//------------------------------// // My Heart Aches For You // Story: Blooms on the Trellis // by daOtterGuy //------------------------------// “I-I don’t really want to do this,” Wallflower said nervously as she was dragged with one of Flash’s wings towards a familiar orange pony in the bonsai exhibition. “Sure you do!” Flash replied with a cheerful grin. “It’s a golden opportunity to interact with a spectacular, well known bonsai gardener. Who wouldn’t want to meet him?” Flash then mumbled, “Plus if you’re talking with him, I don’t need to worry about you purposefully going out of your way to harm yourself.”   “What was that last bit?”Wallflower questioned as she continued to be pulled along by Flash.  “Nothing important,” Flash quickly said. “Oh, look! The gardener you get to meet.” The gardener in question happened to be the pony from her first loop that had told her about the wallowing bonsai. She immediately identified it by its odd form of an overhanging lamp with a deluge of branches hanging in the shape of an umbrella around it. The pony was snipping a few loose branches off of the bonsai with a pair of garden clippers in his hooves. With him turned to the side, Wallflower noted that his Cutie Mark was of two separate tree branches tied together with a red ribbon. Flash let Wallflower’s rump drop to the floor as they came within speaking range and kept one wing placed firmly on her withers to thwart any potential escape.  “Good morning, Mr. Sentry,” the pony greeted in a monotonous tone. “How can I assist you today?” “Well, this is Wallflower Blush.” Flash presented her with his free wing as Wallflower attempted to wriggle out of his grip. “She’s the head gardener of Canterlot Castle and is fascinated by your work.” “I-I am not,” Wallflower said indignantly. The pony quirked his right eyebrow at both of them.  “She is!” Flash corrected. “And if she doesn’t want me to chase after her all over the train and drag her back here, she will speak with you.” Wallflower scowled. She’d been cornered. “Fine, I will talk with him since I’m such a big fan.” It did help that she genuinely was curious about his work. “That’s the spirit.” Flash patted Wallflower roughly on the back with his wing while Wallflower glared at him. “Now, I’ll be leaving you two alone together.” “What?” Wallflower exclaimed, “Why are you-” “Have fun!” Flash interrupted.  With his job complete, Flash turned away and skipped merrily towards another part of the exhibition. Wallflower stared after him in a boiling rage as she contemplated whether the gardener would let her borrow his shears to stab Flash in his stupid face with. She turned back to the stranger and met his gaze. Just as before, a part of her felt threatened by the look he gave her.  You’ll ruin him just like you ruin everyone else.  She needed to find a way to finish this conversation as fast as possible. A curt greeting, some small talk to satisfy Flash’s nebulous demand, and then she could return to wallowing in her own misery. It’s what she wanted to do. But the bonsai was right there. And she was curious about it.  “W-what kind of bonsai is it?” Wallflower asked. “S-sorry, to clarify I mean what does it represent? I know it’s a hedge maple based on the leaf coloring.” The pony was silent for a moment, presumably choosing his words carefully, before finally speaking. “I call them wallowing bonsais.” She approached the display to get a closer look as her curiosity piqued at the name. “How interesting. Do they have a purpose?” “Grieving.” Wallflower whipped her head towards the pony. She noticed he had a hoof held out for her to shake.  “Prune Shears,” the pony offered. “Mr. Sentry didn’t introduce us.” Wallflower shook the proffered hoof. “Wallflower Blush. Though, I think Flash did remember to introduce me.” “He did indeed,” Prune said. “Ms. Blush, you are the Head Gardener for Her Majesty Princess Celestia?” Wallflower nodded. “Yes, I was offered the position after the last head gardener retired, and for my ability to grow any flower in any environment. A benefit of my mark and particular brand of magic.” Prune raised both eyebrows in astonishment. “Any flower in any environment? That’s very impressive, Ms. Blush. Any noteworthy examples?” “A cactus in a jungle.” Wallflower giggled lightly. “The Princess called me out on my claims and gave me the most nonsensical test of my abilities. I only regret that I accidentally created a new species of the plant in question that thrives there.” Wallflower grimaced. “And a new breed of snakes covered in cactus spines.” Prune regarded her with respect. “Barring the snakes, Ms. Blush, that is quite the feat.” He glanced past her at his bonsai. “Makes my accomplishment seem paltry in comparison.” “I beg to disagree, Prune,” Wallflower said. “I’m more impressed by your bonsai. It evokes very powerful emotions just at a glance.”   Prune allowed a soft smile to grace his lips. “A sentiment shared by many. I haven’t yet elaborated on what I had told you earlier have I?” “No, you haven’t.” “Well, then allow me to remedy that Ms. Blush.” He trotted to the bonsai with Wallflower tracking his movement with her eyes. He grasped a branch delicately on the flat of his hoof. “Wallowing bonsais represent grieving. More specifically for loved ones who have passed on.” Wallflower felt her thoughts take a turn towards the dark. The bonsai wilted under Prune’s touch. He seemed oblivious to this change.   “They’re for funerals then?” Wallflower asked. “And families that wish to care for something while they cope with their loss.” Wallflower frowned. “They find solace in their death by replacing it with a plant?” Ponies would celebrate your passing. “Close, but not quite, Ms. Blush. They care for the bonsai as a way to remember their loved one,” Prune said with reverence. “A form of closure for when the burden of their loss is too great to handle.” “Finding closure in their passing? Wouldn’t they be too busy celebrating finally being rid of their burden?” You will be remembered long enough for somepony to be happy you were gone. The leaves of the bonsai fell off all at once forming a pile of dead foliage below the plant. The pedestal upon which the tree’s pot sat cracked, and toppled over displacing its contents across the floor. “No, I would think not, Ms. Blush.” Prune narrowed his gaze upon her. “I would think they would be remembering the wonderful times they shared with the pony they loved.” “But what if there is nothing wonderful to remember?” Prune frowned. “Then I could not fathom why they would be interested in one of my bonsai. I do apologize, Ms. Blush, but I appear to have lost track of the conversation. I’m rather confused by your questions.” You always let everyone down, causing trouble for everyone that bothers to talk to you. The floor turned black, spreading out in a perfect circle around Wallflower whose furred hooves began to brown at the edges.  “Have you ever felt like it would be better for everypony involved with you to not know you?” Wallflower asked. You’re a burden to everypony that knows you. The browning along her hooves spread up her legs and started to encompass her barrel. Flowers in bloom above them began to wilt, snap off their ivy and gently float down to the floor.  “No, I have not, Ms. Blush.” He regarded her with his red eyes. “I do not wish to presume, but would you happen to feel that way?” “Everyday,” Wallflower answered. “I know everypony would be better off with me gone.” Because you are worthless. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Ms. Blush,” Prune said compassionately. “Somepony must-” “They do,” Wallflower interrupted. “They care about me, but they shouldn’t because I’m not worth caring about.” The browning, the rot, spread past her barrel. It covered her body causing her fur to clump and fall off into piles of dead fibers. “I feel there are some contradictions in your statements, Ms. Blush.” Prune reached out to her with a hoof before retracting it. “It sounds to me that you are the only one that doesn’t seem to care about yourself.” You always burden others with your baggage. Wallflower smiled. You make everyone uncomfortable by just being around. “I’d want to believe that I’m the only one that doesn’t care about me,” Wallflower lied.  No one truly cares about you because no one could love somepony as unlikeable as you. “But I couldn’t imagine anypony liking me as I am.” The rot claimed the rest of her. Wilted petals fell around her in a flurry from above. She dissolved into dust.  “I don’t want to, Flash,” Wallflower said angrily as she was once more pushed by the most enormous, dense pegasus she had ever met towards Prune Shears. “You only said I needed to talk to him once. Why do I have to talk to him again?” “What are you talking about, Wallflower?” Flash replied as he continued to drag Wallflower along in his wing. “I only just told you about Prune Shears today. How could you talk to him ‘again’?” Wallflower crossed her forelegs and sat on her rump hoping to be enough of a deadweight to stop Flash’s forward momentum. “Let me guess. Just like last time, I have to talk to him or you’ll keep dragging me back here until I do?” “I still don’t know what you mean by ‘last time’, but yeah that’s the idea.” Flash replied as he effortlessly continued to shove Wallflower forward. “The purposefully obtuse thing you have going on is really starting to get on my nerves.” Flash simply smiled back in response. Despite her efforts to be as big a drag as possible, she once more found herself before Prune Shears. The pony in question looked at both of them with a quirked eyebrow and puzzled expression. Flash went through the same introductions as before then trotted off leaving her alone with Prune. “Good morning… Ms. Blush, was it?” He asked. Wallflower nodded. “Do you have any questions for me?” “No,” Wallflower curtly replied. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to just watch you work.” Prune regarded her with a tilt of his head. “Very well then, Ms. Blush. Observe as long as you wish.” He grabbed a tool box from behind the display partition and began his work caring for the bonsai. Primarily pruning and watering the miniature tree.  Despite her wish to spitefully ignore him due to Flash’s interference, she found herself drawn to watching him work. He handled the bonsai with delicate care on a level Wallflower could respect and found the work as engrossing as if she had been doing it herself.    “Do you mind if we speak as I work, Ms. Blush?” Prune asked. “You remind me of somepony dear to me and I feel like talking about them.” “Do as you wish,” Wallflower answered. He finished trimming the current portion of the tree he had been working on and began to speak as he started on the next. “Do you know what kind of bonsai this is?” “Hedge maple, though symbolically, you call it a wallowing bonsai,” Wallflower said. “They’re for grieving.” He nodded. “That is correct, Ms. Blush. As expected knowledge from a  supposed fan. However, did you know that I did a different type of bonsai prior to this?” Wallflower stayed silent. Prune took that as an indicator to continue.  “I used to do red knot bonsai.” Prune snipped an errant branch off of the tree. “Two different miniature trees sharing one pot. They would grow away from each other naturally, but, after their growth cycle was finished, they would then be tied together by three interconnected strings.” Against her better judgement, Wallflower found her interest once more piqued. “Was this one also symbolic?” Prune smiled warmly. “Yes, they were, Ms. Blush. A red knot bonsai was given primarily as a bridal gift to newly wed couples.”  Wallflower felt a turmoil of thought roil within her mind. “Each string would be a different colour. One matched the first pony’s coat colour, a second matched their soon-to-be-spouse’s coat colour and finally a red string to bind them together.” The floor beneath her turned black and began to spread out towards the edges of the room.  “The red string is a symbol of binding through love. The finished piece was to signify the affection of the two ponies growing over time and staying strong through the bad.” He chuckled. It was a warm baritone. “The sentiment was sappy, Ms. Blush, but I admit to having a soft spot for romanticism.”  “How could you do something so horrible to those poor ponies?” Prune stopped what he was doing and regarded Wallflower with a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean, Ms. Blush?” The rot raced up her legs, and quickly encompassed her barrel. Her thoughts turned darker as they roiled in a seething rage at the atrocity Prune had committed.  “Binding somepony to another forever?” Wallflower laughed. It was fractured and grating to the ears. “What a horrible thing to do. What if the second pony wasn’t worth binding to? Should the string not snap from holding up the sheer weight of worthless garbage?” “The idea is sustainment, Ms. Blush. To hold through, to grow,” Prune explained. “If two ponies in love decided to bind themselves in this way-” “They shouldn’t!” Wallflower shouted.  You’re ruining everything, again. “I shouldn’t!” Wallflower stomped a brittle hoof, cracking the blackened floor.  Making everypony uncomfortable. “To bind some poor pony that did nothing wrong to useless baggage like myself is too cruel.” Wallflower felt tears roll down her face. “It’s wrong. She’s been nothing but kind and understanding, but I know she only tolerates me out of pity. As she should. Sunset should never-” Wallflower brought a forehoof to her mouth as she gasped and fell back onto her rump. Prune trotted forward and placed a hoof on the side of her face. His eyes stared back into hers. Those intense eyes.  Then she understood. She knew why they felt like a threat. They were filled with compassion and understanding. Nothing but unconditional love for everypony that falls under their gaze. They were like Sunset’s eyes. And they burned her just as much. Before he could speak, Wallflower placed a hoof over his mouth. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear her words from your mouth. I don’t deserve them. Why can’t you just leave me be? Why can’t you stop letting yourself be dragged down by me?” The rot spread further. It overtook her body and spread across her face. Her tears, flowing harder than they ever had before, evaporated from her eyes giving the impression that she was crying black smoke. “Why couldn’t you give your love to somepony else?” Wallflower choked out.  Then she faded into dust. Wallflower woke up. “Kill me,” She called out to the room. Rotted, black flower petals fell from the ceiling. Her bed wilted, blackening at the edges, creaking as the wood split. A groan filled the train compartment as pieces of the room collapsed on itself in a tangle of black wood. A single crack appeared on the pot sitting by her bedside. “I know you’re listening.” Tears dropped freely from Wallflower’s eyes as she rolled to her side and buried her face in her pillow. “Whatever you are, I don’t want to deal with this anymore. Just make it stop. Save everypony else from me.” She became buried as more and more petals piled up.  “End me. Let Sunset forget the cruel pony that stole her love.” Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she died. Wallflower woke up. Then she- “Enough!” Wallflower felt a reverberation shake the train compartment as she was unceremoniously tossed out of bed. As she got her bearings, she turned towards the train compartment entry and found herself staring at a massive orange pegasus standing before her.  He had red rimmed eyes, was shaking in place, and his barrel noticeably grew and shrank from his heavy breathing. “Get out, Flash,” Wallflower said.  Flash shook his head and sat his rump down on the ground with his wings tucked into his sides.  Tears of frustration formed in her eyes. “Leave me alone.” “No,” Flash replied petulantly.  “Why are you being so stubborn?” Wallflower cried out. “Just let me-” Flash stood tall in place with his chest puffed out. “Y-you have been invited t-to meet-” Flash took in a ragged breath. “T-to meet Prune Shears at t-the bonsai exhibition.” “No!” Wallflower yelled at one of the most annoying pegasus that she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. “I’m not talking with her- him again. You can’t make me. Get.” She stomped her hooves on the ground. “Out!” Another shake of the head. “Why are you doing this?” Wallflower screamed, furious at the interruption. “Why do you keep up this stupid lie that you don’t know that the loops are happening? Why do you keep obstinately coming back to escort me around? Why are you still here?” “I’m sorry,” Flash sobbed. Wallflower stared at him, struck by the tears flowing freely down his face. “It wasn’t this bad for me. I-I thought, when the train asked- I just-” Flash sniffled. “You were hurting, like me, and I just wanted to do for you what Next did for me, but I screwed up. Badly. I panicked after the hammer incident. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing and thought that I could just bullrush you into feeling better because I've never had to handle something like that and I don’t get it. Not as well as I should. I just don’t know how to help because every time I do, I make it worse.” “Then stop HELPING!” Wallflower yelled. “I don’t want to be helped and even if I did, you can’t. Just let me suffer. I don’t deserve your help!” You’re the root of his pain.   “You don’t deserve to suffer like this,” Flash said. “You deserve happiness too.” You’re ruining his life. “I know you can’t just wish away bad thoughts and I can’t just make your problems disappear,” Flash continued.  It’s all you ever do. “But if you just need to hear something good about yourself to help,” Flash whimpered. “I think you’re pretty rad.” You are only capable of- That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard come from a pony’s mouth. Wallflower stopped. She narrowed her eyes in confusion as she processed what Flash said, running the sentence over in her mind. Then, impossibly, she snorted.  “Rad?” Wallflower released a short bark of laughter. “Really?” “What’s wrong with rad?” Flash said, sounding offended. “I mean, like, nothing I guess. It’s just I think I’ve only ever heard twelve year olds say that.” Wallflower released another snort. “How old were you again?” “Late twenties,” Flash said, embarrassment colouring his voice. “Okay, okay. Now, what do your friends say your age is?” Wallflower asked teasingly.  Flash was silent. Wallflower waited. “Five,” Flash said meekly.  Wallflower laughed. It was a light breezy sound similar to a summer breeze rolling through a garden in full bloom. Shortly thereafter, it was joined by Flash’s deep bass-like chortles.   They continued until air became a requirement thus forcing both of them to stop. Afterwards, Flash opened his wings with a shrug and an awkward grin. Wallflower rolled her eyes and trotted forward into the offered hug. Flash wrapped his wings around her. Wallflower let her body relax as she leaned into Flash’s embrace burying her face in his chest fluff. She took a deep breath taking in the out of place scent of the ocean. She felt warm. Protected. She wondered if that’s what having an older brother felt like. She looked around the room from her limited vantage point.  It was a disaster. Black, rotted petals covered the cracked wooden floor. The walls were warped, the dimensions of the room twisted. Any furniture she could see was twisted in on itself, abstract in shape.  She took another deep breath. “I’ll talk to Prune Shears again.” “Okay,” Flash replied. “You need to let me go to do that.” “Okay,” Flash repeated. Flash didn’t let her go.  “Flash...” Wallflower admonished.  “You’ll really go talk to him?” Flash asked. “Yes, I promise, Flash.”  “Okay.” He released her. She felt a pang of regret as the warmth left her and her thoughts began to assault her once again. It was like having her umbrella taken away in a rain storm and she was now on the verge of being washed out.  You’ll cause another scene. You’ll make everything worse. You can’t stop being horrible. You have somepony to lean on if you need it. Wallflower trotted to the closet. She attempted to slide open the doors, but found it stuck against the warped wood of the compartment. Wallflower rolled her eyes, braced herself, then threw her strength into forcing the door to slide open.  It flew open releasing a crack as wood splinters sprayed out from where the wood broke through the floor. She put on her untouched sundress and hat, and turned around to see Flash pointedly looking away to protect her modesty. “I’m ready to go,” Wallflower said. Flash turned to look back at her and gave a beaming smile.    He trotted towards the open entryway of the train compartment, the door to said entryway had been ripped off its hinges and been thrown down the corridor, and swept his wing low in a seated bow.   She trotted forward through the entry door with Flash following shortly behind her.  Neither noticed the orange flower bud that had sprouted from the vase by the window. Wallflower found herself once more before Prune Shears. Unlike the last time, Flash had lingered longer than he usually had after the introductions, but eventually left after several reassurances from Wallflower.  It was an odd change of role for her.  She met Prune’s gaze. She still felt threatened by the intensity of his eyes, but this time she felt invigorated to push through the discomfort. Flash had asked her to talk to him again, and, despite feeling that it was pointless, she would do it. “So, your piece is a wallowing bonsai?” She gestured with a hoof at the display.  Prune nodded as he grabbed his tools from behind the partition.   “And you used to do a type of bonsai known as a red knot bonsai, right?” Wallflower continued.  “You are well versed in my history as a gardener, Ms. Blush. That is correct.” He set about trimming the bonsai with a pair of clippers from his toolbox.  Wallflower furrowed her brow. She realized that she had missed something about Prune’s story. Something he had never explained.  “Why did you stop making red knot bonsais?” Wallflower asked.  He paused for a moment, a morose expression crossed his face.  “You remind me of somepony.” Prune continued his work. “Somepony who was… is important to me.” “Who is that?” “My late husband, Carnation.” He cut a loose branch then placed the clippers back in his toolbox.  “He passed away?” Wallflower asked gently.  “From disease.” Prune shook his head. “A horrid thing. Slow, and agonizing. I would never have wished it on anyone, even someone I despised.” “I’m sorry,” Wallflower whispered.  “It is not your fault, Ms. Blush. No one’s fault at all. Disease is rather uncaring like that.” He heaved a weary sigh. “Regardless, Ms. Blush, do you know why you remind me of him?” Wallflower shook her head. “He didn’t care much for himself. Had a lot of internal hatred for who he was.” He looked directly at her with a look born of experience. “A feeling I think you are intimately familiar with, Ms. Blush.” You cause pain in everyone you meet. Wallflower hung her head. “Yeah, I am.” Prune nodded. “His thoughts were his own worst enemy. Always reminding him that he was a burden to me, a never ending problem. That he was dragging me down and stopping me from being able to live my life.” He closed his eyes. “I wish I could have convinced him otherwise.”  Wallflower felt her thoughts renew in their intensity. They poked and prodded, looking for a weakness in her defenses as she felt holes open up in her own determination to see this conversation through. “That's why I started making wallowing bonsai. Caring for one in my husband’s name was therapeutic. It gave me closure after his death even while I was still feeling his loss.” He gave a wistful smile. “It made the pain bearable when I missed him.” “That’s really beautiful.” Wallflower smiled. It would be nice to be remembered like that. “I wish someone would care enough to do the same for me.” Wallflower’s eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” “How about this one,” Prune interrupted. Wallflower stopped. “This one?” Prune nodded and gestured at the bonsai. “I’ll take care of it in honour of you. Name it… Blush. Do it as a reminder to you that somepony cares enough to think of you.” “Why would you do that for me?” Wallflower questioned. “You barely know me.” Prune took a deep breath. “My husband lived his life constantly doubting his impact and how important he was. It wasn’t his fault and I would never hold it against him, but I wished I could have given some form of reassurance that I would care in his absence. That I loved him despite his flaws.”  He gave her an affectionate smile, one born purely out of a desire to help. “I may not know much, but I know you’re a young mare who deserves better than what you promise yourself.” “Y-you-” Wallflower felt tears flow from her eyes. “I don’t-” “I have an idea of what you might say, Ms. Blush,” Prune interrupted. “And all I want is for you to one day understand your own worth. It doesn’t have to be now, but I hope you will in the future. Whenever that may be.” Wallflower didn’t understand. This stranger had done something she couldn’t even have imagined. It might seem meaningless, being given the knowledge that she would be mourned and remembered, but it meant more to her than she could describe. More than what she could even begin to feel.  His eyes looked back with the same intensity as always, but this time there was some understanding from Wallflower. Recognition. They burned bright with love. Care for anyone that may fall under its watch.  Wallflower found herself wondering.  For a brief, indescribable moment.  If she could do the same for Sunset.  You are capable of showing and receiving love. “Thank you,” Wallflower said. Prune smiled back.  The exhibition room glowed a bright red. It pulsed in time to Wallflower’s heart, spreading with each beat until it covered the entire room and its occupants.  Then millions of carnations bloomed. It started at the ceiling and quickly overtook the room drowning everything in a sea of bright red flowers.  As they reached Wallflower, she felt an ache.   It brought a tear stained smile to her face.  It had been so long since she had felt this way.  A longing ache in her heart. And, for once, it didn’t hurt to let it ache for whom it ached for.