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Mitski and MC Ride had been dating for a few months. Until, one day, Ride regretfully told her that he felt their relationship wasn't working.
What was she to do with this loving feeling that left her all alone? She put on her white button down and left her house, deciding where she was to go on her way there.
Mitski stood on the sidelines of a greyhound racing track (which was definitely not running legally) and placed her bet down - $500 on the dog that had tattoos drawn all over it in sharpie and barked loudly at everyone who came near it. It reminded her of someone.
A blank from a pistol fired into the air, and Mitski watched with anticipation as her dog raced around the track. It started out fast, too fast, and had worn itself out by the time it reached the finish line, in last.
Mitski wrapped the participation ribbon around the dog’s neck, and sadly trudged back home.
Back in the studio, which happened to be the basement of an abandoned building, Ride spoke to Andy, who was focusing on playing his keyboard so intently it looked like he was conjuring some sort of spirit.
“I’M JUST NOT SURE IF I MADE THE RIGHT DECISION,” Ride said sadly. “SOMETHING FEELS MISSING WITHOUT HER. I MISS HER MAKING METAPHORS ABOUT HORSES AND FRANTICALLY DIGGING HOLES WITH HER AT THE BEACH.”
Andy played the loudest synth preset he had on his keyboard. It sounded like nails being grinded in a blender.
“I KNOW THAT, BUT I DON’T THINK IT WAS THE RIGHT DECISION FOR EITHER OF US.”
Andy played the entire recording of the Charles Manson trial from his iphone in response.
“I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT, ANDY,” Ride said, standing up. “I SHOULDN’T HAVE LET HER GO. I NEED TO GET BACK TO HER BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.”
Ride sprinted out of the door, leaving Andy to his devices, which were more synth presets that were so loud they scared the rats back into their crevices.
Mitski walked along a tree-lined street, staring up at the gaps of sunlight, pondering over Ride’s words. Over the horizon, she saw a figure approaching rapidly. She raised her head to see more clearly - it was Ride, sprinting at a nearly inhuman pace, his eyes wide and unblinking, staring only at what was ahead of him. It took Mitski several moments to realize what he was sprinting towards was her.
“Stefan?” she called. He didn’t respond - he just continued sprinting at almost superhuman speed. He caught up to her, slowly thudding to a stop. She pretended not to be happy to see him.
"Hey, Stef-" she didn't get to finish.
"I'M SORRY." Ride said.
"W-What?"
Mitski’s heart thudded loudly in her chest, like a pair of dirty shoes in a washing machine.
“MITSKI, I’M SORRY. I STILL LOVE YOU.”
“I’ve realized,” she said, “there’s nobody better than you.” She pressed his hand to her chest, over her beating heart.
“Can you feel it?”
“I’M FEELIN’ IT,” Ride responded. “TAKYON.”
Mitski untied her dark hair, unleashing the night unto the sky.
“Carry me out, Stefan,” she said, looking into his eyes.
Stefan smiled and lifted her into a princess-carry in his arms beneath the myriad stars overhead. Zach, sitting at a drumset about two yards away from them, played the loudest, sickest drum fill anyone had ever heard, the bass drum rattling all of the stars out of the sky. Andy, who was also there, did a backflip, and it was awesome.
fin