The air held a sort of magical stillness that you could only feel during winter. Lyra and Bon Bon trudged along the usual path that they took on their evening walks, listening to the snow crunch beneath their hooves. The sun was steadily creeping its way toward the horizon, creating a theatre of shadows on the ground from the bare, creaking trees. The wind whipped and whistled about, kicking up swirly tufts of snow on the road. It was the time of year that Lyra liked best. The cleanness of the air, the colour of the sunset, and the cold nipping at her nose that made stepping back inside so much sweeter.
Not much was spoken, and usually neither would have felt that mattered. But Bon Bon had noticed a distance in Lyra’s eyes today, and was slightly concerned.
As the two walked, Bon Bon mulled over ways she could broach the subject with her friend without making her feel that she was prying. She tried gently bumping into her, a game the two often played on these long walks. Lyra smiled faintly but seemed to shrug the gesture off.
Bon Bon began to worry. The shared silence that the two so treasured now took on an ominous tone.
They came to a bench where they usually rested, and Lyra asked if they could sit. Lyra produced a pack of menthols from her jacket pocket. In a swift motion the pack was opened and a cigarette placed between her lips.
“You mind?” asked Lyra, who struck a match without waiting for an answer.
The two sat quietly on the bench, Lyra hunched over looking at the ground as the smoke escaped from her lungs out her nose and mouth. The tassels of Lyra’s hat gently flicked to and fro in the breeze, and Bon Bon marvelled at how beautiful she was. Even here, giving in to her worst vices, Lyra was everything she could ever hope for.
Bon Bon watched her friend for a few moments more, then asked:
“Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Normally Lyra would have replied with a quip about a professor, or comment on an assignment she had waited too long to start. But for some inexplicable reason, she spoke what was truly on her mind. She started slowly.
“This morning..” she began. “... I was walking to class and just had this.. disconnect. I don’t know. I just looked around me, at all the ponies rushing about. And I felt like I wasn’t there. Or that I was there but that it didn’t matter. I could disappear and these ponies would keep on rushing like usual. No one would even notice. And it’s not the first time it’s happened either. And there’s this song I’ve been listening to recently. And it makes me think of, like, this place. Where it’s peaceful, and I’m happy, and I’m wanted. And I want it so bad, I want to be there. But I don’t have it… and maybe I never will.”
Lyra suddenly felt very ashamed. This all sounds like something some spoiled, angsty teenager might say, she thought.
“Living is such a fucking nightmare.” She paused, allowing the words to settle.
“And then before I knew it I was sitting near a bus-stop, smoking, trying my best not to cry. And all the ponies just kept on walking. Like I didn’t exist… maybe I don’t.”
The two sat in silence for a minute. Lyra brooded and brooded as the smoke curled around her lips and up her nostrils, until finally her emotions boiled over.
“I mean look at me,” Lyra gestured to her cigarette. “I’m killing myself. I’m killing myself with these things and no one cares. No one gives a damn.”
Bon Bon looked at the ground, profound sadness clouding her eyes. She spoke, almost in a whisper.
“I care, Lyra.”
Lyra gave her friend a hard look. She was shuddering as if her sadness and grief had caught in her lungs. Like she was slowly being suffocated from the inside. She was hurting her. The one pony who had stuck with her. The one pony she could trust. Lyra hurled the cigarette as far as she could, focusing her rage, her pent up frustration, on the tiny stick in her hoof. She threw it away. All of it.
She wrapped Bon Bon in a tight embrace, nestling her head against her neck and shoulder.
“God I’m such a fucking mess,” she whispered, not knowing if she was speaking to Bon Bon, herself, or the world.
The two began to cry. Their bodies shook, their tears so hot that they stung their faces.
“You’re always here. You go on these damn walks with me even though you hate the cold,” she whispered into Bon Bon’s ear. “You listen to my pathetic moaning.” Her words caught in her throat for a moment. “I-I’m always hurting you.” She hugged Bon Bon even tighter, fearful that she might leave like all the others. “I’m so sorry.. so sorry..”
Bon Bon shut her eyes in anger and buried her face in Lyra’s mane.
“Don’t you ever apologise to me for that. Ever.”
Lyra felt her friend’s hooves squeeze her.
“I can’t bear to see you destroy yourself. But I can’t bear to see you alone.” She looked deep into Lyra’s eyes, and opened her heart. “I need you, Lyra.”
Years of pain and quiet suffering unraveled in the fleeting moments of that embrace. Days, years, centuries seemed to pass in the minds of the ponies as they sat, locked tight in each other’s hooves. Finally, Bon Bon spoke.
“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
There, beneath a flickering streetlamp, they kissed.
The cigarette that Lyra had thrown with all her might fizzled and sputtered in the slush a few metres away. Tendrils of smoke rose from the dying ember, clawing at the sky for life. But the temperature continued to fall, the sun’s rays peeked less and less over the skyline, and, with time, the ember burnt out forever.
Author's Note
Just a short little something I had kicking around in my head.
If you loved it, hated it, or were somewhere in-between, please let me know! I'm always looking for advice on how to improve.
And finally, thanks for reading!
Also, the song that Lyra refers to is John Denver's Take Me Home, Country Roads. But if there's a song that produces the same effect in you, then please listen to it instead.
