True Love Waits

The original plan was that Tavi would be going with me to Manehattan, first because it was my birthday and second because that’s where I was heading anyways. I can’t believe I’m still here, actually. It was supposed to be one of those four-day deals with me showing up on Friday and leaving on Monday after my last gig, but as it turns out... I’m still here. Thanks to popular demand, and because admittedly I needed a few extra bits, I’ll also be performing as a DJ on the following Thursday and Friday—and since I can’t be bothered to return to Ponyville for a few days, only to return to Manehattan for another weekend, I’m staying in this lousy city. And to make things even worse, Tavi’s doing shows in her native Trottingham, so even if I came home right now I wouldn’t be able to see her.

So how did my birthday go? Well, last night was bogus. I had to buy my own cake, for one thing. That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it? Buying your own birthday cake. Some of it’s still in the fridge. I guess I have nopony to blame but myself, though. But yeah, I had to do that, and then there was the gig I had to do at Rarity For You, or to be more accurate the second floor where the club is at. Hey, I’ll be honest, it’s a nice hangout; I can’t say I mind going there in and of itself, but you know... she’s not here with me.

At least I had a good track list going that night, when I had to provide music for a bunch of ponies as they danced and did the things they did. Ponies who were a few years younger than me. Twenty-five may not sound too old, but for somepony in my business it’s the point at which you gotta consider some things in your life—and I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. To think, a quarter of a century! Sure, I suppose I felt old compared to the younger folks on the dance floor; some of them weren’t even old enough to be allowed in without forged identification, I bet. Reminds me of this one chick who interrupted me during my gig that night.

Let me tell you all about it.

This filly’s name is Pacific Glow, and she had this weird hairdo that made her mane seem really long. Like longer than her whole body—but that’s probably just a trick of the eye. Well, anyway, she came up to me at my station and I could tell immediately she wanted to ask a favor or something. I could read her lips.

“Um, hey, would you mind maybe playing this one song as the next track?” And she told me the song title, can’t remember what it was now. I put a hoof to my chin and looked at her a long time, trying to ask her silently if she could please not ask something of me out of the blue. Apparently she got the hint and said: “Sorry! Didn’t mean to—” Couldn’t read her lips past that point, but anyway she went back to her friends, who frequent this club. I recognized all three of them, but aside from Pacific I couldn’t get their names. Does that really matter, though? All these clubbers did the same thing, ultimately, and I’m happy to entertain them for a few hours.

I’m just glad I’m not one of them; this is gonna sound weird, but I’m not a big fan of dancing. Or mingling with others in a dark, sweaty, kinda smelly place like a dance floor. I’d much prefer to be the DJ, keeping myself at a safe distance. The music itself is what I’m really there for—and so is everypony else, I think. They like how it feels.

So do I.

But then something else happened. After my gig, Pacific came up to me again, this time accompanied by those friends of hers. They always traveled as a threesome, which still strikes me as kind of odd. Are they together? Like, in that way? I wouldn’t be too surprised, really; I’m just old enough to see what ponies a generation below me are doing, and group relationships seem to be on the rise these days. Call me traditional, but I prefer to keep it with one partner at a time. And I know exactly who I’d wanna be with, too. It doesn’t feel good, though, that kind of certainty; I know what I want, but I also know I can only have it on occasion.

Love hurts, kids.

But yeah, Pacific asked me after the show. “Hey, you did pretty good up there. I was wondering—I mean, we were wondering—if maybe you’d like to go get some ice cream with us?” She was being pretty nice about it.

The one friend, the one with the cap and jacket, added: “It’ll be our treat!” I gazed at their mouths as each of them took turns talking to me, and at first I wasn’t sure what to say. I mean, I kinda knew these fillies, but not really. You could call them fans, but I don’t think I have those; they just appreciated my work and would like to thank me in their own way. These fillies made me feel old.

I tried as hard as I could to explain that I would be busy for the night, that it was my birthday and that I was planning to pig out on some cake. Maybe gain a pound or two, have it go straight to my flanks. I must not’ve gotten my message across enough, because Pacific and her friends all gave these weird looks. Did they not know what to say either?

“Well,” Pacific said, her face reading of slight pain, “in case you change your mind, you know you can find us at the club on weekends. We’d like to have you around sometime.” She was too nice. I wish I could hang out with her. I understand that it’s also hard to get a read on my face, what with the shades being in the way, but I feel really uncomfortable without them when I’m around other ponies.

Except for Tavi, of course. I admit, I already started to feel like a foal who got lost in a mall without her. Why did we have to be so far away from each other? But hey, I wasn’t mean at least. I smiled and waved at them, and Pacific and her friends left down the street; my hotel room was the opposite way of where they were heading. I think, as they left, they were saying things to each other about me—but I couldn’t read what they were saying from where I was.

I hope they don’t think any less of me for not going with them. I still have a chance to hang out with Pacific and her friends before I leave for Ponyville. A good excuse to interact with somepony outside of my job.

Ugh, I hate my room. But it was the best I could afford on short notice, and anyway I’ve been to this hotel before when I had to make trips to the city. I swear there’s a rat living in the bathroom, but I don’t wanna confirm my suspicion. At least I get a small fridge, something big enough to fit the box I bought my cake in. Jeez, buying my own birthday cake...

But hey, the room comes with a television set as well, and I can watch whatever’s on while drowning my anxieties with cake frosting. So that’s what I did; I sat in front of my TV, at the foot of my bed, taking pieces out of a slice of chocolate and vanilla cake. It’s easy to multi-task when you’re a unicorn, so I just used my magic to feed myself, fork surrounded by my aura, as I gazed into the screen. I had the television set muted because what difference did it make, and also the fact that these walls are thin and I didn’t wanna disturb whatever neighbors might be next door.

The cake tasted kinda bitter. I can’t tell if that’s just me, or maybe it would taste like it’s supposed to when I try eating the rest of it tonight. I don’t even know how I can do that; I’m not sure where all those calories go.

It’s a shame that Tavi couldn’t be here to finish it with me. She has a soft spot for sweets—but don’t tell that to anypony. Then she would eat and talk, and I would watch her lips move and smile because she’d be with me. She’d also be here to make the bed not feel so dreadfully vacant; once you start sharing a bed with somepony, it’s hard to go back to spending nights by yourself. It’s like something you get addicted to, and when you have to be separated from that certain somepony it feels like you’re going through withdrawal.

Last night wasn’t any different. I was one year older and felt like garbage; I know I should’ve gone with Pacific Glow, but for some reason I felt compelled to refuse her offer. I don’t know why, but I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. I didn’t wanna take off my shades in front of her, even though I know she’s a nice girl for somepony her age, and I guess I felt a little anxious about the whole thing. What can I say? Ponies make my nerves act up, and it already takes a lot of effort to play cool when you’re a DJ.

So when it came time to go to sleep—I think this was at four in the morning or something—I got into bed by my lonesome and felt the strong urge to hug somepony. My bed came with two pillows, and I used the spare one to help me sleep. As I lay on my side, I wrapped my legs around the spare pillow and held it close to my body.

I pretended it was my Tavi...

Author's Note:

I’ve been wanting to write something shorter than 2,000 words for a while now, and I wanted this sort of thing to be brief and to the point. I hope this story achieves that simple goal.

925 views