Octavia Melody sprawled on the mattress in her Manehattan studio, her head spinning from a few too many shots of Coltvados. How many too many she wasn’t sure, but whatever. She wouldn’t regret it until tomorrow, at which point it would be future Octavia’s problem, and one she would no doubt rage at her for causing.

Future Octavia would also undoubtedly be angry that buying that bottle had only left a hoofful of bits in her purse – definitely not enough to pay the rent on her tiny, rat-infested hovel from which the last occupant had exited through the tenth story window. On the other hoof, it wasn’t like there’d been enough bits in there to pay rent before the bottle, so future Octavia couldn’t get [i]too[/i] mad at her for buying it. 

It was too hot.

The world lurched as she forced herself to roll off her mattress and stand. 

The heat was present Octavia’s problem. Most other things were future Octavia’s problem. Yet, somehow, they always turned into present Octavia’s problems, something she found quite unfair. More and more, she found herself wishing future Octavia would disappear. 

Nopony would miss her. 

Not even present Octavia.

She took an unsteady step towards her window. It really was too hot.

It took effort to fumble the latch off and push the window open, but the only reward was more of the same sticky, sweltering air that filled her apartment. All she needed was a tiny breeze, and she couldn’t even have that.

She wanted to laugh.

She cried instead.

Through the haze of tears, she looked at the dark streets below and wondered what the previous occupant had thought as they’d taken their last step. 

“That’s a bad idea. I really can’t recommend it.”

Octavia started, hooves flailing as she tried to spin and not fall over. Standing not more than a few feet behind her was a unicorn, her white coat seeming to glow in the faint light of the moon and red eyes shining beneath a shock of blue hair. 

“Who are you?” Octavia squeaked, trying and failing to manage bravado despite .

“The previous tenant.” 

Octavia stared in disbelief, slowly realizing that she could see the faint outlines of the room through the unicorn’s body. “You’re—”

“A ghost,” she supplied. “Yeah. Another musician who hit the end of her rope. Metaphorically. It was the ground if we go literal.” 

Octavia kept staring. She had to be hallucinating.

“Look.” The unicorn took a step forward. “Stuff sucks. It always sucks. It’ll probably keep sucking. But it’s better than this, watching the world roll on without you, knowing that you’ve got eternity to regret what you did.” 

Octavia sniffed, wiping the lingering tears from her eyes. 

“So please, be stronger than I was and find a way to live.” The unicorn smiled. “I’d certainly appreciate it. It’d give my death a little meaning. You know, stopping somepony else from repeating my mistakes. Or, at the very least, convincing you to do it a different way.”

Despite herself – despite everything – Octavia laughed.

[hr]

They sat and talked.

They talked long into the night, about things Octavia hadn’t talked to anypony about in ages. It was strange at first, talking to somepony who was dead, but the strangeness gave way to a sort of comfortable familiarity as the conversation left the subjects of mortality and ghosts and instead drifted to life. To alcohol. To music. To dreams. 

“I wish I’d met you when I was still alive,” Vinyl said. She smiled, but it was tighter than it had been all evening. 

“Yeah.” Octavia’s own smile lost some of its lustre. The unasked question that had hung in the air since they’d started talking was growing heavier by the moment. How much time did Vinyl have before she faded away? 

Octavia didn’t want to ask, and it was obvious Vinyl didn’t want to either. So they didn’t.

In a sudden movement, she stepped forward and embraced the ghostly unicorn. It surprised to find Vinyl’s body actually had substance – not flesh, but not air either. A chill seeped into her coat wherever their bodies met. “You’re cold.”

There was a long silence. “Sorry,” Vinyl finally managed, seemingly more surprised than she was.

“Don’t be.” Octavia pressed her face to the side of Vinyl’s neck, relishing the feel. “It feels nice.”

She would deal with the answer to that question when the time came.