The walk back to the Apple house wasn't so bad. The air was comfortable, and my steps felt lighter. Cortland and I made small talk, and I found out he wanted to get Gala some Wonderbolts tickets for their anniversary. I promised him I'd pull a few strings, maybe get him some front-row seats.
Usually, I talk about that sort of thing with fans or special guests, and it's a way to keep them at a safe distance, but with Cortland, it felt more honest. I think it was because we'd been forced to open up. Maybe that's why we're built to hurt and fight and cry: you get to see who somepony really is, and your relationship ends up much stronger than before.
Our mood soured when we crossed into the house from the back porch. The gem lamps were on, casting the rooms in a magical, warm, yellow glow. But… there wasn't any talking, and actually, Gala wasn't anywhere. In the living room, the big plush chairs had been pushed aside, and in their place was a one-pony rollaway bed. It was tiny – barely big enough to fit me – and besides, it was already occupied by a big, sexy lump that still had his hat on.
Cortland looked around, and his fur bristled. He pulled me close and spoke in a low tone. "Much as I, uh… would like to grab a drink and continue our conversation, think I'd better check on Gal."
"Do… you think maybe you should talk to Braeburn first?"
Cortland nodded. He looked over to the bed and cleared his throat. "Uh, Brae?"
Braeburn didn't get up. Instead, he hiked the blanket up to cover more of his face.
Cortland frowned and turned back to me, then grabbed my shoulder. He spoke slowly, like his words were covered in needles and he had to coax them out. "Might prefer talkin' to you instead. Put in a good word for us?"
I paused. Something seemed really important about what he was saying. I didn't realize it until later, but he was trusting me with his son. Despite all my issues, he was giving me a shot. "Sure."
He nodded. "Alright, then." There was something calming about his voice. "Thank you. Night." Cortland took another long look at the bed and said in a loud voice, "Night, son. I'm glad you're home."
Braeburn didn't respond right away. He was still for a moment, then he shifted under the covers. "Night, Pa." For that moment, he sounded normal.
Cortland smiled just a little. He turned and walked up the stairs, which creaked when he got to the top. With a quick glance back at me, he turned to the right and opened a door, where he quietly said, "Gal?" and walked out of my view.
"Night," I whispered to nopony in particular. I turned and walked over to the lump on the rollaway. When he didn't move, I ran my hoof along the sheet. "Hey, Applebutt. Room for one more?"
Braeburn deflated a little.
"What's up, Brae?" I put two hooves on the bed.
A few seconds ticked by. I reached out to touch him, but he rolled over. He gave me a weak smile and spoke quickly. "I know how much you like it when the pillows smell like us, so I wanted you to have that, at least."
My wings drooped at my sides. "It… didn't go well, did it?"
He reached up and pulled my head in for a kiss on the cheek. When he let go, we stared at each other for a while. "Not really. Nothin' really did. There's a lot on my mind besides just Ma, and I can't help but wonder what's goin' on back in… Appleloosa." He was talking way too fast, and he stopped making eye contact. "Don't worry about it. I-it's just for tonight. We're leavin' in the mornin'."
"What happened?" I asked flatly.
Braeburn sat up and stretched his neck. He took a deep breath, and after he'd collected himself, his voice grew heavy. "Not really sure." He cast a quick glance at me, and his breathing was shaky. "More yellin', more words. My head's still spinnin' a bit."
Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe I was just emotionally drained from talking to Cortland, but all I could muster were basic answers. "That sucks."
"Yeah. Haven't gotten that riled up since puberty. Things will look better in the mornin', though. Do you wanna…" Braeburn looked up at me and fixated on my wings. He nuzzled me under my chin and said, "We should get some shut-eye."
"Yeah, I guess so." I yawned. "So, we heading upstairs?"
"I think we'd better…" He looked up at me with pouting eyes, and he didn't need to finish.
"Oh." I stepped back. "Uh… okay. Yeah. Sure." The sadness in his voice weighed down on me, and I perked up to try and lighten the mood. "It's just for one night, right?"
That made him pause. I don't think he was expecting me to agree. Hell, I hadn't been, either. "Sleep tight, Big Blue," he sighed. "Enjoy the smell, and dream of me tonight. I'll certainly be dreamin' of you."
"Yeah." It was a nice thought, but it still felt empty. No, dreams weren't good enough. Dreams are never good enough. I wanted to keep the real thing beside me forever.
But that wasn't what happened. I stood paralyzed by the bed, and all too quickly, my Applebutt walked up the creaky steps without me.
It took me a while to remember how my legs worked, but I eventually walked over and turned off the gem lamp. I flopped onto the small bed and inhaled. Even though he hadn't been there long, I could pick up his scent. I focused on that little detail for as long as I could, pushing everything else away.
I managed to distract myself for close to an hour, long after the ponies upstairs had stopped moving, but I couldn't keep my thoughts away forever. 'Poor Brae. He's right, though. We just need to deal with it until tomorrow. Things'll be better in the morning.' I yawned again.
I rocked up a little and fluffed my pillow. Something was bothering me, but I couldn't put a hoof on it.
My mind felt clouded, and I started having doubts about our decision to sleep in different beds. Maybe he'd just given in because he was sick of fighting? I wondered if it was really worth spending a night apart just to keep his parents happy. But was it worth pissing off his parents just for a single night together when we'd have so many more?
I laughed from sheer exhaustion. "Heh heh. Braeburn's right. I'd better get some–"
A thousand dominoes fell together in my mind. Well, at least five. 'Braeburn said the same thing last night. Last night he didn't want to talk. Braeburn doesn't like talking when something's bothering him. Something is bothering him, and he needs his coltfriend, and I'm his coltfriend. Braeburn needs me.'
It felt figuring it out all on my own.
Jumping out of bed, I made my way to the stairs in the dark. I lifted a hoof to the first step, but I remembered how they creaked at the top.
You know, stunt flying isn't just about speed. It's also about precision and small movements. I might not have been as good as Spitfire, but all the Wonderbolts can hover almost silently.
The sound of my flapping, quiet as it was, bounced all over the wooden house, and I started sweating at the thought of waking up his parents. Fortunately, a few crickets outside made some noise, too. I felt a rear hoof brush against the banister, so I pulled all my limbs in close as I got to the top. Once I was up there, though, I realized I had no idea which room was Brae's.
"...Dammit," I muttered under my breath. 'Okay, don't panic.' I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the low light. The hallway at the top of the stairs had four doors that I could see: one at the immediate right – his parents' room – with the bathroom across from it. I could see the sink just inside the barely open door.
To my left, there were two more doors: one was closed, and one was slightly open. I fixated on that last one and thought, 'He would have shut the door if he really wanted me to keep out, right?' I paused before deciding. Maybe I was overthinking (that would have been a first), but it felt like I was about to learn something big about our relationship, and it came down to one simple thing: had Braeburn left the door open for me?
I had faith.
I steeled myself, tried to push all those thoughts out of my mind, and went in, my heartbeat completely still.
The door swung slowly open, and a soft, velvety voice cooed, "And to think I was afraid you wouldn't come." There wasn't much moonlight, but I could make out Braeburn sitting up in a large bed, more than big enough for two ponies. "Close the door. Gently."
With nothing but a small click, the door shut. Braeburn scooted over, and I flew over to him, landing on my belly in the warm space he'd made for me. "I'll always come for you, Applebutt."
Braeburn ran a hoof along my wings, and for a while, neither of us said anything. It felt right being in the same bed again.
Braeburn spoke in a whisper. "They're really somethin' else." I felt his mouth wrap around some of the feathers near the joint, and I melted. Even in the dark, he knew just where to preen me to completely shut me down.
He took his time, and while he worked, all the other problems in the world drifted away.
Eventually, he scraped some of the dust off of his tongue, quietly so I wouldn't notice very much, and moved a little closer. "They can carry you at the speed of sound, but they're quieter than the night. And they're so soft… Really are somethin' else."
I wanted him to relax, but I knew he'd never let me take care of him with his parents a few doors down, so I had to get crafty. I lazily said, "Rub my head?"
Braeburn pulled back. "Uh… sure. You got a headache?"
"Sort of. Here, sit back." I rolled onto my side and nudged him.
He hesitated, and he probably knew what was up. In any case, he sat up and scooted back, letting me rest my head on his chest with a foreleg draped across his belly. He started running a hoof down my mane. "Like that?"
I pretended to think about it, but after a count of three, I said, "Yeah, it's good, buuuut I'd rather get a tonsil massage." I touched him gently.
Braeburn just shook his head and chuckled. "Heh heh. Ya' sly bastard. Don't suppose I can get away now?"
I looked up at him with a big grin. "Nope. You're mine."
"Heh. Alright, alright. Just keep it down."
We kept quiet, and slowly but surely, I took his mind off of everything that was bothering him.
About half an hour later, he gave a shuddering sigh. "Thanks, Big Blue. I think I needed that." He hugged me. "Anythin' I can do for you?"
"Nah, I'll be fine." I cocked my head to the side. "Plus, I'd probably just end up screaming or something."
"Heh heh. Yeah, you're right." He snuggled down under the blankets with me, letting me spoon him. He laughed again, bathing in his afterglow.
I let him have a few moments of peace before a question welled up in my mouth. "So… how did things go with your mom?"
He tensed a little in my grasp. "Oh, you don't wanna hear about that." Cortland was right: he was avoiding talking about it.
"Yeah, I do." I bumped the back of his head with my nose. "C'moooon. What happened?"
"Everything's fine."
'Seriously? He wants to play this game?' I rolled my eyes and sneered, and my voice got a little louder. "Okay, but what did you talk about?"
Braeburn was quiet for a while. "You don't need to worry, because I'd rather not say."
He was shutting me out, and my blood started to boil. Hadn't he promised to tell me when he was unhappy? "Well, too freaking bad, because you're going to tell me, because you can't just hide from your coltfriend!" I was barely able to keep myself at a loud whisper, and he cowered, which made me realize exactly what I'd said. "S-sorry! Shit!" I'd yelled a little in his ear. "Oh, sorry. Ugh, dammit... Sorry I suck at this."
Braeburn relaxed just a little, but he didn't move to face me. "No, you're right. I shouldn't…" He sighed. "It's strange, Soarin'. She wants her Braeby, and I have to wonder if she sees who I really am. I don't know if she even loves me anymore."
My words spilled out. "Yeah. Moms can be bitches."
A swift jab almost knocked the wind out of me, and Braeburn snapped at me in a harsh whisper, craning his neck to look at me. "Do not talk about my mother that way!" He stared at me with furrowed eyes and flared nostrils.
"Jeez, I'm sorry." I wasn't.
But then, after a moment, I was. I remembered Cortland out in the fields, and if he had trouble showing Braeburn how he felt, well, Gala could, too. "She still loves you. Both your parents do."
Braeburn's expression softened a little. "Heh. Pa tell you that?"
"He told me… a lot."
I waited for a response. Braeburn wasn't going to budge, but I wasn't going to let him shut me out. "Do you remember Jonah at all?
"Oh." He shrunk a little. "So that's what you talked about."
"Yeah." If I'd been able to hang my head, I would have.
Braeburn let his head fall to the pillow, facing away from me again. "I think so. It's tough, though, 'cuz I was so young, and a lot of those times might've been with Big Mac. Hard to say, but… yeah, I think I do."
It didn't feel like regular rambling Braeburn. He talked more slowly, and his voice had this airiness to it. I gave him a little squeeze to let him know that… well, I don't know what I was trying to say with it, but it felt right.
He continued. "Even if I can't always see his face clearly, it just feels like he's there, you know? Sometimes, I have to wonder if he ain't still around here somehow, like he's still watchin' me and tryin' to protect me."
"That's… yeah. I get it."
"And… never mind."
"What?"
"You'll think I'm crazy."
"I already know you're crazy. Crazy for–"
"Okay, fine!" Braeburn cuddled back into me. "Sometimes, it's more than just a feeling. Sometimes, it's like I can hear him talkin' to me. And I talk back, and it feels good, like I've still got a big brother when times get tough." He let out a nervous laugh. "Heh. Crazy, huh?"
It wasn't. My voice came out a little choked, but without hesitation. "I talk to my dad all the time, and I can hear him, too."
Braeburn paused, then scooted away a bit and rolled over to face me. Our eyes met, and he leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. He started stroking my face. "I must sound mighty selfish, complainin' about my parents. I should be grateful I still have them at all."
I thought about Mom and how I hadn't even considered contacting her since Dad's funeral. "No. I get it. It's tough. It sucks." My brain had started failing again, partly because his hoof felt so nice on my face. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it for a while.
"What does your dad say?"
"Lots of stuff," I sighed. "Sometimes he's proud of me, and sometimes he's not." I remembered my condo. "Aaaaand sometimes he tells me to clean my room."
Braeburn laughed. "It's always what you need to hear, though, right?"
"Right."
"Must be nice."
I whinnied quietly. "Feh. Be better if he hadn't left in the first place."
Braeburn stopped touching my face. He shook his head a little on the pillow. "He didn't leave you, Big Blue. At least not intentionally."
Yeah, he was telling the truth, but I didn't want the truth. I wanted to be angry at both of them for leaving me. I wanted it to be simple like that, where I could be mad at them and I would be totally right. "Well, it felt like it," I spat. "Especially after Mom left."
My heart rate picked up as that scene played over again in my mind. I was right back there at the top of the stairs, and I could hear the door slam. My hackles raised.
"You can't dwell on stuff like that, Soarin'. You gotta focus on the ponies that are still here, and forgiveness is a hell of a lot easier than carryin' around a grudge."
My fur bristled, and I felt like I was in a corner. "What, like you?!" I shuffled back a bit and pointed at the door. "Your parents are right there, and you don't even talk to them!"
Braeburn snorted and got snippy, but he was doing a much better job of keeping his voice quiet. "Well, y-you should talk. How long's it been since you tried to make amends with your mother, huh?"
My muscles tightened, and my teeth clenched. "Oh, fuck you!"
Braeburn's eyes went wide, and he shrunk back, like a puppy that had just gotten smacked.
The guilt hit me like a kick to the teeth. I tried to muster another apology, but my face felt wired in place.
Braeburn stayed silent for a few moments. Even though he was within a wing's length, he felt distant, like I couldn't touch him if I'd tried.
When I covered my eyes with a hoof, he spoke up with his mayor voice. "Well, we should both quit yellin' before we hurt each other. Truce?"
There isn't a word to describe how thankful I was as I peeked out from behind my hoof. "Yeah. You're right. Truce."
Braeburn blinked at me a few times, making a face like there was something weird hanging out of my mouth. He nodded. "Alright."
I couldn't hold eye contact, so I looked down at his chest. Like always, I wanted to bury my face in it, but at the time, I felt like I didn't deserve it. Instead, I just stared and thought about his heartbeat, of all things. Braeburn had a strong heart.
After giving myself a few more seconds to breathe, I looked back up at him. I couldn't think about Mom anymore without saying something stupid, so I had to change the subject. "You should talk to them, though. Your dad isn't good at opening up, but he really, really misses you."
Braeburn was slow to respond. He was looking at my chest, too. "Funny how he can open up to some ponies and not others."
"He's scared, Braeburn."
Braeburn's ear flicked. "Of what?"
I told him about what Cortland had said, about his dreams for his sons, and how the most important thing to him was Braeburn's happiness. It took a long time, but the more I talked, the more Braeburn looked up at me, eventually hanging on every word. I finished by telling him how Cortland would never stop loving him, no matter what.
When Braeburn didn't respond right away, I worried that I'd said too much. His eyes unfocused, and he scratched at his chest. "Dad said all that?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
The silence dug into me. I leaned my muzzle in a little, but I hesitated before I actually kissed him. I wanted to make everything better and apologize again for all my stupidity, but we were kinda focused on him at the moment. "He was really sad you didn't tell him that you'd broken up with Bronze."
"They would have just–" He sighed. "I'm makin' excuses. I should have told them." He looked at me, staring right between my eyes for a few moments. "Bronze was here on Friday."
"I know. I… sort of…" I looked away and mumbled, "…told your dad that Bronze was an abusive asshole."
Braeburn was quick. "What did he say?"
"He just wished he would have known, and he kiiiinda flipped out."
"Angry?"
"Sad."
"Cried?"
"Mmm, broke a fence."
"You said he was sad!"
"Well, he was sad-angry. Sangry?"
Braeburn snorted and laughed a little.
His laugh made me smile, but only for a second. "Why was Bronze here?"
"Same as always, I reckon. Stopping by to…" He paused. "He had a letter for me."
Braeburn had thought about lying to me. I didn't know whether to be sad that he's almost done it or happy that he'd come through. In the end, though, he'd told me the truth. The door was still open.
"You shouldn't read it. It'll just make you angry. Sangry." His voice was wavering, and he wasn't looking at me. "Was kinda hopin' you wouldn't find out."
My voice was flat. "Well, I did. Lemme see."
Braeburn stopped and just looked at me. His lower lip was stuck out a bit, and he blinked at me a few times. Once or twice, he tried to speak, but it wouldn't come out.
I nuzzled him. "What's wrong?"
"Promise you won't be mad?"
"Dude, I'm gonna be pissed if Bronze said anything that upset you."
"No. At me. Please don't be angry with me."
I sat up and stared at him. Braeburn was trying to prepare me for something, but I had no idea what. "Uh, sure."
With a heavy breath, he sat up and reached over to the gem lamp. Rubbing it half a turn clockwise, it bathed the room in a dull amber glow, and I could see everything in his room for the first time. It looked like a young colt's room: bright colors and shapes painted everywhere, including a big tree mural on the wall opposite his bed. It had some black marks on it, showing how tall Braeburn had grown over the years. There was an old toy box in the corner that was stacked with wooden trees and trains and some sports stuff. His old desk was still there, too, much too small for him to use now. On the side was pinned a crude drawing of an apple orchard, but all the trees were organized evenly, and it even looked like he had some measurements on it.
I smiled. "So, you were always good at running everything."
Braeburn looked over to me, then at the drawing. "Hm? Oh, heh heh. Yeah." He cracked a smile. "Was only a few years old when I made that. The look on Pa's face was priceless." Braeburn stared a little longer, then went back to unlocking the drawer at the nightstand by his bed.
"Why do you lock it?"
"I, uh… didn't just draw orchards when I got to a certain age." His face scrunched up.
"No way." My eyes narrowed. "You seriously drew your own porn? Let me see let me see let me see!" I dived toward the nightstand.
Braeburn perked up. "Wait, quiet!" He intercepted me, tackling me back onto the bed. He pinned me down with a lot of force and stared wide-eyed at me for a long moment. I was too stunned to do anything, but eventually Braeburn blushed hard and looked away. "Just don't laugh, okay?" He got off me and grabbed a few papers from the drawer. He hesitated again, then finally gave them over.
I rifled through them, and I thought I would have laughed, but… no. They were crude, yeah, with bad perspective and a few parts that were monstrously out of proportion, but they were… I dunno. It made me feel warm in my chest, and they seemed so precious. I was afraid of bending or damaging them at all, so I was super delicate with them.
I looked back to Braeburn. He was shrinking and glancing my way every few seconds, and I had this overwhelming urge to kiss him. I carefully set the drawings down, gently brought his face close to mine, and rolled on top of him, kissing him deeply. There wasn't any urgency, and he didn't resist. We just kissed each other like that, tongues swirling around each other and enjoying each other's breathing.
I didn't realize it at the time, but that was one of the most intimate moments of my life. Not because of the drawings – they weren't hot, like, at all – but because he'd let me see another part of him. He'd let me in. I'd gotten to find out who he'd been in the past and how he'd become the stallion of my dreams. In a weird way, I'd gotten to see him growing up. I'd gotten to be a part of his life that I had no expectation of seeing, and he'd let me in. I'd gotten to be part of the process.
And the process was beautiful. Ponies get weird ideas about falling in love. A lot of them think it just happens one day – something clicks and bam! You love that pony. Some of the more cynical ones like me thought it was all just a sham, but it's not either of those. Even now, it's impossible to figure out exactly when I fell in love with him. It doesn't work like that. You stay around a pony, and you fall deeper and deeper and deeper into it, and your other half keeps coming up with more things for you to learn about them. It's a beautiful process, because once it starts, you can never stop it. That's what makes it so terrible, too.
Our lips parted, and I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his. With a lazy hoof, I brushed at his side, and he did the same for me. If not for the lamp, I would have fallen asleep then and there.
Braeburn spoke first. "You're somethin' special, Big Blue."
"You, too, Applebutt."
He reached around my middle and hugged me tightly. It wasn't the usual kind, though. It reminded me of a young foal that hugs you after a Wonderbolts show and doesn't want to let go. "I want you in my life, Soarin'. I like you bein' here. And I want my family to want you, too."
I paused. It seemed like such a weird thing to say out of nowhere.
"Yeah." I tried to wrap my brain around everything he was saying. Would Braeburn's parents accept him someday? How long would it take? In the end, I couldn't picture Gala and Cortland ever being totally comfortable with it. "That'd be nice."
"And I think we've both got some peace to make with our folks."
Subconsciously, I think I was determined not to go there again. A small, sarcastic chuckle forced its way out. "You might. I don't."
"Soarin'..." He reached up and turned my chin to face him. I hadn't even realized I'd looked away. "There's nothin' at all you want to say to her?"
It was those piercing green eyes. I think he knew how powerful they were.
I gulped and muttered, "I'm… over it."
Braeburn shook his head and chuckled. "If ya' were, you wouldn't have been cryin' about it back in Appleloosa." He was right, of course. Braeburn was the only one I'd ever talked to about Mom, and he knew how much it still affected me. "It's okay to feel hurt."
"I'm over it." Broken record.
"She'll talk to you, Soarin'. Hell, if what you're sayin' about Pa is even half true, I'm sure your mom'll make the time for you. She at least owes you that much."
"She won't want to." I rolled off him and faced away.
Behind me, Braeburn scooted closer and spooned me. "No, she probably won't want to, but she'll be reasonable. You need it, Big Blue. All you gotta do is find her and ask." He kissed my neck.
I stared at the wall. In my head, I was on the stairs again, looking down at Mom, right as she turned away and left. My voice was weak. "I can't." I felt like a foal, whining to his teacher.
Braeburn held me for a minute. "Yes, you can." His voice was even. "I know you're strong enough. And, well…" He squeezed me. "If you need somepony to show you it can be done, I suppose that falls to me." He kissed my cheek again and got up out of bed.
I peeked over the covers. "What are you–"
Braeburn looked back from the door and smiled. It was a broken smile, and he couldn't hide the sad drooping of his eyes or the nervous way he was biting his lip, but he was trying for me. "You don't gotta be the brave one all the time, Soarin'. I'll take the lead on this one, so get some rest. This might take a while." He slipped out the door and was gone.
I watched the doorway, waiting for him to reappear. Instead, I heard hoofsteps move down the hall and across the creaking floor. There was a small knock, and then a door opened, followed by Braeburn timidly asking, "Ma? Pa?" I couldn't hear anything until Braeburn followed up with, "Yeah. Sorry 'bout waking you, but I, uh, I think we need to talk."
The door clicked shut, and I was alone.
The gem lamp still cast its yellow light around the room. I rolled onto my back and wondered, 'Is he going to tell them everything? How long would that even take? Nah, he'll be back in five minutes.' I felt horrible for not believing in him. 'I hope they'll listen. I hope he'll listen.' Then I wondered if I would ever listen. 'Mom wouldn't even want to talk, would she?'
I thought about all the ways it could play out, about how Mom probably didn't have my address anymore or have any way to contact me. 'Has she tried? Maybe I just haven't been getting them.' I told myself I was being stupid, that she'd walked out of my life and never come back, and she would have given up on me a long time ago.
I wanted to believe I'd given up on her, too, but if I had, then why did it hurt so much? Why did it still feel like there was that hole in my life that couldn't ever be filled? I guess that's what leaving does to ponies: it denies them closure. Not that closure's necessarily better.
'Should I try to contact her?' I wondered if she'd moved. I hadn't heard from her since just before Dad's funeral. I still had that letter, the one that started with, "I'm sorry for your loss." It was still upstairs, still with that picture, the one I never looked at but couldn't bring myself to throw away.
My brain was caught in a spiral. It was weird, though. I wasn't getting angrier or anything, and there wasn't really much of an emotional reaction at all. There was just this itch to know more. I wanted to have the conversation and be done with it.
Heh. I… wanted to talk to her. I wanted to talk to her. Nice work, Braeburn.
'What would we even talk about?' I imagined us at some upscale restaurant somewhere – Mom always liked the fancy places – talking like two adults who had just met. She'd sip her coffee and talk about the weather and maybe give me a half-hearted congratulations for all my success. And I'd ask her about her life and pretend I wasn't on the verge of tears.
I about sunk through the floor when I thought, 'Sweet Luna, what if she has kids!?' My frown threatened to break my face. 'She'd never want more, right?' I realized how little I knew about her. She could be a completely different pony from the one that left us. 'But she's not,' I reminded myself. 'She only cares about herself.'
That wasn't completely true.
One time, when I was sick and had to stay home from school, she took a day off from her job at the weather factory. I woke up to the smell of huckleberry pancakes. They were my favorite, and something I only ever got at restaurants. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes (and fighting my stomach not to vomit), I saw Mom sneak in with a plate in one hoof and a bottle of syrup in the other.
"Sweetie, how are you feeling?" Her voice was raspy. Her eyes were droopy and a little bloodshot, so she must have been up for hours. "I've got a treat for you." She was trying to pull off the caring mother routine. It wasn't quite working, and her tone made it sound like she was talking down to me. She wasn't used to it. Most of the conversations we had were cold and only as necessary. She sucked at it.
....
Sorry. I shouldn't…
She was trying. She deserves credit for that, at least. I guess.
Mom cleared her throat, and she went back to sounding like her usual self: flat and to-the-point. "Most of them were burned, but I managed to get a few right. Remind me to clean up before your father gets home." She set the plate down in front of me and poured me some syrup.
I devoured them. They were sweet and sour and fluffy and perfect. Every bite was amazing.
It's too bad I threw up half an hour later. Turns out berries are harsh on a sick stomach.
But you know? After I got better, she made them for me again. She complained loudly from the kitchen the whole time, but she did it, and they were even better.
It still hurts. It hurts to think she could have gotten it right, could have been a great mother, and she still left. It could have gone so well, and sometimes it seemed like it was, but she didn't want that. She didn't want us.
I couldn't shake the thought that things were going so well with Braeburn, too, and there are some trains of thought that you just can't derail.
I thought about him leaving. I had no idea how I'd react. 'Heh. Probably'd trash the entire freaking town.' A nervous laugh escaped my lips. I didn't want to think about it, so my eyes darted all around the room, looking for something to distract myself.
My eyes settled on the nightstand with the open drawer. I sat up and plucked up an envelope. It was cream-colored with the word "Braeburn" written on the front in fancy hoofwriting. I sneered at it, and my expression only got bitterer when I flipped to the back and saw a little heart sticker had been used to seal it.
I realized I had no idea what Bronze was like. Maybe he was really sorry? That didn't excuse his behavior, but I wondered if ponies could change. I wondered if maybe he'd gone through some shit, too, and if he was really trying to fix everything. I took out the letter, squinted at the text, and read:
Hey, Appleslut,
My heart pounded, and suddenly everything looked red. The paper crumpled in my hooves, and my teeth ground. My first thought was, 'I'm going to fucking kill him.'
It took me a long time to get through the letter between my rage and everything else, but I managed to finish all of it.
Certainly didn't take long to hop on another pegasus, did it? Did you even wait until the bed was cold before you grabbed the next piece of meat that flopped into your lap, or were you cheating on me the whole time?
Shouldn't be surprised. You never think of anypony but yourself in the heat of the moment. What about all the ponies back in Appleloosa? It's going to be tough for them to adapt. I know it's tough for me, but I guess you've already moved on…
It's terrible, Brae. I'm not even mad, just disappointed. But I'm here for you, Applebutt. If I'm right, you'll ask your parents to bail you out again, and by the time Gal gives you this letter, I'll be back in Appleloosa, taking care of the orchard you were in such a rush to abandon. I'll tend to it for as long as it takes, until you're ready to apologize – not just to me, but to your town.
But you know what, Brae? I already forgive you. You weren't in your right mind, not with the fight, and not with this new fling you're rebounding with. I understand: you're under a ton of pressure. That's why I wanted to help out with the orchard in the first place. And I'm sorry you got so offended by that, I really am. I didn't want to hurt you, but you deserve the truth.
And the truth is, the Braeburn I love – and you know I do love you Brae, with every part of me, just like I know you still love me, deep down. It's what keeps me going. I need you, Brae. You're the one shining star in the night sky. Do you remember what you said that night on Silverstar's roof, Applebutt?
The Braeburn I love would make it right. I believe in you, and I know you'll come around. See you soon.
Your wings, always,
Bronze
I shook. I growled. I seethed.
And I was so, so scared. Those lines about their history together… It was all too real. This was part of his history, too. I remember hyperventilating. 'Does he still have feelings for him? What the hell's going to happen when he goes back to Appleloosa? Fuck, if he goes back, what happens to us?'
I clutched the paper to my chest and stared up at the ceiling, a few tears running down my cheeks. "He wouldn't… go back, would he?"
Out of nowhere, Appleloosa became the scariest place in Equestria. Just picturing it made me shiver, and it got worse when I imagined us getting off the train only to see Braeburn throw himself on Bronze. It felt like a knife in my stomach. Braeburn was, hooves down, the best thing in my life, and I told myself he wouldn't do that to me. "Would he?"
It was questions. All questions, and no answers. I realized how pathetic I must have looked, tossing under the covers while my thoughts spun in circles. My body twitched, begging me to fly or beat up somepony or anything. I tried to relax, but no position felt comfortable.
My voice felt choked, but I had to fill the silence. "He's not gonna listen to that asshole, right?" More questions, things that I should have been confident about, but that filled me with doubt. It was an icy, prodding feeling deep in my chest.
No, it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever gone through, but it still sucked, and it didn't let up. I wanted to get up and fly, and I was about to when Braeburn finally opened the door. I quickly set the letter on the bed next to me and wiped my eyes.
Braeburn's mane was frazzled, his shoulders slumped, and he had bags under his eyes, but he was smiling. He looked peaceful, like right after a workout on a day you've been super stressed. After closing the door, he sighed as he slowly walked over to the bed. "Gonna sleep well tonight. You were right, Soarin'." His voice was raspy. "Feels like a load off."
I tried to focus on the here-and-now. "H-how did it go?" I was happy just to have my mind on something else, even if my thoughts kept asking, 'Not so well that you're gonna go back home, right?'
"Hoo…" He let out another deep breath. "It was good." His head cocked to the side, and he looked up. "Nothin' miraculous, but a hell of a lot better. Now, I need a hug from my coltfriend, the one who's sharin' my bed tonight, regardless of what anypony else thinks. It'll make a hell of a chaser after a shot of catharsis, I'd wager." He flopped onto the bed and wrapped his legs around me. "Mm…"
My hug back was weak.
He noticed. "Soarin', you're trembling. What's got you shook up?"
My eyes flickered over to the letter next to me. He saw.
"Oh." He scooted in again and held me more gently. "You're sweet, Big Blue. Yeah, it hit me pretty hard, too. But don't worry about me none. I can take it, but thank you."
I felt like an asshole. Braeburn's well-being had gotten buried under my concerns for myself. "I… yeah." I squeezed him back.
His warm breath on my ear calmed me down a little. He held his mouth there and whispered, "There's something else botherin' you, though. What is it?"
My tongue and my stomach played tug-of-war with a question. I wanted to know, but I couldn't let myself find out. I had to be sure, but what if the answer was 'yes'?
But Braeburn was right there with that magical voice of his. "It's alright, Big Blue. You can tell me anything."
And that was all it took. My voice was small and shaky and weak, but he managed to coax it out of me. "Do you still… l-love him?" That word burned.
Braeburn paused. He ran a hoof through his mane before stroking mine, which kept me from freaking out while he thought. "Well, yeah, I do, at least a little."
I sobbed, and my heart stopped.
Braeburn kissed away a tear that was forming at the corner of my eye. "Shh, Soarin'…" He nuzzled me. "Ya' gotta understand, Big Blue. We were together a long time, and we only just split recently. I know it's been rough on you, but it's been rough on me, too. That's just how it is. Don't really know what else to say."
I jumped in with, "You could say you lo–"
"Do you really want to hear it now? Like this? When you don't know if you're sayin' it because you're scared or because you really mean it?"
I was choked up. He was right. I didn't want the first time to happen that way. When I tried to speak, nothing came out.
"Big Blue, you're a hell of a guy. You've got a sense of adventure, you're quick-witted, you're the handsomest devil I've ever laid eyes on, and you've got a big heart, and don't let anypony convince you otherwise, especially that last bit. I like you, and right now, I'm here, and you're here, and that's right where I want us to be."
His words shouldn't have been comforting, but they were.
I looked up into his eyes. I wanted to fall into them, to drown in them and never worry about having to leave. They were big and green and beautiful and focused right on me. "But you're never gonna abandon me, right?"
He kissed my forehead. "Never's a long time, Big Blue. Hell, you've only been in my life a couple weeks, and these things take time, and I still have no idea what the hell's even goin' on most of the time. I don't wanna rush things more than we've had to." I felt a warm cheek rub against mine, and his voice fell quiet. "But I'd bet my house you'll hear those words sooner or later. Just gotta be the right time." He chuckled softly. "And maybe a bit more romantic than at my parents' house."
My body was done, and my brain, too. I had no strength left. The last part of me told him, "I don't want to lose you."
"And that's about the kindest thing you could say." He rubbed my sides. "Now, we're both exhausted. I don't know what tomorrow's gonna bring, but I promise I'll be here when you wake up for it."
I yawned. I wonder if he knew how much power he had over me. Maybe he knew, and maybe that's how he was always able to make me feel better, no matter how dark things got. I smiled. "Thanks, App… uh…" I remembered the letter.
Another quick squeeze. "You promised to make it better, and you're not gonna do it by skirting around it."
I looked up at him again. "You're right. Thanks, Applebutt."