After being given the news of being able to go on the student council trip to Vanhoover, Featherweight and Pipsqueak plan and scheme on ways to make this the best trip ever. Though something seems off with Featherweight.
Great news! Featherweight is able to go onto the trip! There's so much to do, so little time to do it. Luckily, Featherweight has Pipsqueak to help him get ready and set to go to Vanhoover. Though for some reason, something feels off about Featherweight. Something just feels...weird.
Chaos. Organized chaos. Double and triple checking bags and making a last ditch effort of trying to squeeze one more thing in without the fabric bursting. This was the sight Featherweight witnessed at Pipsqueak’s house the night before the trip. After all, It wasn’t every day that Pip would be going off to a far away place without the company of his parents. The primary contents of his bags were comfort items, or whatever Pipsqueak’s mom called them.
“Oh, you know Pip. Can’t leave home without them. Why I remember a time when he was a wee bit younger, moving to ponyville. I tell ye now that they were a life saver for him during that stressful time. Couldn’t sleep witho-,”
“Mom!” He whined, accidentally losing his accent for a moment. “He already knows! You don’t need to go saying it every time you bring ‘em up. For buck’s sake” Pip pouted as he went into his room to quadruple check that he packed everything
“Watch that tongue of yours, dearie. Honestly, it’s not something to be ashamed about, but do ya really need all twelve of ‘em? I think we can spare some more room for that bigger water bottle if we get rid o-’
“We’re not getting rid of any of them. The bottle will fit perfectly fine where it is stored right now” Pip retorted, nodding to the bag which had a noticeable lump in its side.
“It’s gonna ri-’”
“It’s fine!”
‘Uh, Pip? It is kinda late. Don’t you think we should try to go to bed early so we don’t sleep in and miss the train?” Featherweight interjected, not mentioning his singular bag of things.
“Why? What time is it?” Pip looked past Feather into his room. He quickly inhaled sharply between his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I have everything I need. Let’s go to bed.”
Their normal nighttime routine commenced and soon they lay on their respective beds, Pip in his own, Feather on the blow up mattress. Ever since the stampede incident, Feather had been staying at Pip’s house for longer amounts of time. Usually, he would stay for a day and go back home, but after he got out of the hospital, his personality altered. He started staying with Pipsqueak for two or even three days at a time.
Silence filtered throughout the room, letting the two know the last minute chatter was concluded and it was time to sleep. Pipsqueak welcomed this silence, slowly losing himself to the envelopment of sound sleep. Featherweight, on the other hoof, didn’t hear silence at all. His ears flicked to the noises of bugs outside, to the creaks in the wood of the house, to the sound of Pipsqueak breathing. Anxiety and a constant stream of thoughts flowed in his mind. I’ll have another nightmare tonight. I can feel it. If I don’t sleep, then I can’t have nightmares. But, then I will be tired in the morning. I will be pushed to sleep! I can’t escape the nightmares!
A new, but familiar, sound was added to the cacophony he heard around himself. Pumping, beating, rhythmically and constantly moving, his heart beat loud inside of his chest. Tossing and turning would do no good. It would only add more noise. He tried to focus on Pip’s breathing, but even that failed to quell his mind anymore. I want to be calm, I want to listen to his breathing, but the doctor said that-that is apart of the confusion from the concussion. Part of the, what was it, PTSD? What did that stand for again? He said that there would be intrusive thoughts. That’s what there was at the park, that’s what there was when I saw those cute stal- NO! I can’t listen to them. Not that, not thinking Pip’s breathing is calming. Nothing.
Featherweight had become familiar with restlessness throughout these two weeks, though it didn’t make it any less aggravating. It came in many different forms as Featherweight began to find out. The unknown ache in his leg panging every few minutes or so just to remind him that it’s still there. The feeling of getting so close to sleep, with just a second left before being truly out, only to be woken up by a thought of being watched. Unable to lay on any side of his body, except his back, without having the constant nagging in his head that something’s behind. Even the complete silence isn’t ever truly silent, since his ears fill in the lack of noise with a minute ringing. Faint, but maddening.
By the time he finally managed to find the best position, the quietest time, his mind finally shutting down, Feather kept absolutely still, a warm relaxation drained into his body from an unknown source. Darkness. Peace.
Shaking. Body shaking and eyes jolting open. “Ah!”
Pipsqueak let go, recoiling back, “Ah!” He said in equal shock.
“What’s going on?” Feather asked as he took a look at the clock, “Oh, no. We’re gonna be late!”
“Yeah, we are! We need to get outta here, now. Come on!” Pip offered a hoof to the still groggy colt who graciously accepted as he got up and shook the fog from his head.
They grabbed their stuff and headed out of the house, both remembering to spare a moment for goodbyes with Pip’s mom. “We didn’t have breakfast!” Feather panted as they both sprinted toward the train station.
“We can worry about that when we’re on the,” Pip wheezed. “When we’re on the train, alright?”
The clocktower chimed, banging, ringing and resonating in the very cores of the two colts.
Bang! They were nearing the train station
Bang!Blood pumping, lungs burning, they pushed themselves to get there faster.
Bang! Steam erupted from the whistle of the train, signaling its readiness to depart
Bang! The colts reached the door to one of the tain cars, knocking on it, Feather carrying the majority of Pip’s bags, panting like a dog when the door was opened and they were let in.
Stepping into the train car, they both relaxed their shoulders, Feather letting down all of Pip’s bags, as well as his own. Filthy Rich looked at them, a small chuckle escaping his mouth. “What makes you so late? I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t have come. Go on and have a seat there, friends. The conductor said the train will be delayed for about 10 more minutes due to engine issues, but we should be rolling soon.” The stallion spoke, once again, in such a charismatic fashion. One would admire the skill of being able to do that, even at such an early time as 4:00 AM in the morning.
“T-thanks, Mr. Rich” Pip said as they walked to their seats. It was the first class cabin, that much was sure, giving the two their own benches and storage area, sectioning them off from the other groggy student council members. It even had a, albeit small, bed in the cabin for one of them to use. “What a relief it is. We’re finally here, ready to go to Vanhoover!” Pip tried to sound enthusiastic through each huff of air, which ended up strained. Feather briefly smiled, acknowledging the attempt.
Once their heart rates settled down, Featherweight decided to take the time to catch some sleep. “I’m gonna try out the bed, if that’s alright with you.” He said, sinking into the soft material, yearning for it to engulf him and bring him to sleep.
“Fine by me, I don’t need to use it, since, you know. I actually got a decent amount of sleep!” Pip yawned immediately afterward, “I’ll wake you up when there is something cool you can take a picture of, how does that sound?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. President,” Feather mumbled as he finally rested his head and managed a lot easier to drift off to sleep.
Pipsqueak giggled and took a survey of who was here, making sure that everyone else was accounted for. He quietly left the private seat and walked down the hall, checking in each “room” for the ponies that were on his memorized list. A yawn and a hello were his usual greetings, but when he got to the room that was supposed to have the Rich family in it, he hesitated. It’s alright, Pip. It’s fixed now. She didn’t say sorry, or even acknowledge that she was wrong, but that’s ok. You have nothing to be mad about. He quickly thought to himself. The little pep talk helped and he opened the door. “Hiya, Diamond, Mr. Rich, Mrs. Ri-” She wasn’t in the room with them. “Oh, I’m sorry, was Mrs. Rich running a bit late?” He asked as he looked to where the two were sitting.
“Uh, no. We had a bit of a talk after I found out about the whole accident and it turns out, it’s the darndest thing, she had a social gathering up in Canterlot to attend to this weekend, and decided not to bother coming on the trip. I know Diamond is really upset about it all,” Filthy gave a look over to Diamond.
“Oh yeah, real sad. I honestly don’t think it will be the same without here coming on the trip.” Diamond whined, feigning her emotions again.
You’re telling me, Both Pip and Filthy thought.
“But, we’ll make due, right pumpkin?” Filthy grinned at her daughter, who grinned back.
“Of course, Daddy!” She said, completely animated compared to the last tone she had.
“Alright, well good to hear,” Pip said, smiling back at them before stammering, “Not that your mum won’t be here, but tha-Oh you, you know what I mean” The three laughed, trying not to express how true the double entendre was.
“Oh, by the way, Pip. I was meaning to get back with you about what exactly happened. You see, when Mrs. Rich said that she did the math for the budget. She was right. She DID do the math, and her math was off by a few commas and decimals here and there,” Filthy said, blushing as he had to defend his wife’s actions again. Specifically with you and your friend, Featherweight, which she and I will discuss a lot more in depth when I come back home. He thought. “Sorry, once again, for all the confusion and trouble that mistake of her caused you and your friend. How is Featherweight anyway? I only got to say a quick hello before you two bolted into your room.”
Pip’s smile faltered, though in his attempt to regain it, he just flashed back to all the times Feather would wake Pip up with his whimpering and crying. “It...It’s not good, Mr. Rich. He’s changed. He still the same best friend, physically. But something’s wrong with his head. He’s more jumpy, always scanning around the area. Celestia knows what he is looking for.”
Mr. Rich and Diamond’s expressions changed too, not expecting this news.
“He cries, now. When he sleeps. Nightmare after nightmare. He’s always worried. About me, about the trip, about anything. Any little thing. He tries to keep that positive attitude he has always had. It seems like nothing can keep that away, but I still see it sometimes. Those cracks, those times when he says something positive almost like he is trying to make himself believe it. I’m worried for him.” Pip said, the deep ache in his chest resonating with each heartbeat.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know the effects of his concussion were that bad. It’s…….I’m…..Is there….” Each attempt at reassurance flitted away before it could be uttered. Mr. Rich was, for once, out of words.
“It’s alright. It’s not your fault he got the concussion or the stampede happened.” Pip stared intently at the ground, the only sounds audible being the grumbling passengers in the rooms next to Diamond’s. “Anyway!” Pip immediately sprung up, reinvigorated, “I am all finished with the roster check, so I will head back to my room. See you guys later!” Pip smiled as he exited the room, back towards his own.
Diamond just sat there, silent, glancing from time to time at her father, hoping, He can fix it, right? Daddy can make this better, like he always does. Though the grimace her father wore convinced her otherwise.
Pip made it back to his room, seeing Feather propped in the bed, sleeping peacefully. Pip sat down on the cushioned seat of the train car and sighed, a cocktail of emotions and thoughts running through his head.
*bzzzt* Attention all passengers, the train will be leaving in two minutes, so please make yourselves comfortable as we begin to make our way to our first stop of Canterlot! *Bzzt*
Lungs burning, eyes blurred, legs aching, the situation was familiar. The running, never ending, pushed more than his physical limit. It’s all I’ve been doing! I can’t look behind me! I can’t stop. It will run me over! Featherweight huffed as he ran along the same stretch of road he’d been booking down for the past hour.
The stampede, roaring and powerful, somehow managed to increase in volume. The hoofsteps grew louder, the ravenous growls from the frenzied bovine echoed longer in his head. They were right on top of him, screaming, laughing, chomping. The destructive power that came from those hoofsteps behind him were only emphasized as they chugged harder, inching closer and closer until…
Everything fell into slow motion as Featherweight felt one of his backhooves slip and kick a fronthoof out from underneath him. No matter how many times he faced this outcome, it never got any less scary. The fear was sickening and the pain felt all too real as the stampede crushed limbs, pulverized bones, minced internal organs, like an apple grinder, until it reached his head where his last sight before requiem was the sunset by a pond, with a figure at the top of a hill, waiting for him.
Featherweight’s body convulsed a bit as he shook himself awake, trying to escape the inevitability of his dream. The pain stopped, the running stopped, but the stampede kept raging. He could hear it, all around him. His heart raced more than it already was and his eyes went wild as he let out a piercing, visceral scream and shot up from the cot.
Pip snapped his head to where Featherweight hung, clinging to the metal storage safety rail like it was the last thing keeping him from leaving this existence. “W-What’s goin on, Feather?! What’cha screamin for?”
“D-D-Don’t you hear them?! Can’t you hear the stampede?! They’re here. It’s gonna crush us, we gotta get outta here!” Featherweight yelled as tears flowed freely from his eyes, panic rising every second they kept still.
“Stampe-what? We’re on a train, Feather! They can’t be here. A stampede can’t be here!” Pip stood up and tried to pull Feather from the rail.
“We- it’s-what?” Feather scanned the room quickly, finally grabbing some bearings on where he was. It all started to click. He slowly let go of the rail, getting down, sniffling as he wiped away another wave of tears from his eyes. It finally caught up with him. The train wheels! He thought as he finally translating that rhythmic chugging as the locomotive moving on the tracks. When he finally got down onto the carpeted floor he tried to regain some semblance of dignity. He tried to step forward, but immediately lurched back and sat straight on his haunches. The world turned as his body swayed back and forth, grasping for a sense of balance. He held his head low, sobbing.
“There, there. It’s ok. You’re safe. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe here,” Pip rubbed the back of Feather’s neck, not wanting to startle the colt anymore.
Stop. Please stop. I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore. It hurts too much. It makes him worry. I don’t want him to worry. Featherweight took deep breaths for a minute before regaining composure. “S-sorry, pip, I probably scared you,” Feather looked down to his cabin room mate, whose expression grew evermore worried.
“Nevermind me, what scared you?! Did you have another bad dream?” Pip asked, to which Feather nodded.
“It’s fine. It’s over. I’m better. Promise!” Feather looked up to pip and gave him an awry smile. “How long was I asleep?”
“About 12 minutes. We left the station 6 minutes ago.”
Featherweight’s soul sank a bit deeper, realizing that his sleep was ineffective at catching him up on his deficit. Well, I can’t go back to sleep now. Not after that! He thought, breath shuddering, energy draining. “Oh.” Featherweight wiped his eyes clean once more and got up into one of the seats. His body twitched at every little gust of air that caressed his fur and everything he thought was there. His blood still raced throughout his body, his legs pulsating in tempo with his heart and his chest nearly bursting. Look at him He gazed up to his friend. “I’m fine now, Pip. It’s ok,” He closed his eyes, that small smile still plastered onto his face. Look At Him! Look at the pony you love!Feather grimaced behind the smile, but opened his eyes to Pip moving back to his own seat. “How long is this ride supposed to be?”
“Hard to say, though, if I had to guess, I’d put it at around 8 hours.” Pip said, having a hard time looking at Feather’s gaut figure. His stomach growled. “Oh right, I forgot we didn’t have breakfast.”
“Huh, I completely forgot, too. I can go out and look for where they serve food.” Feather said, getting up.
“Now, hold on a minute. I can go. You can stay here and try to catch a bit more sleep”
“No!” Featherweight immediately blurted. No sleep! No sleep! It hurts to sleep His eyes went wild again, “I-I need the exercise. Plus, I can get myself a bit more familiar with the train. It’s fine, Pip”
“Ok, well just get me whatever they are serving once you find them, alright? Good luck!” Pip attempted to smile before being interrupted by a yawn. He then stretched out his limbs, still not fully awake.
Featherweight nodded and made his start down the corridor of cabins. They are watching you~His mind was foggy, but his eyes were cold, looking behind him every few seconds. They know what you are~He grew more anxious as he felt eyes burrowing into the back of his head. Where is that food place? He picked up the pace along the corridor, so to keep out of sight from everypony else. You love him.Shut up! Everypony knows.I don’t love him. It...it’s just this...this disease inside my head. It’s you, that makes me think those things. Those wrong things. What I say is what you know. We are one in the same.No, we are not! Featherweight murmured and growled as he walked further through, the train interior well lit and vibrant, contrasting that of the muted sleeping landscape that has yet to have the sun grace it with a visit. He tried to focus on finding the food area, but the argument raged on inside his head, bringing more chaos to his already jumbled and fatigued mind.
Finally, he found it. The food kiosk. Even though he was walking, he still felt out of breath. He could feel the heat of his breath warm his mouth as he exhaled. “Hi!” He tried to say as cheerfully as possible, “I was wondering what there was for breakfast.”
The uniformed stallion who looked to be only a couple years older than Feather yawned, “Well, right now, we only have enough food for one ‘breakfast’ meal, since we are due to restock in Canterlot. Let me see what I can gather and we can work from there, sound good?” The stallion asked as he began to look through the few cupboards he had around him.
“Oh, well sure” Feather said as he got up on a stool near the counter of the kiosk. Doesn’t he look cute?Feather went wide eyed and hid his face behind a hoof No! Quit it! His eyes caught quick glances of the teen, his face slim like his frame, sharing a similar physique to Featherweight, except a bit taller. In a way, the stallion looked almost graceful in his movements, adding to the allure. Stunning isn’t he? Maybe you should say something? It might make his day. Who couldn’t compliment such a beautiful stallio-
“Is there something else I can help you with?” The stallion asked, raising a hoof as if to block Feather’s eyes from staring at him anymore, chuckling awkwardly as he shifted his eyes from here to there.
Featherweight sank deeper behind his hoof. He saw the tray that was laid out in front of him. How long had that been there? He thought. “Oh, no. Thank you. Sorry for staring.” He paused for a moment. He moved his hooves to grab the tray, exposing the blush that spread across his face, “It’s just that you have really fluid movements when you work. It’s like every time you stop, the posture is perfect. Again, sorry for staring” Feather said before picking up his tray and leaving the stallion, stunned and growing a blush of his own.
Featherweight walked back with the tray teetering on his back, being supported by his wings, mentally kicking himself for accidentally staring at the uniformed pony. It was nice, wasn’t it? It felt fine, it felt right.No! It was rude and it was weird. I-I don’t like stallions. I don’t like Pip and I don’t like that stallion.
Feather got back to the cabin in a matter of a minute and a half. Why did it feel like it took so long to get there? He thought as he opened the door to the cabin to see Pip scrounging around in one of his bags. “Find anything in there?” Feather asked.
Pip jumped a bit, startled by the colt’s unannounced entry. “Uh, no. Do they have breakfast here?”
Featherweight twisted his body to show the tray, “This is all they had. I don’t feel that hungry, so you can have it.” Feather said as he walked over to give Pip better access to the tray.
“Oh, well thanks.” Pip said as he picked the tray off from Feather’s back. Primed to dig in, he remembered, “Wait? Weren’t you the one who said we missed breakfast when we left? I kinda thought that meant you were hungry.” What happened?”
“I guess I over exaggerated a bit. I don’t feel that hungry right now, so it’s no worries.” Feather smiled warmly at Pip. “Besides, it looks like you really want the food” He said as he pointed to his mouth, to which pip mimicked and felt a strand of drool stick to his hoof.
“Eugh!” Pip pulled his hoof away from his mouth and wiped it on the seat. He giggled, quickly accompanied by Feather. “Alright, you win. Did they say when they were getting more food? I’d hate to go an entire possible 8 hour train trip on just this.” Pip pointed to the porridge, orange, and apple juice.
“Yeah, when we stop at Canterlot, they said they would restock. Until then, that’s all we have.” Feather plopped himself onto the other seat, relaxing his tingling, wearied body.
“Alright. Thanks, mate.” Pip said as he dug into the food.
There isn’t any hunger. I’m not hungry. I’m just content. I’m just tired. Content with being tired. S-so tired Feather, though reluctant, closed his eyes, feeling them spasm underneath his eyelids. He took couple deep breaths, slowly, but surely, loosening his body, preparing it for sleep. Strained muscles groaned as they finally got released from constant tension. The chugging of the train had become a background noise at this point, Feather finally being able to accept it as it is. This was a rarity for him. A privilege he had neglected before the incident. Silence of the mind. No arguments, no love this, love that, no paranoia, no fears. Just…….nothing
His body felt cold. The air conditioning doing its job in the small cabin, keeping the summer heat at bay outside of the train. He shivered a bit, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he took a look at his surroundings. The scene in the window had changed, but the only things that had changed in the cabin was Pipsqueak curled up on the bed, lightly snoring. Various pops and snaps came from his body as he moved around. Once again, he decided to venture out, seeing what his peers are doing.
The halls were less foreboding during his second trip, and the walls had less to say. Muffled conversations could be heard from the other cabins, too soft to be reasonably understood. Featherweight thought of going in and saying hi to some of them, but shunned away the thought since he felt awkward being there in the first place. Everypony else thought he wasn’t going up until that day. They are talking about you[/i], He thought, They were fine without you coming. You might be on the trip, but that doesn’t mean they think you have any more worth than when they voted you off. So easily. So quickly. Featherweight’s face hardened as his jaw clenched, an errant twitch in his shoulder. He shook his head, trying to lose his train of thought. He went to pass the last of the cabins before one of the doors slid open, a pony peeking his head out and looking at Featherweight,.
“Featherweight! How about you come into our cabin for a moment.” Filthy exclaimed, as he moved out of the way for Featherweight at the door.
“O-ok.” Featherweight said, his ears drooped, and his voice soft and shaky.
“How are you doing? I hope you’ve been well since I last saw you,”
He doesn’t care. “I’ve been fine. Thanks for asking.” Feather said, looking around the cabin, seeing him, Diamond sleeping on the bed, but no Spoiled. His body still trembled from the environment. “They keep these trains cool, don’t they?”
Mr. Rich gave him an odd expression before returning to normal, “I suppose so. Though I would much prefer a cool train over a hot train. Celestia knows that would be grueling to sit through.”
Featherweight looked out the window again, “Hey do you know what time it is?”r
“Oh. Um, yes,” He raised his hoof, inspecting his uselessly elaborate watch. “It’s about a quarter to eight.”
“Ah. Ok, thanks,” Featherweight just stood there, trying to avoid eye contact with Mr. Rich, “So is Mrs. Rich grabbing some food?” He finally asked.
“Well, no. Actually she had a different arrangement to attend to before we were set to leave, so she won’t be joining us on this trip.” Mr. Rich took the time to look saddened by that admission.
“Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry that she had to miss this trip,”
Mr. Rich’s eyes widened, “Sorry? There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. But thank you all the same for the sentiment.” The air turned to static, neither pony having anything left to say.
“Well, I guess, I’ll be heading back to my cabin. Thanks for the talk, Mr. Rich,” Featherweight said, moving back toward the open doorway.
“The pleasure was all mine, young boy. I guess we’ll speak after we get off the train, so until then.” Mr. Rich grinned.
Featherweight nodded and left to head back to his cabin, his body still slightly shivering.
Once out of sight, Mr. Rich closed the door and sat back down, lowering his head between his hooves. “I know you’re awake, Diamond.”
Diamond Tiara stirred from the bed, a solemn look upon her, contrasting her bright pastel pinks and muted purples. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”
Filthy kept his head in his hooves, his eyes wide open staring at the floor. He was so thin. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. He said sorry. He said sorry! After all of that, after what Spoiled put him through, he felt sorry for her. Wait a minute. He sniffed the air, becoming aware of the actual climate. He sat up once again and turned to his daughter, “It’s not that cold in here, is it, Diamond?”
“No, not really. It just feels as if it were, well, normal,” Diamond said awkardly, trying to find a way to describe it. “Why?”
Filthy closed his eyes, sighing. He was shaking. Why was he shaking if it wasn’t cold? Once again the cabin filled with silence, neither knowing what to say to each other. Neither had the words to bandage the situation. It sat there before them, staring at them, but they could do nothing. Either of them.
The silence was finally lifted after a minute or so with Filthy rubbing his eyes with his hooves, “What...What have I done?”
………..
The rest of the trip burned by into the beginning of late afternoon, Featherweight shivering more and more, catching sleep when he could and conversing with Pip about the world’s most pressing problems such as how many birds they had seen as they passed through the foreign landscape. Excitement swelled in both of them as they got closer and closer to their destination, until the train began to decelerate.
*bzzzt* Attention all passengers! We will be in Vanhoover within the next five minutes, so please prepare your belongings if this is your stop and have a lovely afternoon in Vanhoover, where ponies prosper by land, air, or sea. *bzzzt*
Featherweight and Pipsqueak scrambled to get their stuff, rushing in a flurry to get to one of the exit doors on the train. The train groaned, hissing and squealing as it finally came to a stop, letting out a relieved whistle as it docked at the train station.
The chaos of everypony getting off the train and huddling back into a group for roll call was tedious, but quick and Mr. Rich handled the hotel reservations.Before they knew it, everyone was assigned their room. Fillies and colts rushed into their rooms to dump their stuff with their parents and dashed into their friends’ rooms. Since Featherweight and Pip didn’t have parents, they shared a room with each other. Opening their room, Feather gasped at all the luxuries that were stuffed in their room. Coming right from the door on the right was a full kitchen, complete with a fridge, sink and oven. To the middle was a small living room, complete with a couch, table, and Television, with a window to look out at the city life below them, so many stories down. Turning into the bedroom, the two were greeted with massive beds, each one able to fit 5 Featherweights or 12 Pipsqueaks on it all at once. Featherweight sat his bag down, his chest welling up with anticipation as he hovered above the air a bit, right on top of the bed until his wings stopped buzzing and he free fell, legs spread out, waiting to be engulfed by the massive bed.
Landing face first, Feather grunted, but rolled around on the soft surface, much to Pipsqueak’s amusement. “Don’t get too comfortable, cause we still have dinner to go to. After that, you can marry the bed for all I care,”
Featherweight giggled and sighed, “Alright. Dinner sounds good.” Featherweight then became painfully aware of the hunger that was biting at him from the inside. I haven’t eaten anything. Why didn’t I realize that sooner? I’m starving. Oh well. I’ll worry about that later.
As he lay there, Feather turned to look up at the ceiling, staring deep into the magenta void, piecing together exactly where he was right now in life. He smiled, going so far as to laugh a bit at the realization of it all. After the ordeal that has befallen him, Featherweight’s goal was finally achieved. He had made it to Vanhoover.
Unfamiliar city sounds disrupted what would have been a peaceful dinner at the hotel restaurant patio. Yelling, galloping, and chaos set Featherweight’s body on edge. Each trot that got too close, each disembodied voice that shouted into the night, each rumble of the ground made Featherweight constantly scan the horizon.
Pipsqueak who was mostly pre-occupied by dinner, glanced up to Feather. Each time, it gave Pip an indescribable chill across his back. “Hey, Feather. You alright?”
Featherweight kept his vigilant eye focused on any possible threat.
Pipsqueak moved his hoof onto Feather’s prompting an immediate pull back from Feather and a twisted expression. That sent an equally startled response from Pip, making him feel like he had gotten hit.
“Oh, sorry. What’s up?” Featherweight asked, trying to move back to a normal position.
“You’ve barely eaten. ‘Init you say you ‘adn’t had anything to eat all day? Aren’t you starving?”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Just distracted, I guess.” Featherweight attempted to work on his food, now that Pip was watching him. A carriage came barreling past the patio. Feather tensed up, but continued to eat, every cell in his body wanting him to turn around, to be aware of the danger that was coming toward him, but he kept eating. For Pipsqueak’s sake.
The rest of the dinner went on like that, constant seizing up and resistance of the urge to jerk away. Finally, as the lamps around them turned on, and the city glowed with an electrical hue, dinner was over and they could finally take time to explore around the hotel.
The other fillies and colts rushed off to their parents to get permission for this and that, while Pip followed Featherweight to the pool. No one but them had the opportunity to relish the smell of chlorine filling their lungs as they entered the pool room.
“That’s the good thing, I guess, about not having parents on this trip. No one there to ask permission from.” Featherweight said as he walked into the pool. “Come on in, the water’s not as cold as you think,”
Pip stepped back a bit, almost hesitant to go into. He gave a wicked smile, which was a tell tale sign for only one thing.
“Pip, N-”
“Cannonball!” Pip screamed at the top of his lungs as he sprinted towards the pool.
The impact was a lot more violent than either of them expected, considering his size. Waves were formed and water soaked the top half of Featherweight, eliciting a joyous scream. Without the social pressure from others, they could be as loud and as splashy as they wanted, which they both took advantage of. Not too many ponies joined them, but soon enough they had exhausted their fun, opting to dry off and head back to their room.
The night had developed, casting long shadows through the thin curtains onto the living room. “It’s all just. So big.” Featherweight said as he walked in. “I don’t know what to do.”
Pipsqueak smiled, his fur still poofy from drying off. “Well, let’s figure that out in the mornin, alright? I’m beat” Pip sluggishly moved toward the bedroom, Featherweight in tow, “I’ll see you then, alright buddy?”
Featherweight got onto his bed, getting comfortable with the soft material, “Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me. Night, Pip.”
“Night, Feather”
…………..
The rush of explorative excitement made the morning routine for Featherweight go by in a blink of an eye. With his camera hanging off of him, and his friend by his side, Featherweight was prepared to explore the modern steel jungle that is Vanhoover.
They walked down the sidewalks, gazing up at the magnificent structures that towered over them, occasionally stopping to take pictures. “So, right. What we have today is,” Pipsqueak went quiet for a moment, “Nothing. At least, not until late at night. These cards that Mr. Rich gave us are supposed to last us for the entire trip. Don’t forget that,” Pipsqueak said, struggling to keep up with the taller colt, “Hold up, will ya?”
Featherweight looked down, stopping for a second, “Oh, right. Sorry Pip. I’m just so excited to see what this place has in store, wanna boost?” Feather asked, squatting down.
“Ah, sure. Why not?” Pip jumped up onto Featherweight’s back. “So where do you want to go first?”
“Well, there is one place. There’s an art gallery that I wanted to go and see while we were here. Is that ok with you?” Feather asked.
“Yeah. I’m sure there’s gotta be somethin to catch our eye when we’re walking there.”
Featherweight nodded, “Right. Hey, could you grab the map out of my saddle bag?”
“Uh, sure.” Pipsqueak said, rummaging through the bag and pulling out the heavily marked parchment. He felt a small tremor beneath him, making him wobble a bit. “Here, you go. A-are you shaking?”
Featherweight grabbed the map and set it on his camera, “Am i? I don’t know why I would be. Anyway, we are,” He took one last establishing look around, “about a 15 minute walk from it. We are bound to find something that catches our eye, right?”
“Right!” Pip confirmed ecstatically.
Featherweight trekked on, toward the exhibit, taking moments to admire architecture amongst other things with Pip laying happily on his back, watching the world go by. There were few things that caught their attention, one being a laser tag arena, the other being a fancy looking place to go eat lunch.
The entrance to the art exhibit differed from all the other building entrances, being that it was so open and free spaced. Arches and long halls made the design stand out more compared to the more straight and cut modern look of the rest of the city. A giddy and uncontrollable excitement welled up within Featherweight. “There it is,” He said breathlessly.
The gallery was huge, open and expansive enough for the many various photos taken by Henry Bisson, though few ponies were there to observe when they got there. Pipsqueak got off of Feather’s back, wanting to go exploring on his own in the exhibit. “I will catch you round in, say, an hour. Sound good?”
“Yep! We’ll meet back here,” Featherweight began to move toward a particularly interesting photograph, sitting down in front of it, trying to take in as much of it as possible before the next caught his eye.
Pipsqueak rolled his eyes and walked over to a completely different section, trying to find some kind of meaning behind the pictures than them just being pictures.
Each photo was taken differently, some unimaginably impossible to have been taken in the first place. They had their own summaries by Henri, explaining what he did to take the photo and why he decided to take it in the first place. That knowledge, to Featherweight, was indispensable. When he crossed into the next room, the photos changed from landscapes and macro shots, to ponies paired together, be it by hip or by mouth.
Now entering the hall of captured happiness, what a weird name. Feather thought, walking in. There were ponies of every domain in there, fillies, colts, mares, stallions, some from Saddle Arabia, some from the Crystal empire, all sharing the same thing. Love. There were always two ponies in the picture, of all sexualities. Featherweight blushed as he walked through this hall, feeling out of place and almost unworthy to be in the presence of these ponies sharing such an intimate time with one another. It disturbed him, his imagination running wild with the thoughts being in this hall. Who would I be with? Would I be kissing hi-HER! Her, would I be kissing her? The ponies in the pictures looked happy, their significant other bringing them comfort and support so they could stand in front of a camera, unabashed by the love they shared with another pony. Featherweight turned his eyes away, unable to look at it anymore as images of him kissing Pipsqueak burned their way into his head, heating up his cheeks. You love him. Look at these ponies who have admitted their love. Look at how happy they are. Why are you keeping yourself from ha- Featherweight quickly turned his camera on himself, charging the flash, and releasing. A magnesium white seared his eyes, making his entire vision dance with stars and oversaturation of the world, flash burn covering sections of his field of view. It hurt, but it kept him from thinking, at least for now.
Making his way out of that hall, he meandered through the rest of the exhibit finding another hall of an entirely new breed of photos taken. They were all labelled “results of the hall of reflection.” Hall of reflection? Feather thought. The photos were of ponies, some laughing, some frowning, some just...shocked. What kind of place is that? Feather went further into the hall, not sure about what to make of the photos that were displayed in front of him. Then he saw it. Enter the hall of reflection the sign read leading into a dark room. Featherweight walked toward it, cautious, but curious. A small sign was there to explain what the room was. The hall of reflection is a magically enhanced room of mirrors. What one sees in those mirrors is based off of what they believe they see in themselves. During this time, there will be random points during the walkthrough of the room when cameras behind the mirrors take pictures of the reactions that ponies have to their reflections. If you are epileptic, yeah, yeah yeah. Ok. So that’s what this is. Featherweight thought as he walked into the room.
…………..
As Featherweight had entertained himself with the way the pictures were made, Pipsqueak drew amusement from the pictures themselves, laughing at some of them, mimicking the pose that the pony had taken in them, or just making funny faces at them. The more he went through the gallery, the more he toned down, starting to just glance at each photo, admiring what was right in front of him. Very quickly, Pipsqueak reached the hall of captured happiness, wide eyed when he got there. What in Equestria is all this? Pipsqueak scanned the room, seeing all the smiles, all the couples.
“Kind of weird, don’t you think?” A male voice popped up behind Pip.
“I don’t know what to make of it. What is this?”
“I’m not quite sure what you mean. It’s love, plain as day.” The pony said, walking up next to Pip.
“Love?” Pipsqueak felt that growing ache pang against the inside of his chest, pleading to get out. “But,” He stared at the mares kissing mares, stallions kissing stallions. “Wha-”
“Love can come in many forms. Many factors can define love for one pony and completely different factors can define love a different way for another. Only a few ponies know how to truly describe it, but sadly I’m not one of them.” The stallion said, taking a look at the description for the picture of two mares looking into each other’s eyes as they kissed. “Looky here. These two met at a hospital. One was in, the other was visiting a friend. Just a chance encounter and look at them.”
Pipsqueak still stared at the picture, perplexed by it. He rarely saw his parents share this kind of affection, if only just a small peck on the cheek.
“And look at this one,” The stallion pointed to one in the corner, a small photo compared to the rest, but one that held the most definition. “Friends. These two were once childhood friends, happy to pass the time. They would go to the ends of the world for one another. One day, as they grew up together, they realized everyone around them was getting a special somepony. They tried, too. Tried. No matter who they dated, it never felt right. Then, on one special year, one special month, one special day, one special time, the one on the left asked the one on the right if he would be his special somepony. The answer was yes. Upon reflection, neither of them had any idea why they didn’t think of it sooner. They cared for each other, inseperable to one another, they loved each other. Even in the face of scrutiny, they laughed. They laughed together, unabashed, not out of spite. They had one another, and that’s what mattered to them. Even now, look at them. Smiling and happy to be next to one another, wrapped up in each other’s embrace.” The stallion described, now behind Pipsqueak.
Pipsqueak skimmed over the description, reading only a fraction of what the stallion had just said. “How do you know so much about these two?” Pipsqueak looked back to see a familiar sight.
“Well, I would like to think my memory isn’t that bad.” The stallion said, an older version of the pony in the right of the picture stood before him. “That was the first picture I took in this project. Inspired by the wish of my now-husband to ‘capture happiness.’” The stallion smiled as he reminisced.
“So, you’re Henri Bisson?” Pipsqueak asked, looking back between the photo and the real deal.
“Indeed I am. I take it you’re a fan of my work?” Henri said, looking at the curious colt.
“No, actually. My friend is, though. I think he’d love to meet you, if that’s alright.”
“I don’t see why not. I’d be happy to meet him. What’s his name? And well, What’s yours?”
“Oh, well I’m Pipsqueak. His name is Featherweight. I think he’s down at the other exhibits. I told him I’d meet with him back in the lobby in an hour and that was,” Pipsqueak looked at a clock, “Twenty minutes ago. I have time to kill. I’d really like to understand what exactly you mean by these other forms of love, like what you have with your husband. If that’s ok with you.”
“Of course, Pipsqueak. It would be my pleasure”
…………..
A blue illumination covered the mirror maze, lighting the path for Featherweight to cautiously guide himself through. What they see inside themselves? What is that supposed to mean? Featherweight looked past each mirror, trying to find the right way out. When he found a dead end, he turned around only to find a mirror placed before him What? I thought I just came through this way. That is when he began to look at what was in the mirror rather than what was past it. It was him. The same tall lanky colt, but different somehow. He looked more tired. Swaying, in pain, almost like he were about to fall over at any second, kept up by sheer will alone. He was shaking, shifting and antsy, unable to keep still without looking around for something. Here we are. This must be us, trying our best to recover from the accident. Why does it look like we’re struggling? The concussion has healed. I’m back to normal, right? In the background of the mirror was a small plume of dust picking up, alerting Feather to turn back, finding nothing but a different mirror. That mirror held an even worse off version. He looked far more rugged, limb bones visible and ribs poking out from the crater that was his stomach. It was hard to look at himself in such a state, though he wore a smile. Why is this here? What is this supposed to show? We’re fine. I’m fine. I’m ok. I don’t look like that. I’m handling things fine by myself. Featherweight glanced around the mirrors, finding that most of them wore his telltale smile. He opted to look at the next one. Immediately backing up from his own image, Featherweight went wide eyed at the abomination that faced him. It was him, perfectly healthy, not about to drop from exhaustion, but wearing a bow. A singular pink bow in his hair. Don’t we look good in it? Pipsqueak would love to see us in this, wouldn’t he?Featherweight rubbed his eyes, looking at it more, his body had taken a more effeminate pose, opting to hold one forehoof up, limp and swaying. The Featherweight before him was happy, his eyes holding no fear or anxiety back. This is...Oh no. It’s not right. It shouldn’t be right. That isn’t me. I don’t love him. I can’t.We can and we do. You know this. That’s why this is here. It’s showing you what you want to become.Growling, Feather reached up to his hair, where the bow was and grasped at air. It was all still just an illusion. Some twisted fantasy that was hidden in the mirrors. He took a look at the next. It was him, but...better. What is this one supposed to be? I just look normal. Happy? What is it? A quick flash blinded him momentarily, having him blink rapidly, the mirror in front of him mimicking him. He shook the rest of the flash out of his eyes, turning to the second to last one. Here we are again. It’s me. My eyes are kind of sunken in, I’m not smiling. On that face, anything other than this would look weird. What is this trying to tell me? Featherweight looked away from it to the last mirror. It held the same colt, though more slim than what he thought was there. Its body trembled, looking skittish and fearful. Its eyes were darkened and reddened from a lack of sleep. It’s hard to look at this one. Kind of like the second one. What is this one supposed to represent? Me before all this happened? Featherweight took a closer look at it, eying every last detail of it, even though it made him uncomfortable.
“Are we really that sick?” All the other mirrors asked in unison.
“Wah!” Featherweight pulled back from the mirror, looking at all his copies staring back.
“Are we that bad? Don’t you see? That’s you. Just you. No enchantment. Only you,” The mirrors stared at the one that was still mimicking Featherweight.
“What? No! That isn’t me. I don’t look that bad! See,” Featherweight walked in a circle addressing the rest of himself. “I’m fine!” He then went back to the unenchanted mirror. “See?!” Featherweight pointed to his mirror, trying to convince himself that he was ok. A flash came from nowhere once again, leaving him dazed and even angrier. “I’m healthy, I’m better. I’m f-”
“Fine?” The mirrors interrupted. “You are sick. You need help,” The mirrors pleaded.
Featherweight growled again, stomping his hoof down, “You’re wrong! This,” He pressed his hoof up against the mirror, “Is not,” He wound up his hoof, “Me!” He smashed his hoof into the mirror, wincing in pain. That just went to fuel more of his anger. Strike after strike, Featherweight hit harder and harder, completely ignoring the pleas from himself to stop and the pain in his hoof growing. Breathing erratic and heavy, heart beating rapidly, ears ringing with rage, eyes wild with pain, Featherweight hit the mirror one last time, hearing a crack come from the impact. He gave a relieved smile as he lifted it to see the damage done. There was none. The crack hadn’t come from the mirror. The mirror finally fell into the ground, and Feather got up. Stinging and aching accompanied him during his walk to the exit, tears threatening to burst from his eyes. He skipped the booth that showed him his pictures, still angry at the exhibit and himself.
The shift in lighting gave Featherweight a small headache, making him squint as he looked at the clock. It was time for him to leave. He held his head down on his trek back to the main hall to keep others from paying attention to him.
When he entered the main hall, he saw Pipsqueak, and smiled, if only for a brief second before remembering the third mirror. He walked up to him, “So were you able to have fun here?” He asked, not paying attention to the pony next to them.
“Oh yeah. Did’ya see that one exhibit with all the ponies kissin? I really liked that one! At first I didn’t get it, but somepony came by and explained it to me. Isn’t love weird?” Pip jabbered on ecstatically.
“Yeah, wait. Who the heck could explain that stuff to you?” Feather asked
“Well, I tried my best.” The pony who had turned his back to Pipsqueak turned around, revealing himself to a wide eyed Featherweight.
“H-Henri Bisson? You got Henri Bisson to explain an exhibit to you?”
“To the best of my abilties,” Henri Chuckled, amused by the expression on Featherweight’s face.
“I, uh, it, um, I really like your work,” Featherweight stuttered, blushing harder the more he stammered.
“I can tell. Pipsqueak here has been telling me all about you. It seems you’ve acquired a mighty big portfolio already. That’s good.”
“T-thank you, Mr. Bisson,” Featherweight waivered a smile, a flurry of emotions hitting him all at once.
“Oh, looks like you broke your camera.” Henri said, looking at the damaged machine around Feather’s neck.
“Eh, yeah. I broke it during a…..an event. It’s only cracked down the lens, so I can still make some use out of it, have some interesting shots with the crack in the middle,” Featherweight rubbed the back of his head, wincing as his damaged hoof touched the scarred skin.
“Are you sure about that? It looks a lot more beat up than just a crack,” Henri picked up the camera from Feather’s neck, showing it to him.
Feather’s smile vanished within a second of seeing the state of the camera now. It’s lens was spiderwebbed in the cracks it had now, the sides of the lens housing scuffed and dented. The main camera fared slightly better with only some damage to the flash. “Oh.”
“Hey, don’t get too down about it. Cameras break. It happens. I know I’ve had a couple break in my time. It still looks repairable, so you’ve got that going for you, right?” Henri chuckled again, trying to keep an upbeat tone.
Featherweight shook his head, bringing back his smile, “Right! I can get it fixed. It isn’t any problem,” He looked over to Pipsqueak, who shared Henri’s expression of unease. “Hey, I’ve been keeping my friend waiting for lunch, so I think we should get going.”
Pipsqueak’s mouth dropped in shock, “What? No, I’m fine. You can keep talking wi-”
“No, no. It’s fine. It was really nice meeting you, Henri. I hope I can speak with you again sometime soon,” Featherweight held up his hoof to shake Henri’s.
Henri held still for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift, “Um, Yes. It was...nice. If you’d like, I can give you my business card. We can mail each other from time to time,” Henri put Feather’s camera back around him and shook his hoof. “A shame you have to go, but here,” He pulled out a card, and gave it to Feather.
Feather took it, smiling, “Yeah. Sorry. It was really nice meeting you, though.” Feather stored the card in his bag, “Come on Pipsqueak, let’s go to that one restaurant that we passed by earlier, ok?”
Pipsqueak was still processing what was going on. “S-sure,” He said, jumping onto Feather’s back, hearing a hiss of discomfort come from Feather.
Feather grit down his teeth, but kept his smile. “Bye, Mr. Bisson,”
Henri waved at the colts, “Goodbye, I hope you liked the exhibit,” So that’s Featherweight? I guess I know what Pipsqueak is worried about now. It’s a shame I wasn’t able to really see the qualities that Pipsqueak loves in him. So it goes.
Featherweight lightly limped toward the entrance, getting adjusted to the new shadow placements and bright spots. The smell and sounds of the city returning as they got closer.
Pipsqueak sat still on Feather’s back, stunned, mind reeling, W-What just happened?
“Quit avoiding the question, Feather. What ‘appened back there wasn’t you. I don’t know who it was, but it just wasn’t you. What’s going on?” Pipsqueak asked, shifting around more on Feather’s back, each time sending a shock of pain through his injured leg.
“Can we drop it, please? I just, really wanted to get out of there. It was nothing to do with him, trust me. I was happy to meet him, thanks for that.” Featherweight stared straight ahead as they walked past other ponies, towards the restaurant they saw earlier.
“No probl...Quit avoiding the question!” Pipsqueak blurted.
“Alright, Alright. Sorry. Keep your voice down. We don’t want to attract bad attention. Like I said, I wanted to get out of there. I, uh,” Featherweight scrunched his face in concentration, partly to act like he was remembering why, partly to buy himself time to come up with a reason why, “I was kinda creeped out by the, what was it called? Reclaimed happiness? That one. It just freaked me out a bit. Don’t know why.” Featherweight craned his neck, looking around, remembering the scenery, and key places to get bearing of the giant city. “I think we’re close,”
“Good, cause you were at least right about one thing. I am hungry,” Pip patted his stomach.
“Well, see. It wasn’t all bad, was it? Quit giving me a hard time about it.”
“It’s not like that, Feather. I’m just...worried.”
“There’s nothing to be worried about. You know me. I’m fine.”
“You say that all the time,”
“And I mean it every time I say it. I look fine, right? I feel fine. I’m perfectly ok.”
You’ve been shivering this entire time, you forgot to eat breakfast, you just opted to willingly not talk to the pony you’ve had a an idol for a long time. No reason to worry at all. Pipsqueak thought, shaking his head. “Right,”
“This is the place, right?” Feather asked, pointing up to the sign that said Bella Notte
“I think so. Let’s head in,” Pipsqueak got off of Featherweight, not hearing his sigh of relief amidst the havoc of the city.
They walked in, adjusting their eyes to the sudden decrease in lighting. “It’s kinda dark, don’t you think?” Feather asked.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t look all that bad. Come on,” Pip walked in further, hoping to get noticed by a server.
“Good afternoon, how many?” A waitress in all dark uniform asked.
“Just two,” Featherweight said, smiling at the mare.
“Alright, well please follow me,” She said as she grabbed two menus and walked into the dimmly lit restaurant.
“So why is it so dang dark in here?” Pipsqueak asked.
“Well, here at bella notte, we like to keep a low and reserved aesthetic in our restaurant. It is, after all, one of the more upper class restaurants in Vanhoover. Right here alright for you gentlecolts?” She asked, ushering a hoof to a booth in the corner of the restaurant.
“Fine by me,” Featherweight said, taking the seat that was backed up by both walls.
“Yep,” Pipsqueak jumped up to the seat across from Feather.
The waitress sat down the menus, one being an adult menu for Featherweight, the other, a kids menu, placed before Pipsqueak.
They both looked down at the kids menu in silence before Featherweight burst out laughing.
“Quiet, you!” Pipsqueak too the menu and hit Feather over the head with it, immediately stopping his laughter. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but can I have an adult menu?”
“Oh! My apologies. Let me get that real quick for you,” She said, quickly trotting over to grab one.
The debacle had ended and they ordered their meals, opting to plan out what they would do next. During a brief break from their planning when they got their food, Featherweight decided to switch the subject. “Hey, Pip,”
“Yeah, mate?”
“D-do you think the rest of the student council members don't want me here?” Featherweight asked, somewhat nervously.
“I, uhm, well no. Of course not. What could possibly have made you think that?” Pipsqueak asked, beginning to eat.
“Well, during the train ride. When I went to go look for the food kiosk. It felt like everypony else was watching me. Just...Judging me. I can’t really explain it well, but I didn’t feel right. It doesn’t help to think that they were perfectly ok without me going, even pushing and suggesting reasons as to why I shouldn’t.” Featherweight picked at his food.
Pipsqueak sat quietly for a moment, contemplating. “I don’t think it’s like that, Feather.”
“Oh really?” Featherweight wasn’t smiling anymore. “Cause I do. We know they all love you. You’re the class president. Who am I?” Featherweight asked, a stern glare piercing through the shaded room toward Pip. Stop this.
“I don’t know what yo-”
“Who am I, Pipsqueak? Compared to you? I’m no one important. Not important enough for a trip, not important enough for a visit in the hospital. You were the only one, Pip. The only pony to visit me. No one else bothered to care.” Featherweight hissed through grit teeth, getting progressively more angry. You don’t want to do this. Not to him. Especially not to him.
“That isn’t wh-”
“Isn’t it? Even I have to face the facts sometimes and the facts are that no one cares about me.” Featherweight began trembling more, his eyes shifting between Pipsqueaks open mouth and the entrance to the restaurant.
“Ok, that is just not true. Featherweight. I care about you. That’s why I talked to Henri Bisson. I was bloody confused as to what I felt when I saw those pictures of those stallions kissing. It reminded me of that feeling. It was that feeling you described all those months back. ‘Member? We were talking about loneliness. You said something about it being a pit in your chest. Like something’s missing. I told him that.” Pipsqueak began to sound less confident in his speech, “It makes sense, what he said. That pit, that emptiness. I’ve been feeling it ever since you had your accident. I know what it means.”
Featherweight went wide eyed, heart sinking into the deepest, darkest corner of his chest. Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“You know what Henri said?” Pipsqueak stood up in his seat, “That pain, that pit, that want. It’s a want to love, to be loved. Featherweight,” Pipsqueak paused for a moment, his mouth running dry and his voice getting hoarse.
Stop. Don’t. Please. You can’t. There isn’t any way. Featherweight began to breathe heavily, his left eye twitching.
“I care for you. I can’t remember a good day that I’ve had that wasn’t with you. All of our memories together, all of our adventures, all of them.They were amazing. When you got hurt, after I took you to the hospital, I cried.” Pip stopped again, trying to compose himself, “I cried because it was my fault you hit your head. Every time you stayed asleep at the schoolhouse, I kicked myself for not checking in on you so you would go home. I care, trust me I care. I care because, because I love you!” Pipsqueak spoke, the words coming out like sandpaper, but still coming out.
Featherweight held his head down, mind replaying those words over and over again in his head, I love you, I love you.Don’t you hear that? He loves us? We love him. Go ahead, tell him. I can’t. I don’t love him. I just…...can’t
“You’re shaking again.”
“I’m fine!” Feather blurted, getting the attention of some other patrons near their booth.
“You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine since your accident! I can see it. You need he-”
“Help?! For what? There isn’t anything wrong with me. I’m fine. I am doing alright. I’m normal and healthy!” Featherweights hooves wouldn’t stop shaking on the table, so he shot them down beneath it, accidentally hitting his damaged hoof. He groaned as pain erupted once again throughout his limb. You’re going to far! You need to stop!
Pip sat there, stunned in silence
“There’s nothing to see. If you can’t see that I’m fine, then what’s the point of talking to you anymore. You’ll just accuse me of being sick. I’m not sick. I’m ok. And you know what?” Featherweight moved from out of the table, setting down everything he was carrying except his camera. “I’ve had enough of it.” Stop! “If you are going to be like that, then I don’t think we should be friends anymore! I-I-I-I,” He willed and forced himself to push those last three words out, Don’t say it! His mind was in panic mode, whispers of ponies coming from all directions at this point, whispering, conspiring, “I hate you!” Featherweight spat, yelling at Pip. What transpired immediately afterward happened so fast, it left even Featherweight in a whirlwind. He dashed out, leaving his bags and Pipsqueak. He didn’t know where to go, but quickly looking around, he flew up, remembering the landmarks he had pointed out before, flying off to a distant part of the city.
Pipsqueak stood there, just stood there. He blinked repeatedly, trying to make the bad dream end, to make it disappear. Reality did not cease to exist and he was left with a horrible situation. He looked to the bags, and then back to where Featherweight used to sit. His heart stopped beating when he saw Feather’s plate. Completely full. Nearly untouched. “Oh, Dear Luna,” He said before calling over his waitress to settle his check and grabbing both bags to head back to the hotel.
Pipsqueak failed to focus on anything while heading back, unable to understand what Featherweight was saying. He...Hates me. The doors slid open to the hotel, letting in the warm air and an exhausted colt to the foyer.
“Pipsqueak?” Filthy sat in the foyer, reading the paper. “What are you doing back so early? Where’s Featherweight?”
“I think he came back to the hotel. He probably doesn’t want to see me right now.” Pipsqueak sniffed, everything starting to register with him, “I think pushed him too far.”
“Now, now. How about you set those bags down and come have a seat next to me. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, just sit. Calm down for a bit.” Filthy said, removing some paperwork from the seat and patting it.
Pip sat down the bags and got up on the chair. He sniffed once again before letting the tears flow. It was all confusing for him. It all hurt.
It took a good couple of hours for Pipsqueak to finally calm down enough to talk to Filthy, who by this point had begun to worry for Pipsqueak as much as Featherweight. Once the sunset had come, Pipsqueak began recounting everything that had transpired that day.
“And he just left. He told me he hated me and left.” Pipsqueak said between shudders and shakes, blowing his nose once again into a tissue.
“Well, I’m sorry that all this has happened. I would of thought that going on the trip would have made things better for Featherweight. Tell you what, son. How about we go up to your room, grab Featherweight and we head out for ice cream. We can talk over what happened and things will get better. Sound good?” Filthy asked nervously, You’re really grasping at straw at this point, Filthy.
“I-I guess.” Pip said, his voice light and raspy.
“That’s the spirit. Let’s go.”
Every step they took made Pipsqueak all the move anxious at what Featherweight’s response would be. Celestia knows what he’s been doing in here for so long. Pipsqueak thought as he held his key to the door and unlocked it, opening it up to an empty room.
“Featherweight? Come on, let’s go get some Ice cream,” Filthy called out.
No response, no movement, nothing came back as a response to Filthy.
“Feather?” Pipsqueak asked as he walked in, searching the entire suite, only to find no one. “He isn’t here!” Pipsqueak said, Wide eyed and fearful.
“Oh no” Filthy muttered underneath his breath.
…………..
In a dimly lit alley, far off from the hotel, whispering and mumbling could be heard, but only one pony was inhabiting the area.
“It won’t work. They’ll find us.” Featherweight said, his eyes twitching more and wilder than ever. “They won’t find us. We’ve been in this situation before. We haven’t been found out yet. It’ll be just like Ponyville. Just find the restaurants and bakeries that throw out their food, find a clean water source, find work. We can live here forever. We’ll have to.” Feather’s head pounded, his body shook, and his vision tunneled. “Food. I need food. No! I’m fine. I don’t need food. I can go another night without food. It’s not like we haven’t before.” Featherweight began to smile as he lurched down, his back legs giving out from underneath him from fatigue, his front following as more pressure came down on his wounded hoof. He began to laugh, laying down in a covert in the alley, “It will all be ok,” He said before resting his head, dozing off to sleep. His ear twitched every so often, sometimes his eye would follow. I’m……...fine
A cobalt haze filtered through Featherweight’s vision as he traversed the quiet forest. With the light of the moon to guide him, Feather wandered deeper into the void in front of him. It was a trek with purpose, though what that purpose was, he couldn’t quite remember. He knew that he was getting toward the goal, just not what the goal was.
Every so often, he would step on a twig, reminding him of the cluttered desolation that surrounded him. Never had a forest been this quiet. The owls held their tongues, the crickets postponed their concerto, the wind was worn out. Nothing moved. It feels almost like a picture. I’m in a picture. Maybe that’s what I am supposed to do. Escape the picture. Featherweight thought as he picked up the pace.
The landscape blurred more and more as Featherweight moved faster, faster, until he took liftoff and started scanning the treeline for any indication of an escape or change to the muted forest. He found something else entirely as he saw the layout of the forest. It went out perpetually, the treeline never seeming to end.
So that’s it then? I’m trapped here. In this picture Feather thought as he landed in a clearing, sitting down and staring up at the one thing that had to be moving; The moon.
“I wouldn’t say trapped, young colt. More so contained.” Feather heard from behind, sparking immediate repulsion from the sound. He lost his balance, but caught himself from falling on his back with his forehooves. He had gotten so used to the silence that, even though it was quiet, the voice sounded like it was booming in his head. He had twisted in order to catch himself, leading him to face the source of the voice. Towering before him was the manipulator of the night and of dreams; Princess Luna.
“Oh, do pardon us. Though I suppose we do have a predisposition to scaring foals,” She said, smiling and holding out a hoof to help Featherweight up, to which he quickly grabbed and pulled himself up.
“Princess Luna? Uh, Your Highness,” He stuttered as he bowed before the pillar of night.
“Let us skip the formalities, Featherweight.” Luna said, laying down next to him. “There are things that I would like to discuss with you, and so little time left to do so,”
“Oh, well alright, princess. W-what is it you wanted to talk about?” Featherweight asked, starting to sweat, but keeping as much of a straight face as he could.
“A series of things, really. As you may know, I have had a fair amount of encounters with your friend, Pipsqueak.” The princess cast an illusion in front of the two, showing nightmare night when Pip was a pirate, then the events afterward of Pip conversing with her on different occasions.
“Yeah, he loves it when you come to ponyville to visit Princess Twilight. He said you always find time to reconnect afterwards. Why? Is there something wrong with him?” Feather asked, quick to start recalling all their interactions.
“Skipping the formalities also includes your want to hide things from me. He spoke with me, in a dream, recently. He said that he was worried about you. Apparently, you’ve been through quite an ordeal these past couple weeks. Is that not so?” She asked.
“I-uh, yeah. What is he worried about? I’m doing better now. I don’t have as many headaches anymore, about one every 4 days. I’m not confused anymore. I told him this.” Featherweight said, his face furrowed in, contemplating what he would be worried about. His eyes went wide. “It’s about my sleeping, isn’t it?”
“There are a lot of things young Pip is worried for you about, but yes. Sleeping is one of them. I’ve noticed things as well. You’re dreams. They cry out almost every night you actually get sleep.” The princess looked down to Featherweight. “Rarely do I see such pain come from someone in ponyville at such a young age. I’ve come here as a personal favor to Pipsqueak, and as a part of my duty to the equestrian population to guard over you while you sleep, to try and help, in any way possible.”
Featherweight chuckled half-heartedly, “W-with all due respect, princess. I am fine. I’m getting things under control. I’m just a bit tense still from the trip planning and the, well, the accident.” Feather said, smiling at the princess.
“Your words, while speaking good intentions, hide what you don’t want to feel.” The princess said, warming up and bringing more color to the landscape, while not lively, still a relaxing sight to the colt.
“W-what do you mean? I feel fine. I am. Fine. I’m ok.” Feather held a stronger tenor in his voice, prickling up a bit.
“Were it so easy to believe. Even the optimist, who brings a better view of the world wherever they go, cannot will themselves to stability with just words. You are hurting. Your rhetoric displays your want to not burden those around you, but that won’t get you what you want.” Princess luna stayed even toned, opting to look at the rising twilight tinting the woods in different shades as it progressed. “Not to mention,” Luna materialized a camera, damaged, broken, cracked, and scrapped. “Pipsqueak mentioned this to me. Your most prized possession. Look at it now. Look at what it has become.”
“Ok, so I am still struggling a bit. It’s not something I can’t handle. I’ve handled worse. I don’t need to make Pip more worried about me.” Featherweight contrasted, his voice wavering and sharp.
“Your handling of yourself thus far is the reason why I am here. He’s said you’ve become different. You’re scared more often, more skittish, more nervous, less happy, less passionate, less optimistic. Whatever you believe you are hiding still bleeds to the surface. Something like that pain cannot be sealed very well or for a long time. Not to mention the fact of your living arrangements right now and the condition of your camera. He’s stated you ran off in Vanhoover. And this,” She once again brought up the scrap that was Feather’s camera, “This speaks for itself” Princess luna opted to look at Featherweight once again.
“I don’t think you understand, Princes Luna. Pip saved my life. He was there for me when I got out of the hospital. I don’t have a right to push more of my problems onto him. I’m mad at myself for making him worry as it is. I’ve got this,” Featherweight stood up, finally getting head level to the princess, and growled, “This sickness in my head telling me what I am, telling me that I, I love Pipsqueak, destroying me from the inside out.” The intensity in his voice grew as he lost control, “Ok! Fine! I get paranoid. I can’t go into town anymore without checking behind my back, my front, my sides, listening, waiting, expecting another stampede to kill me every 10 seconds! I can’t sleep. I fear sleeping, because it’s become so common that I get tortured by the same dreams every night that wake me up in a pool of my own sweat, burry eyed from the tears that had been streaming down my face!” Featherweight built himself up, legs and wings spread, tears welling up, blushing lightly as he broke down in front of the princess of the night, “I stay awake for so long, it almost takes too much energy to breathe! I don’t eat! I don’t know why, I just can’t without feeling sick! Nothing feels right! I feel like I’m myself, but also trapped in someone else’s body! Do you think I want to tell him that?! It would kick me even further down!” Featherweight was yelling at this point, panting rapidly.
Princess Luna held firm, “We did not come here to see who can yell louder, Featherweight. I do understand what your situation is, all too well in fact, but I don’t believe you have a full understanding of it, yourself.” Her voice turned soft, stern, but warm. “You have gone onto your tirade to me, fairly easily might I add. But what if I were Pipsqueak?” Luna asked, watching Featherweight’s beaten expression slump further. “It seems you recall earlier in the day. That’s exactly what happened. You lost control, didn’t you?” Princess Luna gently pressed a hoof onto Featherweight’s shoulder, to which he immediately recoiled, his body and mind on edge.
“I, gtt, ah, I don’t know! I just don’t know!” Featherweight collapsed, clutching his head as the symphony of thoughts raced through his head once again.
“Shhhh,” Princess Luna lit her horn, wispy tendrils coming forth from the tip to latch onto Featherweight’s head, bringing a calming effect in and quieting down his thoughts.
Featherweight started to control his breathing, his anger simmering down. When he finally got to a calmer state, he looked toward Luna whose worry grew more. Featherweight sat down, sniffling. He took a long, shaky breath and began to sob once more. This time was different, however. It was a more held back, reserved sobbing. Luna walked up next to him and wrapped a wing around him, to which he embraced the matriarch. “I’m sorry. I’m just so used to dealing w-with things on my own. I’ve become so used to being alone.” He wept quietly underneath the cover of her wing.
“Trust us, young Featherweight, we know. That’s why you need to get help. Confide in your friend, or whoever you believe will be able to help you through this. That is what I finally realized. I hid and understated all of my problems from those who cared about me, and soon enough, I got to my breaking point. While the origin of our pain differs, the outcome will be the same if you don’t reach out.” Princess Luna rubbed Feather’s back, feeling the tears soak up into her fur.
“It, it just feels so hard to do. There’s a pain I feel in my chest whenever I speak with him. It’s because of this disease in my head. My mind is all confused. Part of me thinks I love him, part of me thinks he reminds me of how lonely I am, and part of me just...hurts” Feather pulled into Luna’s fur even closer. It brought a sense of relief to him as he brushed against it.
“Tis true that the ordeal you have before you will be challenging. Not everyday does one have to confront their fears and admit to a loved one that they are in pain. Though do expand on this ‘disease’ you speak of. I was told that you had a concussion, but that has since cleared, yes?”
“The doctor called it PTSD, but I forget what it stands for.” Featherweight said, calming down once again, but opting to still remain in Luna’s embrace.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. While my knowledge of it is limited, I do know of its base effects on a pony. I’m starting to get a better picture now of the extent to which you hurt. Though, I don’t believe sudden infatuation is a symptom of PTSD. Is there something wrong with feeling such things for your friend?” Princess Luna asked, her grasp loosening around Feather.
“I don’t know. He’s a colt, I’m a colt. It’s weird to think about, but my mind keeps going to places like that. All I know is that it is a part of this PTSD. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Featherweight shivered slightly.
“Why wouldn’t it matter? If you still have these feelings, why not try and make something of them? It’s never too late for an attempt at love.” Luna smiled lightly at the colt, though knowing already what was going to be said.
“I told him I hated him. You were exactly right, about the outburst. I yelled at him, told him I hated him, then ran away like a coward.” Featherweight held his head down in shame, the weight of all he has done bearing down on him, pushing on his chest and back, squeezing the life from him. “Dear, Luna.” He whispered, eyes wide as he cradled his head in his hooves, “What have I done? W-Who am I? What have I become?” The scenery changed, blurring before him, to rest at a familiar sight.
“This is who you are, Featherweight,” Princess Luna said, showing him a reflection of himself through one of the Mirrors in Henri Bisson’s exhibit.
It was him, fluttering, flying, happily taking pictures of whatever he thought was worthy of taking pictures of. Snapshots of his life before the incident flashed each time the camera clicked. It was a content life, a happy life. Featherweight hung out with Pipsqueak, having a great time almost every time they were around one another, bringing a goofy smile to each other’s face by the end of the day that nothing could get rid of until they fell asleep.
“You are that dappy little colt, the one that everyone relies on for cheering up, though very rarely reciprocates. You are the colt who is needed, who is loved, if not by any parent, then by Pipsqueak. He said to me specifically that he wanted you to know that he loved you. You are loved.” Luna looked at the reaction of the colt, trying to piece together what he was thinking. She then broke that mirror, all the shards of memories of a pony that once was, shattered to the floor of dream-space. What remained was the colt’s own reflection. “This is what you’ve become,”
Featherweight winced away at the sight before him. Nothing new from what he saw at the hall of reflection, except a more frayed mane and a delirious twitch on his face. “This is what I’ve become?” Featherweight touched the mirror, caressing the poor thing that stared back at him.
Luna did not respond, for she felt no need.
Time went on as Featherweight stared at himself, The moon leaving its peak in the sky to once again disappear into the horizon. “I think I know what I need to do. I’m ready to wake up. I’m ready to get help. I’m ready to apologize to Pip.” Featherweight paused for a moment, gritting through his teeth, still confused about the last thing that was on his mind. “I’m ready to let myself love Pip.”
Princess Luna nodded. “These words that you speak, I now believe you are saying with full honesty. I have faith that you will not make me mistaken in what I am about to do.” Princess Luna’s horn lit up, taking Featherweight’s camera and fixing it, making it’s exterior immaculate and it’s interior rival the technical mastery of a Swiss Deer watch. “You will wake up next to in your hotel room, in your bed where Pipsqueak will be waiting for you. Your camera will be on your bedside. My hope is that you will know what to do after that.”
Featherweight broke his gaze from himself, looking up to the merciful Queen of the subconscious, “I will.Thank you, Princess Luna. For this, for everything.”
Princess Luna nodded, bowing her head and touching Feather’s own with her horn. A flash emitted from her horn, temporarily blinding Featherweight, making his squint and blink rapidly to see again.
At once, he regained his eyesight and found himself laying in his bed in the hotel, Pipsqueak sitting up in his own bed, staring at him, an indescribable expression adorned.
Featherweight stared at him, pushing himself as hard as he could to spit out words. “I-I, I’m sorry, Pipsqueak. I know my words don’t mean a damn anymore, but I’m sorry. I need help. I recognize that now. I must have been worrying you a lot. I don’t want to know how much worry I put you through, but I want you to know that I am truly, honestly So-”
Featherweight’s speech got interrupted by Pipsqueak jumping from his bed to Feather’s and tackling him so they both fell onto the soft, springy material. “Shut up,” Pipsqueak said, tears running down his eyes, which were bloodshot already from all the tears he had shed earlier, “Shut up!” his voice got a lot louder the second time, “You are gonna know how worried I was, if I have to spell it out in your own blood! You’ve been acting strange ever since your incident. Every time I tried to ask about it, you would shut me down or move onto something else! Every time I tried to tell you that I was worried, you would always dismiss it! You said you hated me! Then you left! You disappeared! I couldn’t stop crying. I was worried I would never see you again, I thought I had lost you!” Pipsqueak Screamed, atop of Featherweight, who was taking it all in. Pipsqueak wound up one of his back legs to hit Featherweight in the side, prompting a lurch from Feather, “I was scared for your life!” Pipsqueak let all of his tears flow, each one falling onto Featherweight’s fur, practically searing it with each drop. “I, I, I hate you!” Pipsqueak spat in Featherweight’s face, all control leaving his body as he openly cried, hyperventilating.
Featherweight recovered from the hit to his side and wrapped his hooves around Pipsqueak, bringing the hysterical colt into as tight of an embrace as he could muster.
“Let go of me, let...g..” Pipsqueak gave up, opting to sob into Featherweight’s fur. Pipsqueak held onto Featherweight, almost for dear life, not wanting him to go anywhere.
Featherweight comforted his hurting friend, trying his best to mend the damage he has cause him and their friendship. Featherweight rolled both of them to their sides, Featherweight wrapping his entire body around Pipsqueak, making him feel secure, like he used to do when the thunderstorms would roll in. He craned his neck, moving his mouth to Pipsqueak’s trembling ear, whispering quietly and warmly, “I love you, too”
Pipsqueak didn’t stop his crying, but held on tighter once he heard Featherweight say that.
A wave of relief flowed through Feather’s body, like a fog had been lifted from his mind. It hurt to say, but he forced it out. It felt amazing once he said it. An indescribable euphoria took over Featherweight’s body, making him embrace Pipsqueak more as well.
The night was well into adolescence, the two colts, worn out from the day’s events, fell asleep in each other’s hooves, not needing blankets because their mutual body heat kept them warm.
A midnight blue glow encompassed Featherweight’s new and improved camera, floating above the two and taking a picture of them from above, unbeknownst to either of the two, who were too busy sleeping. The camera snapped and then moved back to its position on the nightstand, the light that they forgot to turn of clicked, leaving the two to a nice, dark room for themselves.
The warmth of Celestia’s sun stirred the sleeping colts, the light that passed through their eyelids made it all the more advantageous to wake up. Pipsqueak’s eyes resisted however, being stuck together by dried tears of the night prior. Flashes of last night ran through his head as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. The fear, the worry, the mix of anger and relief, all for one colt. One colt that was still mud covered and smelly from his urban escapade.
“Get up, will ya?” Pipsqueak knocked Featherweight on the shoulder, “We don’t wan-”
A jolt and a sharp scream from Featherweight filled the room, scaring Pipsqueak and sending Featherweight to an immediate upright position. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
Pipsqueak moved in and put his hooves on Feather’s shoulders, “Easy, you’re in the hotel. Don’t you remember what happened last night?” Pipsqueak kept hold of featherweight, He’s already shaking
Feather cringed, the brief snippets that he recalled not leaving a good taste in his mouth. “I do now.” He turned to Pipsqueak, whose face bore that expression of concern that Featherweight had turned away from for too long. He looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry about that. I’m...not ok.”
“I know.”
“I caused you so much grief, thinking that I was sparing you from it, hurting you as well as myself. I’m sorry.” Featherweight nursed his sore foreleg in his lap, rubbing it every so often.
“I outta punch you in the gut right where you sit.” Pipsqueak said, keeping a firm hold on Featherweight’s shoulders.
“You already did, last night. I’d understand if you want to do it aga-”
Pipsqueak moved in, Featherweight bracing, only to find a warmth encompassing him, like a blanket. Pipsqueak was hugging him. Pipsqueak inhaled quickly, his nose sniffling. “I’m just so happy you’re here! When ya left, I jus, I jus didn’t know what to do.” Pipsqueak held on tight. “You’re shaking again.”
Featherweight felt uncomfortable, the physical contact setting him on edge once again. “I’m-” Feather caught himself, taking a moment to think, “I am. Ever since the incident, I haven’t felt right when other ponies touch me.” Featherweight said, blushing at the ridiculousness of that statement.
Pipsqueak immediately recoiled, “Oh! Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t know.”
“Because I thought I could deal with this stuff by myself. Didn’t work out too well, did it?” Featherweight looked from the ground to Pipsqueak. A small flash of a smile was offered before returning to morose.
“Not one bit. There are things I know you can overcome alone, no prob. But this, I can’t even start to understand what’s been goin on with you.” Pipsqueak scootched up next to Feather, his legs hanging over the bed, swaying freely.
Featherweight stared straight ahead, his legs set firmly on the floor, the rest of his body shivering from overstimulation. He closed his eyes, focusing on his trembling breath. The air around the two pressed upon them, threatening to let out all the words that needed to be said, only to be neglected by the silence.
Bursting through the door, Filthy Rich yelled, “Pipsqueak! We might have a lead as to where Featherweight went. I’ve got some constables here to get more details on what happened.” Filthy ran up frantically to Pip, looking more disheveled than the two had ever seen him before. “We gotta go,” Filthy looked to Pip’s right, “You too, Featherweight. We gotta go,” Filthy grabbing onto Pip and escorting him toward the door. Not four steps later and he stopped dead in his tracks. “Featherweight?!” Filthy whipped his head around to double check and make sure his sleepless eyes weren’t seeing things.
The colt in question weakly raised a hoof and waved at the frazzled adult. “Hi, Mr. Rich.”
Featherweight slowly cowered in front of the adult who walked towards him, feeling even more guilty as Mr. Rich towered over him. Putting a hoof on the shivering colt’s shoulder, Mr. Rich sighed, “Son, you have no idea,” He cut himself off with a yawn, “How happy I am to see you back.”
Featherweight looked up in confusion, “Happy?”
“Well, a combination of happiness, relief, and just a hint of anger. You had Pipsqueak and I worried sick. Luckily, the other parents and student council members didn’t notice, so the whole affair can be kept internal, but what in Equestria drove you to do such a wild thing as runnin away like that?” Mr. Rich put both hooves on Featherweight, making sure that he was right in front of him.
“I’m...I’m not ok, Mr. Rich. I haven’t ok since the incident.” Featherweight blushed, being even more embarrassed after telling an adult than after telling Pipsqueak.
Mr. Rich lowered his hooves from Feather’s sides. “I see,” He took some time to reply, ruminating on the situation, at least that’s what Pipsqueak thought he was doing. “Well, that will have to be dealt with later. I’ll see to it that you get proper help once we get back to ponyville. As much as it pains me to say it, this can’t be helped now. Not properly, at least. All I can do is keep you monitored and wait until we get back.” Mr. Rich sighed, “I’ll go down and call off the search. As for you two...Go get some breakfast, I guess. We’ll discuss things later.” Mr. Rich nodded to the two and left the room.
Featherweight rose his head, turning it from his hunched over position to peer at Pipsqueak, who was looking directly at him. “So.”
Pipsqueak, still experiencing polarizing feelings, huffed, “So.”
Scanning the ground, trying to pick words to progress the conversation into something more than it was, Featherweight gave a wayward smile, “Breakfast?”
Pipsqueak chuckled lightly and nodded, “Breakfast.”
…………..
The night life flourished around the four ponies walking down the cobble street, lights illuminating the way towards one of the many beating hearts of the city that night. The Orpheum, lit by mellow spot lights and humming street lights, opened its doors for the four, and all others who had the time and money to see Noteworthy’s world famous touring orchestra.
The day had gone by preparing Featherweight for the night’s event. Word got to Mr. Rich that Featherweight didn’t have any formal wear to speak of, and he swiftly began to deal with that problem. Rushing throughout the city, trying to find a Boutique that was able to do a swift order was what took up most of their time, the rest devoted to finding a better bag for his camera and getting everypony else ready for the event.
Though stiff, Featherweight maneuvered to his seat well enough through the crowds of ponies with his new tuxedo on, his coat smelling faintly of some prench cologne that he hadn’t bothered asking the name of. Sitting to his sides were Mr. Rich and Pipsqueak, Diamond Tiara sitting to the other side of her father, looking as if she were in her natural habitat with the way she sat, spoke, and gestured. It was the taste of high life that Featherweight never thought he would have the honor of taking a glimpse of.
The lights dimmed and everypony took the queue to quiet down as the curtain open, revealing the orchestra and conductor.
A sudden mixture of hoof stomps and claps filled the air. Featherweight squirmed in his seat, his heart beat rising, it all reminding him of-
A hoof rested against Featherweight’s own. It was Pipsqueak. Just the action alone began to ease out the tension that was rising in Feather, his heart rate beginning to slow back down. “It’s ok, buddy. I’m with ya.”
Those short, but reassuring, words allowed Feather to take a deep breath and smile. A part of him still wanting to hide, to get away from all the loud noise, but the other wanting to stay right beside his friend.
“Fillies and Gentlecolts,” Noteworthy’s voice boomed throughout the hall, “thank you and welcome to our performance. Tonight, our orchestra will serenade you with a few new pieces of mine, concertos and full orchestral performances. Enjoy”
With that and a tap of his baton, an almost uncomfortably long look to his cellist, Oh, Is that Octave? Featherweight thought as he looked closer, seeing the grey musician smiling back at the conductor. The music began.
Featherweight closed his eyes, knowing that one does not experience music through a camera lens, absorbing all the unique sounds and rhythms that the orchestra produced, Octave’s cello leading the beat towards even better sounding tones and melodies that resonated with his soul. All the while, his foreleg and shoulder being a resting spot for Pipsqueak, their hooves intertwined, letting each other know that they are there for each other.
Visions popped in and out of Featherweight’s mind with the introduction of each new song. Some sad, others happy, all being shared with Pipsqueak.
And before either had the chance to realize, the concert was over. Featherweight blocked out the rising anxiety as he clapped and stomped, adding to the already booming applause for the orchestra. Standing ovations were given and the clapping held stable for a full three minutes. By then, it was just Octave and the conductor standing there, foreleg draped around one another, bowing once again to the crowd.
Once the clapping had stopped, there was a foot traffic backup of ponies wanting to get out, leaving to restaurants and homes, ready to recount what a beautiful performance they had just witnessed was. Featherweight, on the other hoof, waited patiently, much to the confusion of the rest of the group. Once the majority of the crowd had dispersed, Featherweight started to make his way down towards the stage, followed in tow by Pipsqueak and the others.
Peeking behind the heavy curtain, Featherweight located Octave, who was talking with the conductor and another member of the orchestra. He walked up nervously, the thought of being near such iconic ponies getting to him. Octave caught a glimpse of him and turned to face him, smiling.
“Ah, Featherweight! You were able to come.” The conductor and the other orchestra player turned their attention to the slim colt. Octave turned back to the two, “Allegro, Noteworthy, I’d like for you to meet Featherweight. He is a journalist and talented photographer from Ponyville.”
“And at such a young age, too!” Allegro noted, smiling as she outstretched a hoof. “Charmed to meet you,”
Featherweight shook the hoof, not expecting such a response. “Th-thank you, you as well. You all were fantastic tonight.”
“They were, weren’t they?” Noteworthy said, once again smiling and looking at Octave who began to blush.
“You were going to ask about the afterparty, right? Well we are having it right here. Noteworthy held our time slot for an hour longer so we could have some fun for ourselves. You, and well I see you brought friends, are welcome to stay. Take some pictures, have a bite to eat.” Octave smiled once again and nodded at one of the stage ponies to open the curtain again to give everypony some room.
Jubilation and merth spread around the stage, each player talking with one another and enjoying each others company. A few deciding to strike up some music for the rest to dance to. It was like a makeshift ball. Diamond Tiara whisked her father away to go right next to the group playing and start dancing, while Pipsqueak conversed with a couple of the violinists about the performance.
Featherweight found Octave again, who had tagged in to start playing with the group. “Hey, Octave?” He asked, nervous about what he was about to request
“Hello, once again, Featherweight. Is anything the matter?” Octave asked, rosining up his bow for the last time that night.
“No, well. Kinda. You see, my friend Pipsqueak. I put him through a lot recently. More than I will ever be able to apologize for. He recently told me that he loved me.” Featherweight paused, looking at Octave’s bad attempt to hide his shock. “I realized that I love him, too. I feel like I owe him something, a dance at the very least. Is there any way you could help me with that?”
Octave thought for a moment, pulling memories from the day prior, the entire debacle he had faced. “I do believe I can help with that.” He turned to his fellow players, “We’ve got a request. Get someone on the piano. We’re playing The Vals de la Desesperada Romántica.”
The players started shuffling, getting out music, all with the same name to it. That must have been Featherweight’s cue to go find Pipsqueak.
The colt in question was wandering around the stage, looking for Featherweight. “Hey, Feather.”
“Pip. I’m really sorry about all that happened. All that mess that I caused. All the pain that I put you through. I’m so sorry.” Featherweight slowly led Pip towards the dancing area, which had mysteriously cleared off from every other pony. Just the two in the middle of the stage.
“Feather, I-”
“I know it will take a lot for you to forgive me. To truly forgive me, but I’d like to start making it up to you.” Featherweight offered a hoof to the smaller pinto colt, smiling anxiously, “With first, a dance?” Featherweight glanced over to the group, Octave interpreting that as the signal for them to begin.
Pipsqueak blushed, looking around to see just Featherweight. Pipsqueak nodded and took Feathers hoof, the two beginning their dance, following each other’s hoofsteps in tandem. The music, fitting for their situation, brought them to an empty hall, to allow them to dance as freely as they wished. The two twirled and spun each other, moving with what felt right with the music, their hoofsteps echoing off the walls. They smiled at each other, and continued.
After what felt like hours, the final notes of the song rang from each instrument, slowing down the dancing of the two smiling colts, the smaller of the two leaning in, the other meeting halfway as they connected with each other as neither had ever done before. Their eyes closed as they begrudgingly pulled away from each other.
The whole room was silent. Chatter had ceased as all eyes were on the couple on the dance floor.
Featherweight shifted his eyes away for a moment, a blush warming his cheeks, before he looked back into Pipsqueaks eyes. “I love you.” He whispered, tilting his head and flashing a warm buck toothed dopey smile that only Featherweight could pull off.
Pipsqueak smiled back, his cheeks equally as warm, and his heart beating as fast or faster than Feather’s, “I love you, too.” He whispered back, leaning in as they shared another kiss.