The clouds of slumber parted, and Big Macintosh slowly lifted his head from the tear-soaked pillows of hay. It was dark out. A troubled mind had brought the stallion to an early awakening, allowing him little rest from his racing thoughts. All that could comfort him now were plans of returning to that hospital, flowers in hoof.
The moonlight softly shone through the curtains upon a single spot: a single feather on the dusty wooden floor.
Featherbangs. How he longed to see those emerald eyes, mesmerising like no other. It was early, but he could rest no longer.
Out he stepped into the slumbering town, a lantern dangling from his firmly clenched jaw. The frigid airs would not stop him, nor would the darkness of the hour. No, he pushed on, seeking that place he crossed on many a journey from home to town to home again. It was exactly at the midpoint of this trail that a thousand flowers turned their heads toward the heavens and delighted in its golden rays. It was there… just a bit further…
At last, he reached those florid fields. Each flower stood tall, frosted by the ashen rays of the moon and glazed by the syrupy dew of a brisk night. They seemed to sparkle like the very stars they looked up to, lying in wait of the brightest one of all. Big Macintosh crouched down, beginning his work of plucking the delicate flowers and gathering them together in a magnificent bouquet, glittering as the sun finally broke past the horizon. It was time.
With the flowers all perfectly arranged, Big Macintosh lifted himself and set out for Ponyville once again. He could hardly bear to walk so slowly, however he could not risk mangling the fragile petals by running. He could feel his heart pounding as he grew nearer and nearer to the hospital, each step as laboured as a plough-bound ox, yet filled with a certain longing which drove him ever closer to that room.
The journey had gone by so fast, he was taken aback by the presence of the pale wooden door before him. He was already there, already at the room he had been yearning to return to. He lifted his hoof, memories of former visits rushing through his head as he gathered his courage. His heart beat faster and faster until he could bear it no more. He struck the door once, but froze. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t deserve to look his victim in the eyes. He should never have come to his room and acted like a friend when he had done naught but harm him.
He turned his back to the door, taking a step toward the stairwell to his right, but a soft creak interrupted him. He looked back; Featherbangs stood in the doorway, a tear in his eye. Big Macintosh dropped the bouquet as he met the pony’s forlorn gaze. He stood for a moment, unable to move. That pony…
He galloped back to the room, embracing the stallion with tears streaming down his face. Featherbangs closed his eyes and held him tight.
“Big Mac… Don’t ever leave me again. You are the air I need to breathe - the blood that keeps me alive. I can’t bear another moment without you.”
“Eeyup,” he said, choking back tears as he grasped the pony before him. He didn’t want to spend another night like the last. He could no longer take the cold, lonesome nights. There was somepony he needed now: Featherbangs.
He pulled away from the pony, gazing into his glistening clover-green eyes. He leaned closer, closing his eyes, and wrapped his lips around Featherbangs’.
“Stay with me..” He whispered and gently closed the door of the private ward.