I'm drubk

>You are Moondancer, and today is your day off.
>It's about 1 PM, and you just settled down on the couch to enjoy a whole entire not-work day where you don't hate every second of your existence.
>You are watching a shitty movie you have on DVD, displayed on your horrible TV.
>The DVD player was all you and Anon could afford, and your old CRT TV probably couldn't even hook up to a blueray player anyway.
>Thank god you can find both of these pieces of shit down at just about any thrift store.
>You've seen this movie a thousand times, of course; it's one of the four movies you own, and it's either this or the cheapest cable package you and Anon were able to afford together.
>Because Anon is your roommate, and the two of you are very careful with your budget.
>...
>Heh.
>Poor Victoire is trapped in an airport, and now she has to figure out how to scrounge money to buy food.
>She figured out the cart return station thingie, where it dispenses bits every time you return a cart do it!
>She even made a bed out of seats in an unused section of the airport.
>That Sally Spielberg is a genius.
>SLAM
>FUCK
>You yelp and nearly throw your remote control across the room as your apartment's front door slams shut.
>It's a case of nimble fingers and quick reflexes that saves the day, and you gently place the remote down on the couch cushion.
>Shhhh...
>It's alright, remote control.
>Mama won't hurt you.
>"What a bunch of FUCKING bullshit."
>Anon stomps into the room, looking so angry that you actually recoil away from him.
>He yanks his jacket off and tosses it on the floor over in the general direction of the front door.
>"I can't fucking BELIEVE Harshwhinny."
>With 3 long strides (it's a very small room), Anon makes his way over to your couch and collapses in it.
>The cushions sink at Anon's unexpected arrival, and you nearly fall into him.
>He buries his head in his hands with his elbows planted on his knees, and you sit there for a long few moments just staring at him.
>Should you say anything?
>Is he okay?
>Should you hug him?
>Are you supposed to wrap an arm around his shoulders?
>Is ANY of that appropriate for a roommate to do?!
"Uhhh..."
>Anon's fingers part, and one of his eyes peek out at you.
>Your good ol' social anxiety kicks in, and you immediately regret your most recent life choice.
"You alright?"
>You wince as soon as the question leaves your lips; of course he's not alright, dumbass.
>Anon sighs and shakes his head, still leaning against his hands.
>"No.  No, Moonie, I'm not.  Harshwhinny fired me."
>She WHAT?!
>Anon leans back, going from a hunched contortion to a very stretched out pose, head lolling over the headrest of your cheap couch.
"Wh-What?!"
>He sighs explosively, and you're very proud of yourself for completely ignoring how his abs peek out from the bottom of his shirt.
>Good girl, Moonie.
>Way not to perv on your upset and recently-fired roommate.
>Mom would be proud.
>"She called me into her office just before my lunch break.  Normally, she pulls this shit so that she can watch me bend over to fiddle with filing cabinets, or climb a ladder to grab something on a high shelf."
>He doesn't look at you as he says this, and you can only conclude that he's too ashamed to.
>His entire posture is tense, and you feel a sharp stab of concern and pity run through you.
>The poor boy puts up with so much at work.
>Harshwhinny hasn't mellowed out at all since she quit her job at your old high school and took a job at Anon's office.
>Just one look at the way he's not making eye-contact with you shows you how uncomfortable he must be discussing this.
>Why is it that you can get through your terrible job unmolested, but sweet Anon has to be at the mercy of horny old ladies, exploiting him for his paycheque?
>God, you can just imagine the scene now: Anon, grimacing pitifully as he bends over and postures himself for his boss, tears barely held back.
>He needs comfort.
>And not the type that fucking Twilight would suggest, the horndog.
>You reach a shaking arm out and, hesitating only a moment, rest your hand on his shoulder.
>Anon tenses for just a moment, and then relaxes.
>He swallows, and your eyes are momentarily drawn to his bobbing Eve's Apple.
>"This time, she told me to close the door behind her."
"Oh, god."
>If you didn't have a pit in your stomach already, you do now.
>"She was on her swivel chair a foot or two away off to the side of her desk.  She spread her legs, pulled her skirt up her thighs, and told me in no uncertain terms that my job depended on how well of a..."
>He pauses, and you feel horrible for him.
>No boy should have to go through with this.
>"...PERFORMANCE I was capable of."
>He turns his head and stares at you with those big puppy-dog eyes of his.
>"She wanted me to eat her out, and implied that I might get a pay raise if I made this a regular thing."
>He snorts with disgust.
>" 'Every professional business woman dreams of a handsome young man licking her under her desk, mister Anonymous,' " he says in a mocking and exaggerated falsetto, " 'And I understand that you dream of being able to pay your bills.' "
>Your hand tightens on his shoulder as you listen with disgust.
>You can't help but wonder if he, a desperate man just trying to make it through life, wilted under his boss's gaze and tried to do what she said to keep his job.
>Anon is such a determined boy, and you know he doesn't give up on anything.
>He knows the two of you collectively live paycheque-to-paycheque, and you wonder if he...?
>But the thought of him on his hands and knees, spirit broken and tongue out, fills you with revulsion at what he's being forced to do.
>"I told her no, of course."
"Oh, thank god."
>WAIT
>MOONDANCER
>WHY
"I mean, uh, oh my god!"
>NAILED IT NAILED IT OH PLEASE GOD DON'T LET ANON NOTICE YOUR SLIP UP
>"So, Harshwhinny fired me on the spot."
>Christ.
"Oh, Anon."
>Without thinking and without worrying about your anxiety, or whether or not your roommate is trying to give you hints about how he may or may not feel about you, you lean over and pull him into a hug.
>He doesn't resist; in fact, he hugs you back.
>Anon leans heavily into you, practically crawling into your lap, and holds onto you like a drowning woman holding onto driftwood.
>He gives a shuddering intake of air, and you can tell he's trying hard not to cry.
>You end up holding Anon with his head tucked under your chin for... you don't know how long.
>Your usual pervy thoughts related to living with an attractive young man don't enter your head once during this period.
>You're too busy running your fingers through his hair and whispering reassuring nothings into his ear.
>If only you were smarter, or better.
>Then you could provide for the both of you, and you'd never have to see Anon upset because he got fired for not eating his boss out.
>He deserves better than this.
>YOU deserve better than this.
>You were planning on watching a Tabitha Hanks film, but right now you're perfectly content trying to make Anon feel better.
----------------------
>It is late at night, and you are still Moondancer.
>You are sitting in bed, staring at your generic-brand flip phone; you couldn't afford a nice smart phone.
>It's your sister's old phone, and that fact is right in the forefront of your mind right now.
"I should call her."
>But you don't want to.
>You don't want to talk to Morning Roast and ask her for help.
>You feel a pang of jealousy (and deep shame) well up inside of you at the thought of her; even after all these years.
>Smart Morning Roast.
>Successful Morning Roast.
>Works at her dream job Morning Roast.
>Didn't drop out of university Morning Roast.
>Lives all alone in an actual house and didn't have to hope to god that her non-existent roommate wasn't crazy and wouldn't stab her in the tits Morning Roast.
>Gets proud smiles from mom all the time Morning Roast.
>Didn't overhear her parents talking about her and wondering where they went wrong Morning Roast.
>...
>Got yelled at by you the very last time you saw her four years ago, and heard her own sister scream that she didn't ever want to see her god-damned face again... Morning Roast.
>God, you fucked up.
>You fucked up so hard; but what else was new?
>She was always so much better than you, and you probably ruined your relationship with your own sister.
>But... she might just be your only hope right now.
>The end of the month is coming up, and you just plain don't have the money for rent.
>Anon's last paycheque will cover food, but that's it.
>You put in for extra hours, but there's only so much your boss can give you.
>He's been gone for hours every day these last three weeks, handing out resumes and application forms; but no place wants to hire him; no places that requires him to be anything more than a pussy-licker, anyway.
>And god only knows the bank laughed at you when you tried to get a loan.
>God, Diamond Tiara has only gotten bitchier since she graduated from Canterlot High.
>You don't want to do this.
>You thought that the next time you were going to speak to her, you'd be apologizing; not asking for money.
>This is the worst possible way for you to break the four-year silence between the two of you.
>You can't do this.
>...
>...
>You have to do this.
>Reluctantly (and desperately trying to come up with something to say), you slowly dial your sister's number.
>You even waited until night to phone, hoping that she'd be asleep and you could justify putting this off for another day or two.
>RING RING
>...
>RING RING
>...
>Oh god, please don't pick u-
>RI-"Hello?"
>OH GOD DAMMIT
"H-Hey, sis.  It's me."