponyville.” “And at such a young age, too!” Allegro noted, smiling as she outstretched a hoof. “Charmed to meet you,” Featherweight shook the hoof, not expecting such a response. “Th-thank you, you as well. You all were fantastic tonight.” “They were, weren’t they?” Noteworthy said, once again smiling and looking at Octave who began to blush. “You were going to ask about the afterparty, right? Well we are having it right here. Noteworthy held our time slot for an hour longer so we could have some fun for ourselves. You, and well I see you brought friends, are welcome to stay. Take some pictures, have a bite to eat.” Octave smiled once again and nodded at one of the stage ponies to open the curtain again to give everypony some room. Jubilation and merth spread around the stage, each player talking with one another and enjoying each others company. A few deciding to strike up some music for the rest to dance to. It was like a makeshift ball. Diamond Tiara whisked her father away to go right next to the group playing and start dancing, while Pipsqueak conversed with a couple of the violinists about the performance. Featherweight found Octave again, who had tagged in to start playing with the group. “Hey, Octave?” He asked, nervous about what he was about to request “Hello, once again, Featherweight. Is anything the matter?” Octave asked, rosining up his bow for the last time that night. “No, well. Kinda. You see, my friend Pipsqueak. I put him through a lot recently. More than I will ever be able to apologize for. He recently told me that he loved me.” Featherweight paused, looking at Octave’s bad attempt to hide his shock. “I realized that I love him, too. I feel like I owe him something, a dance at the very least. Is there any way you could help me with that?” Octave thought for a moment, pulling memories from the day prior, the entire debacle he had faced. “I do believe I can help with that.” He turned to his fellow players, “We’ve got a request. Get someone on the piano. We’re playing The Vals de la Desesperada Romántica.” The players started shuffling, getting out music, all with the same name to it. That must have been Featherweight’s cue to go find Pipsqueak. The colt in question was wandering around the stage, looking for Featherweight. “Hey, Feather.” “Pip. I’m really sorry about all that happened. All that mess that I caused. All the pain that I put you through. I’m so sorry.” Featherweight slowly led Pip towards the dancing area, which had mysteriously cleared off from every other pony. Just the two in the middle of the stage. “Feather, I-” “I know it will take a lot for you to forgive me. To truly forgive me, but I’d like to start making it up to you.” Featherweight offered a hoof to the smaller pinto colt, smiling anxiously, “With first, a dance?” Featherweight glanced over to the group, Octave interpreting that as the signal for them to begin. Pipsqueak blushed, looking around to see just Featherweight. Pipsqueak nodded and took Feathers hoof, the two beginning their dance, following each other’s hoofsteps in tandem. The music, fitting for their situation, brought them to an empty hall, to allow them to dance as freely as they wished. The two twirled and spun each other, moving with what felt right with the music, their hoofsteps echoing off the walls. They smiled at each other, and continued. After what felt like hours, the final notes of the song rang from each instrument, slowing down the dancing of the two smiling colts, the smaller of the two leaning in, the other meeting halfway as they connected with each other as neither had ever done before. Their eyes closed as they begrudgingly pulled away from each other. The whole room was silent. Chatter had ceased as all eyes were on the couple on the dance floor. Featherweight shifted his eyes away for a moment, a blush warming his cheeks, before he looked back into Pipsqueaks eyes. “I love you.” He whispered, tilting his head and flashing a warm buck toothed dopey smile that only Featherweight could pull off. Pipsqueak smiled back, his cheeks equally as warm, and his heart beating as fast or faster than Feather’s, “I love you, too.” He whispered back, leaning in as they shared another kiss. The End