A Little Tight in the Chest

“And there we are.” Rarity spun the magazine on the table to get a better look at the picture Hoity Toity had indicated. P Magazine had been absorbed by one of the hipper, trendier Manehattan culture rags at least a decade ago, but assorted yellowing issues like the one the designer had brought were still to be found in the library of any fashion-conscious pony worth their tape measure. Rarity’s collection only went back as far as her days in grade school, years after the cover story on “Manehattan’s Most Fashionable Families”.

The picture she now looked at was labelled “The Toitys” in a very bouncy font. There stood a strong-jawed gray stallion in a freshly pressed suit with shaggy, but well-groomed facial fur. In front of him stood a small silver colt, dressed in a miniature version of his father’s suit, his chest puffed out with pride. By the father’s side was a tall, slender unicorn mare with a pale purple coat. She wore a scarf around her neck and an immense hat behind her horn. She looked not at the camera, but gazed down lovingly at the foal in her arms: a tiny dappled unicorn.

Dapples took a sip from his drink and looked out at the horizon, hoping neither of them would see him blush. When the initial shock of their surprise reintroduction at Rarity’s fashion show had worn off, the three of them had the opportunity to talk, in hopes of having a proper reunion. Dapples and Hoity had eventually settled on a picnic-style dinner in the afternoon, on one of the many rolling hills on the outskirts of Ponyville. Rarity was especially pleased to find herself welcome to the meal, as her combination of interest in Dapples’ fashion background and her desire to get to know one of her idols better had her half-scared she would have to hide in a nearby tree to learn anything. Of course, Hoity’s concept of a proper picnic was a little bit more complex than sandwiches in a wicker basket. The three of them sat at a draped coffee table whose spread boasted a variety of different dishes from which to choose, and instead of the hay stacks found at the local cafe, they had each been given a soft pillow to minimize their contact with the dirt.

Rarity read the caption underneath the picture: spirits magnate Jameson, wife & socialite Elle, eldest son Hoyt, and new addition Dapples. She looked up at Hoity. “Are they...um...well, what I mean to ask...”

“Are they still alive, you mean?” Hoity smiled. “Yes, dear, they’re still alive and kicking. Thank you for ASK-ING,” he said, emphasizing the last two syllables in the direction of his brother, who seemed lost in thought. Dapples seemed to catch the hint, but turned back all the same, his expression one of mild annoyance. Hoity, unfazed, continued. “Father keeps himself busy with the company, though he does try to leave most of the business travel to his associates. Mother had a really bad scare with her health a few years back, and had to have an operation, but she has pretty much fully recovered by now. She shows up a little later to most parties, but her charity’s in full swing. We had a very successful benefit a few months ago for EIA.”

“I actually remember reading about that,” said Dapples. “The two of you raised quite a bit of money for research. I sent a check of my own, along with my letter to mom.”

Hoity looked over his sunglasses with disdain. “And that was the last letter you sent.” As Rarity shifted on her pillow uncomfortably, Dapples’ mouth fell open. A part of him felt disgusted that Hoity had the nerve to look down at him for not keeping in touch with their parents. Another part of him recognized the truth: he hadn’t made any real effort to keep in touch. Why was that? Dapples spat out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Do you not think that I’ve been busy? What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

Hoity poured himself and Rarity another glass of champagne. He took a sip and then shrugged in Dapples’ direction. “I’m not sure. You’re much harder to follow when your work doesn’t arrive on my doorstep every day.”

Finally seeing an opening for her in the conversation, Rarity decided to offer what she knew about his recent activities. “I can’t speak for all the way back, but for a while Dapples has been working on a book with my dear friend Twilight. I dare say he spends more time in that library than he does at his apartment.” She smiled mischievously at Dapples, whose embarrassed look betrayed him to his brother.

“A work in progress and a mare with a thing for books? Sounds like your idea of heaven, Dapples.”

Seeing that the gray unicorn wasn’t going to respond, Rarity spoke up again. “And for the past month, he’s been serving as my model in preparation for last night’s show. He knew a little too much to be completely ignorant of high fashion, but I couldn’t have known his connection to you, Hoity. Honestly, I’d love to know more about it.” Though she attempted to fight it, the mare couldn’t help the large smile that grew on her face. How exciting!

The sunglasses again turned to Dapples. “Do you want to tell this story, or should I?” Dapples responded by giving Hoity a dismissive wave of his hoof, then used his magic to levitate a cheese-topped cracker into his mouth. He chewed noisily. “Charming,” said the designer.

When you’re the first born son of a couple who live a very public life and whom surround themselves with members of the media, you very quickly form an opinion of life in the spotlight. For young Hoyt, who quickly adopted his rhyming nickname, it was a chance to be seen. Even as a very young colt, reporters were interested in his long-term aspirations. There were constant stories about how handsome he was, and these were just the sort of stories that photographers gravitated towards. A few widely-circulated photo-shoots, and Hoity Toity was already gaining a reputation outside of his family’s.

As a result, his younger brother had to work even less to bring in the same sort of attention, but Dapples found himself uncomfortable with all the attention. He didn’t carry the same confidence which his brother wore like a new suit. Thanks to his patterning, inherited from his mother’s side, he grew up hearing any description of his appearance coupled with the word “unconventional.” His mother and father had always told him that the word was another term for “special” and gave him something that other colts didn’t have, but he couldn’t help but see how Hoity’s perfect coloring and versatile white mane made him the darling of the fashion industry. In a half-hearted attempt to keep up, Dapples accepted the offers that came his way, and stepped further into the limelight he hated so much.

Backstage at the show for Armanei’s summer lineup, the Toity Brothers changed into their analogous outfits. Hoity was done up all in white, while Dapples sported an ensemble all in black. As the unicorn used his magic to put the finishing touches on the smoky makeup around his eyes, Hoity offered him a cigarette, as was their tradition whenever they modelled together. “Thanks,” he said, gripping it with his teeth. His brother smiled back and took one for himself.

While searching for his lighter among the paraphernalia littering the vanity, Hoity spoke up. “You know, this is my last one.” Upon finding the lighter, he silently mouthed, “aha.”

“What, your last cigarette?”

“Huh? No.” Hoity stopped for a moment and considered the thought. “Well, maybe. Yeah, I guess so.” The lighter cap flipped open, the wheel spun, and the lick of flame leaped out, igniting his final smoke. “But that’s not what I mean.” He leaned forward.

Dapples leaned his head in towards Hoity, the ends of their cigarettes touching. Inhaling deeply, the end of his cigarette caught. Dapples exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “Well?”

“I’m done modelling,” said Hoity, his expression unusually serious. Caught off guard by the news, Dapples went into a coughing fit. “A little theatrical, don’t you think?” retorted his brother, laughing.

“What do you mean, you’re done?”

“Just what I said. I’m through with this. I want to design.” When he saw Dapples’ confused look, Hoity sighed and motioned to his flank. “You see this?”

Dapples looked at Hoity’s cutie mark. The day the golden fan had appeared, he had been perplexed as to what exactly it meant, and his brother had told him to “wait and see.” Eventually, the results from the shoot were published, but all it raised were more questions. Sure, the use of fans by the photographer had been a subtle touch that had elevated an otherwise mundane shoot into something much more impressive...but Hoity himself was doing nothing new. What did this have to do with Hoity’s future?

“That was the messiest shoot I’d ever attended,” said the elder brother. “The photographer was subpar, the staff were out of control, and the designer had nothing worth showing. So eventually I got fed up and drew up the designs for those fans myself.”

Dapples smiled. “I always wondered how that old hack managed a shoot like that.”

“Exactly. That was the first time I’d ever had one of my designs photographed. By the end of the day, I knew that if I was to remain happy and in the fashion industry, I would need to stop being a showcase for other ponies, and design what I know looks good.”

“And so you start your new career after the show?”

“Oh, the wheels are already turning, darling.” Again, Hoity rooted through the pile of belongings and makeup and picked up a pair of purple sunglasses, which he put on. “This is the first step of my change in image. Pretty mysterious, wouldn’t you say?”

Dapples laughed. “You look like an idiot.” He took another draw from his cigarette, but halted as he heard a familiar voice from outside the dressing room.

“You better not be talking about me!”

Dapples quickly spit his cigarette behind him. He had succeeded in grinding it out with his back hoof when the door burst open and an orange coated pegasus skipped up to him, a huge grin on his face. Hoity answered the newcomer. “Your coltfriend doesn’t like my new look, Niki.”

Niki looked over at Hoity and rubbed his chin. “Let me see your profile.” The subject turned his head and flashed a pearly smile. “Don’t listen to him, Hoity. He wouldn’t know a good look if it bit him in the flank.” He gave Dapples a devilish smile. “Right?”

Dapples rolled his eyes and returned the leer. “You coming onto me, kid?”

Niki giggled and wrapped his forelegs around Dapples’ neck, his eyes half closed. “Always.” Their lips came together at once, and as they closed their eyes, momentarily lost in the moment. Hoity turned his head and looked at the wall, also smiling.

When Dapples pulled back from the kiss, the first thing he saw was the angry glare on Niki’s face. “You’ve been smoking again.” He tried reproducing Hoity’s prize-winning smile, but it came out more awkward and desperate than charming.

“That’s my fault,” volunteered Hoity. Niki shot him a dirty look that quickly softened as he shook his head.

“You’re such a terrible influence on him.”

“That’s what brothers do.”

Niki gave them both a quick hug. “Anyway, I’ll be getting out of your manes. I just wanted to wish you both good luck with the show. I’m sure you don’t need it.” He started to walk out, but turned to look back at Dapples. “And I’ll see you when you come home, Stinky. Sound good?”

The unicorn smiled. “I’ll be counting the minutes.” Again, Niki giggled and bounded out the door, both brothers watching the flashbulb cutie mark on the pony’s flank disappear into the hallway. Dapples turned to look at his brother and found him biting his lower lip.

“That flank,” he sighed. “How come every fashion shoot I go to, all the photographers are dirty old stallions, and you end up with somepony like that?”

“Speaking of dirty old stallions...” Dapples laughed.

“All I’m saying is that you had better be glad you’re my brother, or I would steal that one out from under you.” Hoity chuckled to himself. “Or on top of you, or wherever the hay he usually ends up.”

Dapples blushed.

“Seriously, though,” said Hoity. “You should consider quitting too.”

The younger brother gave him a sideways glance. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “It’s pretty simple. We all know that you’re not having fun doing this, and you don’t have a future in it.”

“Says who?”

“Says that boring little design on your flank, sunshine.” Dapples turned to look at the drab typewriter button that had appeared after he discovered his own passion for writing. “I know Niki would understand. He’s picked up on how unhappy you are doing this.”

“We need you on stage, Hoity Toity,” the assistant pony’s voice came from behind the door. Dapples scowled as his brother removed his sunglasses and took a deep breath in preparation for his last walk down the runway.

“This is my life right now, Hoity. What else am I supposed to do?”

His older brother shook his head and sighed. “Oh dear, dear Dapples. The world is your oyster and you never fail to complain about how sharp the edges are.”

True to form, Dapples stayed on the runway, but without his brother by his side, what had been merely unfulfilling now became almost unbearable. He found himself losing patience with anypony who didn’t know exactly what they were doing. He began to gain a reputation as a prima donna, wanting it done one way and storming off if his “suggestions” (which more often sounded like commands) were not followed to the letter. For the first time in his life, he began to have difficulty securing jobs. And then the ponies close to him started to disappear. Dapples came home from one particularly grueling shoot to find a note on his bed, typed on his typewriter and rife with spelling errors. Niki had taken a job out of the city and moved his stuff out while Dapples was away. “Youre welcme to come nd visit wenn you’re feeling morr like your oldself. Maybe tyhen we caan talk. Maybe westill have someting worth saveing?” he wrote. Dapples crumbled up the letter, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers over his head. As alone as he was, he still didn’t want anypony hearing him cry.

After that night, Dapples wanted nothing to do with modelling anymore. He took a job at the Canterlot Quarterly because it would make him travel a lot to do his writing. And still every year he found himself given the task of covering the Grand Galloping Gala, because of his “insider’s perspective”. That perspective led to a notorious yearly piece where Dapples wrote scathing reviews of the fashion and demeanor of the ponies in attendance, which garnered angry calls from Equestrian elite and letters of satisfaction from more rural ponies who couldn’t attend such affairs. The Gala articles were a particular favorite of Hoity’s, and it was said that he once fired one of his designers for saying “that flankhole at the Quarterly should be made into glue.”

“Those articles were some of your best work, Dapples!” said Hoity. “You know I’ve never really understood your passion for the news, but no one else could have written something so deliciously catty! And you abandoned that, too!”

Dapples slammed his hooves on the table, causing Rarity to jump back. “You make it sound like I never accomplish anything!”

Hoity returned the gesture, leaning forward towards his brother. “You don’t! When ever it starts to get hard, you run the other way! Or you make yourself miserable and blame everything else for your problems! Your modeling didn’t make Niki leave! You did!”

Dapples slumped back onto his pillow, feeling defeated. “I just wasn’t strong enough after you left.”

“I can’t keep protecting you, brother. You’re a grown stallion, and the world is a rough place. What are you going to do when ponies don’t like your book?”

Dapples froze. He hadn’t really thought about the future of the book he was working on. What would happen if Twilight and him put all this work into it, and nopony wanted it? Or what if it did get published, and then ponies hated it? He felt suddenly afraid, as if this hypothetical situation was an inevitability, and he realized just how right his brother was. Despite his age, the world still scared him, and failure was the most frightening thing of all. Even inaction seemed a preferable alternative than failure, but of course, that just left him stagnant. Unmoved. “I’m sorry, Hoity. I shouldn’t have put that all on you.”

Hoity let out a long sigh and smiled. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Dapples. I’m your brother. I just want to see you happy. I need to know that you’re on the right track and won’t fall back into your old habits.”

Dapples nodded. “I want to make you guys proud of me.”

Hoity stood up from his pillow. “Come here, you dumbflank.” Dapples walked over to his brother and they embraced. “We’ll always be proud of you. Just check in with us from time to time. We’re always going to judge you a little bit, but that’s what families do, right?”

“Right,” he said, laughing. He was fighting back tears.

Rarity, on the other hand was sobbing while clutching one of the finely tailored napkins to her chest. “It’s so beautiful!”

Before Dapples went home that night, he dropped by the library. Twilight saw him attempt to sneak out of the door with his typewriter in tow.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, I just need to bring this home for a while.”

“We’re still on for the rest of the project, right?” she asked, a little unsure.

Dapples nodded. “Absolutely. I just have another little project to work on tonight.”

“You don’t need any help?”

He shook his head. “I think this is something I have to do on my own. Good night, Twilight.”

“Good night, Dapples.”

When he got back to his apartment, Dapples immediately spooled a piece of paper in the carriage. He sat down, thought for a moment, and the horn on his head began to glow. His magic began to work the keys.

Dear Mom and Dad, I suppose you’re wondering what I’ve been up to...

End.