>You sleep deeply and don’t awaken until late in the afternoon.
>Your stomach is quick to alert the rest of your body of its emptiness and requests immediate action to remedy this.
>Understood, stomach, my friend.
>MISSION: Acquire Cornflakes from the Kitchen is confirmed.
>You make your way down the hallway.
>As you enter the kitchen, you see that you aren't the only one.
>Vinyl Scratch is almost never around during the day.
>But here she is, rapturously consuming a bowl of oatmeal and sliced banana.
>For someone who looked like they were on death’s door earlier, she’s recovered rather well.
>You hope she doesn't remember last night.
>Honestly, the events that transpired would be best lost in the sands of time. It was much too awkward for the both of you.
>You retrieve a bowl and the box of cereal from a cupboard and pour yourself a decent helping.
>The sound rouses Vinyl from her food trance and she looks up and over at you.
>You make eye contact, but she quickly looks away.
>Is she... embarrassed?
>....
>...oh god.
>SHE REMEMBERS.
>ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION
>RETREAT WITH ALL POSSIBLE SPEED
>”Hey, Anon?”
>The words catch you off guard as you turn to escape.
>Your attempt to flee ends quickly and disastrously as your spin causes your crotch to make direct, high-speed contact with the conveniently pony-sized counter edge.
>A lightning bolt of pain shoots directly from the apex of your legs to the top of your skull, causing your legs to buckle beneath you.
>You manage to support yourself with one hand on the counter and end up in a awkwardly casual sort of lean with your teeth clenched into a rictus grin, facing Vinyl.
“....Hey.”
>”You OK?” she says, concerned.
“....Yeah.”
>She raises her eyebrows at you in subtle disbelief, then turns back to her meal.
>....Whew. Awkward conversation successfully avoided.
>”By the way-”
>Shit.
>”-about last night...”
“W-What about it?”
>”You were the one who...”
>The sentence trails off, left unfinished.
>Oh no.
>That was a very vague question, Anon. Don’t fuck this up.
“Umm...Yes?”
>Vinyl smiles slightly and the freezing grip of anxiety loosens a little on your heart.
>”I don’t remember much of what happened, but what I do...”
>She grimaces apologetically.
>”...Sorry.”
>The pain in your genitals has subsided enough that the reassuring smile you give her is genuine.
“I meant what I said back then. It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”
>Vinyl smiles, relieved, and the awkward tension in the room disappears completely.
>”I’ll make it up to you sometime. You can’t stop me from feeling a little bad for barfing all over you.”
>She winks at you over her shades and your heart jumps a little.
“Don’t worry about it, you only got in my pants-GOT IT ON MY PANTS.”
>FUCK
>”Got in your pants? I didn't think I was that drunk, Anon.”
>She sticks her tongue out cheekily and your heart leaps past your throat and into the stratosphere.
“Hahayeahyouwerentmymistake-”
>You retreat down the hallway as quickly as your bruised junk will allow.
>”Actually...”
>”Anon?”
>Vinyl’s words stop you in your tracks.
“Y-Yeah?”
>You can see from here her cheeks are flushing slightly pink under her white coat.
>”A-Are you free this evening? Like, did you already have plans? I mean it’s fine if you do-”
>Holy shit is this reality? Is Vinyl Scratch asking you on a date?
“...No?”
>”Oh...” she looks down, dejected.
“No, I mean I don’t have any plans! I’m totally free!”
>No way this is really happening. You’re still asleep.
>A dull throb from your family jewels quickly discredits this theory.
>You’re awake, and Vinyl Scratch might be asking you out.
>”I was thinking, since I owe you a favor, I could take you to my set tonight at Plaza of Chimes? It would be my treat.”
>It’s...not a date.
>We’re you really that excited?
>Not that that you expected a date, Vinyl just caught you off guard.
>You might as well take her up on the offer. You like music and the prospect of spending the night alone in your room for the thousandth time doesn’t sound that appealing anymore.
“Sure. That sounds fun.”
>Vinyl’s expression brightens at your answer.
>”Cool, be ready in an hour and a half!”
>She clears her meal from the table and then heads back down the hallway towards her room.
>”We can hang out or dance after I finish. Drinks will be on me.”
>Music and drinks with Vinyl Scratch? That doesn’t sound like too bad of an evening.
>An hour and a half later, you’ve freshened up and changed clothes to something a little more decent than pajama pants.
>Vinyl is waiting by the door for you, her mane carefully tousled and spiked to perfection and her coat shining.
>”Not bad.” she says, eyeing you up and down.
“Not bad, yourself”
>”I didn’t think you’d own a buttoned shirt.” she teases.
“Oh, I’m full of surprises once you get to know me.”
>She smiles and you mentally fist-bump yourself.
>Nice going, Anon. Smooth as butter. +1 to Speechcraft.
>The sun is setting by the time you reach the Plaza.
>You can hear music pounding from inside and there’s a decent line formed at the entrance.
>You start heading to catch a place in line, but a careful bump from Vinyl steers you towards the left side of the building.
>”I’m the headlining DJ for tonight and you’re my guest, Anon, so we go in the VIP entrance.” she says.
>VIP?
>Shit, you’ll clean vomit any day of the week if this is the kind of reward you get.
>A muscled stallion greets Vinyl at the door.
>”Evening, Miss Scratch.”
>His eyes then immediately lock onto you.
>”And who are you?”
>”He’s my guest, Cold Clock,” Vinyl explains.
>He doesn’t respond, just jerks his head towards the door as a gesture to enter.
>You can’t resist winking at him as you pass and he narrows his eyes at you.
>Better not press your luck too much.
>The backstage hallway is well lit and Vinyl seems to know her way around.
>Up ahead, the hall splits in two. One straight forward, the other turning right.
>Vinyl gestures to the right-hand hallway.
>”That’s your hallway. It heads to the main hall and bar.”
>She flashes you a smile.
>”I’ll see you after my set. Try not to party too hard while I’m away. I don’t want you to owe me any favors for dragging your drunken ass home.”
>With that, she’s gone.
>You follow the muffled sound of thumping bass down the hallway until you reach the main hall.
>The hall brings to mind a futuristic cathedral, with high curtained walls and a wide ceiling covered in a glowing fresco of swirling color and amorphous figures that have no discernible form, but carry an unmistakable feeling of movement.
>Straining your eyes, you swear the figures are dancing with the strobe lights that are flashing and illuminating them. Are they equine or human? Or something else?
>A grunted “Oof!” and a sharp pain in your knee shocks you from your reverie.
>Mumbling an apology to the equine patron you just collided with, you carefully make your way to the back of the hall where the bar is located.
>You seat yourself at one of the stools, order a Sweet Jack (a mixture of apple juice and one of the harder beverages produced by the Apple Family farms, and also the only Equestrian drink you know) from the red-maned bartender, and wait for Vinyl’s set to begin.
>The current DJ up in the booth is bumping some intriguing mixture of chiptune and house music that you can’t help but bob your head slightly to.
>Although, now that you think about it, “booth” is kind of a misnomer.
>The booth is the central focus, the pulpit, of this cathedral of sound.
>It’s flanked by massive speakers and behind it rises a colossal pipe organ whose pipes glow with an intense rainbow of neon lights.
>The DJ seems to be nearing the end of their set and you can feel an unspoken anticipation building in the large crowd gathering on the dance floor.
>As the final song ends, the DJ leans forward and speaks into microphone.
>”Thank you for coming tonight, everypony. You all are fucking great. Now, prepare yourself for the queen of bass, herself! DJ PON-3!
>And with that, the club is plunged into darkness.
>It seems an eternity before the almost tangible silence is broken by solitary lilting piano notes.
>These grow and swirl until they are joined by synths.
>The neon lights of the organ slowly rise, painting the unmistakable silhouette of Vinyl Scratch.
>As the song builds, Vinyl doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak, but the intensity builds higher and higher with each passing second.
>Moments before the drop, Vinyl finally moves. She points her hoof out into the crowd and then right as the song drops, jabs up into the air towards the ceiling.
>The crowd goes fucking nuts.
>Only strobes are lighting the floor of the Plaza and each time they flash you catch a glimpse of a tableau of reckless abandon.
>Muscles strain and heads swing back to their limits. Manes freeze in captured moments of time, framing shining eyes and gaping mouths with explosions of color.
>And then you see Vinyl Scratch.
>She's on her hind legs, head thrown back and forehooves stretched wide.
>Her mane is a halo of lightning.
>Her coat is polished ice, reflecting all the colors around her like a living rainbow.
>She’s become a neon angel.
>You’re completely transfixed. You’ve never seen Vinyl like this before.
>She's a swirling dervish of white and blue. Switching between mixing songs, sometimes two or three at once and jumping around, hyping up the crowd without a moments break.
>It’s so hypnotizing that it takes you a good while to notice the bar patron to your left has lightly placed their hoof on your forearm to get your attention.
>You look over and your gaze follows the hoof up to where it reaches it’s owners light green body.
>She's gazing up at you with her lips curled in a small smirk, but your eyes are drawn away by the presence of two piercings in each of her ears which stand out against her two-toned mane, shining blue and purple under the bright lights of the club.
>“My eyes are down here, pal.” she half-shouts to be heard over the pounding music.
>You know she's joking, but you can't but blush at being caught staring.
>"I haven't seen you here before at the Plaza, is this your first time?"
"Uh, y-yeah, it is."
>Damn it. You only stutter when you're embarrassed.
>"You got a name?"
"Anonymous"
>"I like it. A handsome name, it suits you."
>She bats her eyelashes
>"You can call me Lilac"
"Well, nice to meet you, Lilac."
>Shit. How do you continue a conversation from here.
>You glance away awkwardly at the dance floor, and when you turn back, Lilac is still staring at you, eyes half-lidded.
>"You're a big guy, Anonymous." she observes.
"For y-"
>You manage to shut your mouth before making an absolute fool of yourself.
"Well, I guess.."
>"Bigger than any of the stallions here."
>What point is she trying to make? I mean, obviously you're taller than any ponies here simply by the fact you're bipedal. Weight-wise and general body mass, she does have a point that you're bigger, but what did she m-
>...Oh.
>...Ohhhhh.
>Wow.
>"You seem like the silent type, so why don't we just skip the awkward small talk?" she continues.
>You can feel the hair on the back of your neck rise as she moves close enough for you to feel her breath as she speaks.
>If you'll come with me, I'd like to get to know you better."
>You try to speak but the link between your brain and your mouth is in shambles.
"Um, I came here w-with someone, I don't think-- I s-shouldn't leave--"
>Lilac's eyes widen and she pulls back.
>"You're here with your marefriend? Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try and b-"
"Nononono shes not my marefriend shes just a friend wellmorereallyaroommatebut-"
>Your words all run together and eventually trail off.
>Without thinking, you glance up at Vinyl, who is still rocking the hell out of her set.
>What even is your relationship with Vinyl Scratch? Just roommates? Friends? Or something more?
>Your heart flips a little at the thought, but reality immediately douses the feeling.
>No, stupid. Vinyl isn't interested in someone like you. She only brought you here out to pay back a favor.
>You turn back to the bar, where Lilac is looking at you with narrowed eyes and a knowing smile.
>You sigh and shake your head slowly.
"It's not what you think."
>She raises one eyebrow.
>"If you say so."
 
Lilac talk about Vinyl and being her roommate. Just stuff to cement her as a friend.
Advice to be bold or you'll have to live with the pain of never knowing what would have happened.