//------------------------------// // Killing Me Softly // Story: Timed Ramblings // by Midnight herald //------------------------------// --- This shares a continuity with The Drop --- When her eyes burned dryly and the words on the page before her blurred and shifted, Twilight knew she had to stop studying. She sighed and hid the book behind the front desk, to make sure it would be there whenever she next had the free time. She plodded up the stairs, taking her candle with her, and headed for her bed. She paused and peered through the guestroom door, the candle stub casting a wavering golden glow onto the unicorn sleeping there. Vinyl’s nose crinkled adorably against a strand of bright blue hair that tickled a nostril with every even breath. She smiled faintly as she tiphooved in and gently, lightly tucked the stray hair behind Vinyl’s twitching ear. The wary tension that Vinyl carried had been smoothed away in sleep, and her angelic face set the familiar ache weighing down in her gut. She sighed and left, closing the door partway behind her, and trotted to the bathroom, splashing her face angrily with icy water from the tap. She looked up at the mirror, at the strange pony reflected there. Bloodshot eyes, slightly unfocused, looked back at her from sunken sockets stained dark with worry and sleepless nights. “She needs a friend, Twilight,” she muttered to herself, reaching for a towel. “A friend.” She dried her face and brushed her teeth for two minutes, not a second extra. From there it was straight to bed, lights out. Her mind, as always, wouldn’t let her sink into sleep just yet. She stared out her windows to the stars and sighed again, a furious expulsion of air, as if it could blow away the troublesome, niggling thoughts. She wasn’t sure when her life had become this game of self-denial and borderline misery. Somewhere between the different tours, the book signings, the publicity stunts, ‘Welcome back’ had become ‘welcome home.’ One of her circulation closets had been repurposed to hold fuseboxes, preamps, circuitboards, and records. The guest bed was always made up with the soft flannel sheets Vinyl had liked. Another color had made its way into her coordinated schedule, full of venues and managers and tour dates. It was everything she had hoped for, and it was killing her, day by day. She’d tried so many times, so many ways, to get over the … attraction she had for the other mare. Failed dates with others, solid denial, promises to move on. And still, almost a year after Vinyl had started spending more time in Ponyville, she was hopelessly lost in a one-sided desire. Every time Vinyl smiled or laughed still left her breathless and fluttery. Every time Vinyl wasn’t looking she shamefully eyed over the DJ’s toned body. Her dreams were rife with fantasies of even just kissing the white mare, of walking through the park, tails entwined. But Vinyl insisted, in her way, that Twilight was being the very best of friends. It was strange, having such a beloved and important word turn sour in her mouth and send icy disappointment trickling down her spine. But, she had to admit, a friend was what Vinyl needed right now. A friend and a place to call home. And since it was for Vinyl, Twilight would endure. It was already making a notable difference in Vinyl’s lifestyle. She was sleeping better and eating more, and the unhealthy, haunted look had left her eyes. She still occasionally came in drunk, but those instances were fewer and farther between with each passing month, and none of them were anything like the terrifying blackout state she had first appeared in at the Library’s doorstep. And so if every day had a thousand little heartbreaks, so be it. Twilight could handle them, if it meant her Vinyl was safe.