//------------------------------//
// XIII - “Old-Ponies Dinner”: Late-Night Coffee and Talking About Your Feelings 
// Story: At Your Service 
// by Deyeaz 
//------------------------------//


XIII - “Old-Ponies Dinner”: Late-Night Coffee and Talking About Your Feelings




Midnight stumbled back to his tower, back resting against the curved stone wall. The wind slapped his face and chilled the sweat that clung to it, the braid of pure-white hair flapping with the breeze. He got up and shakily made his way to a pool of water a few meters away. He removed his glasses and dunked his face greedily into the deep fluid below, drinking from it with as much force as his lungs would allow.

It wasn’t graceful, but it got his energy back.

Teleporting into his room, Midnight slowly stripped off his suffocating clothes and hopped in the shower. The cold water crashed on his body, numbing his nerves ever-so-slowly. Back to the shower wall, he curled up in a ball on the shower floor, chin resting in the crevice his knees made as the water washed away physically, yet not mental, worries.

It was a clichéd, yet still correct setting to brood.

“I don’t like this,” he murmured. “I don’t like this one bit.” The thought of him confessing to Octavia was ludicrous to him. He could see it happening, He could envision the two of them holding hands, watching late-night movies, cuddling, laughing merrily from a joke one or the other would crack as they sat at a café. He could imagine the two of them kissing, limbs intertwined in a loving embrace. Getting married. Having sex. Raising children. Growing old together. One dying in the other’s arms in their sleep.

He could see it.

But simultaneously, he didn’t want to see it.

He wanted nothing more than for her very existence to be unfamiliar to him. He wanted neither of them to have an inkling on who the other was. He wished that he had never met her – and he believed that she’d want the same.

Worse… what would she say? Should he work up what little courage he had, how would she retaliate? No way in Tartarus would she actually say “yes.” Midnight didn’t care about the actual response, as the deal he struck with Scorch only involved confessing, and not having the confessed-to approve. The real issue is how she would say “no.” Knowing the tension they shared, she’d be vehement about her refusal. She’d no doubt say spiteful things. Hurtful things. Threats, insults, and hisses metastasised from disgust and contempt for him, all formulated by his breed and his “audacity.”

He didn’t want that.

Not at all.

He’d take a broken neck over another broken heart.

No.

Not a broken heart…

After she’d be through with him, his heart would be reduced to dust.

…

Midnight got to his hooves and changed the water temperature to a soothing warmth. The contrast in temperature stung a bit, but if it kept his limbs from losing circulation, he didn’t care. The back of his eyes burned a little bit, but he bit his lower lip and refused to shed even a tear. Stallions don’t cry, he’d remember his murmurous peers whisper as he passed down the streets of the city, all of them gazing spitefully at a pony who had lost his last nerves, and was weeping on the pavement at a loss he would suffer.

They were right.

Stallions don’t cry.

But that does not mean they are not allowed to.

They shouldn’t be confined by society’s harsh iron maiden of what the standard “stallion” should be. Walls of nigh-impenetrable defenses constructed around his mind and heart will fall with time, dilapidated and useless, and how will he fend for himself? Against emotional onslaughts and psychological mind games, he wouldn’t last even moments. He’d be struck down, smote, and left in shambles. Ponies were made to love, to hate, to feel fear, to feel pain.

To not do so is to not be alive.


~


        Sunset.

The blood-red luminescence of the sun as it hid beneath the horizon spilled forth into the sky, and the stars began to bubble forth as the moon emerged from the west.

Midnight left for Octavia and Vinyl’s apartment later, dressed in a royal blue sweater and dark jeans. His black cap was back on his head, with only a few of his bangs peeking out. He checked his phone, and found it littered with texts from Octavia, and not a one was written with concern or worry.

        “Where did you go? Hurry back.”

        “This is not funny. I will report you, you know.”

        “Do you think I’m joking? You have twenty minutes to get back, or there will be Tartarus to pay.”

        That last one was sent seventeen minutes ago.

“Aw, shit,” he hissed. He teleported again onto the front porch of the apartment complex and made his way to Room 394, knocking urgently on the door’s slick mahogany face. It promptly opened to reveal an irritated Octavia, with a worried Vinyl on the couch reading a comic book.

“Where the hay were you?!” She fumed.

“I was exercising.”

“Exercising?” She scoffed, almost too hard. “That’s a new one.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Octavia was prepared to make a rebuttal, but what was stopped short. There’s not much Midnight could actually do to cause mayhem in the city. 

“...Good point.” Octavia grumbled and then proceeded to say, “Listen. I know you and Frédéric are… rather rocky at the moment.” Midnight’s eyebrows ascended up his forehead at her choice of words. “Okay, you two hate each other very much.”

“There we go,” he deadpanned.

“Nevertheless, I’m going to try and fix that,” she finished proudly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Midnight monotonously.

“Why not?” Octavia looked rather cross, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in analytic skepticism. 

“Tavi, what you’re trying to do is what a mom would do with her sons that hate each other,” answered Vinyl, eyes still zooming through the text on her comics. 

“Or to her two bitchy teenage daughters fighting over the same hot guy,” Midnight summarised.

“Why are you so reluctant to make amends with him?” questioned Octavia.

“Well, for starters, that guy makes Nightmare Moon look like a cookie-selling Filly Scout.” Midnight pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Me spending time with him is like putting a policeman with an illegal immigrant.”

“One, that’s kinda fucked up,” Vinyl commented.

‘Doesn’t mean it’s not true,’ mused Midnight.

        “Two, you never know. He could have a more… benevolent nature.” Octavia bit her lower lip, wincing at what lengths she had to go to to coax Midnight to go along with her plans. It was bitter poison, but she had to swallow it and her pride for any success. “Please.”

Midnight’s eyes dilated at the P-word, a giddy beast rising within him. “I’m sorry, what was that?” His mouth slowly curled into a smile.

Octavia gritted her teeth, and was almost tempted to slap him across the face. Much to her chagrin, that wouldn’t help her with her ultimate goal. “...PLEASE,” she almost growled, unclenching her fist to keep from striking him.

Midnight knew better than to push his luck with the circumstances, so he eased his teasing. “Alrighty. But if I get the tar kicked out of me by him, you’re paying for the damages.”

Octavia shook her head. “I’m not paying jack shit.”

Midnight did a double-take. Vinyl turned her head to gaze in surprise at her. Octavia realized her slip and quickly stammered, “sorry.” The others felt like their insouciance and crude behavior was rubbing off on her a wee bit.

“Not baaad… you’re picking up my sass,” praised Vinyl after a moment of awkward silence.

“So, when should I meet your scumbag coltfriend?” grumbled Midnight, stretching his arms to relieve them of fatigue.

“H-h-h-he’s not my coltfriend… yet!” stammered Octavia, the heat rushing to her face. “A-and he’s not a scumbag!”

“Yeah, uh-huh, sure.”

Octavia clenched her teeth, and breathed calmly through her nostrils. He was agitating her much more than he should be at the moment.  “Will you do this or not?” She asked simply.

Midnight thought about it long and hard. He had a feeling that Octavia had an ulterior motive to this. Maybe she’d want him to compliment her and give positive feedback about her to Frédéric so as to increase the likelihood of them getting together. Why should I? he thought… jealously? Yes. That was it. He was green with envy that pretty-colt Frédéric was getting the attention and admiration of the one pony that he, Midnight, was slowly starting to have feelings for....

Yes.

‘Twas so, most unfortunately. 

And it wasn’t mere jealousy alone. There was woe in there. Midnight felt… upset that he was helping his crush get together with somepony besides him. He didn’t really like to hang out with mares, as his father discouraged it. 

Which, in turn, resulted in him crushing on Octavia after spending so much time at her beck and call.

But what about Vinyl? Why wasn’t he head over hooves for her, the only pony to show compassion and care to him when he first started his “community” service? It couldn’t be that he disliked her body. Not at all: back home, stallions would die for those curves of hers, and he might have been one of them. She had gorgeous eyes, an astounding mane, their tastes in games and musics were relatively the same, and she was actually a well-behaved mare in public. He was wondering why he never fell for her initially. There had to be something. Maybe it was the “chemistry” those rom-com actors and actresses mention when a relationship could succeed or fail.

She might have her eyes on somepony else as well: Being a DJ clearly means she hangs out at hole-in-the-wall clubs and blasts her beats at the audience, so she must have run across somepony worth her while. They might have had a drink, talked a bit, then one thing might have led to another; after all, booze does some nutty things to your judgment.

He might have actually seen her face at those clubs on his nights off, yet not have recognized her through the alcohol clouding his mind, the sex steaming the air, and the crowd dancing on the floor. Either way, if she was seeing somepony, his lack of lust for her was for the best. To have his desires of love be torn asunder by one mare was bad enough. Two mares who can’t accept them would be devastating.

But… if, and maybe if, he did Octavia a solid and went to this dinner plan with Frédéric, would she be grateful? Would she gradually evolve her viewpoint of him? Will she actually reciprocate his heart’s longings? 

Not likely.

But… not impossible.

“Okay.” Midnight needed to take the leap of faith and at least try.

Octavia slowly smiled. Even though she didn’t absolutely respect and admire Midnight like she did Frédéric, she at least acknowledged that he put some thought into it. “Thank you,” she finally hummed, qualms put to rest, “for doing this.”

“Sure,” Midnight huffed. His face burned in mortification as he then muttered, “Why wouldn't I?”

Octavia’s head tilted. She thought she heard something… positive out of her little servant. Almost cute. “My apologies… what was that?” It was her turn to smile stupidly at the other’s humiliation.

“Nothing.” The blush on Midnight’s cheeks only intensified. “Forget about it.”

“No, no! I heard something!” Octavia’s cheeky grin worsened the blush. Midnight shook his head with great vigor to stop himself from staring at her lips any further. “Come on, darling, what did you say?”

“Nothing! Just please stop!” “Darling” had pushed it. Hard. His heart was gaining speed in his chest. His lungs seemed to fail at seizing the air they needed at that time.

“Oh, your cheeks are a most becoming shade of red!” She tittered on as she pinched it mockingly. Midnight’s eyes contracted to finite points. He was having another panic attack because of her teasing. 

“Tavi, can you cut that shit out?” Vinyl sighed. 

“Oh, come now, Vinyl!” Octavia giggled at her camaraderie. “Surely Oil here can handle a... bit of… teasing?” Her sentence failed her as she witnessed the Sarosian crumple beneath his quaking legs, gasping for air like a fish out of water, clutching his chest like he was having a heart attack. “Oh, Celestia. Vinyl, what’s happening?!”

“Panic attack!” screamed Vinyl, jumping out of her position on the couch and getting a bottle of water from the fridge. “Catch!” She chucked it at Octavia fervently, who caught it and proceeded to open it, as the servant at her hooves was still suffocating on nothing.

“Shit!” she swore as the bottle slipped from her hand, the liquid splashing on the carpet and being sucked in. She quickly snatched the container up on her way to kneel down. She gingerly tilted Midnight’s chin up, and poured what remained of the elixir into his mouth. She watched as he greedily consumed the drink, and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Th...Thank you,” he gasped, letting his heart return to normal, the heavy breathing being the only sound in the room. 

“Are you alright?!” Vinyl asked, chest rising and falling heavily out of sheer terror.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Midnight answered, getting shakily onto his hooves. “You should have stopped, damn you,” he then huffed.

Octavia stayed knelt on the floor. She felt… bad… about bantering him. Not like her, as chucking insults between him and her became a daily routine. Her chest felt discomforted. “My sincerest apologies,” she said softly. Not sarcastically. Not abruptly. But with shame. “I didn't expect that to happen. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Midnight, leaning against their couch for support, offered a hand to Octavia. She slowly accepted it, rising to her hooves again.

“You don’t have to attend the dinner plans with Frédéric if you don't want to,” she hummed woefully, her hands intertwined as she nervously shuffled her hooves and rocked in place. “I can call him and tell him that you’re ill and in need of rest.” She looked down at the ground shamefully.

Midnight blinked. This was it. He could go to dinner and possibly get pulverized by Frédéric, and scoot up to a better light in Octavia’s eyes, or decline the dinner and leave her downhearted. “That’s okay. I’ll still go.”

Octavia’s amethyst eyes widened at his words. She felt a smile creep upon her lips. “Really? Y-you’ll still be willing to go? After that mess I just got you in?” Her ulterior motive to get Midnight to… prescribe her to Frédéric seemed a bit tenuous to Midnight persevering through her cruelty to still go.

“Yeah. I mean, I've got nothing to do this week. Why not?” Midnight shrugged. He knew it was a double-edged sword, in one form or another. Sure, he was pleasing the one he loved, but at the same time, Frédéric was not incapable of brutally hurting him. “Wait, doesn't he think I’m retarded?” Midnight had to abruptly say.

“I don’t think that’s an issue anymore.” Vinyl sat back down on the couch. “Tavi said she texted Frédéric and told him the truth. He was kinda upset that she lied to him, but it could be worse.”

“Could be worse… like what I’m gonna have to do tonight.”

Vinyl chuckled. “Yyyep. Sorry, toots.”

“Well, I’m gonna go get ready for it. Where and when am I supposed to meet him?”

“Eight o’clock at the town square,” Octavia answered. “Have fun. Don’t die.”

“Easier said than done,” Midnight huffed as he readied himself to leave. “I just want to say that you owe me, ya know.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. I’ll pay you back one day.”

“You’ll do anything I ask?”

“Anything that’s not sexual and debaucherous,” she answered flatly.

Midnight winced, then looked to his groin. “Ooh, sorry, balls. Guess you gotta stay blue for a little longer.” Vinyl chortled.

“And Midnight?” He turned to see Octavia smile at him, soft purple eyes gazing sympathetically at him. “Thank you.”

Midnight grinned back before exiting the room. “Glad I could help.” His grin melted as he closed the door. "This is gonna suck."


~


8:00 PM. Town Square.

Midnight tapped his hoof patiently on the oaken bench in town square, laying on top of it, waiting to encounter Frédéric there, and hopefully not get mutilated by him. The cloak of evening casted low visibility on him and his dark dress clothes, his neon green eyes cutting through the dark. He had another light in his mouth, swallowing the nicotine away, the orange blaze at the tip glowing in the umbral curtain of dusk.

“Ah, you’re finally here,” an all-too familiar voice spoke. Midnight craned his head to see Frédéric walk toward him. “Let’s go.” 

‘Oh, Frédéric, my darling, where could we possibly be going?’ Midnight mused mockingly. They continued walking in cold, unnecessary silence. ‘Okay, am I gonna get jumped yet? Seriously, I just want to get “dinner” over with.’ 

“Damn. I forgot my wallet,” grumbled Frédéric, searching his back pocket in agitation. 

“I can cover us,” said Midnight. Frédéric already knew about the secret stupidity: no point in playing dumb any longer.

“...Good.” Frédéric nodded as the two approached to the gates of…

Pony Joe’s doughnut shop.

‘...What an anticlimax we have here, eh?’ Midnight thought as he took one of the longest draws from his cigarette. Frédéric raised a brow at the sight of the Sarosian’s lungs hungrily absorbing the smoke and tar before the latter flicked it onto a gravel ashtray in front of the shop.

“What sort of lungs do you have?” He said in concern.

“Ones that have grown accustomed to mountain air.” The two entered the bakery and strode to the counter. The shop was near-vacant. Only a few ponies, not including the employees, occupied the booths, guzzling their sixteen ounces of caffeine, munching on doughnuts, and immersing themselves in conversations. “Want to pick a table? I’ll order.”

“Yeah, sure.” Frédéric picked a booth in the back of the shop, discreet and out of earshot. Midnight, already suspicious of the situation at hand, ordered some of the better stuff on the menu. Knowing somepony like Frédéric, he might not be interested in the cheap shit Midnight would eat.

Moreover, of all places, why a doughnut shop? Normally, dinner consisted of someplace nice. Like Apple Garden, or a pizzeria, or even take out at Burger Queen. Doughnuts were more… comfort food, like muffins, when you felt like utter garbage and have to eat to deal with your problems.

The groggy cashier later handed Midnight a bag of their more expensive doughnuts and a handled cup holder loaded with two tall Styrofoam cups of liquid caffeine. He walked to the table occupied by Frédéric and took a seat across from him.

“So.” One of them blurted, tearing the bag of doughnuts by its creases and making a makeshift plate for them.

“Yeah.” The other murmured, plucking his coffee from the cup holder and testing it with a sip.

The silence grew more awkward and tensed as they gnawed away at their food and drink. It felt like an intense staring competition, where one must wait for the other to buckle and speak up. 

The other, growing bored of the monotony, was Midnight. “So, you’re not as terrifying as you were the first time I met you.”

“Ah, yes, that.” Frédéric sighed in slight dismay. “Seems to me you’re not as stupid as you were when I first met you.”

“Oh boy, I see you’ve got the jokes,” mumbled Midnight through a mouthful of doughnut.

“Haha, yes, I’m hilarious. But I actually have something I ought to disclose with you.”

“Well, shoot. I’m all ears at this point.” Midnight thought the next words out of Frédéric’s mouth would be quite interesting.

“Okay… I’m sorry for my heinousness.”

Midnight blinked in astonishment. “Come again?”

“Don’t make me say it again. Listen, I never wanted to be harsh or rude, but… when Octavia was around, I felt like if I was cruel to you as she was, then maybe I’d–”

“Oh, no, don’t tell me you're liking her, too,” interjected the exacerbated Sarosian.

“Can I finish, please?” Frédéric sighed as he sipped his coffee again, before almost spitting it out at what he had heard. “Wait… ‘too’?”

“Yes, sadly.” Midnight blew air through his lips after he swallowed the remainder of the first doughnut. “I’m hardcore crushing on her at the moment.”

“My condolences go to you.” Frédéric shook his head.

“None needed. I feel like shit about it as is.” Midnight took a swig from his coffee, the caffeine slipping into his veins and ever-so-slowly eradicating his sense of sleep. Frédéric suppressed a snort of laughter. “I mean, if it wasn’t with somepony who initially hated my guts, I’d be a bit happier.”

“Speaking of which, and thus getting back to my story, I’ve only been harsh on you because I thought it would catch Octavia’s eye, and perhaps… maybe like me more.”

“No need trying, pal. She already wants you.” Frédéric, mouth full of doughnut, tilted his head in curiosity at Midnight’s words.

“What? Really, now?” he asked once he swallowed.

“Yep. She wants the D. The Fréd-D.” Midnight smirked self-satisfactorily at his joke.

“Oh, I see. Making puns about my name. Very clever… er, Midnight, was it?” The nod confirmed Frédéric’s question. “But all terrible jokes aside–”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“–does Octavia really like me that much?”

Midnight shook his head and chuckled through a second doughnut. Now the conversation has evolved into pure “old-ponies’ dinner”. A lovely little summarized term for guzzling coffee at night and talking to one another about their feelings. “Not sure how you’re oblivious to it, my man.” He started ticking off fingers for each of the following details: “She gives you the doe-eyes, her voice elevates a few pitches, she shuffles her hooves in place, she plays with her fingers—she’s like a high-school filly asking out her crush to prom.”

“I didn’t notice some of those features.” Frédéric’s eyes widen, and he slowly grew a cocky grin on his face. “So you do love her.”

“Wipe that damn smirk off your face,” Midnight warned as he drank more coffee to keep from smacking him.

“I’m just saying, you are nuts for her.” Frédéric sighed, leaning back in his seat and humming, “Ah, love. Absolutely unpredictable. Where opposites attract… and drive each other batshit insane.”

“And can be used as an excuse to cover up the fact that you want to boink someone.” Midnight slurped at more coffee, now almost done with it. Frédéric snorted again. 

“Why, is that the case with you?”

Midnight paused for a moment. “Yes and no. She’s attractive, definitely, but the action in my pants does not do these feelings of mine any justice.”

“Too much information,” said Frédéric flatly. “But I see what you’re trying to get at. So you’re saying there’s a sort of… charm to her, not just her appearance, that validates what you’re feeling towards her.”

“Bingo.” Killing the cup of coffee, Midnight used his magic to levitate it to the nearest trashcan, dropping it in with a rustle and a satisfying plunk. He then sighed and grunted, “Gah, it’s like a shitty school romance manga already.”

“...Manga?” 

“Ah. Right. You’re not immersed in geek culture. Uh, comic book.”

“Oh. Got it.”

"It's funny how the whole thing revolves around her. If this is some sort of shitty fanfiction written by a sex-starved loser, I'm seriously going to hurt somepony."

"Calm down. That's breaking the barriers of the physically impossible."

Pause. Midnight raised a brow and said, “Moving on. Even though she’s in love with you, she hasn't really seen this side of you before. The side that’s actually not a douche.” Frédéric gulped slightly. “She’d be upset if you told her the truth, eh?”

“Yes, she would be. It’ll be hard to break it to her. I was hoping that–”

“Nope.” Frédéric was taken aback by Midnight’s abrupt answer.

“Huh? Why not?”

“One, I’m not a scapegoat for your romanticism. Two, this is your mess. You can’t expect miracles to happen. You got to make them happen.”

Frédéric looked downtrodden for a second or two, yet he sighed and said, “You serve a point, Midnight.”

“Damn straight. But still, why are you so keen on dating her?”

“Hmm… I guess for some of the reasons you have. She’s highly attractive, she’s polite and considerate, she’s… beautiful, in body and soul.”

“Er, I’m not so sure about that last part. At least, from my perspective.”

Frédéric chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, ye of little faith. Perspective is rather like an eighteen-sided die. One day, she’ll appeal to you in an even better manner than she does right now.”

...Hopefully, yes.” Midnight then blinked and said, “Hold on, why are we gushing about this?”

“Well, it’s a good way to kick off an acquaintanceship, is it not?” Frédéric smiled politely and held out his hand. Midnight gingerly approached it with his own.

“I’m not gonna get jumped the second I grab it, right?” He asked.

“Rest assured. Nothing bad will happen,” Frédéric said calmly. Midnight finally took his hand and shook it. So the two of them relaxed at the shop. Talking, discussing politics, music, the economy, anything worth their time, until Pony Joe himself told them that the shop was closing. It was well around 1 AM at that point.

“I guess I’ll bid you adieu, Midnight,” Frédéric yawned, scratching at his chest.

“Yeah, same, Frédéric. Catch you around later.” Midnight, despite the coffee sitting pretty in his stomach, was slowly growing tired. He would teleport home, but with his drowsiness, he might just misfire and end up falling off the mountain Canterlot sat upon. Walking there would be a good idea, but he felt as though the walk itself would be long.

Octavia and Vinyl’s house were close by. The former did say she’d pay him back. And taking a nap at their house wasn’t at all a bad form of repayment.

“Who needs pajamas, anyways….”




~End of Chapter XIII~