Frederic Horseshoepin was not a heavy drinker. This in and of itself was not an entirely auspicious achievement in and of itself; there were ponies all across Equestria who preferred not to partake in any alcohol.
Very few of these ponies, however, had met Harpo Parish Nadermane. Even fewer could count Harpo as one of their friends. Harpo himself often preferred the company of a bottle of whiskey to any teetotaler, claiming that he had never heard a drip of dull conversation come from even the driest wine.
For all intents and purposes, Harpo Parish Nadermane ran on alcohol and, by extension, the vast collection of drunken stories that he had accumulated over his years of intoxication, many of which Frederic Horseshoepin had played a leading role in.
Given all this, it is rather incredible that Frederic had never allowed himself more than a light buzz before switching to water or, if he was feeling particularly adventurous, a soft drink. Given the choice, Frederic Horseshoepin would avoid bars and taverns altogether, politely excusing himself nearly every time one of his coworkers invited him out.
After practice, Frederic quietly walked out to The Alley, a rather inconspicuous hole-in-the-wall of a tavern.
The Alley was a tiny place, a single counter manned by a single bartender standing a few meters away from a small cluster of tables. The tavern could hold perhaps 20 ponies at once, but there were only three ponies at that time: Frederic, the bartender, and a colt in the corner who was currently reading through a newspaper.
Frederic Horseshoepin approached the bar, rather grateful for the privacy, and ordered a drink whose name he only vaguely remembered. Despite this, the bartender was able to quickly mix something resembling what Frederic remembered, and the pianist retreated to a more isolated table.
He took a sip of his drink, pulling a face as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. It left an unpleasant aftertaste, somewhere between metal and burnt lemon. Frederic pushed the glass a bit further away, the burnt lemon still very much on his tongue, and reached into his saddlebags, coming away with a small stack of sheet music. He sighed, brushing a few pieces of lint from the slightly crumpled pages.
This, thought Frederic as he flipped through the music, is far more trouble than it’s worth.
There was a particularly tricky part within the duet, a sudden flurry of notes coupled with a key change that always disoriented Frederic. Not to mention the fact that he had yet to practice with the duet’s other half.
Who was currently in hospital.
Frederic frowned, steeling himself before taking another quaff of his nameless drink. It burned worse than before, bringing tears to Frederic’s eyes before settling in his stomach like a stone. He turned back towards his music.
By all regards, Frederic should have had enough time to practice the piece, even given Vinyl’s… current situation. Coda, however, did not believe in playing “music that could not be played properly.” This was a duet and, by definition, was not meant to be played by a single pony. So Frederic was not allowed to play it. The most he could do, it seemed, was sit at a table, his eyes scanning the notes and his hooves tapping the wood, and imagine that he was playing, taking the occasional sip whenever his mind began to wander.
The tactic worked rather well, the burning negative reinforcement keeping Frederic on task. Before long, however, he had finished his drink, leaving Frederic with no choice but to order another. This glass mysteriously drained itself a fair bit quicker than the first and, once again, Frederic was forced to drag himself to the bar and ask for another.
The ground was a bit shaky on the way back to his seat, but Frederic managed to get back with only a few stumbles. The music notes, however, were now waving back and forth and causing a rather unpleasant sensation in Frederic’s stomach.
“I’d forgotten what a lightweight you are.”
Frederic jumped at the voice, his hoof brushing dangerously against his glass, nearly knocking it over.
Harpo reached across the table, steadying the glass before holding it up to the light. He took a sip, shuddering slightly at the taste. “Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. Not very well mixed, but better than what Vinyl can make.”
“Harpo,” began Frederic, “what are—why are you here?”
“I came to see you.”
Frederic stared at the other colt.
Harpo didn’t quite meet the stare, opting instead to twirl the drink in his hoof. “Soooo, yeah. Here I am.”
Frederic stayed silent.
“In The Alley.”
No response.
“Trying to talk to you.” A pause. “Though it’s, uh, not very easy.”
Frederic frowned. “That’s my drink.”
Harpo looked at the glass in his hoof. “You’ve already drank two of them.”
“And I’d like to have another.”
Harpo frowned slightly, looking between the drink and Frederic. Ultimately, however, Harpo placed the glass back on the table, pushing it slightly towards the other colt.
Frederic took the glass, ignoring his disdain for the drink.
The two were silent for a time.
“Are you actually going to drink that, or just stare at it?” asked Harpo
“Stare.”
“Ah.”
Another bout of silence.
“You… weren’t at practice today,” said Frederic.
“Nope. Hospital.”
“Ah.”
Silence.
Harpo let out a sigh. “I’m terrible at this. This isn’t the type of role I’m supposed to play, it’s simply not in my character. I should at least be drinking something.” He got out of his seat. “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”
Frederic watched him go. Harpo got about halfway to the bar before turning around and retaking his seat.
“I didn’t bring my bitbag,” the composer admitted.
“Ah.” A pause. “Why are you here again?”
“Evidently, not to drink.” Harpo cast a longing glance towards the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.
Frederic sighed, nudging the drink towards Harpo. “I’m not going to finish it. You’ve ‘killed my buzz’, as they say.”
“Hate when that happens.” Harpo reached over, bringing the glass over to his side of the table. He took a careful sip. “Mmmm, revolting.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”
“Unfortunately,” admitted Harpo with a sigh. “Have you?”
Frederic looked down, suddenly very interested in the table.
“Mahogany?” asked Harpo.
“Pine, I think.”
Harpo smiled at that. “It all looks the same to me.”
“I tried to show you the difference. It never quite took, did it?”
“Not even a little.” Harpo drew his drink to his lips, but stopped it midway. “Frederic, I really do have to talk to you.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“You know what I mean.”
Frederic sighed, looking up from the table. “I’m ready to put the past behind us, Harpo.”
“All of it?” asked Harpo, staring hard into Frederic’s eyes.
A pause. Frederic shook his head. “No. Most of it, but not everything.”
Harpo sighed, taking a sip from his drink. “It’s a start, I suppose.”
***
Vinyl sat in her hospital room. Sunlight and hoofsteps streamed in through the open window, combining with the steady beep from her heart rate monitor.
The previous night was coming back in bits and pieces. Yelling at Harpo. Sending him and Lyra away. Listening to Octavia. Relief. A sickening sense of vertigo. She must have fallen. Whatever the case, it probably wasn’t a big deal; nothing really hurt.
Vinyl looked around the room. There wasn’t much to it. The heart rate monitor, a small table topped with a small plant, a curtain cutting the room into approximate halves. The quintessential hospital room.
“Vinyl? Are you awake now?”
The voice came without warning, melting from what Vinyl could have sworn was empty space. It was, however, now occupied by a cerulean mare.
High Scratch’s eyes flickered up towards Vinyl, scowling briefly before she turned her attention to some dirt on her hooves. “Honestly,” she chastised, still cleaning her hoof, “it’s just like you to keep me waiting.”
Vinyl seized up. “Mom.”
“I leave you alone for a few weeks and this is what happens to you.” Mrs. Scratch threw a disdainful glance around the hospital room. “I warned you that you’d end up hurt.”
“I—” Vinyl blinked, shaking her head slightly. “Hurt?”
“Of course, you stupid girl. You forgot your health, tried to do things that you were never capable of doing.”
Vinyl felt a throb of pain in the back of her head. She stretched a hoof towards the back of her mane. It came away bloody.
High Scratch tutted lightly, inspecting Vinyl’s hoof. “That’s what your new life has gotten you. A bang on the head and a mare that doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Vinyl winced. The pain was getting worse. “Tavi is… Tavi just—”
“Octavia,” said High Scratch slowly, “is far more comfortable with her past than her present. She’ll go to Harpo before asking you for anything. He’s more important to her.”
“Who let you in here?”
“You’re the opposite, Vinyl. You don’t want anything to do with your past, you want to forget everything about it. After everything your father and I tried to do for you.”
“Ya didn’t do shit for me!” Vinyl swatted a hoof through the air, but it felt sluggish, as if it were passing through water. The throbbing in her head continued incessantly, growing faster and more painful with each passing moment.
“We did everything for you.” High Scratch nearly growled the words. “We gave you tutors, instruments, we had ponies watch over your health, things that we could hardly even afford! And you ran away like an ungrateful bitch.”
“Get outta here!”
“I cared about you more than any other pony in your life!”
“GO AWAY!” The throbbing reached its apex, the pain forcing Vinyl to shut her eyes. Everything went black, but the pain remained, a constant pressure in the back of her head. Another noise joined the throbbing, a high-pitched beep that resonated with every throb of pain.
“Vinyl?” asked a soft voice. “Vinyl, are you awake?”
Vinyl gritted her teeth. She’s still here. “Go away,” she mumbled.
The voice grew slightly louder, a note of brightness in it now. “Vinyl, can you hear me?”
Vinyl felt a hoof brush against her leg. She recoiled from the touch, her eyes cracking open.
This hospital room was much the same, holding all the things that one could expect to find in a patient’s room. The mare by the bedside, however, was not blue.
“Tavi,” said Vinyl quietly.
Octavia flung herself forward, wrapping Vinyl in a tight embrace. “Vinyl!” said Octavia shakily. “I-I was so scared. I thought—” Her voice broke off.
Vinyl stiffened slightly at the touch. It was a few moment before she was able to move, placing an awkward hoof on Octavia’s mane. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m up now.”
Octavia didn’t respond. She simply held Vinyl, a few shaking sobs breaking the silence that fell between them. Vinyl ran a hoof through Octavia’s mane. They stayed that way for a few minutes. Eventually, however, Octavia forced herself to let go and Vinyl was able to get a good look at her marefriend.
The cellist’s mane was in tangles, her bowtie askew. Her eyes, tinged red with tears, had the beginnings of bags. Octavia wiped away her tears, the motion somehow childlike in its sincerity.
Vinyl let out a laugh, a single solitary giggle that grew in intensity as time passed.
“Vinyl?” asked Octavia hesitantly.
“Have you looked in the mirror yet, Tavi? You’re a mess!” Vinyl kept laughing, growing short of breath, the muscles in her stomach cramping slightly from her mirth.
Octavia had grown slightly pink. “Well, excuse me for caring.”
Vinyl winced, the throbbing pain in the back of her head returning. “Ow. Shit.”
The cellist was by her side in a flash. “Are you okay? Is it your head? Should I get the doctor? You should lay down.” Octavia pushed gently at Vinyl, forcing the DJ to lie on the bed.
Vinyl saw her chance and took it, planting a quick kiss on Octavia’s lips. “Thanks, Tavi.”
The pink in Octavia’s cheeks burned brighter for a moment. She glanced around the hospital room and, finding that they were alone, leaned down and kissed Vinyl, this one lingering for a few moments longer.
“Never scare me like that again,” said Octavia once they’d broken away.
“No promises, especially if you’ll kiss me every time I wake up.” Vinyl batted her eyelashes, though it must have looked more like she had something in her eye. “Makes me feel like a princess.”
Octavia shook her head. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m not an ass, I’m a pony.”
The cellist smiled lightly, climbing to her hooves. “I’m going to find Harpo and Fleur; they’ll want to know that you’re awake.”
Vinyl nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
Octavia made for the doorway.
“Oh, and Tavi?” asked Vinyl. “Can you find me a toothbrush? I’ve been asleep for a while. Seriously, I have no idea how you put up with those kisses.”