//------------------------------//
// Don't Stay Up All Night 
// Story: Sweet Nothings 
// by Golden Tassel 
//------------------------------//

Not long after Starry went back to sleep, I left her room to go downstairs.

It was well past midnight at that point, but the lights were still on, and I heard movement. As I came out the door at the bottom of the stairs, I was struck by the smell of beer mixed with sweat. There were a couple of ponies I hadn't seen before passed out in booths along the wall, and Chrys, looking tired, but still smiling, was going around, collecting bottles and glasses in her aura while simultaneously wiping down the tabletops.

Chrys looked up to see me. Her eyes lit up briefly, but then her smile faded and she lowered her gaze back to the table she was cleaning.

"Everything alr—I mean . . . how's Starry?" she asked.

"She woke up this morning. She was in bad shape for a while, but I think the worst is over," I answered as I took a seat at the counter. "What happened here?"

"Townsfolk came back from their salvage run," Chrys said as she moved behind the counter and sorted her collected trash. "Was a big party to celebrate. Next time a trader comes through, we'll be able to stock up on enough food and water for a month, or at least as much as he's carrying." She dropped her rag into a bucket of dirty water and turned around to face me.

I looked down at my forehooves resting on the counter. "Is that a lot?"

"Yeah. This was a good haul. Sometimes this place is empty for weeks at a time when they don't bring back enough trading stock in a single run."

"That's good," I said.

"Yeah."

We were both silent for a while before Chrys asked, "How about you? Are you . . . how are you doing?"

I sighed and shook my head slowly. "I don't know. I just feel . . . tired."

"I can give you a place to sleep," Chrys offered.

"I don't want to sleep. I just . . . I need something to do."

There was a pause. "Are you trying to suggest something?"

I glanced up at her. "Huh?"

For the first time, Chrys was the one blushing instead of me. "N—nothing." She cleared her throat. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Again, I sighed and looked back down at my hooves. "I don't know."

Things were silent again until Chrys set a bottle of water down on the counter and slid it across to me. I looked up at her; she was smiling, but only a little. "On the house," she said softly.

I took the bottle and had a couple sips from it.

"Day, I'm . . . I know you don't want to hear me say I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to say. If there were some way I could make up for everything, I'd do it, but I don't think there is such a thing. I don't want to hurt you, but please, I need to explain what I did—I think I know why it hurt you so much."

I grimaced and started to turn away.

"Wait. Please. I promise I won't say anything about . . . about that. Just, please, hear me out."

Hesitantly, I turned back, though I kept my eyes on the counter and idly rolled the bottle back and forth between my hooves.

"I made a mistake about you and Starry," Chrys said. "About setting you two up together, I mean. I'm right that you two belong together, but I was wrong about how. I thought you two should be lovers, but after what happened in the forest, I see now: the love between you two is the kind between a mother and son."

I blinked and looked up at her. I was sure I had heard her correctly, but it didn't make sense.

"Whatever you saw in the feeding dream, I'm so sorry. It's not supposed to hurt like that. It's just that, I . . ." Her ears folded back and again she blushed. "That was my first time doing it. I don't know how to control the dream, and I had the wrong idea about how to inspire it, I . . ." She stopped and took a deep breath. Her eyes looked into mine, and I felt her hoof rest on top of mine. "I only wanted to make you feel loved."

Chrys leaned forward over the counter, and she kissed me. And I didn't pull away. At least, not right away. Her lips were warm and soft, and I felt her hoof lightly rubbing mine. It all just felt so nice. But then fear crept into my mind and I leaned back. I stared at her. Her eyes sank, and she drew her hoof back. "You're afraid of me," she said. "I . . . I don't blame you. I'm a monster."

"Wait," I said as I reached out to put my hoof on hers. "You're not a monster. It's not you I'm afraid of. It's me. I'm scared that . . ." I glanced back over my shoulder at the ponies sleeping at their tables. "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

Chrys motioned for me to come behind the counter with her, and she lead me through the door at the back. The room beyond was a stockroom, with various supplies organized onto shelves, but was also apparently where Chrys slept. She had a bed in the far corner, and a small vanity table next to it with a cracked mirror and several small boxes carefully arranged around it.

I sat down on the bed beside Chrys and looked across into the mirror, at our reflections; the single, long crack that ran jaggedly down its length divided us from each other.

"What you said, I . . ." I sighed. "Starry said that the amphetamines made her feel invincible. But they didn't actually make her invincible. And that feeling nearly killed her. You said you wanted me to feel loved, but is that all? Only a feeling? When you fed off me, I felt loved, but I knew it wasn't real. That's what hurt so much. I just . . . I don't want to see some illusion. When you kissed me just now, I felt like . . ."—I bit my lip—"like it was you, really you."

I gazed at her through her reflection in the mirror. "And I liked that. But I pulled away because—because I don't know . . . I was afraid that I might try to use you just to make myself feel better."

Chrys gently leaned her shoulder against mine. "What if I said I'm okay with that?"

"I'm not," I answered. "I don't want to get back at you. I don't want to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. I want . . . I don't know what I want."

"Do you want to kiss me again?"

I looked at her directly, into her bright eyes, and I felt a smile cross my face. "I think so . . ."

"You think so?" Chrys giggled.

My ears burned as I blushed and stammered, "I—I mean, I guess—I—"

"Shh." She smiled at me as she put her hoof on my lips. "I'm only teasing, honey." She took her hoof away slowly. "If you wanna kiss me, then just kiss me. If it makes it easier for you: I'd like it if you did."

Somehow, my blush faded almost instantly. Chrys had a way about her—a shine in her eyes, a soft, inviting tone in her voice, even the slow and careful way that she moved. It took me a moment, but I worked up the courage to lean over, and I pressed my lips against hers. She pressed back, and we stayed like that for a while. Our lips parted, but only barely. I felt her breath against my lips as I gazed into her eyes.

Then she put her hoof on my chest and slowly slid it up to the collar of my uniform. "Is it alright if I take your uniform off?" she asked softly.

"W—why?" My first thought was to pull away from her, but something in the way her eyes held mine made me feel safe, or at least safe enough to wait for her answer.

"I want to look at your bruises," she said. "You keep them hidden from everypony else. I want to be somepony you can show them to."

I fidgeted. Her request made my heart beat a little faster, but I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, she was still sitting there with her hoof on the zipper of my uniform and her eyes looking up into mine, waiting for my consent.

I gave a slow nod, and she slid closer to me while she unzipped my uniform. She reached under it with both forehooves and carefully slipped it off over my shoulders and wings and let it fall. I sat there, shivering, though not from cold, while Chrys moved around to sit behind me on the bed. I felt her hoof brush ever so lightly against my shoulder, and then along the back of my neck. Slowly, my shivering subsided.

"Do they hurt?" Chrys asked.

"No . . . not really. They're all at least a week old," I told her. Then I felt her hoof run along my spine, and I gasped.

"Was that okay?" Her voice carried a slight chuckle with her question, as though she already knew my answer.

"Y—yeah . . . that felt . . . nice."

Her hooves began kneading up and down along my back. I started to feel weak, and she got me to lie down on my belly; then she continued her massage. She was slow, gentle, giving me a kiss on my neck, holding her hoof against mine, or even just backing off for a moment to let me breathe when I needed it.

We fell asleep together in each other's embrace. Her warmth and kindness were a comfort that I hadn't realized I had been missing.


***


It was late the next morning when Starry came downstairs. Her mane was braided, and she was wearing her uniform again. She found me assembling a radio out of spare parts. I was explaining to Chrys how each component worked as she watched me putting it together, and we were nearly finished when Starry sat down at the table with us.

"It was just something I thought I'd try doing to pass the time while you were still sleeping. I don't know if it'll pick up anything," I said as I explained what I was doing to Starry. "But if I can get this working, I can make a transmitter as well, and with two of them, we can stay in contact with the townsponies while they're out salvaging, maybe traders too."

Starry smiled at me. It was a strange sort of smile, as though she didn't really understand what I was doing and was only humoring me, but at the same time it gave me the feeling that she was proud of me for trying. I had never felt as if I had made anyone proud before.

"Well, is that it?" Chrys asked with a note of excitement in her voice.

"Just about," I said as I put the last few components in place and closed it up. With a little bit of trepidation, I flipped the switch.

A familiar voice came on through the radio. It was small, frightened, and lonely:

Day? It's Sweets. We need you. Something's happened. You're the only one who can save us. Please, Day, come back. The overseer agreed to pardon you. Hurry. We won't last long without you.

The air was silent for a moment before the message repeated—a recorded distress call on a loop.

Day? It's Sweets. We need you . . .

I couldn't take my eyes off the speaker, but I didn't need to look up to feel Starry and Chrys staring at me. I trembled.

"My little brother . . ."