It was late. At least eleven at night. As always, it was quiet.
Bouteille blinked away the tiredness building up in his eyes, trying to focus on the pile of papers in front of him. In all honesty, he wanted to throw himself into bed and slip away into whatever dream awaited him, but he knew that would make it so that he'd have more work to do tomorrow, therefore less time to finish it.
The house was deathly quiet. His parents were out on their usual nightlife in Canterlot, leaving him and his twin brother alone to do whatever they pleased.
And by him and his twin brother, he meant him.
Lately, Verre had been going out to meet a "friend" rather than staying in and doing any extra work like he was. He used to join him on these little sessions, but recently he'd just... stopped. For reasons that worried him.
He shook his head, realising he hadn't written a word on the piece of paper in front of him. He wasn't even holding a pen. He let out an exasperated groan, before levitating the quill and holding it over the paper as he thought about what the opening word should be,
After going through several of the most recent films released in cinemas, I've come to notice the amount of change in the traditional romances that the public has come to love have suddenly evaporated, in placement of-
A door click. The sound of hooves. His head shot up as he strained to hear the familiar sound of his twin sauntering in the hallway, most likely hanging up his hoodie that he had a strange obsession with wearing. He then heard the stallion move in the direction that would lead him to where he was sitting, that being in the living room, where the stairway to his room would be.
"Hey, big B," a high pitched, friendly voice chimed. Without turning his head, Bouteille flickered his ear at the sound of his brother.
"You're still up?" he questioned innocently. "It's past midnight, y'know!"
Past midnight? It was much later than he thought. What was he doing, staying out that late?
"Lost track of time," he replied bluntly. "Why are you still up?"
A light chuckle could be heard from the other stallion. "I only just got in, silly." He gave a relaxed sigh, moving over to the desk. "How's your night been?"
He shrugged. "Normal, I guess." He went back to scanning the words he had written down on his sheet of paper, until the silence began to get awkward. He chanced a glance at his brother, who was batting his lashes at him. He grunted.
"...How was yours." It wasn't much of a question, more of a statement. He already vaguely knew what was coming.
"Great! Thanks for asking," he exclaimed gleefully. "Turbid showed me this small street full of sweet shops and cool gadget stores. Never even knew it existed, after all the years I've lived here!"
Bouteille arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, it was!" I could tell most of the ponies there weren't from around here, which was also cool."
"How could you tell?" he flatly asked.
"Their accents were different. They were nice accents, though."
A deathly silence dropped on them both again. A quiet, nervous tapping of hooves on the floor could be heard, then eventually faded away after about tens seconds or so.
"Hey, Turbid was asking about you today," Verre suddenly spoke, more slowly this time. Bouteille actually glanced in his direction and held his magenta gaze.
"Hm." He blinked.
Verre bit his lip. "He... erm... wants to meet you sometime. Y'know, because we're both like... close." A faint blush appeared on his cheeks as his eyes trailed the ground. "And he thought you might like to, since you've shown interest in meeting the royal-"
"I'm fine, thank you," he interrupted sharply, whipping his head back to his work. Realising he wasn't going anywhere with what he had written, he raised the piece of paper and scrunched it up, tossing it aside, before writing a different opening paragraph.
Modern entertainment is clearly changing. Not in a way many would expect, in fact, I've been surprised by the perculia updates many directors, producers and writers have made to their films and TV programs. From horror to slice of life, they all have one thing in common. All of them have themes of-
"I don't understand," Verre blurted out. Bouteille dropped his quill to listen again, though didn't look at his brother.
"Turbid and I have been together for about a month now, and you're not even making an effort to get to know him!" The usual sweet tone of his voice disappeared, becoming more and more desperate with each word. "You're so... uninteresterd in our relationship. I want to know why."
Bouteille's gaze slithered over to the heated stallion, his horn glowing to scrunch up the piece of paper he had began to write on, then flinging it with the other white scrumpled up ball.
"I don't think you understand how immature you're being, Verre de Vin," he grumbled.
"No, you don't understand how... how disconnected you are from me," he retorted.
"Oh, don't worry, I do. Mostly because I want nothing to do with your young love fantasies you're currently experiencing." He scrunched up his nose. He notinced his mouth open, as if to try and reply, but he cut him off before he could get a word out. "You're already on the short end of the stick when it comes to reputation in Canterlot. Not that it's as important as many would say, but it would've sure saved you from half the teasing and ridicule you get from a number of ponies out there."
"You think I care about that?"
"The numerous tears you've shed over it, I'd say a definite yes."
Verre snorted, his eyes rolling. "Alright, so maybe I did. But not anymore. Turbid makes me not care about that. He makes me actually love my-"
"Oh, would you stop talking about that fur-covered dragon for one measly second?" he spat. "Honestly, out of all the Royal Family you could of chosen, you picked him?"
Verre's eye twitched as he stared at him in bewilderment. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, he's quite possibly the worst choice from that family to choose as your significant other. He's not, in the slightest, mature about courting."
"He doesn't need to be. Our dates our amazing just the way they are, thanks."
"Oh, please. I imagine he's an animal. In fact..." he squinted as he gazed at the purple bandana wrapped around the stallion's neck, before giving it a sudden tug with his magic, making Verre flinch in realization of what he was doing.
"Wait-!" he protested as the weak knot at the back of his neck was undone, allowing the piece of fabric to release its grip on him. When noticing his neck was bare, his hoof shot up to cover it up, his face turning red and beads of sweat rolling down his face.
"Hm. I figured you were hiding something," Bouteille scoffed at his brother's weak attempt to hide the huge bite mark on the side of his neck, which only a fraction of it could be covered by his tiny hoof. With the satisfaction of being proven right, he carelessly threw the bandana back at his brother, watching it land on his face, a vague shape of his head poking through the cloth. A purple aura appeared around the bandana, jerking it off of his face and tying it back around his neck in a frustrated manner.
"It's none of your buisness," he growled, finishing off the bow holding the two ends of the fabric together.
"Oh, so now you don't want me to get involved?" He raised his brows, patronising his two-minute-younger brother. "Make up your mind, please."
"You don't go around judging ponies for what they do with their lovers. That includes me." He narrowed his eyes into slits.
"You're my twin. I think I have a right to question your actions."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
He gritted his teeth
"I'm just looking out for you."
Verre's eyes suddenly widened, before he burst out into a fit of sarcastic laughter.
"Oh, that's it, huh? You're just so concerned about what me being in a relationship with a draconequus - a male draconequus for that matter - could possibly do to me! Because it's not as if the thing you're trying to protect me from is actions similar to what you're doing right now, is it?"
"You're so worried about facing what's wrong that you don't even try to fix it. It's not even you who's in the relationship, and yet you're just so terrified!"
"I'm just worried about-"
"You're not even going to support me for finally standing up for myself, instead you're going to pull me back down to your level, just to keep me safe from harm. Is that it? Is that really it?"
"You don't know what ponies are capable of-"
"Well, I think I know what's going on here."
"They'll never stop talking about-"
"You're just jealous."
Bouteille stared at his brother in awe, his lip quivering. Verre was holding his gaze, very weakly at that, as shown through his shaking.
"Jealous," he echoed with no emotion.
"Jealous," Verre repeated, this time more quiet.
"Jealous. Jealous of what?" Bouteille asked slowly, lifting his chin up slightly.
He pursed his lips, searching for the right words, before spluttering out,
"That I can be in a relationship I want to be in," he rasped. "You're too scared."
Another long, drawn out silence hit.
Bouteille felt rage bubbling beneath his skin with each second added to the amount of time he'd stare back at his brother. He tried to search for a word. A sentence. An argument.
He found nothing.
"...You're not to see Turbulence again," he murmured shakily.
Verre's eyes widened, his face dropping into one of terror.
"You heard me." He found a way to build up a thin layer of confidence in his voice as he turned his body back to his desk, though still glaring at him.
"You... you can't. You can't do that to us."
"I can. I will." His eyes transformed into slits. "I don't think ma or pa would be very happy to know that their innocent son was gifted with a love bite by predatory teeth now, would they?"
Tears began welling up in Verre's eyes. A horrible feeling also welled up in his own stomach, though he ignored it.
"You... you wouldn't!" he cried desperately.
"Try me, Vinny," he hissed, his gaze returning to a blank sheet of paper.
He levitated his quill again, as if he were suddenly back into his focus zone, though in reality the last thing he could focus on right now was whatever he was writing about.
What was he even writing about?
A crumpled up piece of paper suddenly landed on the pile of blank sheets that had no creases at all. Without even unfolding it, he knew what was written on their with clear, black ink.
"Turbid was going to help you understand, in case you were wondering."
Following that sentence that hit him like a spear, were a load of hoofsteps dashing clumsily up the stairs, then along the corridoor on the second floor that led to his room. He coul hear heartbroken cries being drowned out by a pillow, as well as his own heartbeat racing and beating louder than ever.
Feeling numb, he slid the unwanted sheets off the table and onto the floor, before his head grew dizzy, eventually causing him to lose focus on everything.
Okay, first impression on Bouteille de Vin. Not a great one.
Bouteille took a very different path compared to his twin brother. Rather than living freely and trying to make his own way, he chooses to take a straight path and clinbs up the social ladder and avoiding any obstacles that may come up. This has created a lot of fear for consequences, and he's very concerned about how others view him. He knows his brother is the same, and he just doesn't understand why he keeps throwing himself into these kind of situations...
also, this is a bit of a vent based on recent events. It's not really reflective on what's happened, though it's very loosely based off of it. I just wanted to get my feelings out there somehow, even if this isn't word-for-word accurate at all, really.