Buildings

by afakebrony

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Berry Punch, Sad, Original Character, Slice of Life
Length: 1214

A husband deals with his wife's alcoholism. Based on the Regina Spektor song.

A husband deals with his wife's alcoholism. Based on the Regina Spektor song.

Published 2014-03-09 18:10:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-09 18:10:06 UTC

Buildings

Heavy.

It was the first thought that went through his mind.

Too loud. I have to get out of here.

Music blared all around him. He was suffocating. Suffocating from the strong scent of alcohol all around him, suffocating from the huge crowds that impaired his movement through the loud Manehattan club, and most of all, suffocating from the weight of the young mare on his back. The pungent odor of a drunk pony drifted down to his nostrils, pushing the stallion onwards as he slowly made his way through the room. Head held low, he traced the familiar path towards the entrance of the club, away from the noise, the ponies, and the alcohol. A cold breeze rushed into the club as he opened the door, making his way into the dark Manehattan street.

Even from outside, the music still seemed too loud. It irritated him, and he pushed onward, away from the noise. He wanted to scream.

Another early day tomorrow. Just another day...

He looked to his side and saw a fuzzy purple hoof hanging from his back and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over him. He turned his eyes over to the side of the club. A familiar carriage waited with a familiar face pulling it. He sighed.

He made his way over to the carriage, depositing the purple earth pony inside before climbing in himself. He didn’t speak. Neither did the stallion pulling the vehicle. They both understood perfectly. Without a word, the driver began to pull the carriage, making his all too familiar trip through the dark Manehattan streets.

He leaned her head up against the cool glass of the carriage and laid his own head down on her shoulder, reaching his foreleg around her to hold her tight. He closed his eyes. It would be alright. Everything would be alright. He listened for her soothing breathing, felt her chest rise and fall. The scent of alcohol snapped him out of his reverie as a sinking feeling made its way through his body. The mare under him stirred, wearily opening her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the cool glass of the carriage window on her cheek, reminding her of where she was.

Always the same. It’s always the same.

She looked down at the beige earth pony on her shoulder. She felt sick.

Regret.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t want to speak. She felt afraid. She was always so afraid, so full of regret. She felt the warm embrace of her husband around her. She reached her hoof over, setting it down on her husband’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the quiet carriage take her home, back to their apartment, back to where they belonged.

His world reeked of alcohol. He held her dark purple mane in his hooves, leaning her head over into the bowl of the toilet. She coughed heavily. He put his head down, staring at the cold tile of the bathroom floor. He felt her deep breaths, felt the sudden convulsions of her body as she emptied more of her stomach into the bowl.

He felt her slump down to the ground as he let go of her mane.

“I’m… I’m sorry, honey,” the mare said. She began to sob as tears formed in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to say anything, didn’t even want to look at her. He knew he couldn’t handle seeing her like this. He felt the mare shift at his side as she reached over and flushed the toilet. The scent of booze invaded his nose, still clinging to every inch of the bathroom. He sighed.

I should say something.

He said the first thing that came to mind. The same thing as always.

“They build buildings so tall these days, don’t they?”

She felt her head pounding. It was an all too familiar feeling. Eyes still closed, body tucked under the sheets, she felt the rays of the sun trying to sneak through her eyelids, telling her it was late in the morning. The warmth of her husband barely even lingered on the bed beside her. She slowly opened her eyes, staring out into her empty bedroom.

Just give me a little more time. Please, just a little more time.

She got up from the bed, thankful that at least everything was quiet. The traitorous odor still clung to the sheets. She shook her head as she began walking.

I can make this right. Just a little more time. I know I can make this right.

She’d said those words to him countless times before. She began to feel regret and sadness once again. She made her way into the kitchen, her head still pounding from her hangover. She noticed a note on the kitchen table. She picked it up and took a look at the hastily scribbled letters.

It’s okay.

That was it. That was all the letter said. She made her way over to their coffee pot. It was full, just like it always was. She poured out a mug for herself, letting the scent of the steaming hot coffee waft through her nostrils. She sat down at the kitchen table, taking a sip of the coffee, and thought.

Another sick day, just like always. I’ve got work to do…

She looked over at her window, staring out of her apartment at the Manehattan cityscape.

They build buildings so tall these days, don’t they?

He came home to the familiar scent of dinner cooking. He thought back to the night before.

Just a little more time.

“I’m home, baby,” he said, letting his voice ring through the small apartment.

“Dinner will be done soon,” she said. “Daisy casserole, your favorite.”

He made his way into his bedroom. Taking off his work clothes, he set them down on the freshly made bed. The sheets were warm and smelled of lavender.

Just a little more time.

He hung up the clothes, making his way to the bathroom to wash up. The scent of fresh pine filled his nostrils. The bathroom was spotless, just like it always was.

Just a little more time.

He made his way over to the kitchen table and sat down across from his wife. They smiled at each other.

He looked over to the window, watching the sun descend on Manehattan.

“They build buildings so tall these days, don’t they?”

Author's Note

Just something I wrote in appreciation of the song. Kinda wanted to get myself in the mood to do more writing. I hope it's not too bad, it's just one of those "got an itching to do something and just want to get it out of my system" things. I realize there's a lot of repetition, and a lot of sentences start with "he" or "she". It is intentional, and I hope it's not too ugly or distracting. The wife is supposed to be Berry Punch, the husband is more or less anyone because I'm not really sure who would be appropriate. I believe that the song is actually about Regina Spektor's parents, in spite of everyone on the internet believing the point of the song is that the husband contemplates suicide.