“Come on, come on,” muttered Midnight Blue impatiently, pacing about Pan Sear’s living room. “Where’s Pan? She said it wouldn’t take longer than two hours.”
Daisy Dreamer sat on Pan’s sofa, much more at ease than her blue friend. “Calm down, Blue,” beckoned she, relaxation in her tone. “Pan’s parents’ house is in the suburb; it’d take an hour just to walk there from here.”
Midnight’s pace had slowed, and she looked to her lavender friend. “Yeah,” reasoned she, “I guess you’re right. But still, wouldn’t she have known that?”
Daisy shrugged. “Maybe she underestimated the time it takes to get there and back.”
“Maybe.”
Before a second passed the pair’s exchange of words, the main door opened slowly, revealing Pan Sear. He trotted in facing the kitchen, making only the left side of his face visible.
“Hey, Pan,” greeted Midnight, hopping up and down from joy. “How’d it go?”
The stallion turned, still only allowing the mares to see the left half of his face. A blank expression adorned his visible eye. “We talked for a few minutes before I told them.” He then let out a sigh.
“Well,” said Daisy, egging Pan to continue, “how’d they take it?”
His expression didn’t change. “My mother was the first to say anything. She denied it, saying she’d have known. She then started to cry, a lot, and repeatedly said she was a terrible parent for not seeing it.”
Both mares’ faces shifted to looks of worry and concern. “And,” asked Midnight carefully, “what about your father?”
Pan scratched his mane with a hoof before he continued. “He was destroyed by the news. More so, though, by the fact that my mother began to have a breakdown. He blamed me for her grief, for her pain.” He then turned to face his friends, revealing a perfectly formed, purple and red impression of a horseshoe surrounding his bloodshot right eye. “He always wore steel shoes.”
“My word!” exclaimed Daisy as she jumped to her hooves and rushed to Pan’s side, inspecting his face.
Midnight quickly followed Daisy’s example. “Are you alright?” Tears began to form as she imagined the pain from the strike that caused Pan’s wound.
The stallion gently pushed the two mares away. “I’m fine,” said he dismissively, “it’ll heal up in a few days. It doesn’t even hurt.”
Daisy began to cry as she embraced her green friend. “I’m so sorry, Pan,” stuttered she between sobs. “I.. I shouldn’t have made you tell them.”
Pan held the lavender mare’s head between his hooves. He gazed into her royal blue eyes and tenderly told her, “nopony ‘made’ me do anything, Daisy. If I recall correctly, I volunteered to do it.”
“Well,” began Midnight, clearing her eyes of tears, “is there anything we can do? For the bruising, that is.” Daisy quickly chimed in, backing up Midnight’s offer.
Pan shook his head. “Not really. My eye will be clear in a day or two, and I can dress the bruise so it’ll heal in no time.” He smiled warmly, brightening the genuineness in his tone.
“Umm, okay,” admitted Daisy Dreamer. “I guess you’re right. If you need us to stick around...”
“That won’t be necessary.” The green stallion kept his smile going. “All I need to do is take care of this bruise; not much you two can do around here.” After a few seconds, he began to shoo them away with his hooves, saying light-heartedly, “out, out, out! Go; enjoy your day.”
Both mares laughed as they trotted towards the front door. “Okay; we’ll see you later, Pan,” said Daisy as she exited the apartment.
Within a few seconds, Midnight emerged from the apartment as well, still lightly giggling. “Hey,” said she to get her friend’s attention. “Where are you headed, Daisy?”
The lavender unicorn shrugged. “Just to my shop to see how the renovation’s going.” She paused before she added, “and then I’m going to go see Java.”
Midnight giggled again. “That Java Blend always smells like coffee.”
Daisy simply rolled her eyes. “That’s because he works at a coffee shop, Blue,” said she plainly. “I own a flower shop, and so I smell like flowers, too.”
“Yeah,” said she, “but I work at a seafood diner, and I don’t smell like fish all the time.”
Daisy snickered. “Not ALL the time.”
“Hey!”
“I didn’t say anything that you didn’t already,” defended Daisy, laughter giving clear view into the pair’s joking.
Midnight managed to calm down enough to notice the music store they were walking past. “Ooh,” said the blue unicorn, reading a poster in the window, “they’ve got this year’s CanterRock Fest live record. I’ve got to get in on that.” She then looked to her lavender friend, who she momentarily forgot was with her. “Oh,” said she nervously, “umm, I guess I’ll see you later, Daisy.”
“Yeah,” replied Daisy, “I’ll see you later. Be sure to stop by with that record; I’d love to hear it, and I’m sure Pan would, too.” With a quick hug, the pair parted ways.
Daisy trotted at a leisurely pace through the city on her way to her shop. She gave everypony who passed by a friendly nod or wave, which most gladly returned. When she arrived at the blank, red brick building that was her flower shop, she saw the scaffolding set up in the front, and several ponies working on it as well as on the inside.
A light orange Unicorn Stallion wearing a hardhat and suit, holding a few scrolls in his light azure grip of magic, looked over to see the lavender mare. Dropping all scrolls save one, he galloped out of the building to meet her. “Good day, Miss Dreamer,” greeted he chivalrously.
“Good day, Sir,” greeted she in return. “Might I ask how the work is going?”
“Of course,” replied the stallion happily. The scroll he held unrolled, revealing the blueprints for the building, with certain portions highlighted. “Everything’s going according to plan.” He motioned with a hoof to certain points as he briefly explained the week’s progress. “Anyway,” finished he, “at this rate, we’ll surely be finished by the deadline with time to spare.” He then rolled up his scroll and smiled proudly.
Daisy nodded at the explanation. “That’s great,” beamed she. “I’ll let you to your work then.” The stallion tipped his hardhat as the mare trotted away to her next destination.
After about fifteen minutes of a comfortable trot, Daisy came upon a small apartment complex. She trotted through to the courtyard and approached a door with a large brass “4“ on its face.
She knocked a hoof on the thin metal door, and a mocha brown Earth Stallion with a coffee bean on his flank answered. He stood a head taller than the mare before him. His decently-kept mane and tail were a deep burgundy colour, and his eyes were covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses. He smiled at the sight of Daisy. “Hey there, Sweetheart,” said he in a low voice.
Daisy greeted the stallion with a kiss. “Hey, Java,” said she. “What’s up?”
Java shrugged. “Not much; just fixing to head out for some lunch.” He then looked down to his marefriend and lowered his shades, partially revealing his yellow eyes. “What brings you my way, Daisy?”
The mare shrugged. “I don’t know; I felt like it.”
Java laughed a hearty laugh. “I see,” said he. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go eat.”
The pair idly conversed on their way to Java’s chosen lunch spot: an Appleloosan restaurant called “Black Stone’s.” As they ate a fruit salad together, they began to discuss Daisy’s friends.
“So, how is that Pan Sear?” asked Java.
“Oh, he’s doing well,” answered she. She then began to think to herself, “should I tell him? Would she mind?” Reasoning to herself, she continued, “I think she wants ponies to know: I should tell him.”
“Tell me what?” questioned the mocha stallion.
“Oh, no,” thought she. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Yes, you did,” answered Java again. “Are you alright, Daisy?”
Daisy shook her head to clear up her flustered thoughts. “Yeah,” answered she, “I’m fine. Just worried.”
“About what?”
Daisy took a deep breath. Exhaling, she said, “Pan’s not as he seems.” When Java cocked his head in confusion, she continued, “well, Pan told me a few things yesterday. Apparently he’s a mare in a stallion’s body, if that makes sense.” She spoke faster and faster as she confessed. “And I’m also worried about Midnight; she knows about Pan, too, and she’s also dealing with coming out as gay, and I think it’s too much on her, and then Pan got hit, and...” Before Daisy could go any further, Java spoke up.
“Ay, ay,” beckoned he, holding a hoof to his marefriend. “Slow that brain train down.” He then removed his sunglasses and asked, “now, I got the gist of what you said, but I need to clear up. You’re saying that Midnight’s a Fillyfooler?”
Daisy quickly looked up at the stallion. “Well, if you want to call it THAT, then yes,” said she, visually distraught by the stallion’s blatant use of the word “Fillyfooler.”
“And that Pan fellow’s some kind of wacky cross-dresser?”
Daisy nervously scratched the back of her neck with a hoof. “Umm, well,” stammered she. Before she could answer, Java spoke up again.
“Just what kind of ponies are you hanging with, Daisy?” asked he in confusion.
The mare turned her head and, crossing her forehooves, replied confidently, “I ‘hang’ with my friends, Java.”
The stallion scoffed. “Well then find yourself some different friends.”
“And why would I do that?” asked Daisy in a condescending tone. “What’s it to you?”
“Well,” began Java, “I don’t think they’re a good influence on you. First you’re only chilling with them; next thing you know, you’ll be putting on my suits and flirting with random mares.”
Daisy gasped at her coltfriend’s rudeness. “I don’t think you understand, Java. First off, Midnight doesn’t flirt with random mares. Second, Pan doesn’t cross-dress, as far as I know.” Before Java could inhale to reply, Daisy continued, “and furthermore, how dare you think I’m some impressionable little filly!”
“Well, I don’t want to take the risk,” retorted the mocha stallion. “But, I’m sorry I care about you.”
“Hmph,” snorted Daisy. “If you cared about me, you’d let my friends be who they are and not give me a tongue-lashing for it.”
“If you cared about me,” replied the stallion, now frustrated with his marefriend, “then you’d trust my judgment and stay away from those weirdoes.”
“I think this little date’s over, Java,” marked Daisy, venom in the words. She put down five bits for the food, and began to trot off, not before Java could say anything.
“Think about this, Daisy!” shouted he as the mare distanced herself from him.
After a while of walking, Daisy found herself at Citrus Sweet’s Citrus Sweets. Noticing that the store was open, but not too busy, she trotted in, where she was instantly greeted by the store’s proprietor.
“Hey there, Daisy,” a yellow Earth Stallion said happily upon seeing the mare. His lime green mane was slicked back and held under a chef’s hat, his tail was cut short, and he had a short goatee hanging from his chin. A lemon, orange, and lime adorned his flank and he had golden orange eyes. He also wore an apron stained with batter and frosting.
“Good day, Citrus,” greeted Daisy in return, a somber tone about her. “You’re not too busy, are you?”
The stallion looked back to the kitchen and replied, “umm, I’ve got a couple batches of cupcakes in the oven; but, they’ve got a few minutes.” He then turned back to his friend and asked, clearly concerned, “what’s on your mind, Dreamer?”
Daisy Dreamer rested her head on her hoof as she thought about her day. “Java,” replied she simply. When Citrus rested his hooves on their table, she elabourated, “well, I told him about Pan and Midnight: how Midnight is into mares and, well, you remember what we’d discussed about Pan, right?”
Citrus nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. That day you had our friends here and he was going to tell everypony?”
“Yes,” replied Daisy. “Anyway, Java didn’t take it the way I thought he would.”
“Oh?”
“He snapped and insisted that I stop hanging around them. I mean, Pan and Blue are my two closest friends; but, I love Java, and I know he means well, but...” She looked to the stallion as he trotted towards the jukebox in the corner of the store. “What are you doing?”
The stallion put a bit into the old machine and set it to a song. “Just giving the room a little music; you don’t mind, do you?”
“Umm, well, not really.” Daisy shrugged as her friend returned to the table. “Anyway, I’ve no idea who to side with on this one.”
“Have you talked with Midnight and Pan about it?”
The mare shook her head. “No; I already know what they’ll say: ‘dump Java and stay friends with us.’” She looked into her friend’s orange eyes and told him, “I don’t want to have them breathing down my neck as well; I need an objective opinion, Citrus.”
As a response, Citrus Sweet looked to the jukebox he had activated and calmly stated, “then what about the song?” Daisy cocked her head in confusion, to which the stallion answered, “just listen.” As they both listened to the old-school rock music, they focused on the lyrics:
“I don’t care what you say anymore, this is my life. Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone.”
The pair then focused on each other again. “Listen, Daisy,” said Citrus, the wise old teacher to Daisy’s young learner. “Don’t let anypony tell you what to do or what to think. Like the music says, this is your life; do what you think you should do. I can’t give any more advice than that, other than to think; think about the decision you have to make.” As if by cue, a bell began ringing in the kitchen. “The cupcakes are done,” marked the stallion. “Go home, sit down, relax, and decide who you want to side with.” With that, he excused himself to attend to his pastries.
Daisy let out a heavy sigh. “Well,” thought she aloud, “thanks, Citrus; you always know what to say. I’ll get out of your mane now.”
After the lavender mare left the confectionery, she went home.
The interior of Daisy’s apartment was spotless, and not a thing seemed out of place; a stack of magazines and catalogues lay on her small coffee table, a record player stood in the rear left corner of the main room, between the open kitchen and a door, and her sofa lay against the rear wall beside an end table holding a lamp. She then did exactly what the confectioner told her: she sat down on her sofa, relaxed, and thought.