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// Chapter 27 - History 
// Story: Sensation (SFW Version) 
// by Vivid Syntax 
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My whole world stood still. The breeze stopped blowing, no birds sang, and the apple orchard didn't even smell like anything. We were in a painting. A still-life. One of those pictures where you don't know the full story, but the weight of everything still gets to you: the two wooden B's, the patches of dirt where the grass didn't grow, the blooming apples trees around us, occasionally dropping petals. It all painted a scene that should have been beautiful and serene, but for all the detail around me, I could only focus on Braeburn's slightly-parted lips. Words hung just inside them, and his eyes searched mine, like he was trying to decide what I would say. The bags under his eyes seemed deep, deeper than mine ever were. His shoulders were a little up, and his head was a little down, and he finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry."

My breath caught in my lungs. My thoughts raced with a million different things he could say. 'It isn't working. He's miserable. Mac talked him out of it. The media attention is too much. He can't stand me anymore. I'm too foalish. I'm too irresponsible. I'm too stupid. I let him down.' And worst of all? 'He's going to leave me.'

I didn't blink. My head pounded, half from heat exhaustion and half from my injury. My tongue weighed at least a ton, and it took all my effort to say, "What… do you mean?"

He slumped. "Just what I said, Big Blue. I-I'm sorry. It was wrong what I did to you, and you have every right to be mad." He turned his head away. "And I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I'm sorry."

My brain imploded as his words knocked the wind out of me. "Wwwwwhat?!"

Braeburn cringed, and I immediately regretted yelling. "Suppose I deserve that…" His words cut deep, and the short distance between us felt like a continent.

But he wasn't leaving me. Relief and panic and confusion washed over me all at once, leaving me nauseous. 'Did… he just apologize?' I shook my head all around. "Braeburn, what are you talking about?"

His eyes fluttered. "I was bein' selfish again, Soarin'. I know how hard all this has been on you, too, but I wasn't considerin' how you felt." He paused and frowned at the dirt. Through gritted teeth, he said, "And I do this every damn time. Heat of the moment, and I can't think of anypony but myself."

I'm not a good coltfriend. If I was, I would have realized what he was quoting, realized exactly what was going on and how much Bronze had gotten to him. It was all right there in the letter: Braeburn truly believed that everything was his fault, just like Bronze had wanted.

I didn't notice, though. All I could do was stand there, reeling.

Braeburn kicked at the dirt. "I'm an idiot, Soarin'. A selfish, stupid idiot who doesn't know how to treat you." Our eyes met. "You deserve somepony better."

I felt awful. I was the one that had freaked out and abandoned him and yelled at him, but Braeburn was too gentle and too kind and too broken to see it. I was supposed to be the one to make everything better, and I'd failed. My heart all but stopped, and guilt stuck me like a sword right in the chest. 'He thinks it's his fault. He thinks he's the one causing all our problems.' My throat felt tight. 'Is that what he needed to talk to Mac about?'

I shook my head and took a small step forward. "Braeburn. No. Just… no." He still seemed so far away. "Applebutt, you're the best thing in my life, and…" I gulped. "And you didn't do anything wrong."

He looked up at me again with pleading, weary eyes. "That ain't true, Soarin'. I always get lost in my head when things get tough, and you can see what happened."

I tried to sound firm but gentle. It sort of worked, and my voice was low and a little rough. "Dude, stop. I'm the one that flipped out in the carriage. I'm the one that scared you, and I'm the one that got us into this whole mess in the first place." I looked down and sneered. "I suck. You know it, I know it, and the whole media knows it."

Braeburn looked like I'd spit on his face. He shook his head and took a step toward me, suddenly talking fast again. "No, no, no, Soarin'. Don't say that. You're wonderful. You've taken me all over Equestria." He stood right in front of me. "And you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. It's been a hell of a couple weeks for you, too. I'll admit, we've both had our off days, but things will look better once we…" His voice lost all its color, and he looked away. "…once… things settle down. These things just… take time."

My head hung low, and every time I breathed, my posture collapsed a little more. "Yeah. We should talk after… things…"

We looked into each other's eyes. Braeburn's were tired, drooping, and almost lifeless. There were dark circles beneath them, and they barely focused. His ears were flat, and his mane was a mess.

But he was still my Applebutt. I could still see him, the real him, still alive in there and begging to be let out to breathe. Past all the fear and the pain, he was a beautiful pony.

I wondered what he saw in me.

I leaned in and let my forehead rest against his. It was warm. "Braeburn, you're right."

"About what?" he asked without moving.

"We're both fucked up."

He was quiet for a moment. "Soarin', I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't wanna pretend everything's fine, and I don't wanna hide from you, and I don't wanna wait anymore. It is my fault, and I'm too stupid to know how to fix it."

I sighed. "It's not your fault, Braeburn."

He pulled away suddenly. "Yes it–" He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut hard. "Ugh!" He ran a hoof through his mane, nearly knocking his hat off his head, then took another step and wrapped a hoof around me. "Regardless, I don't know what to do."

I did. He didn't want to hear it, and I felt bad having to say it, but I knew. "Just let me in, Braeburn."

His face twitched against mine, and he whispered, "I don't know how."

I smiled weakly. "Heh. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He had such strong legs. I'd always admired that about him. From the way he could buck apples to how easily he could carry me to how he squeezed me, every fiber seemed so strong. I was glad I had something to focus on besides the silence.

After a pause, he said, "Deal." He backed up enough to look at me. "Mind if we rest, though? I feel like I'm about to fall over."

"Same."

Braeburn saddled up next to me, and we leaned on each other, holding each other up. His sweaty body pressed against mine, and we slowly walked towards a tree. The air seemed stagnant, but knowing he was there helped me to take just one more step. I didn't want to think about what would happen if I'd been alone.

As we entered the shade, he asked in a voice that sounded like a colt's, "Can I play with your wings?"

The first little weight had lifted from my heart. "Yeah."

I lay down first, on my belly with my head curled around to the left and with my chin resting on the grass. Braeburn lay down on my right, draping his left foreleg and his neck across my back so that our faces were close together, close enough that we wouldn't have to talk too loudly.

His tail swished against mine, and he started lazily stroking me. His hoof explored my wings, first brushing with the feathers, then wedging between them. The little nerve endings buzzed, and a wave of relaxation rolled across my body, the tension receding more and more with each stroke. I was too tired to fall asleep, but it was the most relaxed I'd felt in days. His hoof separated the little fibers of my feathers, gently ruffling them and pushing them out of place. It was a little uncomfortable, but in a comfortable way, you know? Like, it was different, but not bad. His touch was delicate, not harsh. You'd think I'd want a deep-tissue massage or something, but no. I didn't need to have the soreness beaten out of me. It needed to be unwound gently by somepony that knew how to take his time. Braeburn was always good about that – where I was too afraid to slow down, he could always live in the silence and appreciate the serenity of a moment with somepony he cared about.

I think Jonah would have been proud.

He moved gradually up to the joint, then leaned in and kissed the bruise on my head. "You sure that's feelin' okay?"

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Okay, but let me know if you feel dizzy. I worry about you, Big Blue."

Worry. It's a weird emotion. It's not useful at all. I mean, it's just watered-down fear, right? It gets in your head and distracts you and holds you back, but you don't get that rush of adrenaline you need to actually fix the problem. But it's so hard not to worry, sometimes, especially when there's somepony in your life that's worth worrying about.

I whispered, "Me, too."

"Well, I'm sorry for that." His voice was soft and smooth, and it floated on the wind and made my headache recede just a little.

I moaned. "Applebutt, can we stop saying sorry for, like, an hour or something? It's exhausting."

I felt his chest rumble with a slight chuckle. "Oh, all right. I'll try." He went back to caressing me. "So fess up, Big Blue. What's got you so worried?"

My heart tensed up. I knew exactly what was on my mind, but… "It's hard to say."

Braeburn kept rubbing. "Take your time. We're not in a rush."

I didn't know how to approach it. My brain hadn't unwound that much yet. Fortunately, Braeburn knew how to loosen me up, and it wasn't long before I felt his lips gently preening my wings.

"Mmm…" I closed my eyes, and everything became clearer. I could smell the dirt and the apple blossoms again. I could feel the grass beneath me, first as a large clump, then as individual blades that cushioned me. The air was sticky, just enough to make breathing satisfyingly difficult, and enough that Braeburn's hot breath clung to my feathers.

You can't always force words out. Sometimes, they have to bubble up inside you and come out at their own pace without embellishment. "It's Bronze."

Braeburn paused for just a fraction of a second, and then he kept cleaning my wings, ready to listen.

That's what I needed: somepony to listen. "That letter is super messed up, Applebutt, and when you said you–" I couldn't say it. "–still weren't over him, I just…" My head rolled onto its side a little, enough to brush against his hoof. The heaviness had come back, and I wondered if it had ever really left. "I dunno."

Braeburn kept preening me, steady and practiced and without saying a word.

"I mean, I do know. I keep thinking about everything he did to you, how much you put up with before you threw him out, and how much of an asshole he was. And…" I took a deep breath. I was trying to talk slowly, trying to keep from getting worked up. "And you still like him, even though he's terrible. You still think about him, and you might forgive him, and if he's so terrible and you still like him better than me, then how awful am I, right?"

Braeburn stopped preening for a moment. He didn't say anything, but he squeezed me.

I deadpanned, "No apologizing."

"Heh. I didn't say anything."

"I know."

He took another feather into his mouth, dragged his teeth across it, and quietly spit out the dust. "Fine. You got me. But all that stuff about you bein' worse than him? About me takin' him back and thinkin' he's better than you? That ain't true, Soarin'."

I quickly lifted my head and said, "But what if it is?" I looked up at him, but I couldn't keep eye contact: in one quick moment, I saw a soft Braeburn again, a Braeburn who deserved somepony better than me. I looked back at the dirt. "What happens when you see him again?" That same scene came back to me, and my chest felt tight. "What if you go back to Appleloosa, and he's there waiting for you at the train station, and as soon as you get off the train and see him, you throw yourself at him and forget all about me? What if you want to take him back?"

He frowned. "It's… not quite like that."

I sat up a little more. My left hind leg wanted to kick out, and my wings wanted to spread and take me away, so I wouldn't have to keep talking. But my brain was too far gone to stop. "He already said he was going to wait for you, Braeburn, and what if you give him another chance?"

Braeburn hid under the brim of his hat. "Soarin'… It's not me who'd be giving second chances."

Something clicked. My eyes opened wider. "What do you mean?"

Braeburn sighed and rested his chin on my back. "I didn't throw Bronze out. He's the one that broke up with me."

That… had to process for a while. This whole time, I'd assumed Braeburn had finally kicked him out after their fight, and it's hard to undo beliefs like that. All I could say was, "Really?" I scooted away and rolled over to face him. Dust clung to my mane, and Braeburn lay on his stomach, frowning.

He nodded. "Really."

I shook my head and, completely seriously, said in a flat voice, "The hell is wrong with him?"

"Heh. I don't–"

"Seriously." I raised an eyebrow. "Did he have, like, brain damage or something? I mean, I know he kinda lost it sometimes, but was he stupid, too?"

Braeburn cracked a smile.

I rolled onto my stomach and gestured at Braeburn. "He had the best stallion in the world, and he threw you away? That's stupid!" 

"Heh." Braeburn nudged my hoof with his nose. "So you're sayin' I should still be with him?"

"No! I just mean he… shouldn't have let you go?" My face flushed as my brain tried to think logically. "I mean, I'm glad he did, because then we met." My face felt hotter. "Like, he shouldn't have hit you, but since he did, we… Uh…" My eyes opened wide, and my pupils constricted, and I kept up the word vomit. "He shouldn't have treated you that way! But it's good that he did! For me, I mean." My tail thrashed around, and my whole body convulsed. "Fuck! No! I'm not saying you–"

Braeburn put a hoof to my lips. He was smiling and shaking his head, "I wish I would have met you first, too, Soarin'."

I mumbled through his hoof. "Yeah, that." When he pulled his hoof away, I added, "Sorry."

Braeburn gave me a sly smile and narrow eyes. "Now, what did we say about apologizin'?"

My face scrunched up. "…Dammit."

He chuckled. "But you don't need to worry about it much, Soarin'." If only it was that simple, right? "I'm a hell of a lot happier with you than with him."

I meekly asked, "Even with all the media bullshit?"

He nodded. "It's been rough, I'll admit." We lay down next to each other on the grass, and the ends of our noses touched. We breathed in the same air. "Isn't always easy with him, though, either."

"I know." I felt the soft warmth of his nose for a few moments, then delicately said, "You… never told me about the fight."

Braeburn quickly said, "I didn't want to upset you."

I sighed. "I'll be okay." I stretched out a wing and brushed his face with it. "C'mon, I showed you mine."

"Mmm…" Braeburn closed his eyes and let me brush my wing against his face. I watched him go through the same stages I had, slowly letting things unwind. It didn't fix everything, but it made it easier, and each time my wing touched his face, he would smile just a little more. I could feel him relax, and I knew it wouldn't be long.

…

You know…

…

It's hard being honest, right? Especially about your past. Whenever you meet somepony new, you get a brand new start. You don't want to taint your relationship by complaining about all the bad things that have happened to you, so you skip over them. You bury them. They don't come up, even if sometimes, maybe you want them to, and soon you've known somepony for so long that it's weird to let them know you were hiding something from them. You want to talk about it and get it all off your chest, but you don't want to make anypony else worry, especially your friends, but then it just festers inside you, makes you bitter and cold and keeps you from ever getting over it. It takes a lot to let somepony you care about in to see your scars, even when you want nothing more than to have your story told. It's… almost easier to talk to a stranger sometimes.

Braeburn's eyes opened, and his smile disappeared. "I do still love him, Soarin', and he hasn't had it easy, either."

My wing hitched just a little, just for a second. 'No,' I thought. 'Let him talk.' I kept stroking. Every brush of my feathers made his face relax a little more.

"Hard to believe how long it's been since I left Haulihay. Few years now, I suppose. I'd moved out to Appleloosa with almost nothin'. I wanted to be someplace fresh, someplace I could make my own, where I could do somethin' important. Not that my work on Pa's farm wasn't important, but that was always his legacy, and I was just a helper. I wanted Appleloosa to be different. I wanted it to be my town.

"That first year was spectacular. Out of nowhere, ponies started showin' up and settlin' down, and by some miracle, the big wigs in Canterlot saw fit to help us expand further south. The money flowed freely with almost no interest, and it seemed like we were raisin' a new building every couple days. The water tower went up without a hitch, and town hall was bigger than we could have hoped for. Despite the heat, the orchard took, too, and so did our other crops. We all got so much done, and the town thrived.

"But… it seemed like everypony that moved there already had a family, a life. There were lookin' to settle down somewhere and be comfortable. They had what they needed, and all that was left was to find contentment. Appleloosa's a great place to raise a family, and I stand by that, but it ain't so perfect for a young bachelor. I was lonely in those days, Soarin'. Real lonely. I was proud to be so active in makin' the newcomers feel welcome, but you can only bury yourself in your work for so long before your problems start pokin' at you, ya' know?"

I did know. I'd felt the same way in the 'Bolts until just a couple weeks before then. I didn't want to interrupt him, so I just nodded.

"And I couldn't really date anypony there, Soarin'. There wasn't anypony for me. Slate and a few others knew I like stallions, but nopony ever really talked about it, at least to my face. They didn't want to hear it, I suppose, or maybe they thought they were just bein' polite. Makes you wonder though, what they really think of you when they don't even wanna talk about somethin' so basic as findin' a partner."

I paused my stroking to say, "You… didn't have anypony to just be gay with, did you?"

"Heh. Well, in a manner of speaking. But then, one day late last summer, Bronze rolled into town, lookin' for a place to work. I gave him the usual Appleloosa welcome and tour of the town, and I must admit, I was a little more enthusiastic than usual, and the more I got to know him, the more my heart started racin'. See, he'd lost his job on the weather team in Chattahoofa. Brawlin', naturally, but I can't really blame him. Somepony had called him a cock-suckin' faggot – one of his coworkers, I think – and he wasn't gonna take that. Told me he'd messed up the other guy real good, but that he wasn't sorry at all. Said that knockin' the ignorance out of somepony made the world a better place, safer for the next generation of gay colts, and it was worth losin' a job over. He's so confident, Soarin'. He knows what he wants, he knows when ponies are bein' unfair, and he won't let them run his life. He likes stallions, and to him, that's the best way to be.

"And just like that, I did have somepony to talk to. He understood it, Soarin', what it was like bein' an outsider. He was the only pegasus in town at the time. Didn't take him too long to sniff me out, either. He said he saw me blushin' and lookin' away whenever he smiled at me, and he knew. Said I'd caught his eye right away, too, and that knowin' he wouldn't be alone was the greatest feeling he could have had. He understood me, and he promised he'd stick up for me whenever anypony kept me down. Not three days after he'd arrived in town, he showed up at my office with a hoofful of desert lilies. His coat was cleaned to perfection, and I marveled at how it shined whenever it caught the sunlight. With a little redness in his cheeks – probably the only time I've ever seen him embarrassed – he asked me to spend some more time with him. He was courtin' me all proper, like I'd always dreamed of somepony doin', and if I hadn't fallen for him before, well, I did right then.

"Our first date was simple, but it was perfect. He's a pretty decent cook himself, and we each made a few courses of dinner back at my place. He made a wonderful vegetable hash with a side of fruit salad, full of berries and melon and all sorts of things that must have been a bear to find, and he'd blended it with thyme and rosemary, my favorite herbs. He insisted on feedin' me the first bite. His hoof was steady and delicate, even with all his strength, and that first bite was so sensual and satisfying and delicious. I had to give him the same feeling, and… well, it seems a little silly now, but we moved to the couch and ate our whole meal like that, cuddled up and feedin' each other slowly, not a care in the world, from the hash to the salad to the apple cobbler I'd made for desert. And when our bellies were full, we went for a walk outside of town, further than I'd ever walked before, just to be alone and marvel at the stars. We were out there all night, holdin' each other and lockin' lips, not carin' if the earth or the moon or the stars could see us. We didn't need them. We had each other, and we promised we'd never let that moment of happiness end.

"He gave me relief, Soarin'. I was an apple tree in a desert, and Bronze, my cool drink of water, made me thrive. I had somepony, Soarin'. I had somepony that understood me and loved me and made me feel okay, and I was happy. Those were good days."

Braeburn couldn't mask the hurt in his voice or the listless way the words rolled off his tongue. His eyes had glazed over, and the small, safe smile reminded me of the way he looked when we had cuddled back in Appleloosa. It was serene and comfortable, and the pit of my stomach hurt knowing that he wasn't thinking of me.

'Yeah, he really does still love him.' I felt… something. It wasn't numbness, but it was sort of like it. Not sadness or curiosity, but maybe a little bit of concern. Seeing Braeburn relaxed was wonderful, but I knew how the story ended. As much as I didn't want him to ever feel any pain, I needed to hear the rest.

"But there were bad days, too, and as summer rolled into fall, they seemed to get more frequent. It was tough for him to find work. He was certainly fit – devilishly so – but he didn't have the skill set or the endurance for the work Appleloosa needed. It was great havin' somepony that could help manage the weather, but with how dry everythin' was all the time, there wasn't much he could do, and he was always the first to be blamed when we went through a dry spell. It wasn't his fault, but when a farmer can't grow his crops, well, he gets mighty vocal about it, and Bronze had to bear the brunt of it all.

"And that went on for weeks. I felt terrible for him. He'd get frustrated, and he'd curse the town, and he'd say that we should move back to Chattahoofa, where there was at least more opportunity for work, but I… I couldn't do that. I'd tell him that Appleloosa was full of opportunity and potential, and that it was important to me to make sure the town flourished. One night, he went on a longer tirade than usual. I raised my voice and told him to be patient again, and, well, he didn't like that very much. And that was the… That was the f-f… first time…" His voice caught in his throat.

I choked up thinking about how scared he must have been, and I hated myself for making him feel that same fear again in the carriage. I wasn't going to make him say it. I scooted closer and wrapped my wing and my foreleg around him, and he lay his head on my neck. I rubbed my cheek into his mane. "It's okay, Applebutt."

"Heh…" He sobbed a little. "Ya' know… I missed the rodeo that year. Made up some excuse about why my leg was in a cast. Applejack believed it. Everypony did, and that's what hurt the most. I was scared, Soarin'. I was scared that somepony would find out, and…"

It was hard to talk. "And tell Bronze?"

His head shook. "Find out and try to take Bronze away from me."

My skin prickled and felt like ice. All I could do was hold Braeburn closer.

"It wasn't all his fault, Soarin'. It was mine, too. I knew how depressed he was getting, how frustrated he was. He'd already told me so many times about how much he cared about me and how much I was hurting him, too. He needed me. Said he couldn't live without me, but that Appleloosa was choking him. I care about him, Soarin', and no matter what he did or said or called me, he's a good stallion, and I want him to be happy.

"And it's not like he… got heated very often. It didn't happen again for a long time, and I didn't bring it up. Besides, I was under a lot of pressure. We'd had locusts that fall – wiped out a tenth of our crop overnight – and we needed to beg for more support from Canterlot. That meant a list of demands and more rules and more town meetings and a lot of yelling and hurt feelings. I spent a lot of time at the Salt Block in those days, and even more time on the couch at home. See, liquor's just a part of life out there. Helps deal with all the nothingness out in the desert, and bein' a stallion that can't hold his own makes you somethin' of a pariah. I didn't need any more of that.

"So, we drank. A lot. It was something Bronze and I could do together: commiserate and drink until it stopped hurting. He wasn't able to find more than a few days of work at a time, and me? With all the pressures of the town, spendin' all my time coordinating more funding and taking on more responsibilities and seein' him so miserable, I needed it just as much as he did. It got bad, Soarin'. We'd be drunk mornin' to night, when we'd go out and when we'd take the train, and when we'd make love. It was all a haze. It became normal. That's what it was: we'd get home, split a bottle of whisky for dinner, then fuck ourselves stupid until we passed out, just to do it all over again the next morning.

"There was a night, late that winter, just before spring broke, when we'd been pretty deep into the bottle. We were cuddled up on the couch, and he was teasin' me with his feathers, but he seemed tense. I knew not to provoke him, but I was worried, and I couldn't help but ask him what was wrong. He sighed and said he was disappointed in me. He'd been waiting for me to offer him a job at the orchard, to let him run the place.

"And I… I wasn't trusting enough, Soarin'. I failed him. The orchard's my pride, made up of trees that I'd tended since I was a foal. It was something my parents set me up with, a place that I could always go when I felt down. The orchard's my home. It's the piece of the world that makes sense when nothing else does, and even when the townsponies were angry at me or the tourists didn't have a good time, I had a place where my biggest worry was collectin' the whole harvest. I was in control of this little piece of my life, and I just couldn't give that up.

"That got him mad. He threw a fit, yellin' about how I didn't trust him or support him enough. He… said a lot of nasty things. Talked about how he'd been talkin' to the townsfolk about how greedy I was bein', how they said I thought I was some kinda king and how I had to have everything just my way. I told him I worked hard to get where I was, and that just set him off worse. I got a black eye that night."

I shivered. The way he said those words – "black eye" – they were so normal, like nothing was wrong with them. His whole story was that way, though, numb and lifeless. It was probably the only way he could tell it.

"A few weeks later, at the start of spring, he brought it up again. I hadn't budged, but I begged him to forgive me. I tried to explain where I was comin' from, but I couldn't get through to him. There was a lot more yellin'. He told me I had one more chance, then went upstairs and slammed the door. I slept on the couch that night."

My heart was dead still.

"And, in the mornin', he came down. He was fuming, and h–" He choked up. "He told me how disappointed he was that I hadn't tried to make amends that night. He wanted me to apologize, but with that fire in his eyes, I… I couldn't say anything."

Braeburn's tears fell silently on my neck.

"He didn't have any patience for that, and his face turned into a snarl. I don't remember exactly how it all happened, but… there…" He mumbles, "Once across the face, couple times in the stomach. It was hard to breathe. It stung all over, and I couldn't tell if the different parts of me were in pain or numb. Couple kicks to the ribs. Thought I heard a crack, and my head spun, and I was nauseous. I was on the floor, and when I tried to get up, he whipped around and bucked me in the flank, right on my cutie mark."

Instinctively, I brushed his cutie mark with a hind hoof, as gently as possible. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Everywhere.

"His bags had already been packed. He told me he still loved me, but that I'd failed him, and he couldn't stand to live with me anymore, and he promised to stay away until I apologized. He grabbed his bags and walked out the door, and I haven't seen him since."

I wanted to hold him closer. I wanted to cradle him in a cloud and brush his face and his mane and his tail and completely envelop him, just to keep him safe from everything the world could throw at him. It didn’t seem like enough. "Braeburn… how can you still love a guy like that?"

"Because it was my fault, Soarin'." I cringed at his words. "I didn't support him enough. I didn't even give him a chance, and when it mattered, I didn't try to make it work. I told myself…" He didn't finish.

We were quiet for a long, long time. The air had taken on a chill, and everything in the world felt greyer, like our little still-life had been washed out by the sun. My body felt completely empty, drained of everything that kept me alive. All I wanted was to hold him closer.

"Braeburn… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I wanted to tell him about how he was wrong. It wasn't his fault at all. I wanted to make him see that. I wanted him to know that he was safe. There were a thousand things that he needed, and I wasn't good enough to give them to him. All I could muster was, "I'm right here."

Slowly, Braeburn lifted his left foreleg and wrapped it around my stomach. He pulled me in just a bit closer and whispered into my chest, "Thank you."

We didn't move for almost half an hour. It took everything we had left to stay together.

When our forelegs had fallen asleep and our eyes were starting to feel heavy, Braeburn said, "I wanna take you on a date, Soarin'."

It seems random, right? I wasn't going to say no, though. I couldn't deny him anything. "Uh… sure, Applebutt. Whatever you want."

"Not whatever." He snuggled close to me. "I don't want to… You deserve the…" He sighed. "A real date. A nice one, just the two of us."

"I… don't know where we can do that until we get to Cloudsdale."

He nuzzled me. "We're goin' to stop back at Aunt Honeycrisp's." Should I have been suspicious? Maybe. I was thrown off when he added, "I already talked to Mac about it, and he's gonna send a letter off overnight and ask if we can stay."

"Won't that be a little–"

"Just for an evenin', Soarin'. Please. I want… a normal date, where I can cook for you and treat you right, like you deserve. Please. It's important to me."

I hugged him. "Sure, Braeburn. Absolutely."

"Thank you."

We stayed entwined like that for a long time. Neither of us fell asleep, but the radiating warmth was healing enough for a while. We finally had time to breathe.

I didn't want it to end, but Braeburn whispered, "Will you be there for me, Soarin'?"

"Absolutely," I whispered back. "But why are we whispering?"

"'Cuz yellin' would hurt your ears."

"Oh, okay," I said with a bunch of goofy bounce in my voice.

We were quiet again, and Braeburn chuckled.

I cracked open an eye. "What?"

"Heh heh. Nothin'."

"Whaaaaat?" I whined.

"Just… fallow."

"Oh. Are we, like, having it for dinner?"

Braeburn sat up, eyes looking dreamy, and he said, "Afraid it's not in season." He stood up. "And it doesn't keep well." He sighed. "And I still need to have a conversation with my family. You'll be there, won't you?"

I stood up, too. "Wouldn't miss it. I love seeing you blush."

He blushed.

"See? Like that! Totally sexy."

He leaned in and kissed me, then placed his hat on my head. "Thanks, Big Blue."

We headed over to the farm, standing close together despite the rising heat, my wing over his head and his hat on mine.

I… don't really want to go into detail about the talk with his family. It was private, you know? Granny Smith and Applejack said they'd suspected it, but… it's not really my place to say more.

The talk went well, though. Braeburn and I both felt a lot better afterwards, and I was looking forward to our date. We'd shown each other our scars, and we'd made it through together. For the moment, we were okay. Exhausted, but okay.

And for a couple days, I didn't have to worry.