Visiting Manehatten was a mistake, Twilight Sparkle figured as she distanced from the downtown, rushing, galloping away from the scene of dance and song, of joy and happiness she wasn't belonging to. Flashing lights, happy-go-lucky music and cheers of ponies fell quiet and all she could hear were her own hoof-steps, running away, trying to escape reality. Her steps were deafening, strong, despairing. She had never ran faster nor further in her life and her wings could never provide the kind of treatment she needed. She needed to feel the pain in her hoofs, to hear the strong sound of her steps.
.The ice cold air started piercing her lungs and she slowed down, her hooves slowly coming to a stop on the Manehatten bridge. Her breath was hitched and resounded lonely above the frozen canal below her. Gasping for air she looked up at the sky, fruitlessly hoping that it would bring her comfort. Distract her. Make her forget. The constellations, however, were lost and unseen among the white snowflakes and Luna's Moon was hidden behind the gray clouds.
Occasionally, she could hear some of the remaining fireworks, going off in the distant night of the sky, but those were the sounds she deemed unacceptable. The cheering, the crowds, the music. It kept returning her to the moment that happened no longer than an hour ago. There was a temporary warmth inside of her as the anger grew and fury overtook her. Violently shaking her head, she made the oncoming image disappear and bucked strongly at the fence of the bridge. It let out a cold, metallic wail. Some of her mane, sticky and wet, got stuck on her face and she only then noticed her miserable condition.
Her mane, that Rarity had put so much work into, was down, half wet from the snow. Wiping her face, she realized her makeup had been washed away by the gentle snowflakes. She knew Rarity would be disappointed about it, but couldn't think of such things. Not now. Rarity, of all ponies, would understand.
Her friends would all understand why she disappeared so soon.
Another sound joined in. Distant, deep bells of a clock tower. 1 am. One hour into the New Year and she felt like she never wanted it to begin in the first place. To turn the time back and to remain in the comfort of her bed that morning. For only insane, irrational moment, she thought of going through with the idea. Why... why not? Nopony would have to know... why not, she thought, a weird spring in her step as she trotted off a short distance before halting again, understanding the futility and immaturity of such a plan. She breathed heavily, feeling unable to stop the oncoming tears - the only warmth she would feel that evening and for many weeks to come.Trying to blink them away, she felt their warmth engulfing her eyes completely. Warmth... A term so familiar to her, had suddenly seemed foreign and distant. Was it possible that somewhere inside her chest there used to be warmth, barely an hour ago? There was nothing but ice now. Painful ice.
Laughter. There was a laughter beyond the falling snow and hear ears picked it up easily. She almost wanted to rush towards it but it, hoping against odds there was one pony that she so desperately needed tonight. Alas, the laughter disappeared as soon and as quick as it came. She couldn't quite place whether it was real or a product of her recent memories. The laughter she had heard at the dance was never so cold, so ominous, so... unwanted. Once again, the unwanted sound has tried to send her on a trip down the memory lane.
As if by magic she wasn't capable of, a flashback forcibly and completely occupied her mind and her eyes grew wide and desperate. No, she begged silently,don't show me. Don't remind me. Don't make me watch again. But it was there. Two ponies in front of her in an embrace that shouldn't be. Two ponies she thought she knew so well sharing something that was supposed to be hers. The sound of fireworks, celebrating their union. The sound of music, accepting their love. The sound of crowd, accepting them as one. And then there was her, standing alone. The single pony whose heart, instead of uplifting and cheering and celebrating, had instead fell into pieces that would never be put back properly again. There would always be something tugging at her from the inside. Time heals all wounds,they say, but scars are still obvious, pulsing, stinging. Still reminding her that she was no good. Not this time. Not for him.
It came hard, the realization. There was never going to be her moment tonight. There was never supposed to be one. Blinded by her love, she never managed to see what was in fact before her all along. How could all those signs, she now so clearly remembered, have gone before her eyes unnoticed? How could she allow herself to fall into delusion, she who was always the first to speak, to act, to think rationally, to be tricked in such a cruel way?
And with shaky breath, she let the tears blur her vision, and she whispered into the oncoming breeze, allowing the full weight of the painful situation to overwhelm her:
"...it was supposed to be me."
Nobody could care for Twilight Sparkle at that moment. Nobody could know her pain. Nobody could hear her words. Nobody but the gentle breeze that carried her voice and with it, carried its sound.
Sound of the broken heart.
