> Life on Bridleway
>  by SparklingVynegar
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: Meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye--
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,
While new emotions, like strange barges, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course;
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn's swift force--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek--
The sudden silence and reserve when near--
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear--
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmèd heart leaps in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek--
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor;
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all fair things to one belovèd face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed in silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm;
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss--
Thus doth Love speak.



Love's Language by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Bridleway. The Big Time.

It was the dream of any actor to find their way onto this hallowed stage. Ponies lined up for months just to see the magnificent performances. Every play worth seeing was shown here, including the world famous Hinney of the Hills. From the idles of every little filly to the most graceful and wondrous singers and performers, you’d seen them all, met a fair amount, and, even became friends with some.

You can’t act for nothing, that’s for sure, but you thanked all the Alicorns that you had one talent that allowed you to work in such a wonderful environment: Music.

You work as the pianist of the Manehattan Bridleway Symphony Orchestra. It was the dream of a lifetime. Everyday was a new adventure, getting to do the one thing you love for audiences of thousands.

Oh, sure you aren’t the direct spotlight, but that didn’t matter. Your work is appreciated regardless, even if the actors were first priority, music was certainly important for a musical.

“Hey,” a refined, Canterlotian accent calls toward you. Looking over your shoulder you are greeted by a familiar face.

“Hello, Octavia,” you greet the grey mare approaching you. Octavia is the lead cellist of the orchestra, an even more impressive feat than your placement. After all, there was only one piano, “You did a wonderful job on your solo today, especially considering the, ahem, incident of last nights rehearsal.”

“Hmpf” Octavia harumphs in mock defense, “It’s not my fault that Vinyl decided to steal my sheet music for her ‘Synthetic Orchestra’ or whatever she calls that nonsense.”

“Yeah, she’s a real pain isn’t she? I wonder why you still live with her,”

“Ah…yes, well, I suppose it’s because she- um…well,” the cellist stammers a faint pink spreading over her cheeks.

You chuckle at her embarrassment. “Oh, right, how could I forget?”

“S-shut up! You know it’s not like that!” the mare said defiantly.

“Mmhm, yeah, sure, totally,” you answer with a smug grin.

Octavia sighs, “I’m never going to convince you against your little theory am I.”

You answer with a shake of your head.

“Then…you’re right…I, like her…”

Now you’re laughing full force, “No! I never would have guessed!”

Octavia’s cheeks once again flush, she looks down at her hoofs in hurt. Seeing this, you catch yourself, changing your gaze to one of regret as you place a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, sorry, I…got a bit carried away, I’m happy for you, Tavi!”

“…you know I hate that stupid name.” The mare smiles in spite of herself.

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it if you want to be with Vinyl,” you point out.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own predicament?”

You tilt your head in confusion, “And what might that be, exactly? I don’t happen to be involved with anypony at the moment, you know.”

“Exactly. Shouldn’t you be looking for a mare, or…”

“Mare,” you say before she can even finish that thought.

“Hey, it’s okay to be different~”

“Shut up, Octavia!” You had nothing against coltcuddlers, you just didn’t like being confused for one.

“Alright, alright. But still, I’ve never even seen you look at a mare that way. Isn’t there anypony you have your eye on?”

“Nope,”

“Really?” she raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yup,”

Octavia put a hoof to her chin in thought, “What about…Lyra?”

“Pfff, no,” you answer, “You know very well she can't stand to be in the same room with me for more than an hour.”

“For one who likes to play Princess Cadence so often, you really should start to think about your own affairs,”

“A: not how Princess Cadence works, B: You have no business telling me what to do with my time, and C…,” you drift off, your mind drawing a blank.

“And C:...?” Octavia asks, Confused.

“I don’t know,” you reply, “It just feels like there should be a third one.”

“Well, you have fun trying to think of that. In the meantime, Thread wanted me to hand the new costume designs over to the tailor, but I have…business to take care of, so I was wondering if you could do it instead.” She pulls a file of papers seemingly from nowhere and hoofs them over to you. Extending a wing you wrap the file against your side.

“Alright fine, but you owe me.”

“Sure, whatever. See you later!” she calls as she begins to trot toward the exit, cello on her back.

“Bye!” You call back, “And tell that business I said ‘hi’,”

Octavia stumbles a bit as she heard you figure her out, but none the less, she carries on.

“Ah, ponies in love…” a wistful sigh escapes you. You always were a romantic. Every time you read a novel, you made sure a love story was involved and always felt your heart warm in the tender scenes. Seeing something like that happen with real ponies was all the more rewarding.

Done with your little daydream, you walk toward the halls where the various stagehoofs were located. More work went into a Bridleway production than just actors, of course. From lighting, to writers, designers, tailors, and, ahem, musicians, each show required hundreds for it to run smoothly.

Rounding a corner, you come to a simple wooden door with a plain, black plastic label with bold white letters that reads:

C. POMMEL DESIGNER/TAILOR

Bringing a hoof up, you give the door three knocks, not too hard, but enough to be heard.

“Come in, please,” a quiet voice calls from inside.

You push the door open with your hoof. Inside are several pony-shaped mannequins of different sizes sporting different dress. Costumes for western sheriffs, businessponies, medieval royalty, you even see a superhero in the corner. About the walls are fabrics in shades of every sort. In one corner of the room is a small desk with a sewing machine atop it. Next to the machine was a spool of rainbow colored thread on a small pedestal, similar to how one would present a trophy.

“Um…h-hello?” the timid voice from before calls.

Dragging your attention away from the room, you look before you at the tailor. She is a very light tan color. Her light blue mane is worn in a short bob, with a flower hair clip in back. Around her neck rests a purple sailor collar with a red tie. Her blue eyes are staring directly into yours.

“O-oh, hello,” you finally get out, “You must be the tailor, yes?”

“Mmhm, my names Coco Pommel, nice to meet you,” she extends a hoof toward you, which you shake lightly as you introduce yourself.

“A friend of mine said you will be needing these for the next performance,” you say pulling the file Octavia gave you out from under your wing.

“Oh dear, the new designs are already in?” her eyes widen in shock, “I…I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them all done in time…I mean, I hope I can, at least I… oh my, I only have a week to prepare I- I-” before she freaks out, the mare takes a deep breath through her nose, “I need to get started right away. Thank you for coming by, and if you know anyone who could help with a tailoring job, that would be wonderful,”

You think for a second. Most of your friends were more involved in music than sewing, the few that weren’t all had their own small businesses that they needed to attended, storefront owners and the like. Of course you could always…nah. You haven’t messed with it in forever, not since you discovered your love of piano.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t think of anyone.”

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. I’ll still be able to get this done…I hope,” she sat herself down in front of the sewing machine and immediately began to stitch fabric together. You couldn’t stand it anymore. It just wasn’t like you to leave a mare in distress.

“Actually,” you speak up, her ear lifting up to listen to you better, her concentration on her work, “I…I think, I mean it has been a while, but…um, if you really need help, I…have some sewing experience.”

“Really?” she asked excitedly turning around, her beautiful blue eyes were wide open wearing a hopeful smile on her muzzle. Now how could you say no to that?

“Really.” You nod.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you,” she jumps and hugs you around your neck. The sudden physical contact a bit too much for you.

“M-M-Miss P-Pommel?” you stammer out, barely overcoming the shock.

Apparently she realized what she was doing, because she immediately shot back.

“Oh, my! I’m sorry, I was just so excited, I-” she cowered back slightly, a deep scarlet blush on her muzzle as she seemed to try and hide behind her blue mane, ineffective considering she wore it so short.

“No hard feelings,” you say, although you shiver slightly, still in shock. You take a few deep breaths in order to calm yourself down, your heart is racing just from the shock.

“So…shall we get started,” you offer.

“Oh, yes. Right away!” she cheers, recovering from her embarrassment.

This is going to be an interesting week.
> Chapter 2: The Start of a New Play
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nighttime. It’s such a strange time of day isn’t it? To some it is the stuff of nightmares, where shadows and fear dance just beyond your reach and just outside your field of vision. To others, it calms that which is troubling, letting ponies of all kinds simply wander in a cool solitude.

To you, night was just a time. Why confuse things with ridiculous metaphors, right?

Your trek home from the theater was definitely one to admire, though. To wander in comforting silence in the lamp-lit streets of Manehattan, the buildings towering overhead, as if they were trying to reach Luna’s moon. It really was quite nice. You shivered slightly as a cold breeze rushes over you. You raise a wing to shield you from the gust. No matter how beautiful the city got, it was still cold.

You stop your steady walk as you come up to your flat. The building may not be as tall as those surrounding it, but it's still enough to dwarf even Cerberus. You climb up the stairwell to your own door, and slip in the key you keep in your saddlebags, a soft click emanating from the lock as it opens.

Your flat certainly isn't over decorated, a few wooden furnishings here, a table there, TV in the back, just enough for you to live comfortably. Of course, the one thing that does stand out is the large upright piano that sits in the corner, mountains of sheet music piled atop it. You had found the sheets to literally anything you could think of to play and taught yourself how in usually only a week or so.

Approaching the instrument, you sit yourself on the red-leather seat and place your hooves to the keys. What comes out is a very basic melody, essentially a series of two-note chords followed by a small three note scale in the key of C that descends one note each time. You continue this pattern til you reach a full octave and then began a slow verse of simple third interval chords, and returned to the original theme occasionally, it was a fairly basic pattern, but one you had created yourself and you were very proud of.

Your song ended with a strong perfect fourth that fades out into silence. Sighing softly in content you walk over to your couch, a blanket and pillow waiting for you. Laying down, you pull the blanket over your body, pulling your wings in tight against your back. You lay your head against the cushiony pillow, pleasant and warm.

And then your mind wanders. It isn't anything out of the ordinary, simply thinking about the various things that had happened that day. You got Octavia to admit her feelings for Vinyl (now you just have to get her to admit them to her), the newest play had gone off without a hitch, you got to tease Lyra for a solid thirty minutes. Yup, overall it was a pretty damn good day.

And then, you think of her. You aren't sure why, but it seemed the part of the day that stuck out the most to you was your time with Coco. She seemed very nice, if quite shy. The two of you had traded small talk while working, it turns out she was relatively new to the stage. She had only been working since the show that you had just finished today. You smiled as you reminisced the time you shared with her, a new friend.

Friend…hmm, maybe that was still a little too strong, it had only been one day, right? But, a potential friend, and that was enough. Snuggling the covers closer to your body, the thoughts of starting the new play tomorrow and working with Coco more keeping you nice and content. You slowly fade into sleep…





The next day at the theater is quite exciting. It seems as if more ponies than usual were present, all of them scrambling in every direction. With all the excitement, you're quite glad that your job requires you to do no more than sit in front of your instrument, awaiting directions.

“Everypony! Please, listen up!” calls the head director, Hamlet, who stands atop a chair so that his voice can be heard better. His red coat and long yellow mane make him easily recognizable, that and the brownish directors cap atop his head. A joyous smile is spread across his muzzle. “Now I know we’re all excited about the new play starting up, so I need you all to remain as calm as possible while we pass out the scripts. Musicians: I need you all to gather on the left side to be given your sheet music. Actors: your roles are posted on the boards. Alright everypony, let’s get to work!”

Your music was already on your piano, so you figure you may as well see the list of actors, there was a certain mare that you heard was trying out for a role. You can't quite get up to the board to see the list of actors, trying to shove your way past the large group of ponies that separated you from your goal. All around there are shouts.

“YES! I got an acting role!”

“I get to sing, COOL!”

“Oh…I’m just an extra…I’m still on Bridleway! WOO!”

It seems as if no one in the crowd was angry, just excited to be shown on the famous stage, truly an amazing experience, but one shout suddenly explodes from the front:

“YEEEEAH!!!!!!! LEAD ROLE!! YESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!”

You chuckle to yourself, you recognize that voice.

The mint green mare you expected to see comes strutting out, having her own little dance party. You walk up to her and stand still, waiting for her to calm herself down. She stands on two legs, pumping her forehooves and constantly shouting the words “yes”, “woo” and “I got it”.

Eventually, you decide that this had gone on for long enough, so you give her head a quick knock with your hoof (not enough to cause a bruise but enough to make your point).

“Ow,” she lands on her forehooves and starts rubbing her head. You barely have time to laugh before you felt a jab to your left side. The pain was bearable, but jeez!

"You know, that really hurts sometimes, Lyra," you complain in mock hurt.

"Oh, toughen up, would you? Besides, you started it," she rubs her head to emphasize her point.

"Well maybe you shouldn't be the one jumping around like a little filly," you reply with a smug grin.

"I just got the lead role on Bridleway! I think I'm entitled to a celebration!" The unicorn was starting to lean towards the defensive.

"And with that I'm allowed to knock some sense into you," you counter.

"You're never given that right, you brute!"

"Brute?! Excuse me, but I am one of Equestria's last remaining true gentlecolts!"

"As proven by your beating of a mares."

"I don't hit mares, Lyra, I hit you."

"And that makes it okay?!"

"Oh, what do you care?! Shut up and enjoy your lead role, would you?!"

"Oh, so suddenly you care about that?"

"No, but you seem to."

"Oh you're probably just jealous you didn't get a role at all!!"

"That's probably cause I didn't audition! I don't CARE!!" you start to glare at her.

"If you don't care why are you SHOUTING?!" Lyra presses her forehead to your's, her golden eyes scowling at you with just as much intensity.

"Why are you so OBNOXIOUS?!?"

"Why are you so STOOPID?!"

"AT LEAST I CAN SPELL THE WORD STUPID!!"

"YOU CAN'T HEAR MISPRINTS!!"

"IDIOT!"

"STOOPID!"

The two of you stare each other down, shoving your foreheads against each other. Your eyes pierce with the intensity of warriors, while behind them burned an inferno that dwarfed the sun of Celestia herself.

You notice a twitch in the corner of her mouth, and feel the same happening to you, and then, neither of you can hold it back any longer. You both flop onto your backs rolling around on the ground in fits of uncontrollable laughter. After a few minutes the two of you finally rise from the floor, wide smiles spread across both your muzzles.

"Hehehe, ah, congratulations, kid!" You cheer, tousling her mane with a hoof.

"Oh my Celestia, this is seriously amazing! Heehee!!"

"Lyra Heartstrings, was that a squeal?" You tease.

"Oh, shut up, not even you can get me down!"

"Alright, see you 'round." You leave the cheery mare to return to her personal celebration.

Returning back to the musicians, you notice that most of the others had received their music and were flipping through the pages looking at the various new pieces for them to learn. A few of them gave you a strange look, something between a congratulations and a small bit of jealousy. You sit down at your piano and see Octavia approaching you with a small smile on her face.

"Congratulations!" she smiles wider.

"Hm?" You tilt your head, confused, "Congratulations on what?"

"Oh," she seems surprised, "You don't know yet?"

"Know what?"

She pointed a hoof at your music. "Page 14".

You open to the page she told you. Suddenly your eyes grow wide in a mixture of excitement, joy, and the slightest hint of fright.

"A-a, what? A...piano solo...song? I-I-I...I..." You stood atop your leather chair, "YEAH!"

Octavia chuckles below you, "And you scold Lyra for over-reacting,"

Settling back down, you immediately start to look at the music.

"Wait...Me and Lyra have to do a song together?"

"I know, it'll be amazing if you two don't start swinging at each other during the performance," Octavia says, a smug look on her face.

"Hahaha, yeah, that'll be an interesting sight..."

"All right, everypony, listen up!"

Standing at the conductor's podium is the master-of-the-baton, Story Time. His name is certainly an oddity, considering his career, but he's one of the best conductors in the business. His blue mane is kept quite short, and his blue-grey eyes, though kind, show an inspiring intensity, a percussion clef rests upon his orange flank.

"We got our new music, so let's all take a second to warm up. We're gonna start on page six. Flutes, pay attention to the accidentals in measure fifty."

You raise your hooves to your keys. Story lifts his baton up in his golden aura, and with that, the Orchestra begins their daily practice, as you slowly drift into your musical trance...





You raise your hoof and knock on the door.

“Come in,” came the voice from the other side. You push the door open with your hoof, entering the seamstress’ office.

“Good day, Miss Pommel. How are things coming along?”

“Just fine,” she replied, her hooves busy working the sewing machine, her signature tie still hung around her neck. “I finally got the lead role’s costume figured out.”

“Oh, Lyra’s dress is finished? May I see?” Lyra may have been a pain, but she was your best friend, too.

“Of course,” she said walking over to a large white sheet that stood in the corner, gripping the corner with her mouth, “One, two, three!” she cheered as she pulled the cloth away, revealing the costume beneath.

"Um...forgive me Miss Pommel, but ...what exactly...is this?"

The earth pony giggled. "I'm not surprised you don't recognize it. It's not exactly what you'd see a pony wear. You did look at the new play, right?"

"Uh...sure..." you say, a bit unconvincingly.

Coco just giggles again and then hands you her copy of the script. For the first time, you actually read the title:

ANTHROPOLOGY: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR

"Anthropology...nope don't know what it means."

"It's an old mythological study," Coco explained, "According to the myth, there was once a race of creatures, known as humans, that inhabited Equestria, but at one point in history, for some reason, they all disappeared."

"But, where'd they go?" you ask, "An entire race doesn't just disappear of the face of Equestria."

"The myth says they all left through a mirror that led to another dimension, where to this day they prosper even more than the ponies."

"Wow, you really know a lot about this don't you?"

She looked down at her hooves, shuffling them a bit, "Oh, well, I kinda used to study lots of stuff like this back in High School." You thought you noticed a light pink tinge on her cream-colored cheeks.

"So, as amazing as all that is, it still doesn't explain this…” You gesture to the garment, “dress? I suppose."

"Oh, well you see, one of the most interesting aspects of humans is that they considered nakedness to be a sign of shame or severe intimacy, so they would rarely be seen without a surprising amount of clothing. This is the style of dress that they would normally wear."

You nod. "That makes sense I suppose. So,” you smile at her, ”how can I help you today, Miss Pommel?"

"Um, you know...you can just call me Coco, if you want..."

Hm, that caught you a bit off guard, but whatever. If you're going to be working together, there was no real need for formalities.

"Alright then, Coco. What do you need me to do?"

She smiled. "You can use that machine over there," she pointed at a shiny sewing machine on a nearby table, "There's some basic outfits that need to be created, especially human clothes. If you need help there's a manikin over there in the corner."

And with that you set about work on the clothes. Apparently, these mythological creatures dressed so much, they actually had casual clothing! Just a thin layer of cloth that separated their bodies from the outside world! This in mind, it was very easy to create a wide variety of outfits, some incorporating designs and what humans called "Irony".

"You know," Coco speaks tentatively, "I have to ask. Where did you learn how to sew?"

You smiled at the memory, "My sister taught me when I was younger. She actually went on to be a somewhat successful designer in Vanhoover." You laughed at your memories, "You know, if it wasn't for that first piano I found, I probably would have ended up making dresses, too." You smiled wide, nostalgia washing over you. Shaking yourself from your haze of memory, you look toward the mare who asked you this question, "What about you? Someone had to teach you how to sew, right?"

Suddenly, her face became less cheery. Her smile faded away, and she looked at her hooves. "My mentor was a bit...less supportive than yours. She was actually... kind of mean..."

She spoke so sadly you could almost see the cloud forming over head, and the space around her slowly start to darken. You stood up and walked over to her.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was such a hard memory. You don't have to worry about it if you don't want to."

"Thanks" she said, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"Anytime," you smile, "Now come on, we've got shoes to make."





You exited the mare's workroom.

"See you tomorrow Coco!" You called, waving at her.

"Goodbye!" She waved back.

You walked forward nearly two feet, and then ran head first into somepony.

"Sorry," you mutter, before looking up to see Lyra's golden eyes looking back at you.

"What are you still doing here?" She asks, annoyed by your presence, apparently.

"I was helping the costume designer with the new show's costumes, might I ask you the same question?"

"Whahat?" She ask/laughs, "You sew?"

"Shut up."

"Alright, I'll make fun of you for that later." She then looks back at the door, "So, is my dress ready yet?"

"Oh, yeah." You respond, "Coco just finished it today."

"Awesome!" She runs past you and bursts through the door, "Lemme see! Lemme see!"

A very surprised Coco Pommel had her hooves lifted up to protect herself from the pony that had had just thrust herself into her office.

"Lyra! For Celestia's sake, you're scaring her!"

The unicorn looked over and saw Coco cowering in the corner.

"Oh, jeez....I'm sorry, uh..."

"Coco," she introduced herself, smiling, though slightly cautious, "Coco Pommel. You must be the lead in the new play."

"That's right! Lyra Heartstrings, at your service." The green mare extended a hoof, which Coco took and gently shook.

"So," Lyra was still excited, "I heard my dress was ready for me?"

"Um...well..." Coco drifted off, not sure what to say.

"The dress might be ready for you Lyra but that doesn't mean you're ready for it."

"You know you could just tell me," Lyra rolled her eyes, "I don't need you drawing things out."

"Okay," you nod, "Your current physical form and the one of the dress are currently completely different. That help you?"

"Uh...what?"

"The dresses are designed for humans," Coco explained, "Sorry, but you can't wear it yet, sorry..."

Lyra heaved a major sigh, "Suppose this was a waste of time then." She immediately headed out the door, not even a goodbye.

"You'll have to excuse my friend, she can be a bit...her."

"I can hear that!"

"Well learn from it!" You snap back. "Sorry about her."

Coco lifted a hoof to her muzzle to hide a giggle, "You two are certainly interesting to watch."

"Alright, well, goodbye. For real this time."

"See you tomorrow," she waves again.

Exiting the room, you run down the hall as fast as your hooves can carry you. Once you see Lyra you slow down, breathing slightly heavier.

"You know, you could of at least tried to be nice." You say, a little peeved at Lyra's behavior.

"Aw, shut up." She said, "You don't need to scold me to protect your marefriend."

"I-We-that's...Nothing like that is going on between me and Coco, I've known for, like, two days."

"And you're already acting protective of her, and admonishing me for acting like I always do, the only exception this time was being in her presence."

"Lyra. No. I don't like Coco. I mean, I like her, but I don't like her, or... Whatever."

"Hmhm, whatever you say, Loverboy,"

"What'd you call me?" you say darkly, turning with a scary scowl.

Lyra jumped back, a startled expression on her face, "I'msorryI'msorry!" She lifted her hooves to protect her from the blow she was sure you'd deliver. It never came.

"I thought so." you reply casually, "See you tomorrow Lyra!"

Stupid mare. What'd she know?

Exiting the theatre, you give a hard flap of your wings, soaring into the sky as you head for your flat. Your hooves were still sore from all of the work you had done with Coco that day, so walking wasn’t the most tempting prospect.

Landing in front of your door, you slip the key in and enter quietly, flopping down on your couch.

“Hmph, Lyra…” you were still quite sore from the “marefriend” comment, “What does she know about love anyway. Sure Coco’s sweet, and nice, and pretty, and…whatever. I still don’t want to be her coltfriend.”

And so you drifted on into sleep, Lyra’s words still dancing in your head.

“...so protective of her…”

“...acting the way I always do…”

“...you’re marefriend…”
> Chapter 3: Epiphany
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What are you thinking about?”

“Wha-huh?” you startle out of your trance.

“I asked you what you were thinking about.” Octavia re-stated from her position next to you as first cellist.

“Oh, um,” you wrack your brain for an answer, “I was just, you know, looking at the Solo...thing with Lyra…yeah.”

“Oh my that really is amazing,” Octavia sounded impressed, “Especially when you have to read the music through the cover and the several sheets before it. Astounding…”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “Alright, you caught me.”

“So? What is it then? You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

You stare blankly in some random direction for a brief period, your mouth opening slightly-

Then you shake your head, releasing you from your trance.

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Oh no it isn’t,” the cellist leans in closer, a gleam in her eye that troubles you, “Come on now. Tell Tavi’ your problems.”

“Sorry,” you reply, smirking, “That might work on Vinyl, but my shells a bit harder to melt.”

“Very well,” she says, her face getting serious, “Perhaps I should imply a more, target specific, approach.” You watched as she ever so gracefully lifted her bow. Ever so gently placing the tip of it against your side, touching your wings. Your face now had a look of sheer terror.

“O-oct-t-tavia-a, l-l-let’s n-not do anyth-thing r-r-rash, now.”

“Tell meee~”

“I-it’s nothing, I swear…”

“Alright,” a wicked smile crossed the Cellist's face, her eyes gleamed with pure demonic fire, “You asked for it.”
With that the Cellest viciously began to poke and prod your wings with her bow.

Many ponies are very aware that Pegasus wings are extremely sensitive. What most of them seem to neglect is what is meant by “Sensitive”. No, it doesn’t mean sensitive in that way, get your mind out of the gutter. You feel your face twisting up as you try to hold back your instinctive reaction.

“O-O-Oc-c-c-t-t-a-a-vi-aa, S-s-s-s-s-s-t-t-t-op,” you feel the corners of your mouth begin to curve upwards.

“Tell me and it all ends,” The Cellist’s evil smirk never left her.

You can’t hold it back any more. You burst out laughing.

“Octa-*gasp*-tavia, stop it that-haha-that TICKLES!”

“All you have to do is talk~”

“Alright! I-hahahaha-I giv-HAHAHA!- I give up!”

Octavia pulled her bow away from your side, allowing you time to breath.

“Good little pony. Now, what is it?”

“It really is nothing,” you flinch as her bow is raised a second time, dissatisfied with your answer “It’s just something stupid Lyra said!”

“Hm?” Octavia tilted her head, looking intrigued, “And what would that happen to be?”

“She said…something, about me and Coco. It was probably just an off-handed jab at me.”

“Ohh,” Octavia said, her eyes shifting to the bottom right, a sly grin on her face, “I see~”

“You see nothing!” You fired back, “Nothing Lyra says is ever predictable or true!”

“Come now, you have to give her some credit,” Octavia said, “Sometimes Lyra’s insane theories have proven to hold more ground than normal. Remember two years ago when she claimed my and Vinyl were destined for each other? At the time everypony thought she was wrong, but now we're the closest of friends, and of course I...” The gray mare smiled and blushed at the thought of her crush.

You raise your hoof to point to some random space, much like a teacher would a blackboard. “A) YOU thought Lyra was wrong, everypony else completely agreed B) You had that revelation like two weeks ago so there’s no proof that you’re ‘destined for each other', and C) You two still aren't together.”

“What about when Beauty Brass returned from her time in the Ponyville Marching Band, the second Lyra saw that yellow filly with her, she insisted the two were going to be together.”

“That’s because those two were already together. Lyra didn’t prophesise anything!”

“Come to think of it now,” Octavia put a chin to her hoof in thought, “Every time Lyra claimed two ponies were to be together, she’s always been right.”

You turned back to face your piano. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” you muttered.

“Sorry, what was that?” Octavia leaned in closer aiming her ear toward you.

You turn around, “Nothing!” you replied in a chipper tone. However, your smile was just a little too wide to be genuine.

“Alright everypony,” Story Time called to the group, “That it is it for today. Please make sure that you take your music home and practice. See you on Lunday.”

The music room was suddenly animated by all the ponies standing up, opening cases, putting various sheets of music away, racking stands, etc. You, lucking out, had to deal with almost none of that, you simply needed to collect your music and leave. Done.

“Hey,” you hear Octavia’s voice and a hoof on your shoulder, you turn to see her eyes gazing at you and her face showing genuine concern, “are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

You smile, grateful to know you have a friend who cares for your well-being. “I’m fine Octavia, really,” you reassure her.

“Well, if it’s ever a problem, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“Sure thing, Tavi!” you nod.

“Hmmp,” she pouts, “There is only one pony who is allowed to call me that name.”

“Tell her I said hi, I might drop by to see her over the weekend, got a bit of a thing to work on with her.”

“Well that isn’t vague at all.”

“See you.” You call, waving a hoof, which she returns.

You wander past a group of actors, easily recognizing the star of the show.

“But it’s what I want, mom!” The mint green unicorn shouted at the actress playing her mother, a script levitating in front of her face.

“Lyra Heartstrings.” The “mother” responded, (it was kind of difficult to change the names of actors and actresses for the roles, so it was more common for them to keep their names, it just makes things easier)  “You will not research this ridiculous myth while you are under my roof.”

“CUT!” Hamlet called from his simple director’s chair, holding a large funnel in front of his muzzle with a hoof. “Alright you two that’s looking good. Lyra, you’re doing really well for your first time, keep it up. Sunny, I’m gonna need a little more emotion out of you. RESET!”

The actors shuffled around to the beginning of the scene. You locked eyes with Lyra and waved a hoof at her. Her response was to roll her eyes in an annoyed fashion, though she wore an obviously happy smile.

You continued walking toward Coco’s office. You noticed a yellow unicorn mare following behind you, but thought nothing of it. That is, until you reached Coco’s door, and the mare also stopped. Raising a hoof, you gave the door a knock.

“Come in.”

You opened the door, the strange mare in tow.

“Oh, hi Lemon Hearts,” Coco greeted the unicorn, “Have you completed the spell yet?”

“I have,” the unicorn smiled, “I wanted for you to see it and make sure that it was working correctly.”

“Well, your outfit is ready for you. Thanks to this helpful stallion,” she smiled and gestured toward you.

You look down at your hooves, feeling your face grow a little warm. “It was nothing really. I only know basic stitching.”

“Uh, do you have a…place for me to transform,” Lemon Heart’s eyes shifted around nervously “It’s a bit…embarrassing to be naked in this form.”

“Really?” you ask surprised, “Ponies don’t wear clothes, you know.”

“Yes,” the unicorn responded, “but, something about the human form is just, strange to be without clothes.”

“I understand,” Coco smiled, she gestured with a hoof toward the corner of the room, “There’s a changing curtain over there, just stand behind it. Here’s your dress.”

“Thanks,” Lemon’s horn and the dress were both illuminated by a light blue aura as she levitated the dress behind the curtain.

“Watch this,” Coco said to you, a look of great excitement and anticipation on her face.

She looks so adora-

You shake your head vigorously.

Stupid Lyra!

A bright light shone from behind the curtain.

“Okay,” Lemon’s voice came from behind the curtain, “I’m ready.”

From behind the curtain walked a mare that was well, frankly, no longer a mare. The-what’s the term?-girl in front of you was an exotic creature that you had never truly seen before. She stood upright on two long legs. The front of her body had a pair of large curves, with a pair of appendages that sprouted from the top of her body, at the end of each were a set of five digits. Her neck and head sat atop her shoulders, with a small muzzle on her face and short ears. Her horn was no longer present.

She wore a pretty blue dress that covered the majority of her body, by her lower hooves-excuse me, feet- were a pair of large blue boots with white laces.

“Wow,” your eyes widened in amazement, “Lemon, this…this is incredible. You look just like a human, and the dress looks amazing on you.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, her balance on her new legs faltering a bit, “Though it may get some getting used to.”

“Well I am really glad you like the dress,” Coco bowed her head in gratitude, “And I must say the human form is very convincing.”

“You know if you really like it…” a wry smile spread across the unicorns face, “You could try it out for yourselves.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Coco said worriedly.

“Aw, come on Coco,” you try to encourage her, “It’ll be fun. Aren’t you curious to see your human form?”

“I-I guess, maybe, I don’t know.” She was still being cautious.

“How about if I go first,” you offer “Would that make you feel better?”

“I-i guess so…”

“Alright, let’s see here…” you locate an outfit that suits you, a simple shirt with a pair of denim pants and a suit vest. Grabbing the hanger the outfit was hanging from, you walk back behind the curtain.

“I’m ready for it Lemon,” you call out.

“Alright,” the unicorn says, “Hold still.”

A deep blue light enveloped you as you suddenly felt weightless. A peculiar, stretching sensation over took you as you felt your body stretch and mold into the form of the strange being. When the transformation was complete, you once again felt your weight settle back down on you. You reach down to grab the outfit you laid on the ground and began to don the clothing.

You step out from behind the curtain, the two mares- well the one mare and the human girl- were staring at you with wide eyes.

“Wow,” said Lemon, “That all looks nice on you.”

“Really?” You ask, “I mean I guess so, it was really just designed to be simple 'street clothes' as humans called it.”

“You look very handsome as a human,” Coco says, her eyes off somewhere else and a thin, red blush spreading across her muzzle.

“Uh…thank you Coco,” You also look down, feeling a warmth on your human cheeks.

“So, that just leaves one,” Lemon said, “are you ready Coco?”

“Alright,” the mare nods, a confident smile on her lips.

“Here, take this,” Lemon levitated a white dress to the designer.

Coco takes the dress behind the curtain with her.

“Ready,” she announces. You watch Lemon Heart’s horn glow blue for a brief second, combined with the bright flash from behind the curtain.

When Coco walked out, you couldn’t help but keep your mouth from dropping. She looked beautiful in her simple white dress, her trademark collar and tie hung around her neck, with her standard flower woven into her hair. She looked up at you and a small smile came to her lips as a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“Wow.” That was all you could say.

“Oh, this probably looks ridiculous,” she says, seeming embarrassed.

“Nonsense,” Lemon waved a hoof as if to sweep the Coco’s worries away, “You look great.” Lemon turned to face you, “Don’t you agree.”

“Yeah. You look very beautiful as a human, Coco.”

“Oh, thank you,” she smiles wide, tilting her head slightly with her eyes closed.

She looks so cute.

You shake your head.

No that isn’t true. I mean it IS, but it’s not like- I don’t- I’ve never…

“Well, I’ve got to get going.” Lemon Heart announced, breaking you from your thoughts. “Everybody hold still.”

Her horn once again shone with blue light. You went weightless one more time, your body re-molding itself to the form of a pony. When the spell is released you all stand on the ground, waiting for the dizziness to leave you.

“See you guys around.” Lemon smiled as she departed, leaving you alone with Coco.

“Well, I suppose there isn’t much time to do anything now, huh?” You ask the earth pony mare.

“D-do you really think I looked good as a human?”

“Hm?” you turn to see Coco rubbing one of her legs with a forehoof, the blush still hasn’t left her face, “Y-yeah. You looked very pretty. Though, I think you look prettier as a pony.”

You watch Coco’s blush grow darker as you realize what you had said.

“I-I mean…well, uh, you’re always pretty, er, uh, I guess,” you stumble clumsily over your words. You were certain you were sporting your own blush at this point.

What the hell is wrong with me today? It’s not that…no! Stupid Lyra, it’s not true!

“I-I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, “See you later Coco!”

With that you swiftly run out of the door, grabbing your coat from the nearby rack.





That night, while you attempted to fall asleep under your blanket, you couldn’t stop thinking about Lyra’s words, about Coco. She really was very cute, the way she looked, her beautiful eyes, her adorable haircut, her modesty.

Come on, though. You argue against yourself. As true as all that may be. It’s not like I- I mean, there’s no way I-

You give a tired sigh. What’s the point in fighting it anymore.

“I-I l-like Coco Pommel,” you slowly croak out, finding the words very heavy and difficult. A very strong warmth spreads across your cheeks.

In fact, I think I more than like her…
> Chapter 4: In Sickness and with Help
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes slowly drift open. A beam of light streams through the window, light enough for you to see the space around you, but just dim enough for your eyes to open comfortably. You could hear the gentle sound of birds chirping outside your window. The comfort of the couch you slept on amazed you, the large fluffy comforter on top of you providing your body with a pleasant warmth. You nuzzle your head further into your pillow, allowing the gentleness and grace of the world when you wake at your own time to surround you. Everything was so peacfu-

BEE-BEE-BEEBEEBEEB-BEEEEEB

You sigh as you gaze over at the device that had produced the intrusive noise. You lift the phone with your hoof and read the name on the screen:

Pon-3 FTW

You sigh as you press the answer button.

“What is it Vinyl?”

“Come on, you’re late for our session.”

“W-what?” you slur groggily, “Isn’t it at like, ten?”

“Yes it is, what time is it right now?”

You shift your gaze to a nearby clock.

“10:30” you reply.

Silence from the other end of the line.

“...Oh! Shoot! I’ll be there right away Vinyl!”

Without saying goodbye you hang up the phone, making sure to take the large case next to the door, and that you have your key with you. Spreading your wings you take to the skies and start rapidly flapping toward Vinyl and Octavia’s flat in the center of town.

As opposed to your short, brick-and-mortar building, the complex in which the mares reside is a towering skyscraper of several glass windows that slowly cascade all the way from earth to sky. As you land in front of the building, you have a brief feeling of being an ant.

Pushing open the front door, you trot toward the metal doors of the elevator, located in a small offshoot of the main room. You press the button on the wall making the light on top of the door light up.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting…

DING!

The door finally opens to reveal an empty room, with a window showing the streets outside. As the glass chamber slowly rises, you have to make sure you don’t turn around to see the outside world. No, you weren't afraid of heights, but the prospect of falling was certainly one you didn't want to deal with.

Another ding later and you exit the elevator, not unwillingly. It doesn't take you long to find the musical mares’ residence, theirs was the only door that was shaking off it’s hinges due to the loud amounts of bass and drums, (not to be confused with drum’n’bass, as you've learned).

You lift a hoof to the door and strike it with all your strength.

“VINYL! OPEN THE DOOR!”

You felt awful that you had to shout, probably disturbing the other residence, but then again, the residence are likely already used to this. The door opens, and it is still a strange experience to feel the vibrations through the handle without hearing the music, the light red barrier separating you from the ridiculous volumes of the music inside. Bracing your ears, you slowly walk into the room.

And then it hits you.

The second your ears enter the sound-barrier, the electronic noise hits your ears like a sack of bricks.

“WILL YOU TURN THAT INSANE NOISE DOWN!!!!!!!!!!”

The music slowly fades into nothingness, leaving your ears ringing from the massive contrast in sound from just a few seconds ago. Opening your eyes, you see the DJ herself standing in front of the over-sized speakers, a smug smirk upon her muzzle.

“Wipe that look off your face! I probably just lost 20 decibels of hearing because of you.”

“I don’t know if that’s how sound, or science in general, works” the white unicorn retorts.

You sigh. “Fine then. You didn't just call me over to destroy my eardrums, I hope.”

“Oh no, I need your help with the ‘Synthetic Orchestra’, think you’re up for it?”

“Forgive me, but isn't electronic music more your thing, not mine?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But what isn't ‘my thing’ is fancy piano playing, and trust me, digital sequencers can only go so far.”

You eye her skeptically, “So…if you don’t like Classical music, why exactly are you writing a symphony?”

“I- well- you know, I just sort of, thought it would be cool,” she stutters out. You can’t tell if your eyes are betraying you, but you think you see a pink tint start to form on her muzzle. Your eyes widen in surprise, if only for a second, before your mouth curves up in a smirk.

“Are you suuure? There isn't something -some…pony- that inspired this?”

You couldn't see her eyes from behind her purple shades, but you could imagine she was avoiding contact with you.

“W-w-what? Nah, ‘course not?”

“It just so happens that you’re trying to mix classical and electronic music? The two being bound together in an intimate embrace of old and new, just like…lovers~” you let the word drift out, just to tease Vinyl as much as possible. The white mare gulped, she her blush was way more evident.

“N-n-nope, no r-r-reason,” she was stammering uncontrollably, a way-too-wide smile painted on her face.

“Well, then, you turn toward the door, slowly starting to move toward it, ¨I'm sorry Miss Scratch, but I'm afraid I have better things to do than aid a DJ with a project just cause it 'sounds cool', so if you'll excuse me-

“No! Wait!” the DJ shouts desperately.

You turn around to look at her, a deep red blush is spread across her muzzle and she’s looking down at her hooves.

“Fine,” she says in defeat, “You win, okay? I was making this song for ‘Tavi...”

“Because?” you ask, knowing the answer yourself already, but you needed her to say it.

“Because I love her, alright?!” Vinyl yelled back defensively.

You couldn't help but laugh, Vinyl’s confession was certainly more violent than Octavia’s, the contrast between the two mare’s fitting their personalities perfectly, the absurdity of it all was simply overwhelming.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” Vinyl glares at you through her glasses, “You know how hard that was?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about…well, that’s not important.” you say, waving a dismissive hoof “Good for you for trying to write this song, but wouldn't it be easier to just, you know, tell her?”

“I can’t tell her…” Vinyl admits sadly.

“Why not? You have so much confidence in everything else you do.”

“This is different,” Vinyl says, “I mean, what if I blubber on like an Idiot for an hour, just to have her reject me instantly.”

“I don’t think she’ll reject you…” you don’t want to just come out and tell Vinyl, that was Octavia’s business, but it hurt you to see the DJ so sad.

“What if she’s not into mares?”

“She is,” you reassure, “she’s told me she likes mares.” It wasn't really a lie, she did say she liked a mare.

“Really!?” Vinyl’s eyes lit up behind her glasses, a hopeful grin spread wide across her muzzle.

“Really,” you assure her, “Now, this song?”

“Right! Well, I’ve found one of Octavia’s favorite orchestral pieces, I figured that I would perform it with a bunch of different synths instead of wind and brass.”

“I don’t mean to criticize your ‘please-be-my-marefriend’ present,” you interrupt, “But, That kinda sounds like you’re just taking over classical music with electronic, not quite a combination.”

“That’s where you come in,” Vinyl pointed a hoof at you, “To keep this thing symphonic, I’m going to keep all the strings and percussion the same. I can handle sequencing the strings and drums, but I need you to play the different keys and figure out the mallets and other percussion.”

“That…actually sounds pretty cool,” you say, starting to get excited about the one project of Vinyl’s that you actually found interesting…or feasible. “So, where should I set this up?” You tap the case on your back.

“Follow me!” She cheers.

Following the alabaster mare to the back of the apartment, she leads you to a simple white door with a gold plaque that claimed: THE LAB.

Oh, dear. This oughta be good.

“Pardon the mess if you will,” Vinyl warns before lighting the doorknob with a red aura and swinging the door open.

“...Whoa!” Your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates.

The place was HUGE! The walls were all covered in sound panels to reduce eco, at the back of the room stood a large white desk, on top of which laid a plethora of electronic instruments. Synthesizers, samplers, drum pads, turntables, laptops, and even an electric cello (you reeally hope Octavia doesn’t know that thing exists).

“Um…Vinyl?” You ask, your eyes still glued to the enormous studio, “How big is this apartment?”

“Pfft, you kiddin’ me? It’s nowhere near the size of this studio.”

“Then…how does it…fit?” You ask, not entirely sure how to phrase the question. Not entirely sure if it’s even the question you want to ask.

“Magic.” She says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Sigh. Unicorns…

Following her back to the desk, she points to sleek, white laptop in the middle of the desk.

“Here.” She says, tossing you a thick black cord.

Opening your case, you pull out the one instrument you used the least (well actually, that award probably went to the saxophone in the closet you bought at a yard sale in Coltcinatti that you never even bothered to buy reeds for). Pulling out the pristine, silver keyboard, you place it on the simple black stand and plug the cord into the socket in back. Lifting your hooves to the plastic keys you warm up with a few simple scales and arpeggios.

“You ready for this?” Vinyl asks with a wide smile.

“Sure! You have any sheet music?”

“…what’s sheet music?”





It’s days like this that you are unbelievably grateful that you have wings. Your forehooves absolutely ache! Despite how you acted toward Vinyl, you really were delighted to help her with her song, especially if it’s what she is going to use to try and convince Octavia to be her marefriend, but even so…

“Uuggh…my hooves,” You grown aloud.

Vinyl had truly put you to your limit with how much she wanted you to play. It needed to be perfect for her ‘Tavi. Ah well, hopefully it’ll all go over well.

Flying over Manehatten at a relaxed pace, only bothering to move every time a skyscraper nearly halted your journey. Nearing your house you notice a large black van with a gold shield with the letters EPS emblazoned on it.

Is that-? Could it be?

Suddenly accelerating quickly, you dart toward the van, noticing a brown-uniformed pony wheeling a dolly with a large cardboard box out of the the van. Striking the ground with immense speed, your hooves decide to remind you about the immense agony that they were in, a jolt of pain all throughout your body, causing you to fall over onto the ground.

“Um…are you okay?” A bubbly, feminine voice asks from above you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You reassure as you quickly scramble to your hooves, “If you don’t mind me asking, what appartment is this package going to?”

The deliver-pony, a grey mare with long blonde hair and golden eyes, responds with a cheerful…cheer of “Special Delivery to room AB85!”

Your eyes light up, “Oh, that’s me! This is my package!”

The grey mare pulls a clipboard out from behind her, “Sign please.” She says, through the clipboard still in her teeth.

Lifting the pen with your hoof, you scribble your signature across the bottom of the clipboard. The mare nods and places the clipboard back to wherever she had pulled it out from.

“Alright, I’ll just carry it up there for you!”

Wrapping her hooves around the large package she attempts to fly up to your flat’s window. Immediately after leaving the ground, she begins to wobble back and forth under the weight of the box, and you can’t help but notice that her eyes aren’t lining up quite right.

“NONONONO, PLEASE NO!” You cry out worriedly, holding your own hooves against the package, (damn this thing is heavy, what kind of strength does that mare have). “Ju-just set the box down.”

She does as you instruct and carefully lays the package on the ground.

“Well, if I can’t lift it, how can I get it into your house?” She asks, her eyes apparently trying to look at each other.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a unicorn with you do you?” you ask.

“Sure thing,” she smiles, “Hey, Stamp, come on out!”

Out of the van comes a yellow stallion with dusty-gray hair steps out of the van. Seeing the size of your package and the look of panic on your face, he doesn’t even need to ask.

“Leave this one to me Derpy,” he says, lighting up his horn with a tanish aura. The box starts to glow the same color and then suddenly winks out of existence, assumedly into your room.

“Have a good day!” Stamp calls, hopping back into his delivery van.

Derpy (wobbly) flies over to the other side of the van. You hear her ask a very simple and terriffying question:

“Hey Stamp, can I drive?”

“Sorry, Derpy," the unicorn laughs, "not today.”

Recovering from your miniature heart-attack, you quickly run up the stairs to your front door, scrambling to fit the key into your door. Bursting through the front door, you immediately slam into the box.

Ow.

Shaking off the pain, you stare amazed at the beige prism of joy in front of you.

“It’s here,” you whisper to yourself, “It’s finally here!”

You open the box, slowly and carefully. Revealing the polished wooden legs, the velvet-cushioned seat, the sleek, black-and-white keys set in two rows.

It was perfect.

You raised a hoof to the keys, playing a single note, a simple middle-C.

A shiver runs down your spine as the plucky note emanates from the instrument. It was already tuned.

It was your newest instrument, it was perfect.

The harpsichord.

Lifting both hooves to the keys you play out a quick melody. It was incredible, the sharp, eerie sound of the instrument giving chills from your neck to the base of your tail, even travelling up your wings.

“This. is. AMAZING!!!!"





You happily strutted through the corridors. Today had been amazing.

No work: check!

Creating a combination of two genres to help your friends fall in love with each other: Check!

Finally receiving the instrument you waited your whole life to play after so many months of waiting: Check!

Finish it with a casual sewing session with the cutest mare in Manehattan:

You approach the door to Coco’s office.

On it’s way!

You open the door with a wide grin on your muzzle.

“Hello Coco!” You greet cheerily.

You hear a groan from the corner of the room “Uuugh…not so loud, please.”

You open your eyes to find the mare across from you sitting down on her haunches rubbing her head with a hoof.

“Oh, gosh,” you say, much quieter and with concern in your voice, “Are you okay, Coco?”

She looks up at you with a pained smile, “I’m fine, really. It’s just a bit of a- *cough cough*- of a headache.”

“It sounds like more than that,” you say worriedly.

“No it’s fine, really,” she tries to convince you, and probably herself as well.

You trot up closer to her, looking into her eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes, I’m sure,” she says, averting your eyes. You notice her cheeks starting to flush.

“You look pretty red.” You say, trying to convince her of her own illness.

“Oh, well, I- *cough*- I’m sure it’s nothing”

Her coughs are kinda cute.

… 

…just gonna...push that thought to the back of your mind.

You reach a hoof up to her forehead, immediately pulling back. She was positively burning!

“Coco, you’re absolutely burning!” See.

“Really, I’m fine.”

“No, Coco you’re not,” you state firmly, “And you’re also not in condition to be working, you need to go home.”

“…okay,” she quietly gives in.

She attempts to stand on all four hooves, starts swaying and then falls back on her rump.

“I…I can’t…” she was talking quietly, as if she couldn’t form her thoughts into words.

You reach out a hoof to help her get onto her hooves again, when she started to sway, you leaned up against her, supporting her weight with your body.

“Ready to go?” You ask.

Her only response is to nod her head.

Slowly and steadily the two of you walk toward the door of the office, through the halls, out of the theatre.

When you exited the building a swift gust of wind blew past the two of you, causing Coco to shiver.

“C-c-… cold,” she mumbles.

You look down at her. A solution coming to your mind, but it might too much. What if she gets the wrong idea (or, you know, the right idea, whatever). She shivers again. Ah, to hell with it. You open your wing and wrap it around her, pulling her closer to your body, trying to provide more heat.

You can’t speak for Coco, but it certainly helped you. Your cheeks start to burn in embarrassment, grateful that the designer couldn’t see your face, and the bright red blush spread across your muzzle.

“Coco, where’s your place?” you ask.

“It’s…is…over…” she trails off, still unable to speak very well.

You rub the back of her head with a hoof, shushing her like a foal, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to push yourself, I’ll take you to my flat.”

You can’t quite understand what she says in response, but it sounds like a protest.

“Coco, we’re going to my flat, that’s that.”

She stands still for a brief moment, then nods.





By the time you reach your flat, you’re carrying Coco on your back, her hooves giving out about a block and a half ago, walking into the bedroom, you lay her down on the large, Princess-sized bed, laying the covers over her.

“Do you need anything?” you ask the sick mare.

“W…water…”

You nod. “Right away.”

You trot back into the kitchen and fix the mare a glass of water, making sure to add plenty of Ice.

Carrying the glass back to the bedroom, you place it down on the table next to the bed.

Coco’s eyes are closed, but her breathing tells you she’s still awake, if only just.

You think about how adorable she looks, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, her mane messy, and a single strand laying over her face. You think about how nice it would be, to take her into your embrace, lean down on top of her, move your muzzle toward hers and press your lips against her-

Whoa Whoa Whoa! Calm down there Florence Nightingale. What kind of pony would you be if you took advantage of her state. She can’t even move, be respectful, sheesh.

You walk back to your couch and lay yourself down. Gazing over at a nearby clock, you notice the time. It’s only seven. You were still tired. You pull the blanket on top of yourself and lay your head on the pillow.

Until tomorrow.

...

Coco’s sleeping in your bed~

Oh, give it a rest, would you…?
> Chapter 5: Day of Rest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celday, the day of rest. For many, this was a day of giving thanks to Princess Celestia. Some would send small gifts to the Palace. Some would state their thanks openly throughout their day. And a very lucky few, who lived in the capitol, would be able to give their thanks directly.

For you, this particular Celday meant taking care of your friend, who currently lay in your bed (which, come to think of it, you never really slept in) with a glass of cold water, a warm bowl of soup (odd choice of breakfast, but you figured it would help) and a forty degree fever.

She was awake, her occasional cough or groan would attest to that, but her breathing was shallow and her eyes were closed most of the time. She would look adorable if she weren’t currently suffering (aw, hell, she still did).

You sigh. You had done all you could. Illnesses like this were usually short, and would pass in a day or so, in the meantime, there was nothing to do but make sure Coco was in bed, resting, and to wait until she grew better.

You stand up from your position next to the bed, your hind legs slightly asleep from being sat on for so long. Walking into the main room of your flat, you gaze over at the piano in the corner.

A little practice would help pass the time. It does cross your mind to give the new harpsichord a try, but with the date of the play quickly approaching, it was probably best to stick to what you would be playing for the show.

Setting down on the leather seat, you reach your hooves out to the keys. And then, you play.

The music is slow and wistful, and slightly somber. Not sad, but calm. You close your eyes, lost in the sound. As the slow chords reach your ears, you’re given the sensation similar to that of a slow, gentle flight. Soaring high above the clouds, the wind gently blowing your mane, you feel your wings stretch out, as if in preparation to take off. The song ends on a seventh interval chord, dissonant, but not unpleasant.

“That was beautiful.”

You turn around in your leather seat. Coco is seated on your couch, her eyes slightly lidded (from fatigue or relaxation, you aren’t sure). A content smile is set upon her muzzle, and she’s even put her collar back on.

“Coco,” you stand up to go sit next to her, “you should really be resting.”

“But I want to be here, with you,” she says, her voice is very soft, “I’m fine to walk around, really, and I want to listen to you play, you’re very good.”

“Thanks,” you smile in pride, your cheeks feeling a bit warm.

You sit there a moment longer in content silence, listening to Coco’s soft breathing, still somewhat strained from illness. You suddenly feel her lean up against you. Her fur feels soft against yours, and she feels pleasantly warm (you really hope that’s not her fever). You let out a sigh, making sure it was soft enough for Coco to not hear it. Your face is burning up, you’re definitely blushing by now.

Knock Knock Knock

You gaze over at the door. Not wanting to get up from your position.

Knock Knock Knock Knock

“Hey, are you in there? You said we were practicing today.”

The voice is slightly muffled by the door somewhat, but it would be hard for you not to recognize its owner. Which means you also know that if you don’t answer the door, she won’t ever leave. You reluctantly stand up from your place on the couch, Coco slowly leaning further down until she’s lying on the couch belly-down, her head rested against her hooves.

You open the door before another round of knocking can occur.

“It’s about time you opened up,” Lyra groans, “Do you have any idea how long I was waiting there for?”

“Actually, yes,” you reply, “Since, knowing you, you started knocking five seconds before you even got to the door.”

“And how on earth would that be possible?” she asked.

“Magic,” you state, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world (yeah, take that, unicorns).

She huffs and rolls her eyes in annoyance. Entering you flat without much of an invitation.

“So,” she says, turning to face you, “since the new play is less than a week away, we need to start practicing now.”

“Lyra, I know how antsy you are about this play, and trust me, the solo has me pretty excited as well,” you state, “However, now isn’t exactly the best time.”

“What do you mean not the best time?!” she asks, furious, (Sometimes it’s kinda hard to tell if she’s actually this angry or just messing with you), “You were the one who scheduled practice in the first place, and now you’re just gonna back out?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep your calm (though with Lyra…), “I did originally plan for today, however, certain circumstances have made today impossible. So, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You can let her in.”

You turn around to see Coco, her head lifted to see who was at the door.

“I don’t mind if you two practice,” she says.

Lyra gives you a glance, a smug smirk painted on her face while her eyelids have dropped slightly, her subtle way of saying: ‘Oh, I so totally caught you with Coco’.

You look back with her, straight in the eye, your face staying mainly straight while your brows furrow slightly. Your subtle way of saying: ‘I swear by the name of every Alicorn, if you say anything at all about this I will personally grab you by the horn, throw you down the stairs, fly ten feet in the air, and land on your stomach as hard as possible.’

She apparently understands, as she rolls her eyes and keeps her mouth shut.

“Coco,” you chide gently, “I know you say you’re better, but you’re still sick. The best thing to do is for you to rest, me and Lyra would only prevent that from happening.”

“But, I don’t…I mean…I want you to practice,” she declares, “Not just to hear it, which I really do want to, but because, well…” she lowers her gaze to her forehooves on the couch, her voice becoming softer, “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t practice.”

You feel a lump in your throat plus a slight twinge in your heart at her words. They were so honest and kind, it hurt you to go against them, but:

“Oh, Coco,” you say, walking over to her and looking down with a wan smile, “You need your rest, Lyra and I can practice another day.”

“Please,” Coco pleaded lifting her head to look you in the eye, “Please practice today, for me?”

Everything right. The way she said her words, the slightly sad, but pleading, look on her face, the tilt of her head.

And her eyes. Oh, Goddess, her beautiful, beautiful eyes! They pulled you into a light blue sea of bliss and happiness, overwhelming you with love for this beautiful, kind, generous mare. You feel as if you could stare into those beautiful blue portals forever, and never grow tired, never lose interest, to be ever content for the rest of time.

However, with Lyra standing, like, ten feet away from you that would be kinda awkward, and you’d rather not look like a complete idiot to Lyra, nor appear foolish in front of Coco. So you reluctantly pull yourself away from that great sea.

“Okay,” you say softly, “for you.”

You turn back to your piano, once again sitting on its leather seat. Shuffling around the music on top of the instrument, you pull out the music for the play and turn to your solo.

“Did you bring your music, Lyra?”

Suddenly, Lyra blunk her eyes and shook her head rapidly, as if snapping from a trance.

“Wh-Wha?”

“I asked if you had your music.” you repeat. Was Lyra just…thinking? She does that?

“Oh, no. I’ve already got the whole thing memorized.” She states proudly.

“Really? What’s the fifth word in the third line of the second stanza of the bridge?”

“Um…it’s…uh…” she stutters, “That’s not important! I do have it memorized. Just, not that well.”

“Alright, then. From the top. Ready, and-”

The chords flow from your fingers as you and Lyra begin your session.





“That was wonderful, you two!” Coco praised from her seat on the couch.

“Thank you, Coco,” Lyra says, bowing her head in gratitude, “It’s good to know someone appreciates my talents.” Her eyes glance back toward you.

“Hmph,” you give her a smirk in response, “I never said you were a bad singer.”

“Yeah. But you never once praised me for it.” She argues back.

“So, if a person doesn’t shower you with constant praise, then they must hate your talents?” You question, raising a single eyebrow.

“That’s not- I mean- you- Shut up!” She scowls.

You smile wide and close your eyes in victory.

Suddenly you hear a giggle from the other side of the room. It touches your ears with a soft and gentle ring. Much like a bell made of purest crystal. You open your eyes and look over at the couch, where Coco is holding a hoof to her muzzle in a (failed) attempt to hide her laughter.

“Sorry,” she says past her mirth, “you two’s arguments are just…hilarious.”

You and Lyra meet eyes holding each other’s gazes for only a second, before the two of you join in Coco’s laughter.

“Yes, ours is a bit of an… odd friendship, but it works,” you trot over to Lyra, “We just make sure that the other one keeps from getting a swollen head, but we’re still always best friends, right Lyra?” you say, tousling her minty mane.

“Don’t touch me,” she growls.

“Always the charmer, kid,” you tease cheerily.

“Whatever,” She rolls her eyes, “I’ll see you two later, hope you get well soon, Coco.”

“Thanks Lyra.” The creamy mare smiles sweetly.

“Hey, wait!” You call out to Lyra before she closes the door.

“Whaaat?” she groans back.

“Can-Can I talk to you for a second?” you ask, your eyes drifting to the ground for a second.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Um, I meant outside…” you gaze back at Coco, hoping she’s not offended by your want for privacy.

“Drama queen,” Lyra smirks, “Come on, make it quick.”

Following her outside the flat, you make sure to close the door. You turn to look at Lyra. You needed to tell someone about this, or else it’ll eat you from the inside out. It may as well be Lyra, as much as you hate to say that. She’s going to make fun of you forever for this.

You sigh for confidence, lifting your head to look Lyra in the eyes.

“You were right,” you admit, reluctantly.

“What?” she seems confused.

“You were right, about Coco, about me. I, I mean, when you, the other day, when you said that…thing about me, and about her. I…I was thinking and, well I think…” Dammit, why can’t I just say it! You fall on your haunches in defeat.

You feel a hoof on your shoulder. You look up to see Lyra sitting next to you and smiling, her eyes calm and knowing.

“Do you- you love her, don’t you?” she asks. Her voice is surprisingly calming.

You nod your head.

“Awwww,” she rubs a hoof over your mane, like a mother soothing her foal, “That’s so cute.”

You feel your face start to burn up. You knew she was going to tease you, but not like this.

“What do I- I mean- how- What should I do?” you ask, not sure if she understands-not sure if you understand.

“What do you think you should do?” she asks.

“I- Should I, tell her?” You guess.

“Should you?” she asks back.

“I- I don’t understand.”

“You do whatever you want to,” she explains. “If you think you should tell her, tell her. If you want to kiss her, do it. It’s simply a matter of doing what your heart tells you to.” She stands up on her hooves, “I gotta go.”

“Huh?” you look up in surprise, “That’s it? No jabs? No bragging?”

“Nope.” She says, continuing to walk away from your door.

“Hmm,” you hum bemusedly, “Lyra Heartstrings…you know, you can be a real sweetheart sometimes.”

“Don’t get used to it. You’re still an idiot.”

You laugh, “Good, for a second I was almost going to reevaluate you.”

“Do it and I’ll slap you.”

She starts walking away again.

“Hey, Lyra?” you call.

“What? Am I just not allowed to leave?” she jokes.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for what you said.”

Her gaze softens, “Anytime.” She smiles and leaves.

Lyra Heartstrings. What a remarkable pony…

Standing back up, you turn and step back into your flat.

Coco is looking over at you with her wonderfully beautiful blue eyes.

“What did you want to talk with Lyra about?” She asks.

“I- sorry, Coco, but I don’t think that I can tell you right now,” you answer as honestly as possible.

“Oh, that’s okay,” she says, “If you don’t want to say it, then you don’t have two.”

“Thanks Coco, that’s very kind of you.”

You walk back over to the couch and sit down on its cushiony surface. It wasn’t late at all, but still you felt very tired. As you close your eyes, you’re vaguely aware of another pony sitting down next to you and leaning her head onto your shoulder.

The two of you stayed there, content. When the time came, you prepared a soup for both of yours dinner (despite Coco’s protest that she really did feel better). Afterwards Coco, after convincing you she wasn’t ill anymore, thanked you for your hospitality and left to her own home.

You lie on your couch, your throw-blanket providing a pleasant warmth. You turn over several times, somehow not feeling quite right. Reaching for your pillow, you hold it close against your body, basically snuggling with an inanimate object. Yet, somehow, this allows you to finally find comfort.

One day. One day it’ll be her, not just some pillow.

One day, I’ll be able to sleep with Coco in my arms.

I hope…
> Chapter 6: A Fairy-tale World
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Octavia.” You greet trotting toward the cellist, who, at the moment, was on her haunches with her back against a wall, practically lying down.

“Hello,” She says with a smile and a wave of her hoof. She straightens her posture, realizing she looked a bit less than refined.

“How go things with you-know-who?” You question, seating yourself next to her. “Have you said anything to your would-be marefriend yet?”

With a sigh, Octavia lowers her gaze to the floor. Her smile fades and her eyelids droop. “No, not yet. I mean- I’d love to tell her- right now if I could- but I-” another sigh, “Whenever I see her beautiful face, her lovely eyes, I just…I just can’t.”

“It’s alright,” you try to comfort her, “I’m sure you guys will happily be together very soon.”

“But…but what if we’re not?” Her eyes shut tight; you can see faint trails of tears start to come from their corners. “What if at the end of all my feelings, all my struggle, it’s just all for nothing? Or even worse, what if my feelings make her feel worse? What if she leaves me forever? What if-”

“What if she loves you back?” you interrupt before she can continue her hypothetical self-assault. “What if you two end up being together forever? What if her answering yes is the greatest moment of your life? What then, Octavia?”

“But…she might-”

“And she might not,” your voice is firm, but gentle enough to not be mean towards the lovesick mare, “Octavia in any love story, and I mean any, there’s always a struggle. This long ‘What if?’ moment where a pony imagines the worst case scenario and scares themselves into thinking that it’s reality. And do you know how many times what they imagine happens? Zero. Absolutely none. At the end of the day it was all just in their head.”

“As happy as I am for all of your storybook characters,” Octavia says somewhat bitterly, “This is real life. Ponies aren’t arranged from the beginning to fall in love.” She looks you straight in the eye. “Equestria is no fairytale world.”

You hang your head down in defeat. She’s right; you have to keep your head out of the clouds…

But, the more you think about it: the more she seems...wrong. So wonderfully, delightfully, beautifully wrong. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your muzzle, nor can you contain the giddy chuckle that escapes you as you think of just how perfectly wrong the cellist's claim was.

“What are you laughing about?” she demands angrily, apparently not pleased with you laughing at her.

“I-I,” you stutter over your own mirth, “I don’t know how you can say such a thing with such a perfectly straight face.”

“What?” Her brow furrows in confusion.

“Octavia,” you sweep a hoof around for dramatic emphasis, “Look around you. Equestria, the land ruled by the four princesses, the mistresses of Sun, Moon, Love, and Friendship. Where three different races of ponies live together in harmony. Where whenever evil rises up from the dark, it can be defeated with the power of a few best friends. Where the every-day average pony like you and me can find ourselves in somewhere amazing, like Bridleway. A land filled with magic and love.” You gaze back to look her straight in the eyes, “If there’s one thing that Equestria is: it’s a fairy-tale world.”

Octavia’s eyes close for a moment, lost deep in thought. She starts to smile. Then she giggles quietly to herself. And then, as if a dam had broken, she gives a whole-hearted, joyous laugh.

She turns to you and smiles. She looks so happy; you can almost see the twinkle of joy in her eyes. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Needed what?” you shrug nonchalantly, “All I did was state the facts.”

“Oh, be quiet,” she jabs you in the arm playfully, “That was amazing what you said. And you know what? It’s right!”

Octavia rises to her hooves, a new look of determination in her eyes. “Tonight,” she declares. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Hmm? Is there something special about tonight?” You ask.

“No, not really. Vinyl said she had some sort of present for me. Maybe after that.”

A present? Your eyes light up. Vinyl, you couldn’t have picked a better day.

“I’ll bet it’ll be just perfect for you two.”

“Thanks.” She raced toward the exit.

“Good Luck!” You call after her.

Standing up yourself, you start trotting back toward Coco’s office. Passing the actors, you notice Lyra (looking slightly wobbly in her newly acquired human form) standing in front of a beige mare, or woman as it were. She has curly hair of pink and deep blue that reminds you somewhat of cotton candy.

“Bon-Bon,” Lyra says, still in character, “I-I want you to come with me to Equestria.”

“I…I don’t know if I can,” the other woman (Apparently named Bon-Bon) sighs, “I have a whole life here, my own friends, family. I don’t know if I could live without them.”

“But, I need you!” Lyra cries.

“Why is that?” The mare questions.

“Because I…I…” Lyra leaned in close, her lips just a shade away from Bon-Bon’s. She quickly yanked back shaking her head, her character broken completely. “Sorry, sorry. I can’t, I can’t.”

“Cut!” Hamlet calls through his large megaphone. A blinding light caused the two women to revert to mares. “Lyra, you said that this scene wasn’t going to be a problem for you.”

“I know, I know. But that was before…” her gaze drifts back to the other mare.

“Oh, it’s alright Lyra,” Bon-Bon stays cheery, “I’m sure you’ll get over my bad looks by the time the show opens.”

“I-it’s not you Bon-Bon.” Lyra shakes her head, “It’s really not you.” Her cheeks turned a faint red, which would have been difficult to see if not for her green fur.

Hamlet sighed, “Try to prepare yourself Lyra, we only have three days left.” He picks the megaphone back up. “RESET!”

You chuckle to yourself at the witnessing of this spectacle, filing away what you have witnessed to back of your mind for later use. Continuing to the hallways in back, you scan the walls until you find the familiar door. 

“Hello, Coco!” You greet cheerily as you trot into the workroom. The mare jumps and lets out a squeak in fear, covering her head with her hooves. After shivering for a good few seconds, she slowly opens her left eye to take a peek.

“Oh,” she sighs in relief. Her hooves lower to the floor, “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Sorry,” you say as you rub the back of your head with a hoof, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, no. It’s not your fault,” she assures, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment, “It’s just, you usually knock first.”

You look back at the still-ajar door. You were uncertain how you had completely forgotten your manners and just charged into her room without thinking.  You feel your own face heat up.

“Sorry, again. I’ll make sure to do that from now on.”

“Well…it’s not really necessary,” she says, avoiding eye contact as the blush on her muzzle grows brighter.

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

…

The two of you stand for a second in a dead silence. Neither of you looking the other in the eye.

“Better get to work then.” You finally state, if only to end the awkward situation.

“R-right!” Coco agrees. The two of you make your way to your workstations and begin your daily work session.





Your day of helping Coco had been mostly uneventful. The two of you worked in almost complete silence the whole time. You had to work more than twice as hard to make up for the lost time over the weekend (Which no matter how many times you assured Coco wasn't her fault, she still seemed to feel responsible for). Every now and then, while you were working, you would look up from your sewing work to steal a glance at Coco. You watched her hooves work methodically and thoroughly on every project given to her and glanced at her tail as it waved back and forth, in what was easily the most adorable sense imaginable. You loved to see the small, happy smile that always sat on her muzzle. Every now and then, you thought you could hear her humming a familiar song, but it was so faint that you couldn’t quite place the tune.

However, every time you saw her head move upward, even in the slightest, you quickly shifted your gaze back down to your work. Sometimes when you move to look up at her, you could swear you noticed her blue mane move slightly. As if, it was settling down.

After what seems like an eternity of you two working in near silence, the clock on the wall sounds off the end of your work session. After you place away the various materials, you had been working with. You turn toward the door to make your departure.

“Wait!” You hear Coco call out before you exit the workroom.

“Huh,” you turn around to face the seamstress.

Her eyes shift down to her hooves. Across her muzzle is a bright folly tinge.

“U-um,” she stumbles over her words, “I-I, well I’ve been thinking…” She rubs one of her hooves against her leg, still avoiding direct eye contact. “And I w-wanted to t-tell you that I- I mean, I thought I should say- or no- I have to tell you- Oh, not have- um what I mean is…I…” she sighs to calm herself down. “I-I l… I lo- I l-lov- I l-l-like that you decided to help me with my work.” She finishes, her last words coming out quickly.

“O-oh?” You were confused “Well, um, it’s no trouble. I like working with you, Coco.” You feel your cheeks grow warm. If only you knew how much I like it…

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you. So…um…” Before you can even register what is going on, she reaches her forelegs around you and hugs you close to her. “Thank you.”

Your mind reels at what is happening to you. Coco, the adorably beautiful mare you met only six days ago, was holding you in a tight embrace as if she was holding on for dear life. If it wasn’t clear until now, it was made so in this moment. You were not entirely sure about the past few days, but at this moment, you fully, deeply fell in love with this beautiful, kind, shy mare. You were in love with Coco Pommel.

As if they had a mind of their own, your forelegs come off the ground and place themselves against her back. You hug Coco back just as hard.

You are uncertain how long the two of you stay like this. Seconds? Minutes? An hour? It felt like ages to you, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could have stayed like this for all of eternity for all you cared.

“Ummm…am I interrupting something?” a voice (that certainly was not Coco’s) asks.

Oh, great! My favorite little mood killer…

You quickly, though reluctantly, pull back from Coco’s embrace. The two of you facing opposite directions with both sets of eyes facing toward a lower corner. Matching shades of crimson spread across both your cheeks.

“I don’t know what it is you’re talking about, Lyra.” You reply, in an attempt to be firm, but more sounding like a foal caught with a hand full of cookies.

“Uh-huh, sure you don’t…”

You cough awkwardly into your hoof. “Well, I suppose I need to get going. See you tomorrow, Coco.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

With that, you take off as fast as your hooves can carry you. Not looking back to see either of the mares’ reaction. Though, you didn’t really have to guess one.

“Hey! Wait up!” The minty green mare calls as she chases after you. You don't listen to her.

You stop running the second you leave the theatre doors. You wish you could keep going, but you needed to catch your breath. You hear the doors behind you fly open.

“Celestia damn, stallion!” Lyra pants, “Since when can you run that fast?”

“Since I’ve had something that embarrassing happen to me.” You reply.

“Aw, were you two having a moment~?” She sings mockingly.

“I. Hate. You.” You can feel the veins sticking out against your skin as your face tightens in rage.

“Whoa, jeez, sorry,” She steps back fearfully, “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose in an attempt to calm yourself down. “It’s fine, just. Next time you see us like that, try not to interrupt my life.”

“Sure thing.” She smiles. “So judging by how I just found you, you told her, right?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Aw, sorry to hear. Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll get the courage one day.”

You fall to the concrete sidewalk on your haunches. Your body suddenly feels too heavy for you to stand up, your legs and wings too weak to hold your body off the ground. “I don’t want it to be ‘one day’ Lyra.” You lift your gaze up to the bright blue sky (It's the same color as her eyes…), watching the few puffy, white clouds slowly drift on by. “I can’t just keep on waking up and going to sleep, day after day, hoping that maybe today will finally be the day that I tell her how I feel, that this day will finally be the one that I tell her how much she means to me and how I feel with her and without her.” You lower your gaze down to the sidewalk. “I need it to be soon…”

Lyra sits down on the concrete next to you, raising a hoof to your back, trying to sooth you. It works, though only just.

“...I know.”

That grabs your attention. You turn your head to face her. Her eyes are looking off in some other direction. You remember what you saw during her rehearsal. You had planned to tease her about this, thinking it a wild accusation. It didn’t occur to you that this theory would hold ground.

“What was her name, again?” you ask.

“Bon-Bon.” Lyra smiles. “Her name’s Bon-bon.”

“She seemed nice.” You look over at her; a playful smirk comes to your face. “You two would be cute together.”

Her cheeks suddenly flushed a bright red, but her smile doesn’t falter.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” You smile gently.

“So would you and Coco.”

Now it’s your turn to blush. Your mind is suddenly filled with images of you and Coco. The two of you laying together on your couch. You two sitting on your piano bench, you playing a soothing love melody while Coco lays her head on your shoulder. And, the one that makes your cheeks the warmest, the two of you laying together in your bed, your forehooves wrapped around each other, and down below you, the tips of your tails intertwined. Yeah, you two would be cute.

“Hey, Lyra,” you say, momentarily breaking from your reverie, “I…thank you, for this.”

“Hey, no problem,” she smiles, “It’s what I do.”

You raise yourself back to your hooves, stretching your wings out. “I gotta get home; I still have a new toy I haven’t played.”

“So, when are you gonna tell her?” Lyra asks.

You think for a moment, and then the most obvious answer comes to you, “Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit!” Lyra cheers.

“You too Lyra! I want you to kiss that mare by the end of the week, got it?”

“Hey, that’s bit of a rush don’t you think!”

“Oh, that’s right,” you wink impishly, “Your clock's already set two days from now, isn’t it?”

Lyra groans, “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, just enjoy the blessing you’re given. I'll bet you're gonna make that scene look very convincing.”

“I hate you…”

“Hmhm, hate you too, kid.”

You take off into the skies of Manehattan, leaving behind an eye-rolling, smirking Lyra Heartstrings. That mare…such an oddity, your friendship, but it works. The two of you, through arguments, fights, sarcastic jabs, and the occasional punch, you two continue to make each other a better pony.

You shake your head.

Oh, Lyra. If it wasn’t for you, Celestia only knows where I’d be…





You lift your hooves to the keys, playing a light major chord. The reverberations from the instrument send a tingle down your spine. You continue playing slowly and gently. The music flowing through your body with the eerie, blissful elegance that come with the harpsichord. It was beautiful. You grab the pencil from the table next to you. Working your tongue just so, you sketch the final notes onto a blank manuscript page.

You look down at your finished piece. Only one thing left, a name. You reach to all corners of your mind in order to think of the perfect title. Something beautiful. Something elegant. Something gentle that creates a pleasant mental image.

However, you can’t focus. The more you try to focus, the more images of her come to mind. Then, it all becomes clear. You quickly flick the pencil across the page. The very top of which now proudly proclaims the perfect title:

“The Seamstress”

You fall down onto your couch.

Tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…

Tomorrow she will be mine.
> Chapter 7: Today is Yesterday's Tomorrow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re in Coco’s office. She was seated in front of a sewing machine, her hooves working at a slow and steady pace putting together some piece of clothing. You swallow, aware of the difficult task ahead of you.

You call her name to get her attention. “Coco, I have something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yes,” she answers turning from her work to meet your gaze. You were once again swept into the light blue ocean of her eyes. There were no waves, nor struggle, and you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into that beautiful sea. “Coco, I don’t quite know how to say this, I mean I do know how, but I’d just look like a complete idiot, maybe. I- I wish I could tell you every last word of my feelings, but I’m afraid that that would take more time than either of us have in this world.

“So, in the simplest way I can say it…” you lean closer to the beautiful mare of your dreams. Leaning in slowly you place a soft, gentle kiss on her left cheek. Moving your lips to her ear, you whisper the words you have longed to say for what feels like an eternity:

“I love you.”

Her eyes grow wide; from shock or amazement, you were not sure.

“R-really?” she stammers out, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“Yes.”

“I-I…I love you, too.” She leans forward and hugs you close to her. Moving her head so your faces were only inches apart, she slowly moves in, her lips touching against yours. When she pulls back, the look of pure delight and happiness on your face was enough to make your heart melt.

You and Coco could now be together in happiness foreve-

CHKC-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB CHCK-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB





CHKC-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB CHCK-BAAAHB-BAAAHB-BAAAHB

You jolt up from your couch, shocked from the loud, encroaching noise. Groggily turning your head (a large contrast to your earlier motions), you gaze at the device producing such an intrusive sound. You slowly raise your hoof, and then quickly and then release your hold on the limb, causing it to fall quickly and forcefully onto your alarm clock, quickly cutting the siren short.

Damn…just a dream.

You lazily lean over to your side until eventually gravity takes hold of you and you tumble down on to the floor, belly-down. Heaving with all the strength you can muster (which isn’t much given the early hour), you shakily begin to stand up on your own. You stretch out your neck, pulling it side to side, then your back, leaning down and forward, then back up, much like a cat, and finally give your wings a steady couple flaps.

Today, huh…? You still couldn’t quite grasp the concept that you had chosen today to be the day where you confess. All of the resolution that you had had yesterday had faded away. Instead of the triumphant confidence, you were reduced to disbelief, and possible fright. Not to mention the swirling questions in your head.

What if it seems too forced? Shouldn’t this be some built up perfect moment? How in Cadence’s name am I supposed to work this into the conversation? Do I just blurt it out? The hell do I do?

You pause your thoughts, hoping that perhaps some cosmic being would suddenly pop into your head and give you all the answers.

That doesn’t happen.

…well, guess I’ll just wing it. That always goes over well, right?

Yeah sure, it does.

You shake your head in an attempt to break your daydream state. Moving your legs in a slow, but constant pace, you groggily drag yourself towards your bathroom. Turning the knobs so that a small pool of cool water begins to collect in the sink, you gently place your hoof in and then splash it up against your face.

You quickly shake your head, more energetically than earlier. Nothing like a cold splash of water to rinse that sleep out of your eyes. Lifting the nearby hairbrush up with your hoof (don’t question it, you just can, a’ight), you drag through your whole body, working especially on your mane and tail, pulling apart the various knots that have collected (since actually brushing your mane wasn’t exactly a daily occurrence, and you never brushed your coat). You look at yourself in the mirror. What looks back was certainly a…different…version of you, you didn’t know whether to love or hate it, since you never really cared about your own appearance before.

Reaching over, you grab the white-and-red toothbrush from the ceramic holder. Picking up the toothpaste from the sink counter, you place a neat dollop on top of the bristles. Making sure to give your mouth a full scrubbing, you spit out the flavorless paste (mint flavoring in toothpaste for you was always unbearable. Instead, you opt for the better-working baking soda brand).

You look back up at the mirror. Staring yourself in the eye you attempt to psyche yourself up for what you’re planning for today.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself out loud, “Just go in and tell her. Remember, you may not have another opportunity, after all this is your last day.”

You take a second to consciously process what you had just said to yourself.

That’s right, today is the last day I agreed to work isn’t it. We’re almost done with all the costumes; we’ll definitely finish up today…

The thought saddens you. Maybe you and Coco won’t ever actually be together anymore, even if only as friends.

…

An idea suddenly pops into your head.

Hmm, maybe I should show her that I liked our time together. A celebration of sorts, like…like a mini party. A two pony party! Yeah! It could work!

With a newfound confidence, you strut out of your flat, making sure to lock the door behind you. Trotting down the streets of Manehattan at a fast, but not running, pace, you head straight toward your first destination, which, no, wasn’t the theatre.





You trot into the theatre with a smile on your face and a spring in your step (in fact, it takes quite a bit for you to contain yourself from full on skipping).

“My, aren’t you in certainly in a cheery mood today?” you hear a familiar voice call out to you. Turning your head, you see the gray cellist you expected, and accompanying her…

“Hey you two!” you call to Octavia and Vinyl, “So, did things go as well between you two as we all hoped?”

“Even better!” Octavia exclaimed, “Vinyl created this lovely new song, just for me. It was so wonderfully beautiful…”

“Aw, you know, it was no big deal…” Vinyl’s gaze shifted towards the ground, a faint pink tinge spreading across her cheeks.

“Easy for the girl with a computer to say,” you tease, smirking, “You owe me one Vinyl.”

“Wait, what?” Octavia looked confused, “Vinyl, what does he mean?”

“Aheh,” Vinyl rubbed the back of her head with a hoof, avoiding her marefriend’s gaze, “I sorta, needed some help making that song, so I had to get a pony who knew about orchestral stuff, and since I couldn’t ask you, well…”

“She came to me, instead.” You finish for her.

“So…you knew that she liked me this whole time?” Octavia asked.

“Wait, Octy told you she liked me, too?”

“Yup,” You smile, “Why do you think I was so persistent? Just for the fun of it? Nah, I knew you two were supposed to be together, ‘cause you both wanted to be, anyway.”

“That’s kinda cruel, don’t you think?” Vinyl asks.

“What do you mean by that?” You cock a single eyebrow in confusion.

“I mean, you could have just told us that we liked each other. I was practically beating myself up with worry; I can only imagine Octy went through the same, how come when we were so down you didn’t just say we liked each other?”

“Vinyl, dearest, isn’t it obvious?” Octavia giggled.

“Say what?” The white mare whipped her head back to look at her marefriend.

“He couldn’t have just told us straight out, it wouldn’t of been natural that way. Think about it, do you really think a romantic-type like him would ruin the moment for us.”

“It’s no fun to just tell two ponies,” you smile in agreement, “If love is to be confessed, best it be by those who possess it, rather than a third-party like myself.”

“Whatever…” Vinyl shakes her head, “I’ll never understand either of you.”

“Oh, I don’t think I should be so difficult,” Octavia says, “There is one thing you can be sure of.”

And with that, the cellist planted her lips on Vinyl’s cheek, instantly causing the other mare’s eyes to shoot wide open, and a dark blush to spread across her cheeks.

“U-um…I…uh…” Vinyl shutters.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you stutter like that~” Octavia coos as she puts a hoof around Vinyl’s neck, laying her forehead against the side of Vinyl’s mane, her eyes closed.

“Th-thanks.”

“Well, you two seem to be enjoying each other’s company, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get ready for practice.”

“Oh, we don’t have any for today,” Octavia says turning away from cuddling with Vinyl, “Story Time said that he thought we deserved a break for working so hard, so he gave us the day off.”

“Really?!” You ask, fully shocked.

“Really. Is that a problem?”

Damn, I thought I still had more time. You turn to look at the saddlebags around your middle, remembering what you had planned.

“N-no, that’s not a problem, I guess.” You say unsurely.

Guess it happens sooner than expected…

“See you guys around!” You call to the two mares.

“Goodbye, tell Coco I said hi,” Octavia calls back.

“Y-yeah, sure.” You say, probably too quiet for Octavia to actually hear. You turn toward the hallways that lead to the backstage rooms.

Well, here goes, I guess.

As you walk forward through the halls, you find each step closer to Coco’s office leaving your hooves heavier and heavier. You start moving slower and slower with every inch closer you reach your destination. However, even with your exponential slowness, you still eventually reach the door.

You take a few moments to simply stand there, staring at her door, trying to build up the nerve for what you have planned.

Dammit, why’d I promise Lyra today? I could have put this off a little longer, maybe a week…a month…

No. No, it has to be today. Procrastination will only cause pain.

You slowly brace yourself to knock on the door. Your hoof feels like it’s made of lead, and it takes all the strength you have just to lift it off the ground. Ever so slowly you move your hoof until it’s mere inches away from the door. You move your hoof carefully, very softly, and tap it against the door very slowly, your heart begins to pound against your chest, and you wait anxiously, waiting for her to answer the door. Your muscles all tense up. You can hear your heartbeat in your own ears. Waiting…Waiting…

You sigh in self-disappointment as you realize nopony in Equestria could have heard a knock that soft.

Come on, quite fooling around.

Raising your hoof again, you quickly give three knocks against the door, this time making sure they could be heard.

“Come in.”

Ever so slowly, you turn the handle on the door and push inward. Peeking through the door, you see her standing in front of the sewing machine, her flan-*cough* excuse me- back turned to you. You watch her tail gently swish back and forth as she works. The sight brings an intense warmth to your face. Very slowly (has the world slow down?), you inch your way through the crack in the door, closing it behind you softly enough to not be heard.

Coco press a button on her machine, and you hear the gears of the device start to slowly stop. The mare turns around; her eyes were still closed. A pleasant little smile adorns her face. She clears her throat softly.

“Now, how may I-” midway through her introduction her eyes, open slightly, and then shoot wide open when she sees it’s you, “Oh…um…hello.” Her cheeks flush a deep red.

“H-hey,” You reply meekly, rubbing the back of your neck with a hoof.

“You’re, um, you’re here early.” Her eyes drift downward, so she doesn’t quite meet your gaze.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Story Time, the band director, gave us a day off since we had been working so hard,” you explain.

“Well, that sure was nice of him.”

“So, yeah, since I don’t have to be at practice today, I decided to come here early, I figured that, this being the last day, and since we’re almost done, I would help you get finished, so we can be done early today.”

“Oh, that sounds nice, I guess…” her mood seems to have changed, and you can see the smile has left her face. Thinking about what you had said, you realize how it must have sounded.

“N-not that I don’t like being here,” you blurt out, attempting to cheer her back up, “I mean, I really, really, like working with you Coco.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” Her smile has returned, and you notice the blush on her face darken even more. You imagine the same was happening to you, considering the heat rising to your own cheeks from the sight of how adorable Coco looks now. The two of you stand there for a few seconds, simply feeling each other’s company.

You perk up your head. “Oh, hold on a sec,” you say, remembering something important. You lay your haunches on the ground, letting your saddlebags drift from your back to the floor. Turning around, you open one of the bags with your muzzle. Reaching in with your hoof, you grab one of the items you picked up on your way to the theatre.

“Here, I got these for you,” you say as you present the lovely bouquet of flowers to her. You had stopped by Liatris’ flower shop on your way here.

The bouquet was made of four different kinds of flowers. The first type was made of several long, rod-like pedals, with several yellow centers, all of which was covered in tiny white hairs. The second kind was also white, though its petals were wider and more flattened, each flower has five petals each, with a small, dot of yellow in the center. The third type was a long green stem, with several tiny, white bells hanging down from the entire length. The fourth and final flower was composed of ball-shaped clusters of little red and purple colors. You realize, now looking at her, that you had subconsciously chosen the exact same flower that rested atop Coco’s hair clip.

When Coco sees the flowers, her eyes immediately widen and she lets out a surprised gasp.

“Oh! They’re beautiful,” she sighs, taking the flowers from you. Then, there’s that feeling again, the greatest you’ve ever felt. Before you can even realize it, Coco’s forelegs were once again wrapped around you. “Thank you…” she sighs into your ear. You feel your cheeks heat up (at this point, you may as well just assume you’re constantly blushing) but that doesn’t stop you from returning her tight hug, and a wide smile spreads across your muzzle.

“Y-yeah…no problem,” Your voice was detached from your body, as if it wasn’t you talking but just some separate voice relaying your thoughts.

As much as you want the hug to last forever, some form of sense overtakes you and you reluctantly pull back. Before you can leave, Coco pulls you back in for a few quick seconds before she lets go.

“Okay, let’s get to work!” Coco cheers. You feel your smile widen, knowing that something you did made Coco happier. It brings such warmth to your heart to see her this happy. You let out a soft sigh (making sure Coco can’t hear) and then happily walk to your post to finish up the last few costumes of that day.





“Just…one…last…stitch…aaaaaaaaand: DONE!” You exclaim as you put the final addition on the last costume: a blue and yellow dress for one of the backgrounders. Coco turns to look at the finished piece of work and then smiles wider than you’ve ever seen her before. This time it’s you who takes the initiative and throws your forelegs around Coco. She releases a soft ‘Eep’ in surprise, but was quick to return the hug.

Although it doesn’t last as long as the first two, you still savor every moment of this small little contact with the lovely mare. As soon as the two of you break apart, you look into each other’s eyes for a quick second…

Should I say it now? Oh, but she looks so happy, what if I ruin it by forcing her to reject me? I…I…

It’s only Lyra. Yeah, she’ll forgive me, eventually, right? Yeah, just another day to put it off. Coco and me will see each other again, right? Right?

I…I…I can’t tell her. Not today.

“Is everything alright?” Coco’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. She looks directly into your eyes; her head was tilted slightly in concern.

“Hm? Yeah, why?” You ask.

“I…it’s just…you looked a little down, that’s all. Like you were sad about something you wanted to do but couldn’t.”

This mare’s gotta be a mind reader.

Despite her hitting the mark perfectly, you decide to shrug it off, “No, it’s nothing.”

“Well, alright. Thank you, by the way, for your help. There’s no way I could have gotten this all done without you.”

“It was my pleasure, Coco,” You assure her with a smile.

“So, um…are you just going to leave?” Coco drops her gaze to the floor and drags a hoof back and forth, “…b-because I was thinking that we could…I don’t know, just…talk, i-if you want. But if you don’t I-!”

“Whoa, whoa…” you interrupt her, “Where in Equestria did that come from? I wasn’t just going to ditch you here. In fact…”

You trot over to your saddlebags and reach into the other compartment, this time, rather than flowers; you pull out a large bottle of Poney de Bêche champagne. Fizz, the owner of the winery, assured you that it was the best she had, and even gave you a generous discount when you mentioned a mare. It made you feel somewhat awkward for her to make assumptions like that, but you could not complain, since she had been spot on with your intentions. Along with the bottle you pull out two crystal glasses, you had bought them just for the occasion (you say bought, you just forgot your own glasses, so Fizz gave these to you. Quite the romantic, that one.)

“I figured,” you say presenting the bottle to Coco, “That we should have a little celebration, you know, for all our hard work.”

“O-oh my! More gifts? Well, thank you again, this is all very, very generous of you,” she dips her head slightly as a sign of thanks.

You feel a small blush come to your face, but you maintain your smile. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Using your hooves (Goddess forbids Coco sees you using your teeth) you awkwardly open the bottle, causing the cork to fly across the room with a solid POP, gaining a few laughs from you and Coco. You lift the bottle and carefully fill both glasses, hoofing one to Coco, who accepts in graciously.

“A toast?” She inquires.

“Sure, why not?” The two of you raise your glasses up, “To a great play, to both our success, and…” you hesitate. Damn, why can I never think of a third? Come on; think what a good third is. “-to Coco’s beauty.” You blurt out. …well s**t

The mare you just named blushes a darker red than you have ever seen her.

“O-o-oh,” She nearly squeaks out, “I-I, um…I don’t know what to say…”

“I-I’m so sorry, I…I don’t know why I said that,” you tell her desperately.

“N-no, it’s quite alright. Thank you; actually, it was a very nice compliment.” You notice a little smile form on her muzzle.

“You sure?”

“Mmhm.”

“Alright, then: To Coco’s beauty!” you exclaim. The two of you clink your glasses together, and lift them to your lips, drinking the fizzy pink liquid.

Now, at this precise moment, a very important memory comes back to you. It’s a certain detail about yourself, one that would have helped if you had not forgotten. You were rarely confronted with the circumstances required for this little fact about yourself, which sadly meant you forget regularly:

You HATE the taste of alcohol. You were able to stomach it at the rare ‘high-society’ events that came with a job at a place like Bridleway, but you had to struggle just to finish two glasses of the lighter stuff.

Coco, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the bubbly fluid. The second she swallows, her eyes light up in enjoyment.

“Wow!” She exclaims, “This Champagne is amazing!”

“Y-yeah…it’s…it’s great,” you mutter, a bit too unconvincingly. If Coco has noticed, she doesn’t show it.

“So, how is your composition coming along?”

“Hm?” You ask surprised, “I…never told you I was composing. In fact, I don’t think I ever told anypony about it. How do you know?”

She shrugs. “It was pretty easy to tell, really. Whenever you played, you were always doing small little improvisations, and you constantly play the same things repeatedly, only making slight adjustments. Not to mention, you just recently got a harpsichord, right? It would make sense for you to want to make a song for a brand new instrument.”

“Wow,” you say, your voice echoing the amount of shock shown by your face, “You were able to notice and put all that together?”

“Well…” she starts to blush in embarrassment, “That and the manuscript paper that you had on your piano.”

“Oh…right,” you feel your own cheeks redden, “But how did you know all about that, you don’t quite strike me as the musical type.”

“My roommate at MU was a musician. She would always play this strange mountain instrument; I forget what it was called though. It was sort of like a guitar, only it was played lying down, strings up in the players lap, and only had three- no four strings. It sounded beautiful. Her style was a bit different than yours, though, she concentrated on more folk-ish songs.”

“Wow, you figured it all out from listening to her?”

“Uh-huh. She used to be my closest friend; we still keep in touch. In fact, when I was looking for a job, she was the one who introduced me to Su-” Coco stops mid-sentence, something she said, or was about to say, troubling her.

“Introduced you to who?” You ask, concerned for the seamstress.

“S-Suri, Suri Polomare,” Coco mutters, almost too softly to be understood.

“Polomare…” The name seems familiar to you. Then it hits you, “Oh, isn’t she some fashion designer, I heard there was an upset at a competition recently. I remember seeing it in the tabloids.”

“You read tabloids?” Coco raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

“Nope,” you say, “But Octavia does, and I remember seeing it in one of hers.”

Coco starts to giggle, but stops when she was reminded of what she was talking about. She reaches her glass towards you, and you happily fill it back up.

“Yes. Suri is, or perhaps was, one of the big fashion designers in Manehattan. I used to be her assistant.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Wow, getting up close and personal tips from one of Manehattan’s biggest designers. That must have been absolutely amazing!”

Your excitement was interrupted quite sharply from the sound of a sniffle. As you lower your gaze back to Coco, the sight that meets was heartbreaking. The little smile she always wore was torn away, twisted instead into a look of absolute despair, her eyes. Her eyes were screwed as tightly shut as possible, yet somehow you could still see tears coming from the corners. Your eyes shoot wide open in shock.

“Oh my Cadence! Coco, are you okay?” You ask worriedly. Coco does nothing more than continue to sob quietly. “Coco, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I- I…”

Without thinking, you slowly approach the weeping mare, extending your forelegs around her body and pulling her into your embrace. You do not hug too tightly, your more just there to lend her support, and to let her know that you’re there, that you care for her. Despite your efforts, her tears still leak.

Maybe…I have never actually done it…maybe…I could try.

As you continue to hug Coco, you focus down toward your chest, concentrating on your very heart. Soon, you can hear it- no feel it beating. Once your whole presence was focused to your heart, you focus your mind on the one task you knew that only you could give her at that moment.

As your presence returns to your full self, you begin to feel the effects, a deep ache forms in your chest, you suddenly feel a great sorrow and sadness, like remembering your own shortcomings, your own defeat, and soon tears fall from your eyes.

Your work does not seem to be in vain, though. You hear Coco’s sobs start to wane, and soon the tears from her eyes cease to fall down her cheeks you feel her muscles loosen their tension around you, and she leans more into your hug.

“Why…why are you crying?” she asks, there was still a tone of sadness in her voice.

You pull back to look Coco in the eyes, your forehooves still wrapped around each other. Even through your tears, the very sight of the beautiful mare brings a wan smile to your face.

“Do you…*sniff* do you feel better?” You ask.

“Did you *hic* hear me earlier, when I was *sniff* apologizing?” You manage to choke past your sobs.

“Wh-what about it?”

“C-cadence…I sa…said ‘Cadence’.”

“Yeah, you’re Cadencian, and?” She still seems confused.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the ‘Gifts of the Goddesses’?”

“Hm? Yeah, I remember seeing it in the old legends I used to study. It was said that the followers of Celestia and Luna were given different powers. Celestials were given the power of friendship, and made friends with nearly everypony, while Lunar-worshippers were given blessing of advanced intelligence or magic, but usually lived in solitude, because of this, most ponies choose Celestia.”

“That’s right.” You wipe a tear from your eye, “But what about Cadence?”

"Nopony knows. There's nothing in the records because Cadence is such a recent princess."

“Well then, I guess I should fill in the blanks,” you finally feel the tears start to stop flowing from your eyes.

“Although Cadence is new she still does give a special power. Those few ponies that follow her, if they choose, can relieve a pony from emotional pain.”

“You mean you can just take away anypony’s sadness?”

“…y-yeah. But we can’t take all of it, and…there’s a cost,” you prepare yourself for what you're about to say, knowing Coco won’t take it well, “You see, emotional energies can’t just disappear. In order for a Cadencian to take the sadness away, we have to channel it somewhere else. In most cases, this means…ourselves.”

Coco’s eyes widen in realization and she covers her mouth with a hoof in shock. “Y-you mean…”

“That’s right,” you nod, “I took away your sadness, and in turn planted it in my own heart.”

“B-but, why…?” she asks, nearly pleading.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, nor the tears that once again fall from your eyes. “Oh, Coco. Don’t you see?” You pull her back into a tighter hug “Even if I have to take the pain for myself, it’s worth it just knowing I can help you feel better.”

Coco reciprocates your hug, and you think you can even feel her head nuzzling up against you slightly.

“Thank you, but please, don’t ever do that again.”

“But I-” you start to protest

“No ‘but’s. I know that this is important to you, and I understand why you think this is a better solution, but think about just how badly it makes me feel when I have to see my own tears coming out of your eyes.”

You had never thought of it like that.

“Alright, I won’t do it anymore.”

It was only a little lie, and it did make Coco smile. Besides, you were being somewhat truthful. You promise yourself to not use your Gift to such a strong degree, but, if only a little, you would still carry some of Coco’s pain, because…well, you had lied to her about that part of it, too.

Coco pulls her forehooves back from you, but sits back on her haunches; you decide to join her on the floor, your legs feeling weak from standing for so long.

“I think we both need another drink after that.” Coco says.

You agree, if only for her sake, and fill both you and Coco’s glasses again (How did she drink her’s so quickly, I did not even notice it.) Clinking the glasses together again, the two of you once again raise your glasses to your lips, you quickly swallowing the pink liquid, so that it stays on your tongue for as little time as possible.

You watch Coco as she finishes her third glass of Champagne in three big sips and tilts her glass in your direction.

“Aren’t you going a bit fast?” you ask. You watch Coco as she blushes, but now you’re not sure if that’s from embarrassment or from the alcohol starting to run through her.

“Well, this is supposed to be a party, right? And besides, you seem to be going quite slowly, and I’d hate to see fine Champagne go to waste, when you paid so much for it.”

You open your mouth to tell Coco you really didn’t pay that much, but stopped and instead just filled her glass. It seems that your words have gotten through to her though, since she takes this one in smaller more restrained sips.

As you gaze at her, you once again find yourself caught in your eyes, and now, you don’t hold back, you feel yourself swimming in the beautiful, light blue ocean of her eyes, feeling it surround you in bliss, and love and happiness. You feel like you could sit this way forever, and now that nopony’s here to stop you, you think you really can…





Although the time you were with Coco was a few hours, to you, the experience seems like forever. The two of you had spent the whole evening simply enjoying each other’s company, conversing about this, that, or the other. You weren’t sharing any full, deep, meaningful discussions (the initial heart magic episode excluded). Just simple, idle chitchat about anything came to your mind.

However, as much as you enjoyed this time (and you really, really, enjoyed it), you couldn’t help but be a little concerned by the amount of champagne Coco was drinking. Each time you questioned her of her drinking, she would respond with “It’s just very good” or “I don’t want it to go to waste”. This attitude, added with your avoidance of the drink, lead to Coco drinking nearly the entire bottle herself. Needless to say, this had started to take effect on her.

It started with little signs: her laughter becoming more and more enthusiastic, her eyes starting to turn glassy, and an ever-deepening blush that you started to suspect wasn’t due to her timid nature, but now it’s turned to her turning full on drunk. You didn’t scold her, for several reasons, mainly the large grin on her face told you she was thoroughly enjoying herself (and because her intoxicated swaying, her constant laugh, and her occasional hiccup were incredibly adorable).

You were finishing a story you were telling about how you one time accidently took a bite of a clay block in high school (gaining a hearty laugh from your seamstress friend), when you notice that Coco’s half-lidded stare had moved to the top of your head.

“Hey, wha- whasup with your mane anyways?” She slowly gets out; you can tell she was making a conscious effort not to slur her words together, with little success.

“My mane?” You tilt your head in confusion: Oh, right. I decided to do something a little different with it” You turn your head in order to give some semblance of a pose, “You like it?”

Coco squints her eyes, either trying to get a good view, or possibly trying to make the double vision stop. “It loo’s good, I guess. But, it really does’n’ look like you.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s just…well, I kinda liked the way you normally look a lot more.”

“I- Really? You mean with my mane not even brushed?”

“Yeah, like this…” She leans toward you and places a hoof on top of your head. Then, with short, quick motions, she tousles it this way and that, taking some extra time to flatten it and get it just the way she likes. “There! Just like that.” You turn yourself around to look at the full-body mirror in the corner of the room to see how Coco had done.

What you see in the mirror was certainly different from what you had seen after your preparation this morning. Rather than the perfectly combed appearance you once had, your locks were now rummaged around into a large, shaggy mess. However, it was different from your usual look, rather than just your hair going in many directions and being utter chaos, it was somewhat more kempt, like organized chaos.

“So, you like it messier like this, eh?” You say, turning to her with a smile.

“Uh-huh. You look much cuter that way,” she says, smiling back just as wide. Your eyes shoot wide open, as your face burns red. Did she- I- How- Why- …what?! Coco just continues smiling, as if nothing happened. Okay, she is definitely drunk.

“H-hey, Coco?” you stutter out unsurely.

“Yeees~?” she nearly sings out.

“Hey, not like I don’t want to be here with you, but it’s getting pretty late, we should be heading home.

Coco pushes her lower lip out in a cute little pout, “Awww, but I was having so much fuuun.”

“I know me too, but we can’t stay here all night.”

Coco sighs and reluctantly stands up, though her legs were wobbling quite a great deal. It only takes her three long, slow, careful steps, before she collapses back down on top of herself. It was adorable, but also a bit concerning.

Walking up next to her, you take one of her forelegs and wrap it around your shoulders, working as a support for her. She seems more than grateful for you, shifting her head so that it lays against your shoulder (needless to say, leaving you blushing even more).

Together, the two of you make your way out of the theatre. Once you step outside, you can feel Coco shivering against you, despite the temperature being decidedly warm for a Manehattan night. You can even hear her start to breathe more raspily, as if she really was cold.

You can’t help it; you just have to put your wing around the poor mare. It just wouldn’t be like you.

…whoa, Deja Vu.

“Coco, can you remember where your home is from here,”

“Mmmmm? Y-yeah, I think so…”

“Well, then, lead the way, I guess.”

“Alright, from here, we need to go right.” She points with her hoof down a long avenue. Following her directions, you start your walk ba-

“Wait…no I mean right.”

Yeah, I can see where this is going.





By the time you reach Coco’s flat, you had two realizations: the first was that it’s very possible an hour has passed since you left the theatre, and the second was that the rather small residential building was only three blocks away from your destination, but with your only guide being a pleasantly intoxicated Coco you weren’t entirely surprised that the trip took as long as it did (come to think of it, every time you started to approach this spot, Coco seemed to remember the “right” way back to her home).

You half-carry the still-stumbling mare up the few, concrete steps. When you reach the door, you were surprised to find that it gives to your hoof, rather than requiring a key. The inside of the building has a very strong odor. Something equivalent to that of cigarettes, but slightly less offending and homier.

“My apar’ment’s on the sec’nd floor,” Coco slurs out, not even bothering to hide the champagne’s effect on her speech. The two of you slowly walk your way up the stairs, Coco having trouble reaching a few. When you reach the door, you look at Coco in hopes she can find a key on her pony by herself. You were surprised when she instead pulls up the small “WELCOME” mat in front of her door. You would scold her for keeping such an important item in such a cliché spot, but you doubt that her drunken mind would be able to retain your criticism.

You watch quietly as Coco reaches both her front hooves out in an attempt to pick up her key. “Do you want me to help you,” you offer. She shakes her head in refusal. After a solid minute or so of her fumbling with the single key, she finally rises from the ground with the brass opener held awkwardly in her teeth. Leaning forward, she places the key into the lock and twists her entire head to unlock the door. When she gives the door a weak shove with her head, you were stricken with a mixture of impressment and pity. The creamy-coated mare wraps her hoof around your shoulders again.

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Coco instructs. The two of you slowly and easily make your way to the door, opening it you see a plane white room with a large bed in the center with a purple comforter stretched over top, on either side of the bed was a simple wooden stand. On the left stand were a clock/radio and a plastic mold of what looks like a pony’s neck. Atop the right stand was a simple lamp along with an unmarked, green, hardback book and a small glass vase that was empty for some reason.

You walk to the side of the bed and lay the now half-conscious Coco down onto the mattress and back away from her, feeling her hoof drift off the back of your neck. You take a second to take in the sight before you. Coco was laying on her side, with her eyes closed, but not too tightly, and her mouth slightly agape. Her breath was coming in a slow and steady rhythm. You weren’t sure what it was that comes over you (perhaps the alcohol, perhaps your own decision and desire, perhaps both) but you lean in to the sleeping mare and plant a soft, loving kiss on top of her forehead.

Satisfied with the night, you turn to walk away from the mare.

“...wait…”

You turn around to see Coco, eyes half open looking up at you with a pleading look on her face.

“Don’…don’t…leave…” she says between her slow breaths, still on the cusp between awake and asleep. Despite her being almost knocked out, you can still vaguely tell what she was asking for.

“C-Coco, I don’t know if-”

“Shhhhhhhhhh…” she raises her hoof into space. She opens her eyes all the way now, and gives you the most adorable, most compelling, most amazing puppy dog eyes. “Please…”

You could tell yourself that you don’t know the exact reason you decided to accept her plea. You could say it is the miniscule amount of alcohol you have in your system, the amazingly adorable face Coco was giving you, or that you’re tired and delirious from the late hour and the long walk to her house. However, let us not feign ignorance.

You gently climb onto the bed and lay yourself down facing Coco, and the reason that you do was that ever since you entered her house, you had secretly been hoping she would ask such a thing. When you have finally settled yourself down, you feel Coco’s hooves wrap around you. Near the foot of the bed, you feel her tail gently intertwine with yours. And then, a voice as sweet and golden as fresh honey whispers the three most amazing, most beautiful, most profound words that anypony could ever utter.

“…I love you…”

Your heart skips a beat. You question if you had heard that correctly (of course you did). You look at the mare in your arms to see her now only a few seconds from sleep. And the widest, greatest, most genuine smile spreads across your face as you snuggle closer the wonderful, lovely, beautiful mare you have ever met. And just before you drift off into the greatest sleep you have ever had in your life, you say just one last thing:

“I love you, too, Coco…”

> Chapter 8: Dress Rehearsal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes slowly crack open. You had fallen asleep in the arms of the mare you had secretly loved for the past week (strange, it felt like it had been months and months since you met). The first thing you see was Coco, her eyes closed, a smile on her muzzle, and her breathing at a slow, steady pace, peacefully asleep. The sight brought a dreamy smile to your face.

You scooted closer towards the cute mare, pulling her tighter into your embrace, gently nuzzling your muzzle against hers. Coco hummed in her sleep in response; you even think you hear her sighed your name. You can see her slowly stirring from her slumber. Her eyes opened up very slowly. As soon as her gaze reaches yours, you smiled in genuine warmth.

The mare in your arms however has a different reaction than yours.

Immediately, her eyes widen to a nearly impossible size. Before you can even ask what is wrong, your ears were assaulted by a scream so loud and high-pitched, you were amazed the glass windows stay intact. You covered your ears with your hoofs, trying to block out the sound. Bad idea, because the next thing Coco does is pull back all four of her hooves, then pushed you away with an incredible force (for such a shy, petite mare, she packs a helluva punch). You fall to the ground with a loud thud and let out a long groan.

“How- why- I don’t-, What are you doing here!?” Coco frantically stutters over her words, obviously quite flustered.

“Y-you invited me.” You responded holding up your hoofs to protect yourself from…you don’t even know what.

“I…what? No, I didn’t!” You pulled yourself off the ground to look Coco in the eyes. She isn’t angry (it’s doubtful she ever really has been) but her expression shows you that she is quite scared. Against your better judgment, you decide to walk around the bed and approach. She inches back away from you like a kitten, not fully startled yet, but clearly scared. You placed a hoof on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, she seems to be retracting from you somewhat, but she doesn’t pulled away entirely.

“Coco, you need to calm down, okay? It’s alright.”

“What- I- but-,” her eyes darted around each time she tries to form a new sentence. “What- What happened last night?”

You tilted your head in confusion for a second, then your eyes widen in realization.

“You mean, you don’t remember last night at all?” you asked.

Coco shuts her eyes and furrows her brow, evidently struggling to remember just what happened.

“I remember you giving me flowers, then finishing our work, you bringing out a bottle of…champagne…” her eyes grew wide at a sudden realization, and then she laid her head down in her hooves. “Oh, Celestia! I was drunk, wasn’t I?”

“Mmhm,” You confirmed.

“Then, I remember telling you about Suri, and then you…helped…” she trails off, obviously taken aback by what you had done. “And then… I can’t remember…” She hid her face in her hooves, ashamed and seemingly on the verge of tears.

You wrap your forehooves around her in a comforting hug.

“It’s okay, Coco, it’s okay…” you whispered.

“Wait…” Coco pulled herself from her fallen state for a moment, as you suddenly see her in deep thought, “If…If you’re here, and I was… does…does that mean…?”

“Mean what?” You asked. Coco’s whole face quickly turned a very deep shade of crimson, redder than any blush she had had before.

“D-did, we, um, I-I mean, was there, d-did I, oh dear. What I mean is, w-well, I-if I was, um, impaired, and you’re h-here now, did we, um, I mean, d-di we have…eep!” She ends her mass of stuttering with a sharp squeak, attempting to hide her face with her mane like the one she did when you first met. It worked about as well as it had then.

You lowed your hoof and gazed upon the mare in your hooves with a furrowed brow. “If I’m here and you were drunk, what do you mean? What could we have done that would be so-…oh…Ooooh…. ” In your mind somewhere, the stream of thoughts suddenly connected to exactly what Coco thinks you two could have done with those parameters. As that thought reached you, you felt your own blush come on, possibly even darker than Coco’s.

“Oh, no. Nononononononononononono!” You shake your head violently, blurting out as many “no’s” as you can “No, we, no, that- that didn’t happen. Nonononononono.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Coco sighed in relief as her posture relaxes a bit, but becomes rigid again, “But then…w-what did happen?”

You don’t responded right away. Instead, you closed your eyes, took a few deep breaths, and attempted to organize your thoughts into a way that will easily and eloquently state last night’s events.

“Um, well,” (Great Start.) “Once we left the theatre, I walked you home, and then helped you into to bed. I was about to leave, but then you stopped me. Then you told me to stay here with you, so I did. And, um, then, you, well, uh…” you find yourself stammering and blushing almost as much as the mare in front of you. You gulped once in nervousness, and then sighed for confidence.

“You said you loved me.”

The mare was stunned in silence. She no longer shivers, nor twitches. When she finally does speak, you can’t hear a stutter in her voice.

“Oh, I see…”

The sight before you was heart breaking. The mare you truly cared for had her head hung in shame. Her bangs draped in front of her eyes, hiding her gaze. Her mouth is not a smile, nor a frown, just blank. Then, from the right side of her face, you saw a single drop of water roll down her cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“Coco…” you say pleadingly extending your hoof toward the mare again. This time she fully retreats, not letting any contact occur. She turned her body so she faces away from you.

“No, please. You…you should go.” The hollowness of her voice was like a knife in your heart. She has neither joy, nor anger, and that makes it all the worse. 

“Coco, please. I-”

“NO. Don’t you dare say those words.” She does not yell, but her very presence becomes sterner. Coming from her, it is almost frightening, in a way. “I know you value my happiness, but do not say those words for my benefit. I wish the best for both of us, so you should just…leave.” 

You don’t know what to say. What could you say? The mare of your dreams just denied your love for her. Even if you said it in the most sincere way, she would think it only pity. So how? How do you prove it?

…there is only one way. I have to tell her the truth…I hope this works.

“Coco,” you whispered, barely even audible, “forgive me.” You focus on your chest, your presence concentrating to your very heart. Soon you can heard it, no feeling it beating. Then, once you have concentrated, you reached out towards Coco.

The effects were immediate and harsh. You were overtaken by an overwhelming wave of depression and heartbreak. You feel of heartbreak, of ruining the one big chance you had at true happiness, of taking something you had been searching for your whole life and crushing it under the weight of your own shortcomings, of a love that neither can nor will ever be returned. The pain is so sharp it stabs through your very soul, so intense that it burns in your chest. You fall to ground, losing all reason to remain standing. Your hooves come to your face as you began to sob uncontrollably.

This is what Coco is feeling? How does…how is she…

“H-how- c-can…*sniff* can y-you- stand there- like- that?” Your thoughts become broken sentences, due to both your confused state and your constant weeping.

Coco turns back to face you. The tears in her eyes gone for only a second, until they meet with yours. “You…you promised…” Her eyes begin to fill with tears again. “You promised you’d never do that. Why?”

“Because…I lied,” you somehow gathered enough strength to keep your sentences fluid, “About two things, actually.” You raise yourself up from the ground to look the mare in the eyes. Both of you had tears streaming down your cheeks, yet both of you were holding each other’s gaze perfectly.

“First, I must apologize to you, for I didn’t really intent on keeping your promise.” The shocked look on the mare’s face was enough for you to feel the shame of breaking her trust. “I’m sorry. Truly. But I could never simply sit idly by while you’re in pain. It would be too much for me. To be completely honest with you. I do plan to use my Gift. I will keep to only times of necessity, but I will never completely stop. I’m sorry, truly deeply sorry. If you wish to never trust me again, I wouldn’t blame you; you have every reason to, but I just can’t help it.”

Coco’s face falls. She seems confused and hurt. It was a lot of information to take in at once. Instead of being angry with you, she gave but a single word in response:

“Why?”

“That is the second lie I told,” you begin, having to brace yourself for the real confession. “When I first used my gift, you asked if I could take ‘anypony’s’ sadness, and I agreed, but that’s not true.”

“What do you mean it isn’t true?”

“Think about it, it’s the gift of Cadence, Mi Amore Cadenza.” You took a deep breath for some kind of confidence, and then look the mare in the center of her eyes, hoping these next words will have the effect you want them to, “The Gift can only be used for somepony you love.” 

Coco stares at you, awed by what you just said.

“You mean…you…you really-”

Your next few actions happen distantly, as if you were not quite the one in control of your body. You were simply an observer to what now unfolds. Your hoof slowly comes to rest on Coco’s cheek. Your eyelids become heavy as they begin to close. You, ever so slowly, lean in towards her, slowly closing the distance between you.

Then your lips meet.

You kept your eyes closed, lost in the ever so sweet bliss of finally kissing the mare of your dreams. Your whole body relaxes, all worries leave you, and for a moment (just a moment), nothing in the world truly matters other than the two of you.

After a time that will forever remain uncountable, the two of you finally separate (as much as you both wish it could last forever, it just wouldn’t be as special if it never ended now would it?). 

Coco’s eyes, her endlessly beautiful eyes, look up at you with some wonderful mix of amazement, wonder, happiness, and just about any kind of positive emotion that a pony can experience.

“You…you really love me?” she excitedly asks.

“I do.” you responded without another thought.

“So…I mean, can we-”

“We can.” You don’t even need her to finish,

“Then, a-are we-”

“If you want us to be.” A wide grin spread across your face, and you can only imagine the same for Coco.

“I-I-I…Yes!”

“COCO!”

Without warning the mare sprung forward and tackled you to the ground in the biggest and tightest hug you had ever experienced. Before you can even reacted to that, she began to pepper you with little kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, really just about anywhere that she can find. You laugh at the adorableness of it all and just let her continue (it’s not like you were going to start complaining anyway).

When Coco finally runs out of energy, which is no small amount of time, she laid her head down on the crook of your neck so the top of her mane is snug against your chin.

“I love you,” she says quietly.

You raised your forelegs up around her to return her hug finally.

“I love you, too, Coco,” you said, your laughter betraying your intended sincerity, “Been saving that outburst up all week, eh?”

“Heehee, maybe~” she giggles out.

You were surprised at how quickly her attitude had changed; you were used to her being the timid, quivering ball of adorable shyness. She was still adorable (like that’s ever going to change), and you could still felt her lightly trembling in your arms, but she seems to have developed a certain playfulness about her (not to mention she changed from being scared out of her mind from hugging you to full on tackling you). That’s not to say you were put off by her new demeanor, if anything it was even more endearing.

While you were busy snuggling with Coco, your eyes drift to the small alarm clock atop the nightstand. Your eyes shoot wide open.

“Oh Cadence, I’m late!” You shout out, suddenly overcome by a state of alarm. Coco raises her head at your outburst.

“Hmm? Late for what?”

“The dress rehearsal! The play opens tomorrow!”

Coco’s eyes begin to widen in realization. “...Oh. OH! Right, we need to go!” She says excitedly as she rolls of you and scrambles to her hooves.

“We?” You raised one eyebrow in suspicion, “What do you have to do at the theatre?”

“Nothing,” Coco replied, before leaning down to lay another kiss upon your cheek, “But wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

Aw...that’s so sweet.





You enter the theatre with a confident stride. Your head was held high, and each step you take was filled with purpose. Even your breathing was happy.

The mare next to you was a different story. Despite the side of her you saw this morning, the second you left her home for public view, she reverted into her shy little ball of cuteness. Even then, as you walked towards the theatre, you can felt her lightly trembling against your side.

As much as you liked her more playful side, you can’t say you were completely disappointed with this either. It made you feel... stronger, maybe? Like you were the shield that protected her from danger, the wall that guarded her, the tower of her defenses (or she just has social anxiety and you’re the only pony she knows near-by, but hey, those other things are possible, too, eh?).

You shift your gaze over to the mare of your thoughts. Her eyes are kept firmly at her hooves, and you can see her cheeks are tinted a not-so-subtle shade of pink.

As you continued to stare, a little idea crept its way into your mind. An impish smile crawls across your face, and you have to suppress a small giggle. Ever so slowly, you swing your tail up towards Coco, before she can even react, you jerk your tails around so that yours and hers were now intertwined. Her eyes shoot wide open and the blush on her face turns from pink to deep red.

“I-I-I-y-you-I-wha-huh-I…I…I…”

You turn your head over to the stuttering mare.

“Hm? Something wrong Coco?” you ask, smiling innocently.

“Oh…um…I-I guess not,” she returns your smile, though her cheeks remain reasonably flushed.

As the two of you approach the stage, you had to make a conscious effort not to get swept up in the commotion. Around the entire stage, ponies mil about like a swarm of bees. Actors and actresses ran around, trying to get their costumes from the set ponies, who are busy putting the props together. Nearby, Hamlet stands on his chair, shouting through his megaphone:

“Everypony! Please calm down! Actors move to set one!”

Coco’s head moved around, she seems entranced trying to follow the haphazard movements. You place a hoof on her head to keep it in place, goddess knows it would have fallen off if you had let her continue. She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, as if trying to shake off the weight of her stupor.

“Is it always like this?” she asks, obviously trying not to fall back into her pony-following state. 

“You mean you’ve never seen this?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“No…this…um…this is my first show…” Her eyes drift downward.

“Wait, really?” A wave of excitement washes over you, “Oh, Coco, it’s amazing! It’s like having your own personal show! Even if I am just a musician, it’s always incredible to actually think that I’m a part of such a big and Equestria-known event as a Bridleway Play. Isn’t it amazing?”

“I…I guess I never actually thought about it,” A wide grin spread across her face, “Yeah…It is kinda neat, huh?”

A small laugh bubbles out of your throat. “‘Kinda neat’? Oh, Coco…” you lean and kiss her gently on the cheek, “That’s so adorable.” It feels good to actually say it out loud, your head was starting to get tired of keeping all of your adoration in. (Tell me about it…). Coco’s cheeks flush pink once again, but she quickly gave your cheek a peck in return. As you peered around the room, you found a certain gray mare in the back corner quietly tuning her Cello. You nudged Coco to get her attention, then motion toward Octavia. She nods, and the two of you trot over toward the cellist.

“Hey, Octavia!” You greet cheerily.

“Good Morning.” She returns, her attention still kept to her Cello, “Are you ready for the bi-” She stops mid-sentence as her gaze has finally reached you. Well, you and…

For a long moment, she does nothing more than gape at the sight of you with your tail around a mare’s.

“Oh my, where are my manners?” Octavia fretted, reaching her hoof out toward Coco. “My name is Octavia Philharmonica Melody. You must be Miss Pommel, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“F-finally?” Coco asked, timidly accepting Octavia’s hoof-shake, Octavia’s eyes move toward you, smiling slyly. Your eyes drift off to some random corner of the room.

“Oh, trust me. I’ve heard many things about you.”

Coco turns her head towards you.

“You…you’ve been talking about me…?”

“I, well, I, uh...I mean.,” You stammer out, before clearing your throat, “I suppose I talked to Octavia a lot during the day, and I guess you came up a few times.”

“A few times?” Octavia nearly laughs, “He found a way to work you into every conversation. You’d think his life didn’t exist outside of when he helps you with your sewing.”

Your face began to grow very warm.

“Wow…you were always talking about me?”

“Well, I mean I…I guess…”

Coco leans in and gives you a peck on the check, “That’s so sweet,” She coos happily. “It looks like everypony’s getting ready to start, break a leg.” And after another kiss on your cheek, she leaves to take her seat for the show.
As she’s walking back, you notice she’s stopped by one of the actresses, but ignore it, it was probably a question about her costume or something.

“Well, well, well. It seems that Lyra’s ‘misplaced’ theory had a bit more accuracy than somepony was letting on,” Octavia’s voice brings you back to reality.

“S-shut up.”

“Oh, I can’t even wait until Lyra herself gets word of it.”

“Actually…”

“You already told her didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know sometimes your little shell is easier to melt than you think.” Octavia smiles.

“Hmph,” you harrumph, closing your eyes and slightly pouting, “Please, like you could even break my resolve.”

“You sure you want us to go down this road again~”

Your eyes open, and you see her bow poised to strike your wings yet again.

“I-Don-you don’t-please don’t do it.”

“That’s what I thought.” She returns to her Cello to continue her tuning.

You trotted over to your piano and sat down at the bench. You played a few scales and pent chords just to warm up, and then steal yourself mentally for the show.

“You ready?” Octavia says, standing up at her cello, bow at the ready.

“Yeah, ready.”

Story Time steps up to the podium and holds his baton at the ready. From the side of the stage you hear Hamlet call out:

“ACTION”

And it begins…





When the play ends there is a massive cheer throughout all the cast and the crew.

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Hamlet shouted through his microphone, “Everypony did a great job. Everypony go home, have a good night’s rest, and be ready for the big show tomorrow!”

As everypony began to pack up, you immediately jumped up from the piano, and walked towards the seats. You simply couldn’t wait to be back with your mare (Yay! I have a marefriend!) You only make it half way, however, as you are interrupted by a shocking sight:

The star of latest Bridleway play, Lyra Heartstrings, blushing and shivering like a maniac.

“Hey, Lyra are you okay?” She visibly jumps.

“Jeez, don’t scare me like that?” She quavers.

“Whoa...a bit jumpy, eh?” you question, somewhat joking, but mostly out of genuine concern.

“It’s just…I…I don’t know what- how do I- how- but,”

“Bon-Bon?” You ask knowingly.

“Y-yeah.”

“I’m guessing you had to fake your bid scene today, right?”

“Mhm.”

“You know what, that’s fine.”

“What? But, how- Tomorrow- How will I- the scene-”

“You want to try full sentences maybe?” You joke again. Before you can react, her gaze suddenly shifts to a scowl and her hoof swings around to strike you across your face. The force is actually enough to knock you onto the ground.

“I hate you.” She growled out of her clenched teeth.

“You feel better?” You groaned from the floor.

“A little bit,” She says, smiling for a second, until her previous thoughts catch up with her. She sighs and falls to her haunches. Ponies swirl about you, but you two remain in your own world.

“Don’t worry, kid. Things will work out.”

She sighed again. “How did you do it?” She muttered.

“Do what?” You asked as you sit up.

“How did you finally confess to her?”

You notice Lyra’s gaze was aimed out toward the seats. You follow your gaze until you saw she’s looking at Coco talking to the same actress as before. Strange, she seems familiar…oh…oh! It takes you a moment to recognize the blue-and-pink-maned earth pony.

“If you want the truth,” You said to Lyra, “I failed. By the end of the night, I had already admitted defeat to myself. It took Coco accidently drinking herself stupid and insane magical workings that are beyond most ponies perception. As amazing as that sounds, it was really just luck.”

“Great,” Lyra said, smacking her head against the ground, “So there’s no possible way I could ever confess to Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I said that out loud didn’t I? Doesn’t matter I guess, It’s not like I’ll ever actually be able to call her by my stupid little pet names.” You start to see tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Lyra…”

“No. Just shut up. I can’t feel better, and you’re help certainly isn’t going to help. I know…” She begins to sob quietly, “I know it won’t work.”

Despite her protest, you pick Lyra up off the floor and lean your shoulder up against her to try and keep her from falling back to the ground.

“Now Lyra, how could you ever truly know?”

“Octavia and Vinyl. You and Coco. Beauty and her marefriend whose name I never even learned. Every time there were two ponies in love, I was able to tell that they were, I could just sense it. I tried and tried so hard but I…I…” The tears now streamed heavily down her cheeks. “I can’t tell at all with Bonnie. If I can’t feel it…then it just can’t be there…”

You couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing. Lyra Heartstrings, one of the strongest mares you’d ever met, had been reduced to a sniveling mess.

“Lyra…come on. Of course you can’t tell if she loves you back. It’s not like ponies in love are the ones with the clearest thoughts.”

“But...I can always tell.”

“Starswirl the bearded, one of the greatest unicorns in history, was known for his foresight and future-telling capabilities, but he had one weakness, he was blind to his own future…”

“That is quite possibly the nerdiest possible way that one pony has ever convinced another to go and get a marefriend.” 

“Does it help though?”

“Yeah I guess…”

“Alright, good. How’s that scene gonna go tomorrow?”

You felt a sinking in your chest as you saw any happiness you had given her slowly melt away from her face.

“But you failed. And that was just you and her, nopony else. I would have to kiss her fully in front of an enormous crowd. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to do it.”

“Pff, come on…since when do you ever put yourself on my level. You’re Lyra Heartstrings, now get out there and prove you’re better than me!”

Lyra’s eyes drift off somewhere else as her thoughts seem to overcome her.

“You know what? You’re right.” Her face steels into her usual confident smirk, “Tomorrow’s the day!”

“Atta girl!” You cheered, nearly flying off the ground in excitement.

“Alright, I’ve wasted enough of my time, you go have fun with your marefriend.”

“She’s not-” You reflexively snap before catching yourself, “Wow, I guess I’ve grown a bit too used to refuting that.”

You begin to trot away. “Wait!”

“Whaaat?” You groan.

“Thanks. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Just returning the favor.” You say, smiling and then continuing to walk toward the seats.

When you reached Coco, you can’t help but notice the large smile on her face.

“Helping Lyra with her troubles?” She asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Oh, I have my ways…” She smiled secretively.

“Well, I guess I ought to be heading home.”

Before anything else can happen, she stood right up against you, and her tail wrapped tightly around yours.

“You mean we ought to be heading home…” her voice returning to the playful tone that it was this morning.

You blushed and laughed, “I suppose I’ll have to be getting used to that, hm?”

“Yup.” She smiled in the perfect, shyly impish way that only she could ever be capable of.




When the two of you reached your flat, you began to walk toward your couch, out of basic habit, but are soon stopped as Coco refuses to let go of her grip on your tail.

“Aw, that’s so cute,” She coos, before leading you into the bedroom. She tilted her head toward the bed, “Go on…”

You climb up on the mattress and slip under the sheets, feeling warm and comfortable. Coco follows you until she laid next to you, then before you can even respond, she throws her two left legs cross you so she stood over you.

“C-Coco?” you stammer, your face growing hot.

“Shhh.” She places a hoof over your lips. And then, without another word she kisses you, this time her lips meeting yours as she pours all her passion into you. You happily return her kiss. The two of you just happy to be with each other. Just to exist in the other’s presence was enough. After many, many more kisses, Coco eventually falls asleep on top of you, her head resting against your chest, you can’t help but extend your hooves, and even your wings, to wrap around her in a strong embrace.

“Good night Coco, I love you.”

“I love you, too” she sighed dreamily, and the two of you slowly drift off into slumber.





You laid your hooves against the keys, you turn your head towards the front stage, where you see Hamlet stride out to the center a wide smile painted across his face.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome, Fillies and Gentlecolts, to the Bridleway production:

“ANTHROPOLOGY: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR

“I can tell you, without a doubt, that I and all the cast and crew are more than ecstatic about this opening day. So without further ado, I’ll leave up to the actors and musicians, so please enjoy!”

Your gaze drifts to a mare in the front row, wearing a beautiful, light-blue dress, a purple collar with a red, silk tie, and a pretty red flower clipped into her short blue mane. You see her lift a hoof to her lips and blow you a kiss. You smiled blissfully before turning back to look at Story Time. As the Curtain rises, he lifted his baton up in his magic. The lights dim and a minty green mare with a Lyre cutie mark walks out onto the stage as the play begins…

> Chapter 9: Finale
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So, for everyone who doesn't read my blog (which is pretty much everyone) I mentioned that ANTHROPOLOGY is now going to be a bonus chapter that will come later. I apologize if this upsets anyone, but the musical is turning out to require a bit more work than I initially planned. Enjoy:





Some could easily say that the Bridleway Theatre was a place of magic, a comment that, even in a place like equestria, was one of true appreciation. Though most people refer to the “magic” as the beautiful and wondrous performances that take place on it’s stage, to you there is only one thing truly magical about the hallowed theatre:

No matter how many times you experience it, no matter how long you’ve been involved, and no matter how many have come before it, the feeling of joy and accomplishment at the end of an opening performance always felt just as strong.

Everywhere around you, ponies cheer in uncontained happiness. Even you can’t hold it in as you fly off of your piano bench to join the other pegasi, flying around in uncontrolled mirth.

“You know, if you're going to fly around like that, you’re not going to have anything to say for yourself next time Lyra has her outbursts.”

Looking down to the floor, you see Octavia smirking up at you smugly. Your smile grows a bit  as you fly down to meet the gray cellest (well, that was kind of impossible, considering how big it already was, but it now felt like your smile had just a little more reason to exist).

“Oh, come on!” Calls a considerably scratchier voice than Octavia’s, “It’s not like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing if you had wings.” A blue-mained DJ  emerges from somewhere in the back of the theatre, beaming even more smugly than her marefriend.

“Please, as if I would ever be caught doing something so- Hey! Wait! Vinyl, what are you-” Somewhere in the middle of Octavia’s response, her marefirend  decides to pick her up in an aura of electric blue magic. The cellest floats off of the ground as Vinyl guids her this way and that, all the while bringing her closer and eventually ending with Octavia landing directly in her arms, laughing heartily.

“Don’t you ever, ever do that again.” Octavia scolds through her laughs.

“Aw, come on Tavi, you know you love me!” The DJ responds, a cheeky grin spread wide across her face.

“Oh, I suppose.” Octavia sighs, wearing a smile of her own. “What in Celestia’s name am I ever to do with you Vinyl?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I think I have some Ideas we could try...” Vinyl responds, her voice growing sultry as she is somehow able to portray her half-lidded eyes through her signature shades.

“Buh- I- W-well, I- Uh- I’m not- eep!” The cellest turns a very, very bright shade of red as her marefriend interrupts her flustered stammering by wrapping their tails together, with an extra, playful little twist. Vinyl leans in closely and gently brushes her muzzle against Octavia’s before leaning in and-

“A-hem!” you cough loudly. “I wouldn’t be interrupting anything would I?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. Now Vinyl’s face perfectly matches her marefriend’s as she grows a bright red blush of her own. Suddenly the the two break apart, Octavia looking down in embarrassment, rubbing her foreleg with one hoof, while Vinyl throws both hooves behind her back and smiles innocently like a child hiding a cookie from her parents.

“O-oh, uh sorry…” Octavia murmurs, “I guess that we just-”

“Forgot I was here?” you finish, your smirk growing a just a tiny bit.

“Hey, she was apologizing, wasn’t she?” Vinyl gets up in your face, suddenly very protective of the beyond-embarrassed cellest.

“Oh? Was she, and I suppose it was entirely her fault, eh?” You retort, your brows narrowing into a mischievous glare, while your smug smile remains.

“Listen, buddy!” The DJ snaps back, lowering her glasses so you can see her eyes narrowing, “It’s none of your business how I treat or how I act toward my marefriend! I love her more than anything! Ever! And if you have a problem with that than you can-” Vinyl’s verbal volley is interrupted by a laugh that had a very similar sound to that of bells ringing.

“You really are good at that, aren’t you?” The mare in your face turns around to see her marefriend hiding her chuckling little smile behind her hoof.

“Just a blessing of Mi Amore, I suppose.” You respond, smiling proudly at the compliment.

Vinyl’s head quickly darts between you and Octavia until she turns to her marefriend with a confused look.

“I don’t get it, what’d he do?”

“Oh, you didn’t notice?” Now it’s Octavia’s turn to smile with lidded eyes. “‘I love her more than anything. Ever.’” Octavia repeated Vinyl’s words, albeit with a more gentle and loving tone.

“Oh…” The DJ’s face turns more red than white as her eyes drift off to some corner of the room. “I… guess I did say all of that, huh?”

“Nopony can lie about their heart to a Cadencian,” you state. “But I suppose Vinyl didn’t say anything that surprising.”

“Not really,” Octavia says, pulling Vinyl’s gaze into her’s. “But I guess it does help to have it all solidified.

“And, if it makes you feel any better…” Octavia plants a kiss on Vinyl’s forehead before turning to you, “I feel exactly the same way.”

“No need to tell m-” You stop mid sentence. Your eyes grow wide as you realize what Octavia had just done, “Oh… Oh, you clever girl…”

“What? What’d she do?” Vinyl looks confused.

“I really do hate repeating myself, Vinyl,” you say, shaking your head as you walk away. “Nopony can lie about their heart to a Candencian…” you say, never looking back to see Vinyl’s response. Though, you probably don’t need to to know what happens.

Moving through the large mass of celebrating ponies, you notice one face that sticks out from the rest.

A face that, although it is smiling, appeared to have something else on it’s mind. A face that looks off longingly to a space behind the curtains. A face that displays an accomplished resolve, and yet a great amount of worry and uncertainty is mixed in. A face that belongs to Lyra Heartstrings.

“Hey!” You call out, walking up to her and giving a playful shove. “You did it, kid!”

“Yeah…I did it, aright.” she says, her voice distant as though her mind didn’t actually comprehend what was said to her, her mouth simply reacting on impulse. She doesn’t even turn to face you.

“Huh?” You look at her confused, “What’s up?” You follow her gaze to see her looking at a cream-colored mare with a pink and blue mane that flowed down in beautiful curls.

“Oh, yeah.” You say. Your voice and face suddenly growing as neutral as hers. But only a moment later your face grows to a comforting smile. You give Lyra a gentle nudge toward the other mare.

She looks back at you with a confused and annoyed look.

You nod your head toward the mare across the room.

Lyra looks back at you with a look of worry and doubt, but your only response is to smile and nod toward her again.

She slowly begins to walk toward the other mare, before she turns around, gives you a quick hug, whispers a small “thank you”, and then trots off toward her cream-colored crush.

Lyra Heartstrings… you think to yourself, Where would we be without each other, I wonder…

You trot through the crowd, having a destination in mind already. As you reach the edge of the Stage, you look back at the mint green mare. She seems to be saying something very heartfelt to the other mare (her name was… Bon-bon, yeah?). Before you can even begin to wonder how things are going with them, you see your friend lean forward and kiss her long-haired acquaintance.

You chuckle to yourself, “Guess she’s always a little brash, even when she’s embarrassed.”

And with one last look at the celebrating cloud of all different types of ponies, you depart through the side door that leads to the outside.





You quietly sneak around the corner. About a block away, you see a small tree that stands in a little patch of grass in the center of the sidewalk. Underneath the tree is a very special, cream-coated mare.

Ever so quietly, you unravel your wings. Flapping them gently, you lift yourself off the ground, hovering only a few inches as you let your energy build.

And then, in a single burst, you dash forward, heading directly toward the mare. 

“Coco!” You shout to get her attention. As she turns, her eyes grow wide in a mix of surprise, fear, and plenty of delight. Before she can register what’s going to happen, you swoop her up in your hooves as you spin around in mid air, embracing your new marefriend with as much love as you can bring through your hooves (which, trust me, is a lot).

Although her current situation would seem a bit scary, the mare in your arms laughs warmly at your enthusiastic show of affection.

When the two of you finally land on the ground, Coco leans forward to finally return the hug you had been giving her in-flight.

“You did wonderful tonight,” she says, the warmth of her breath feeling strong against you in the cold Manehattan air.

“Oh, but it was your work everypony saw.” You reply, easily brushing off the compliment given to you.

“Well, I can’t take all credit.” She giggles into her hoof. “I did have some wonderful help.” She finishes her statement with a kiss on your cheek that feels like it melts into your skin and causes your cheeks to heat up pleasantly.

You step out from your marefriend’s warm embrace, looking her over from ear to hoof. Her aqua mane was kept in her usual bob, with the ever-present flower clipped in the back. Her collar and tie are hung around her neck as usual, but the big change is the long, blue evening gown that she is now wrapped in. The color doing plenty to bring out her big, beautiful blue eyes. All in all she was stunning.

“You look...beautiful,” You say, deciding that the most obvious word is the strongest. And, judging from the smile and pink blush on Coco’s face, you were correct.

“Why, thank you,” She nods her head in gratitude, “I made the dress myself.”

“No…” You shake your head, “I don’t mean the dress. You, Coco. You look beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Now, the blush on her cheeks grows from pink to a deep crimson.

“You know,” She says, her eyes resting somewhere on the ground, “I hear the next play is going to require even more costumes, and I probably only have a week or two to get it all done.” She looks up at you. “I’ll probably need quite a bit of help getting everything together.”

The way she looks up at you with such adorable hope and love, not to mention how cute she is, you decide to respond the only way your brain tells you is possible.

You lean in and kiss Coco, not on the forehead, or on her cheek, no, you actually kiss her, with enough passion and love to make even Princess Cadence wonder where it all comes from. After seconds that to you have felt like eons, you pull away and look Coco directly in the eyes.

“I’d be happy to help you.”

And with that, the two of you are content to stand there in the cool Manehattan evening, a cold breeze blowing by every now and then, but never effecting you, the warm embrace you hold with each other doing more than enough to hold back the cold air.

Because she is yours and you are hers, and for right now, and for as far as you can see into the future, that was all the two of you would ever need.














The End