I wasted no time. As soon as I heard the news, I galloped as fast as I could back towards Apploosa. My heart pumped to the beat of my hooves and my left wing flapped involuntarily, giving my extra speed but no lift. Oh Celestia, thank you for those punks. They keep guiding me in all the right directions...
I galloped and galloped and galloped some more, until the train station appeared and then became the size of a grape... A plum... An apple... Finally, I arrived. Adrenaline pumped through me. Braeburn, Braeburn, Braeburn, where are you?! I couldn't find him anywhere. I galloped towards the apple stand. He wasn't there, and I felt myself running out of energy. As a Pegasus, I was something of a natural athlete, but I had lived a cushy life. There was a stitch in my side. I couldn't run any longer.
No! I needed to see Braeburn RIGHT NOW. I stomped and kicked, but my breathing was still labored. In a fit of rage, I turned my head around and ripped off the bandages and rods from my wing. I bent it into folded position. Ouch! I suppose I wasn't thinking straight, but I galloped as fast as I could for exactly 10 yards and took off.
The pain seared through my body, but I ignored it. All I could think of was him, getting to him, never letting him go-I focused on his little shack in the distance, blocking any logic from my mind. The thrill of flying was all around me, as palpable as the pain in my wing. Just a little farther.
My wings gave in mere feet from Braeburn's porch. Panting heavily, I bust in the door and found Braeburn at the kitchen table with his head in his hooves, next to several glasses of hard apple cider, most of which were empty.
I was so thrilled to see him, I tackled him right off his chair. Once again, I was lying on top of him.
"Oh Braeburn! The train broke down and I realized, I can't live without you! I want to stay with you, I don't care the costs, because, Braeburn, I love you!" His glazed eyes looked right into mine, as expressionless as the dirt outside. My eyes filled with tears. Oh Celestia, I blew it. He doesn't love me. I wish I'd never even landed here. I wish I had never met Braeburn at all. I wish-
My thoughts were interrupted as Braeburn wrapped his fore hooves around me and drew my head closer to his and planted a soft, gentle kiss on my lips. I started laughing in pure joy, my eyes filling even more with happy tears. I didn't even have any words- I just hugged Braeburn close and kept laughing joyfully.
"Aw, sugarcube," Braeburn whispered tenderly in my ear, "Ah've been waiting ever since Ah laid eyes on you to find a way to tell you just that."
His soft tone and beautiful words sent a warm tingle through my body. I lifted my head from his mane and began to place kisses all over his muzzle. He chuckled and began to kiss me back. We were just a bubbly mess of giggles and kisses until-
"Erm... Are we interruptin' anythin'?" Drawled another familiar southern accent. Braeburn and I turned to see the elements staring at us. The silence was broken by the element of laughter giggling and squealing, "Braeburn and Splatter Paint, sittin' 'neath a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" I blushed, but Braeburn just grinned lazily and drew me closer, him still below me. "Eeyup," he agreed with a slight slur. I remembered he was drunk.
"Well! What a way to be greeted!" Exclaimed the prissy unicorn. "We were simply going to ask for a place to stay for the following week-"
She was interrupted by Braeburn. "Ah believe-hic!-That there's a hotel-hic!-not five blocks from here,"
I grinned as Generosity harrumphed. That would teach her to mess with my Somepony. The other elements awkwardly shuffled out of the room, and with a slam! of the door, I felt content to cuddle into Braeburn again. As he shifted his hooves across my back, one nicked my right wing. "Ahh!" I yelled in pain. In my ecstasy, I had forgotten about it, but the reality of the injury hit hard.
"Oh sugarcube, ya took off yer cast? Ah s'pose we oughta get you to the medic so's he can fix ya up," he drawled drunkenly.
With some trouble, we disentangled ourselves from each other and stumbled towards the medic's office. As he re-casted my wing, Braeburn rested on a cot and drank some water to keep away a future hangover.
"Now miss, you shouldn't be flyin' on a broken wing. Keep this one in a cast 'til it heals, okay?" Said the medic. I vehemently nodded my head in agreement. I needed nothing else as much as I needed Braeburn, so I wouldn't have any more little "incidents".
When we finally returned to Braeburn's house, I wanted desperately to kiss him, but he was still out of it and I was tired, so we cuddled up on his chair (thankfully, it was really oversized) and watched whatever we could find on TV. I was content and warm and sleepy with my head resting on Braeburn's vest-covered chest when I heard his stomach growl loudly. I had heard once that eating when drinking alcohol can soften some effects of it, so I reluctantly left my cozy spot and trotted to the kitchen, determined to make something to eat. After some searching, I found a simple-enough looking recipe for apple fritters. Yum. I heated up some oil in a big pot on Braeburn's old-fashioned stove and began making the dough and fixing up the apples. I followed the recipe the best that I could, but the fritters didn't look like they did in the picture. Oh, well. They're just fritters. I dropped them in the oil with an audible plop and watched the clock for the recommended cooking time. After they were done and looked satisfactorily golden brown, I used the little slotted spoon thingy (I'm not very familiar with kitchen tools, but I didn't want hot oil on the plate) to serve them up and proudly brought them back to Braeburn.
He smiled appreciatively at the food. "Wow," he said, most of the slurring gone, "these look delicious."
They weren't, really. The outside was nice and crispy, sure, but on the inside the apples were undercooked and under seasoned, but Braeburn made me feel better about it by showering me with complements. He was so sweet.
After we'd finished the fritters, a thought came to me. "You looked so sad when I saw you," I told him inquisitively. "And I've never seen you drink. Why... Why did you do that?"
He looked at me with an almost forlorn look on his gorgeous face. "Because Ah thought Ah'd let you slip through my hooves," he answered plaintively. "Ah couldn't believe Ah'd let myself lose you."
I teared up again and hugged him tightly. I didn't need any words to express my feelings anymore. Just the beating of my heart.
***
That night as we went to bed, we talked a lot by candle light. Most of it was playful and fun and cute, but some of it was serious.
"Splatter Paint, Ah'm really glad you came back, but what about the museum and the curator? Ah can't keep you from your dreams. Your cutie mark is paint, not me or apples or this little one horse town."
"Braeburn, me staying here for another week won't hurt anypony. I'm still not done with most of my art, which I can work on here, and... I want you to come with me. I have enough bits for another train ticket, and I'd love to show you what cities are like."
At that, Braeburn looked away, with a kind of sad look on his face. I lifted his head up with my hoof. "Hey, what's wrong?"
He shied away again. "It's just... One time, when Ah was just a lil' colt, Ah visited my Aunt and Uncle Orange. They... They live in Manehattan too. When Ah was there, they were havin' guests over and so they combed my mane and straightened me all up but when I stayed for dinner all their friends laughed at me anyways. 'Cause I was just a country foal."
My heart softened at his adorable story. I could imagine a tiny little Braeburn all combed and dressed up in front of company.
"Oh, Braeburn, they won't laugh at you. Manehattan has changed. There aren't as many stereotypes anymore."
He sighed. "Fine. Ah'll go for you."
I smiled, blew out the candle on the bedside table and snuggled up next to Braeburn, feeling like everything was perfect.