I pressed my ear against the thin wall separating us. I heard her snore softly and turn over in her bed. My heart fluttered and I squeezed my pillow, thinking of how awesome it would be to squeeze her like that next to me.

I didn't know how to help Octavia. I wanted to help her with all of my heart as a friend, and maybe even more. But as far as I knew, the only lycans I'd ever heard about were in tacky romance novels and bad horror films. The current trend was vampires anyway. And all those books told me were how to theoretically kill a lycan, which was kind of counterproductive.

So I guess that was that. My roommate was a lycan.

There was a feeling of catharsis (heh, I used a big word) that washed over me. The cat (or dog) was out of the bag. Things would work out. The more I thought about it, nothing was really going to change. Octavia and I would still live our lives. We'd still have jobs. We'd still make music and live for music. It wasn't a big deal, right? So maybe Octavia was bipolar and had a benign, furry side that could potentially shred me to pieces. That's not to say that things wouldn't change, because everything changed now. I'd probably never look at her the same way ever again. Maybe instead of laughing her off when she got mad, I'd get scared, because I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn't afraid.

I always had this sort of girly fantasy of having romantic conversations through the wall. I tapped the wall once, but then shook my head. I couldn't sleep. Five days a week my sleep schedule was all topsy-turvy compared to hers. Now it was Sunday night and the coolest club in Canterlot was closed. I tossed and I turned, trying to make myself comfortable. I let out a groan and tried listening to some music. I grabbed my trademark pair of Pon3 headphones, smiling a little when I saw her autograph. At least that way, she could be with me even when I was at the club.

I sighed dreamily.

Octavia, Octavia, Octavia. It was a beautiful name, belonging to an equally beautiful mare. At first glance, most ponies wouldn't peg me as the thinking type of pony, but sometimes when I had the chance, I would listen to nothing and just think.

The thing on my mind was love.

Most ponies, I think, are attracted to each other for some reason or another, like physical appearances or personality. But I think love is more complicated than that. Not that I was really in love. Or maybe I was, and I didn't know it yet. I was too young for love, too immature.

I tried thinking of the reasons why I liked Octavia.

Sure, we both had a passion for music, but it wasn't that hard to find somepony with the same special talent. In my eyes, Octavia was about on the same level of that supermodel Fleur de Lis, but that was because I was biased. By most standards, Octavia was average in looks. Her personality, well, wasn't very nice. She wasn't the nicest mare around, or all that friendly. She was a bit haughty, a little on the cocky side, but I liked that.

Maybe it was the accent.

Yeah, definitely the accent. I've got the hots for accents like hers. She could say anything and it would sound sexy. Listening to her was like listening to a really good house song with a sick drop that came outta nowhere and bucked you in the face.

"Okay, you definitely need some sleep Vinyl."

But I didn't sleep. Then I got around to thinking about what I was going to do. How long was I going to crush on her? Was I going to pine after her forever, and never know the answer because I was just too scared? Right then and there I made a resolution. I was going to tell Octavia how I felt about her!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. "

I don't know if you know this, but Canterlot is conservative. There were still ponies running around thinking that they were royalty because a long, long time ago, their ancestors were stinking rich and supposedly had royal blood in their veins, like that ass Blueblood. Back then they had something called family values, see. And apparently two mares or two stallions weren't supposed to like each other. These family values also included marrying your cousin.

My parents were kind of old-fashioned. Not too old fashioned, mind you, but the one thing I knew they would never approve of is their daughter being...gay.

And then after I remembered that, I thought of something else. What if Octavia...wasn't gay?

I smacked myself in the face with my pillow.

"Go to sleep!" I told myself.

"Yes, please," I heard a voice mutter.

I frowned. I looked everywhere, and then poked the wall with a thump.

WHAM, WHAM.

"GOING TO SLEEP!" I cried, hiding under my blankets.

I sweated and squirmed. I fidgeted and bounced on my hooves like I had to go really bad.

"Octavia, I just...I don't know how to say this..."

Her eyes were beady, a neutral expression on her face. She just sat there, watching me watching her.

"This is something I've been keeping from you for a...long, long time. But I think that, uh, now since I know about your...other side, I think you have a right to know about my other side."

She stared blankly at me.

"This is really hard for me to say, but Octavia," I swallowed, "The truth is...I think I have a crush on you." I paused. "I'm gay. Well, actually, I think I'm bi. I'm not too sure."

No response.

"Don't look at me like that."

My Octavia plushie flopped over on my bed, letting out a little squeak. Don't even ask where I got it because I'm not going to tell you that I got it from Carousel Boutique!

I groaned, jumping onto my bed.

"That sounds so stupid!"

I held plushie Octavia up and hugged her. It squeaked.

"Why do you have to be so adorable?"

After lazing about a good chunk of the afternoon, I packed my bags and strutted down the street. Actually, I think I sort of shuffled. You know how you can look at somepony and figure out what kind of pony they are just by the way they carry themselves? Canterlot ponies hold their heads a bit too high. DJ-Pon3 would have strutted her stuff down the streets with all the swagger in the world, but sometimes it was too tiring to be Pon3. Vinyl Scratch would trot along with her head held low.

There's this sort of majestic, grand feeling ponies get when they walk around Canterlot. That feeling was lost on me after living there so long, walking those same streets every day. They all started to blend together and look the same. But Club Canterlot was kind of hard to miss, with the lights and all.

Club Canterlot, the coolest club in all of Equestria, was the only place where you could party with Pon3. Everything about it was sleek and smooth. There were no seedy entrances with brick walls to be found here, only a cool, subdued, abstract aesthetic. It was big, not the size of a concert hall, but big enough for an upscale bar that you'd find at five-star restaurants and a glowing dance floor and a stage in the center of it all. On the second floor was the VIP floor for ponies like the Wonderbolts or maybe the Elements of Harmony or just rich ponies in general so that they could look down upon the rest of us.

This stage was my office, if you will. It was a large space with plenty of space for my records and turntables and mixers and a drink or two.

"He-ey there, Pon3!"

I recognized the voice instantly without even having to look. It was low and a bit on the raspy side. I didn't really like people calling me DJ-Pon3 when I wasn't on stage. It's kind of like confusing actors for their characters. It was just an act, a personality. I felt somepony sidle up against my side, bumping their rump against mine. That sort of thing was reserved for friends and, well, partners. Then again, taking a guess as to who it was...

"Hey Neon," I said, unenthused.

Neon Lights or MC W1SH, his stage name. A dork, a dunce, and a douche, and I was his dame. He was a dork because he had absolutely no sense of personal space, a dunce because he could never take a hint, and douche because, well, he dressed like one. He ran the light shows every night as my partner in crime, and occasionally stepped up for songs.

He was practically strangling me as he hooked his leg around my neck. "Ah, Pon3, I think it's gonna be a great night tonight."

"It's Vinyl. And you say that every night."

"I do?" He paused, and then shrugged. "Whatevah! Ay, Scratchie—"

I glared. Nopony called me Scratchie. Ever.

He noticed me giving him a death glare. "—Scratch, how 'bout you and me—"

"No, Neon," I groaned.

"You didn't even gimme a chance to ask!"

"That's 'cause I already know what you're gonna ask."

"What was I gonna ask?" he challenged, leaning in even closer with a huge grin.

I cleared my throat. "You were gonna ask if we could, 'hang aftah the club closes, maybe get sum drinks at da bar and go back to ya place'."

"How you figure that?"

"'Cause you ask me every night," I said.

A long pause. Then,

"I do?"

I slammed my head down on my set. I think I fractured my horn...

He poked me gently. "Aw, lighten up. I'm jus' teasing."

Neon was the sort of guy friend you couldn't stay mad at for too long. Half the stuff that came out of his mouth was all just in good fun.

"Listen, I gotta get ready," I said.

"You 'kay?"

I was this close to snapping at him, but I paused. He sounded genuinely concerned. There was no joke, no thinly veiled insult.

"'m fine," I mumbled, tracing a hoof.

"You're weird."

"Wow, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're a great friend."

Neon paused, just for a second. I was expecting some sort of quip or jab at me. I gazed at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He was still smiling, but then again just because you were smiling on the outside didn't mean you were on the inside. It was the way a pony's eyes lit up that you knew, but at the moment, his black shades covered his expression.

"It's...uh, what I'm here for," he said. "Well, um, anyways, time for Neon Lights to work his magic!" he declared before dashing off.

I sighed. Power, on, headphones, on, shades, on, DJ-Pon3, on.

The clock struck nine.

Party, on.

They swarmed en masse, screaming and shouting.

"My people!" I howled into the microphone, spreading my hooves apart.

A sea of faces pounded their hooves against the floor, shaking the place as they screamed of their approval. Hard electronic beats pounded from the speakers. Flashing strobe lights sparkled through the room. I took a swig from my (root) beer, headbanging hard, my electric blue mane bouncing up and down as I mixed the beats, preparing for a smooth transition to the next song.

"This isn't even house!"

They roared, chanting my name.

"Pony Rock!"

"Yeah! Pony Rock Anthem!"

Soon, those two voices became multiplied, until the entire club was chanting the name of our song. Neon arched his eyebrows, nudging me, giving me a cocky grin.

Neon Lights was quite the rapper, surprisingly. Me, not so much. Pony Rock Anthem had been a little experiment between Neon Lights, Pinkie Pie, and I. I'd worked with Pinkie before on Equestria Gurls, and this one was a little something different. It wasn't exactly my best work. It had a really simple tune with some variation thrown in, but I think what got ponies was the dance that Pinkie came up with.

"C'mon," Neon said.

"We don't have Pinkie Pie," I hissed away from the mic.

"Who cares? Do your DJ-Pon3 thing? Improvise!"

Neon flipped a microphone for himself, and I pressed PLAY.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one pony not dancing. That miffed me, just a little. Maybe they didn't feel like dancing, or maybe they were tired. Then I noticed that they were looking straight at me. Sharp, golden eyes that seemed to glow locked with mine, never wavering. A dark gray coat, a cobalt blue mane, short and spiky.

It made me uncomfortable. But by the time I'd even bothered to get a second looked, they were already gone.

Weird.

I let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from my brow, poking my sensitive horn. Being a DJ having to fiddle with a bunch of knobs and switches really put a strain on your magic reserves.

"You need help?" Neon asked.

"What a gentlecolt," I began, and then, "No."

"Ya sure?"

I clamped my teeth around a few vinyls, placing them in my bags. "I'm fine. Go home."

The second he walked out that door I regretted my words. Now I was starting to wish he had stayed behind. I don't know about you, but a place normally filled with life being empty made me uneasy. I was all alone in Club Canterlot with only the darkness and shadows to keep me company.

I hummed a little tune, trying to put away my things as fast as possible. I felt somepony prod my shoulder and I froze. I slowly turned my head and jumped out of my skin with a scream, falling onto my back. I looked up and paled.

She grinned, a pair of fangs poking out from her mouth. Her slitted golden eyes flashed, and I could have sworn that I'd seen a forked snake tongue. She tossed her head, blowing her short spiky cobalt mane.