It took about three shots of vodka and a tall glass of cider for your plan to start to come to fruition, but it was fucking dastardly. Some four dimensional quantum chess shit. You didn't have all of the angles worked out yet, but you knew what the hell you were doing, and what the end goal of it all was. By the time this was over, your brother was going to learn never to fuck about with you again.

But for now, you needed to stop thinking about revenge. Just for a moment, at least. All of the plotting was beginning to drive you crazy all over again, and it was much, much easier to sit there and lament your loss, rather than racking your brain for various means of dealing with it.

If getting him back would even make things better.

The more you nursed your drink, the more you took in the fun-loving, lively ponies around you—no inhibitions, no visible stress about them—the more you began to feel out of place. You weren’t Button Mash, and you didn’t belong here. You’d have loved to have faked it, to get up and start dancing, get talking to people, have fun… but you simply weren’t like him, and you knew it.

Perhaps you were a little jealous. An image of Sweetie flashed in your mind as you stared down into your fizzy cider glass. The bed, the underwear, her smiling face, his smug grin... perhaps you were very jealous.

And you were seeing them both wherever you looked. Your mind was hellbent on reminding you exactly why you were here, what had led you to this impromptu binge. You’d come all the way here to escape those notions, but they just kept worming their way back in; parasitic, evil thoughts determined to drag you down to the bottom and just keep on pulling.

“You meeting anyone here tonight?” came a voice from the other side of the bar, and you looked up to find it had come from the stallion bartender, who had to shout to be heard. He was taking pity on you after a half hour of solitary moping, and you knew it.

You simply shook your head, and he feigned surprise with a little eyebrow raise. It was nice of him to pretend that you didn’t reek of loser. “This is a pretty friendly place, dude. Why don’t you try and have a little fun?”

“I’ll think about it,” you lied. You sighed into your glass, knowing it’d be so much less destructive to just get up and dance, have a bit of fun, but not being able to will yourself to do it. Every mare you looked at wasn’t Sweetie Belle, and every stallion in the club was just another Button Mash waiting to outdo you.

What a toxic mindset. And it was all their fault, wasn’t it?

You downed the rest of your drink with a sharp exhale on impact. It went down smoothly, more so than it had been when you first walked in, and somewhere in the haze of tipsiness you began to feel the swath of colours around you growing more vibrant, even as the thumping music became a touch more muted against your ears.

And there was a mare looking at you from across the bar. You had to blink a couple of times for the notion to fully register, but it only came with confusion. You could make her out fairly well against the strobe light backdrop, and she wasn’t a loser. Or at least, she didn’t have any of the telltale signs of a loser.

Then why was she looking at you? You shifted your eyes back to your drink after half a second of contact. You hadn’t really had a chance to take her in, but from what you’d caught off of a glimpse, she really was quite attractive. Subtle smile, relaxed posture, shapely curves and for the short time they’d met yours, a striking pair of golden eyes.

And this mare had been looking at you. She must have mistaken you for someone else.

Or hell, it was a long shot, but maybe not. Maybe you didn’t stick out as terribly as you imagined here. Maybe there was something cool and mysterious about the young dude sat at the bar sipping on a drink all alo—okay don’t kid yourself. But maybe you didn’t look like a total dick either.

After a few seconds of contemplation, of ‘oh, fuck, what do I do?’ repeating in your head, you got tired of trying to judge this mare’s looks and interests from the edge of your peripherals and finally turned your head. Maybe she was just trying to read a drinks menu behind you or something.

“Hey!” came her raspy voice, clearly directed towards you. She gave a little wave with the greeting, completely destroying any chance of you pretending you hadn’t heard her and turning back around. You pointed at yourself as if to say ‘me?’. “You gonna sit there sulking all night, or are you gonna get up and dance?”

That wounded your pride a little bit. Sure, you had been sulking, but who was she to point it out? “I’m fine,” you said as cordially as possible. “Just feeling a little worn out from dancing earlier, that’s all.”

The mare curled her long, cyan hair around a finger as she listened to you, suddenly a step closer, elbow against the bar. “That’s bullshit. I’ve been dancing for hours, and I haven’t seen you up there once.” She raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not gonna have a good time sat there all on your own, you know.”

Why was she on your case so much? You moved to respond, but before the words could leave your lips, she’d finished closing the distance between the two of you.

She looked at you with a cheeky smile. “I’m gonna make this real simple for you. Buy me a drink. My friends left like an hour ago, and we could both do with some company.”

“Something wrong with all the other stallions in here?” You stopped yourself from clawing out your own eyes the moment that slipped out. It sounded way too combative, and you wouldn’t have blamed her for walking away right then and there.

Apparently, it was your lucky day, as she laughed. “Something wrong with me?” She looked herself over as if she was checking for a tumor. Lifted up her top and gave herself a faint sniff. “Nope, I’m all good. So why do you seem so determined to blow me off? I’m not used to rejection, kid.”

“I’m just not used to mares approaching me at a club, that’s all.” It was only half the truth, but the more you thought about it, the more of an idiot you realised you were being. You were literally looking a gift horse in the mouth right now.

“You don’t look like you’re used to being in a club, period.” She giggled, a light and airy sound that heavily contrasted with her tomboyish voice. “But that’s kinda cute, and I’m bored, so count your blessings, huh, kid?”

You felt a faint heat kissing your cheeks. She thought you were cute? Suppose you had at least taken the time to make sure you looked good before you went out, but it was always Button who had been the catch, not you. Then again… maybe you didn’t look so bad today. You ventured a smile, figuring it couldn’t hurt to play along. Maybe it would take your mind off things for a while. “Thanks, you’re kinda cute too.”

“Jeez, you’re bad at this.” She smirked, throwing you a wink before gesturing over the stallion from behind the bar. “I’ll have four of your nastiest, cheapest shots, please.”

He obliged, and in short order, you were throwing back the horrible drinks. She lifted the first of her pair to toast with you, motioning for you to do the same, and after a quick clink, they were both down your neck in succession. Tasted like something between cough medicine and liquorice, but you weren't complaining. Your taste buds were already numbed enough by the vodka from earlier to not care.

“Woo! That’s cheap livin’,” she chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling her stool closer to yours. She leaned on your side, personal space apparently meaning little to her. “Take it a straight-laced guy like you doesn’t come to the club like this if he’s got a mare waiting at home?”

She was half right. Maybe the alcohol hit your brain and you felt cocky, but you shot her a grin. “How do you know I’m straight-laced?”

“Same way I know you’re single.” She shot you a wink before getting you both some refills, and after those were gone? Well, those lips of hers were beginning to look pretty enticing… Huh. That was a thought you hadn’t expected to cross your mind. “What you staring at?”

That definitely broke your reverie. “Uhh, nothing, I was just—”

“Was it these?” she asked, biting her bottom lip, waggling her eyebrows at you as she did so. Before you could answer, she’d bridged the gap between you and planted a small peck on your lips. Beat the aftertaste of cheap shots, no doubt. She tasted distinctly like cherry with a hint of want. “I mean, you could’ve just asked, y’know...”

That… wasn’t what you’d expected. Not whatsoever, but you were hardly at issue with it either. It was quickly dawning on you just how pretty she was, and for some reason you couldn’t quite understand, she liked you. You kissed her back, a little more firmly than she had, but she was definitely still leading with her motions and the subtle manipulations of her body.

The random mare from the club was a good kisser, as far as you could tell. She made cute little hums and sighs between kisses, parting your lips ever so slightly but not making the move to touch tongues—maybe that was too far for her? You closed your eyes, attempting to sink further into the kiss, but in your throbbing head, all you could think of was a completely different mare, one that you’d give anything to either kiss just like this or scream at right now.

And so you became more assertive, almost aggressive with your motions, putting your hands on either side of the mare’s face and pulling her closer, parting her lips and beginning to truly make out with her. You made little attempts to bite at her bottom lip, much like she had to entice you, but the end result was sloppy and anything but adept. Your hands ran over her back, down to her sides and eventually to her hips, while hers were both pressed lightly against your chest, her body leaned back as you took advantage of the height difference between you.

No one there cared what you were doing. They all had their own lives and their own good nights to be having, so what harm was there in you indulging a little? This was meant to take your mind off things, this was—fuck her tongue gives you shivers—what you wanted, surely? To forget?

You weren’t forgetting. No matter how much you forced it, betrayal still permeated your thoughts, and for all of the positives about this mare, she wasn’t the Sweetie you lost, and she wasn’t the Creamy Heart you selfishly, guiltily wanted her to be.

And eventually, she pulled away, giving you a look somewhere between amusement and befuddlement. “You alright, dude?” She had her head tilted to the side, as if she was trying to study you, and it was clear she was trying to get her breath back.

Realising the tone of the moment had suddenly changed, you quickly pulled your hands off of her soft and jean-clad ass. “I’m fine, what are you talking about?” It came out defensive.

“No, you’re not,” the mare argued, apparently seeing straight through you. “One minute you’re just starting to lighten up, the next you’re all over me? It didn’t even feel like you wanted to be kissing me.” The smile dropped for the first time, and you realised how much you wanted to see it back. “Am I, like, annoying you, or something?”

“What?” You shook your head furiously. “No! Of course you aren’t! You’re really cool, I’m glad you came over here.”

That wasn’t enough to placate her. “Then I’m getting mixed signals because?”

“I’ve…” Fuck it, time to come clean. You didn’t want to talk about this right now, and especially not here, to her, but it kinda felt necessary at this point. “I got cheated on tonight. It really fucked me up, and when I saw you coming onto me, I just… reacted. I’m sorry.” You saw the way she stared at you, as if she was disappointed, and you felt compelled to add more. “I honestly think you seem really fun. I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been cool to hang around with, but I’m just in a really bad way right now. I can leave you alone if you want.”

Another kiss, but this time, on your cheek. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through a hard time,” the mare said, and her voice seemed to lose its edge, felt more soft and caring. It was almost a struggle to hear. “I know what it’s like to lose someone and feel like shit. I’ve been fucked over before and it’s a bitch, I know.” Her smile finally returned, calming your heart, and she bapped you on the arm. “But that doesn’t mean you should be out here looking for a rebound!”

“I-I wasn’t, I was just—”

“So if I hadn’t stopped you from carrying on you wouldn’t have fucked me and left the next day, most likely with some fake promise that we’d keep in touch?” She gave you a very knowing look, as if she’d just recited the mantra of the modern stallion.

“...no?” You tried your hardest to assure her you were telling the truth, imploring she listen with wide, attentive eyes. “Of course not. I’m… I’m not like that. At least, I don’t think I am.” It was difficult to be completely sure when you felt like this.

The mare seemed to consider your words for a moment, but eventually nodded. “I hope you’re not, because against my better judgment, I wanna dance with you. Please don’t turn out to be a dick?”

You sighed. Had you been about to do something irredeemably selfish? You gave the mare a smile, a genuine one, and got up to follow her. For the next couple of hours, revenge was the furthest thing from your mind.

“And then… and then when you wooshed across the dance floor like that, waving your arms around like a lunatic?” she giggled, and it was intoxicating. Or maybe that was the copious amounts of alcohol in your system. “You had everyone staring at you, dude. They were probably wondering which asylum you’d escaped from!”

You were laughing with her before you knew it. Dancing had been an incredible amount of fun in the end. She had some good moves, managed to look lively and animated well after she should’ve burned out, and you’d done your best to keep up with her, despite being completely inexperienced and feeling like you could pass out at any moment.

And now you were arm to shoulder with one another as she walked you home. To her place, that was. It was almost 4am when closing came, and she’d offered to let you crash on her sofa. There was a pretty clear age gap between you two, at least five years, and it’d dawned on her before you’d even had to admit that you going home this late and in this state was likely to raise some eyebrows from your parents.

But the most important thing, apart from the generosity of her putting up with you, of her taking you home, was that you actually had a good time with her. It was real, it wasn’t toxic or shitty or anything like that… thoughts weren’t exactly coming easily right now.

When you got back to her place, she made up the couch for you and fetched you a cup of coffee. She took a seat next to you and handed you the cup. “It’s Lyra, by the way. Thought I might as well let you know that, so you know what to call me next time.”

You tried to sober yourself up with the drink, but the words rattling in your head were alien. “Next time?” you eventually repeated.

“You were fun, once you got over yourself and stopped worrying.” Lyra rubbed at her head, softly groaning. “Ah, I think I overdid it a little… I’m gonna get some sleep. You do the same, and we’ll chat in the morning.” She leaned over and gave you a kiss on the cheek before heading to her own room, turning off the light on the way. “Try not to worry too much. Sleep easy, kid.”

And for all that you’d expected the opposite, you actually did. Maybe it was the booze, but you suspected not. With Lyra’s help, you drifted into a calm, contented sleep, the bullshit of the day lost on you, at least for the time being.

"Hey."

You could hear the voice, but you couldn't see it. It sounded groggy and out of place, like it'd rather be anywhere else than here. It was raspy, a little dead. "Mmh?" you eloquently responded, remembering you had eyes that you could indeed open.

"You. Loverboy," came the giggle-groan Lyra, who was repeatedly batting at your arm. "Hey, time to get up, I'm gonna be late for work otherwise."

"Nnghhh..." you really weren't ready for the introduction of light to your bloodshot eyes. You slashed at your surroundings with noodled limbs, attempting to keep the evil entity from burning out your retinas completely. Laziness gripped at you and refused to relinquish its comfy, linen grasp. "Just five more minutes..."

"Last time I told a guy to let himself out, he decided it was time to devour half my fridge. You're leaving when I do."

You looked up to spot her standing above you. She’d ditched the casual clothes from last night, and was in a white shirt and panties, holding a toothbrush that she'd yet to use. She looked pretty adorable, honestly. "Alright, alright..." You heaved your body to the side before making the almighty swing to sitting upright. That had been a herculean task in of itself, seeing straight was another. "Jeez... how much did I drink last night?"

“Enough that you told me about your shitty breakup right after frenching me?” Lyra winked before beginning to brush her teeth, still standing over you.

Remembering it was more of a headache than your actual headache. "Did I mention the part where it was my brother that she slept with, and on my bed?"

Lyra actually looked surprised by that. "Jeesh, dude, thath's cold..." she withdrew the toothbrush, likely aware of how comical she sounded. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"I was planning to get even," you admitted. The hangover didn’t help, either, it kinda robbed you of last night’s bliss.

"That's a bad idea. Be the bigger stallion, try and be happy. Don't let those two dicks drag you down to their level." Lyra pointed at the large apartment the two of you sat in. "I moved in here with a fiance, once upon a time. We only got the place because we knew the two of us could afford it together. When she left, I had to get a second job just to meet rent and stay close enough to work that I could commute..." she then pointed at her still smiling face. "You think I went out and got revenge? Nope! And I'm still a happy mare, taking strangers home and letting them crash on my couch. Be like me, let the hate go."

"...now I can see why I was buying," you all too bluntly stated, though you honestly did feel what she was trying to say. Okay, maybe it wasn't enough to make you forget everything, but she had a point. You had a chance to show you could be a stronger person than Button, that you were more than his bullshit. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Lyra."

"Anytime, little boy," she teased, smearing toothpaste on your cheek with a finger. "You’d better, cause I want you to hit me up again, but only if you can put this shit behind you. Don’t get strung up on it, and don’t go out looking for revenge. I don’t want to be a second choice, or a revenge fuck, or anything like that. But for some reason, I like you. Just, don’t drive yourself crazy with all of this shit. Get your feelings out in the open and be done with it. You can do better than her.”

Maybe better was right there in front of you. Sure, she had her quirks, but this Lyra, this random mare, she seemed to be different to the ponies you'd become used to over the last few years. When the best wisdom you could hope for was coming from the hungover hook-up from the night before that had just left toothpaste mottled in your cheek fur, you had to wonder just where you'd fucked up before now.

You tried to wipe off the clumpy substance with your spittle, but it just got mashed further into your fur. It’d been a while since you’d laughed like this. With someone like Lyra around, maybe that could change. Perhaps you could forget about all of this bullshit and move on, grow a little in the process.

"Thanks for everything," you said, throwing on your clothes as you went, and before long, the two of you were ready to head out of the door. She pulled you into a half-embrace, now fully dressed up in office attire, then gave you a little squeeze.

"Make sure you call me at some point, yeah?"

"Yeah," you affirmed, grinning dumbly as you said it, and the two of you headed out the door and quickly parted ways, walking in opposite directions. You may have looked back and given her a little wave, you weren't ashamed to admit. She may have grinned at you and then given you the finger.

And suddenly, there was less weight on you. Sure, you still had a headache, and you didn't feel as if you'd slept enough, but the bullshit from the night before? It scarcely bothered you right then. You knew that wouldn't be a permanent thing—dwelling on it still caused anger to rise up—but you could surely ignore it long enough to enjoy your day, gain a new perspective on things.

Maybe this big plan wasn't worth it after all. Maybe you would be stooping to his level instead of just getting on with your life. Maybe you could forget about all of it and just take Lyra on a date instead. Preferably not slam shots this time.

No, you hadn't forgotten the whole mom situation. That still needed dealing with. But maybe it was... unhealthy?

Okay, that wasn't a maybe thing. It was definitely an unhealthy thing, and you shouldn't have even been entertaining the thought. Funny how it started to go out of the window the moment an alternative came along, huh? You might have lusted after your foster mother for years, and she might be doing just the same, but you shouldn't do it. Last night had shown you that there was something better for you out there than petty revenge and unhealthy urges, and if you really focussed on improving yourself, ignoring temptation? You could have it.

And that thought led you to smile. The early morning sun might have beaten down on you and made you feel as if you were being melted by a death ray, but you didn't particularly care. That positive mentality you'd just had a taste of, it was enough to sustain you; it served as a barrier against the various annoyances around you.

Walking along the street, finding you way home, you truly felt ready to take on the day.

Author's Note

This chapter was originally around 80% different and 2000 words longer, then Grimm convinced me to change it because the original wasn't as good as it could've been. Hope you like the version you're seeing!

Next chapter out in two days, be ready! Thanks for all the comments, likes, and follows so far! I like all of those things.

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