//------------------------------//
// Chapter 42 - Relief 
// Story: Sensation (SFW Version) 
// by Vivid Syntax 
//------------------------------//

I think… 

…

When I saw how bad it really was, I think I knew what had to happen, but my brain just refused to acknowledge it. Or maybe I still hadn't figured it out. I dunno. Does it really matter?

I probably sat there for twenty minutes, staring at my hooves in silence, until I heard Braeburn moan uncomfortably. He shifted on the couch. My neck felt rigid, but with some effort, I peeked around the corner to look at him. He'd curled up into a ball, his eyes shifting rapidly below his eyelids. 

I stood up. It was a reflex, I think. Even if my body felt like a marble statue, I wanted to be by his side. My steps came to me slowly, and every tiny crunch of cloud under my hoof sounded like a thunderclap. My mind had gone blank, and even after all the time I'd spent wishing it would just shut up, the silence in my head felt overwhelming. 

I didn't even realize I'd sat on the couch until I heard it squeak. My whole body was numb.

Braeburn lifted his head and opened his eyes, wincing at the dim light. His voice was raspy, and as soon as he opened his mouth, the air rippled with the sour, sweet smell of whisky and vomit. "Hm? Oh, uh, hey, Blue." He rubbed his eyes. "Must have overslept." He was still hiding from me, still lying or unable to tell me what was happening. "Sorry dinner ain't…" He cocked his head. "Uh, bad day? Your ears look like somepony tied rocks to 'em."

My throat felt tight, and I couldn't look at him. Thoughts kept false-starting in my head only to get cut off halfway through. My brain couldn't put words to what I was feeling. It was… It was like I'd come to a dead stop mid-flight, faster than what should have been possible. It was like crashing into the tree all over again.

Braeburn shifted. "You, uh, want your wings preened?"

'Heh. He… wants me to feel better.' For a moment, I imagined him laying me down and taking care of me. My breathing slowed as I remembered what it felt like to have his hot breath on my wings, right at the joint. But then, a lump formed in my throat, and I wanted to slap myself for nearly rolling over and pretending everything was fine. I blushed, and my head shook just slightly. 

"Hell, it must have been a bad day, then. C'mon, Big Blue. What's on your mind?"

Instinctively, my head tilted up towards the kitchen, just for a second.

Braeburn followed my gaze. "Did you–" He gasped and went stiff. "Aw, dammit! Blue, I-I–" He jerked back to me, and his voice was shaky and fearful. I could see him quiver in my periphery. "I-I'm sorry. I don't mean–" He coughed. "I-I didn't…"

My face finally turned towards him. I was frowning and furrowing my brow. More than anything, I wanted to reach out and hold him, but he didn't feel real. I was convinced that if I tried to hold him close and comfort him and make everything better, then my hooves would pass right through him, like a ghost. He felt like he wasn't even in the same world as me, and so, I didn't move.

Braeburn could only look at me for a few moments at a time before turning away. He set his head back down, and his body deflated. 

I stared at him, saying nothing but feeling pressure build inside. 'I let this happen, but he promised he'd tell me if he wasn't happy. What's wrong with us?' I felt sick.

Breaburn's eyes kept flickering between me and the floor. He shook his head and said, "Soarin', I…" without following up. He sighed and lay still for a few moments, letting his deep breaths become normal and rhythmic. His eyes focused on something in the distance, and when he spoke, his voice was low and soft and slow. "Ya' know… It's strange. Right now, I'm feelin' more relieved than anythin' else."

The room felt cold. I didn't turn away. My stomach churned, and my temples throbbed.

Braeburn covered his face with a hoof. "I'm sorry, Soarin'."

It was quiet.

I kept wanting to move, but I kept staying still, and the whole time, I felt something familiar rise to my throat like bile.

"Soarin'," he finally said after a long, long minute. "If you're gonna get angry with me, then please get it over with. The silent treatment's killin' me."

My jaw tightened, and I shivered. 'Don't you fucking do it, Soarin.' He wanted me to get angry, and that thought sparked a feeling deep in my core, something familiar and all too welcoming. It was a gentle stroke on my chest and a claw at the back of my skull, and it would have been easy to give in to it, but as I felt it thrash inside me, I looked back at Braeburn, my Braeburn, the pony I loved. He'd seen me at my worst, and he'd been so scared. 'I have to be better than Bronze.' Even as my shoulders shook, holding in a growing scream, I wouldn't let myself go. With a weak, cracking voice, I said, "I'm afraid to."

He removed his hoof from his face and looked at me, his eyebrows knit. "Aw, just spit it out, Soarin'! It's what I deserve."

My jaw quivered, and my head thumped, and I shrugged my shoulders as I felt fire shoot from my stomach to my mouth. "What the fuck am I supposed to say!" It was like gasping for air after a week under water, but I clenched my jaw and jerked my head away, beating the feeling back down inside of me. 'No. Stop yelling. Do better.'

Braeburn flinched and looked back to the ground. He gave me a bitter laugh and flatly said, "That's a start."

The lump in my throat grew. I thought back to the parlor in Honeycrisp's farm when we'd first met and that stupid comment I'd made about dresses. I thought about the time I'd shouted down that bully in Appleloosa, the carriage ride with the reporter, and all the other times I'd flown off the handle. Those same feelings roiled inside me, clawing at my chest and my throat to get out. Shaking, I swallowed them over and over again.

Braeburn wasn't helping. He mumbled, "Now's the part where you tell me how disappointed you are and how awful I am for lyin' to you."

I kept my eyes shut tightly. Something at the back of my brain managed to cut through to my mouth, and as evenly as I could, I whispered, "I'm not doing that."

Braeburn's voice was still lifeless. "You should. I deserve it."

"No!" I shouted, facing him. "You don't!"

"There it is," he said, his eyes glazed over.

I slapped a fetlock to my face and took a breath. My neck felt hot. "I'm trying, Braeburn. Really, really hard."

Braeburn's tail thrashed behind him, and he looked at me with fiery eyes. "Why? I'm a fuckin' drunk who lied to you about what I was doin'. In your own house, too!"

I felt like a teakettle without a spout, and the steam was building up quickly. "Because you deserve better than Bronze."

It was his turn to wrench his eyes shut. He shook his head around, whimpered, and growled, "No, I don't! If I did, I'd do somethin' besides sit around doin' nothin' all day, but here I am!"

"You don't do nothing!" My wings flared out. "You cook, and you clean, and you're here for me, and you put up with all my bullshit." I was gesturing everywhere, trying to shake off the twitching energy inside me, but it didn't help. Desperate, I turned back to him and rubbed my cheek against the top of his head. "You're everything I could ever want, and you're still here. That's all I need."

But that… wasn't quite true, and I caught myself realizing it. I mean, on some level, yeah, Braeburn supporting me and keeping me company was all I would have ever asked for. At least, that's what I would have said at the beginning. 

But my words echoed, both in our condo and in my head. 'He's here, and that's all I need.' Slowly, I drew my head back, feeling Braeburn slip away as the distance between us grew wider. 'Then… why am I so unhappy?' My head hung lower. I tried make a mental checklist of what made me feel better, and one thought kept jumping to the top. 'Because I need Braeburn to be happy.'

Slowly, my head turned back to Braeburn. He lay with his chin resting on two folded hooves, eyes drooping towards the floor. His eyes had grown dull over the months I'd known him. He'd gained an alarming amount of weight in a short time. He wasn't as bouncy as he'd been that first time in Honeycrisp's orchard. Each day, he seemed more and more distant, and every time I tried to pull him back or wrap him in my wings and keep him to myself, it just pushed him further away from me.

I wasn't happy, because Braeburn wasn't happy.

And more than anything else, I wanted Braeburn to be happy. That's what I really needed.

After a few seconds, Braeburn sighed, "I'm sorry. You deserve more than me, Soarin'. I'm a lost cause."

I snapped back to the present and frowned. "I don't believe that."

His eyes flicked to me. "Face the music, Soarin'. I've failed you. I failed you like I failed Bronze, like I fail everypony." His words sped up. "I failed Ma' and Pa' by bein' a Celestia-damned colt-cuddler. I failed Appleloosa by not gettin' my shit together and leavin' when the reporters showed up, and I failed you by not bein' the coltfriend you deserve! You'd be better off without me."

I shuddered. "No, I wouldn't Braeburn." And I thought, 'But you might be better off without me.' A few stray thoughts blew through my mind, scenes of Braeburn living his life with somepony else. I… didn't really know how to process them.

Braeburn shifted in place. He turned his head away, but not before I saw him squeeze his eyes shut and heard him sniffle. "You should just kick me out. It'll be better for you." 

He needed me to be gentle, but instead, I snapped at him, "I'm not Bronze, Braeburn."

He turned back towards me and looked at me with those big, beautiful green eyes of his. "Then you're a saint, Soarin'."

"No," I mumbled. "I'm not." I lifted a hoof to place on his back, but I hesitated and set it back down. "I just want… I'm going to help you, Braeburn. I'll fix it."

Braeburn lifted his head. "I don't really think you can."

I nickered. "Yeah? Well, I do. It'll be okay." It was just talk, of course, just words spilling out of my mouth because I needed to say anything.

Braeburn scoffed. "How do you know that? How can you be so sure all the time?"

I sneered. "I don't know. I just…" I waved a hoof in the air in front of my face, like I was trying to conjure an easy solution. "I'm going to fix it."

Braeburn sat up and snorted. "Soarin', you've been sayin' that for months."

The couch shook as I set my hoof down hard. "I mean it! I'll figure it out."

His shoulders raised. "Well, spit it out it, then! What do–"

I shook out my mane. "Ugh! I don't know!" I stared at him. "But you deserve better than this, so I'll do it! I have make it better. I–"

Braeburn scowled. "How, Soarin'? How?" He gestured around the room with a hoof. "We're sittin' here, goin' back and forth and talkin' past each other, and nothin' changes. It's like we're stuck in the mud here, and we ain't even got wheels on our cart!"

My mind spun. "I'll–" I looked back into the kitchen, and true to form, my brain landed on the easy solution. "I'll throw out all the booze! Right now!" I moved to stand up.

Braeburn rolled his eyes. "Are you Celestia-damned simple? I've got bottles stashed all over this place."

My face felt hot. "I'll find them! All of them!"

Braeburn scoffed. "Feh. Even if you could, you think that'd fuckin' stop me? Soarin', I know the liquor stores around here better than you do by now."

Without thinking, my wings flared out, and my head lowered. "I'll tell them not to sell to you."

Braeburn threw his head back with a sarcastic laugh. "Ha! You really think they'd give a damn? And even if they did, it ain't hard to dodge somethin' like that." He tossed his sweaty mane. "Any other bright ideas, smart guy?"

"I'll–" My brain scrambled for anything else, and I ended up saying something stupid. "You'll stay here! And I'll lock up your money."

With a gasp, Braeburn recoiled and then leaned in, head cocked to the side. "You–" He shook his head before setting his shoulders and staring me down. "So I'll be a prisoner?" His eyes started watering.

And that broke me. "No! Just… Ugh!" I threw my head back and covered my face with a hoof. "Fuck!" My joints failed one by one, and I fell sideways onto the forelegs rest, eyes still covered. I must have bruised my side a little, but I barely felt it, and I mumbled, "Dammit."

After a moment of silence, the heat drained from the room, leaving a cold void behind. Braeburn lay back down and curled up into a small, impenetrable ball. He let out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, Soarin'." 

I sighed. "Me, too, Brae."

The couch creaked, and we both settled into place. I felt Braeburn there, reaching out for me with his heart, and even as I reached back, we couldn't touch each other. I set my hoof down and craned my neck to see him already staring at me with wet eyes. His lips parted, but then he turned away. 

And that pained me. I couldn't bear to see him stop reaching. Softly, I said, "Please tell me, Braeburn."

He looked so small, bunched up like that. "I don't want you to worry."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then you should probably just spill it, unless you think I like the quiet."

"It's just…" Braeburn batted his eyes and looked up at me. "I don't like fightin', Soarin', and I don't want you think that…" He sighed. "I promise I won't ever leave you, Soarin', and I don't want you to think I will. I'd never do that."

That promise was supposed to be comforting. It's what I'd literally begged him for, the thing I'd spent my whole adult life pursuing: a pony that would stay by my side, a pony that wouldn't leave me like every other pony had. It was supposed to heal me, make me feel secure, but listening to Braeburn say it again, after everything that had happened, it hurt instead. It stung me deep in my soul, and I sincerely wished he would never say it again.

Yeah… Deep down, I think I knew what had to happen.

I sighed and lay down on the opposite side of the couch. "You promised you'd tell me if you weren't happy, Braeburn."

He whinnied softly. "Told you I'm a failure."

There was another minute of silence.

My body went slack. "I want to make it better, Braeburn."

"I do, too, Soarin'."

My eyebrows furrowed, but soon, my expression softened, and I curled up, just like him. Words limped out of my mouth. "So… why isn't it better?"

There was a long, fragile pause, like we were both made of stained glass. It finally broke when Braeburn slowly sobbed, "I don't know."

We lay there, an eerie reflection of each other, with a wide gulf of the couch between us. The room felt cold, and every one of my muscles refused to budge. Our breathing felt heavy, and time passed slowly, like it was punishing us for even existing.

I didn't touch him for the rest of the day, and the whole world felt emptier for it.

Braeburn didn't leave my thoughts that night. I mean, he never has. Not really. And of course I didn't sleep. Feeling Braeburn wrapped up in my forelegs – or even just hearing him breathing next to me – would have put me out, just like it always did, but he wasn't there. He said he just wanted to sleep on the couch that night, that he didn't deserve to be in the same bed as me. Hearing him say it wracked my insides and nearly set me off again, but my emotional reserves had been exhausted. Rather than start another fight, I just mumbled, "Do what you want," and went to bed myself.

The room was way too quiet for sleep. My ears kept flicking. I strained to hear Braeburn moving around downstairs, just so I'd know he was still alive. I think I heard the couch creak a few times, and he came up to use the bathroom once, but between each of those little flashes of movement, the silence stretched out like rubber band, always on the cusp of breaking but never quite getting there.

When it was too much, I grabbed his pillow – a special non-cloud pillow I'd bought him so he could sleep more easily – and cuddled with it. I pulled it close to me, felt its cool softness, and slowly inhaled its scent. My neck and wings relaxed, and I hugged it tighter, pretending it was him. For a few moments at a time, everything seemed okay.

But my heart wrestled with itself all night. I kept thinking, 'Should I kick him out?' It made me shudder, not just because of what it would mean for us, but also because of what it would do to Braeburn. 'He'd blame himself, just like he did with Bronze, and he'd feel even worse for letting it happen again. It would destroy him.'

I rolled over, the pillow still clutched to my chest. 'I wish he'd stand up for himself more. I wish he wasn't so passive.' With one hoof, I gently stroked the top of the pillow, ignoring how different it felt from his mane. 'That'd be better, right?' I shut my eyes and looked away as I remembered our fight we'd had just a few hours before. 'No. He tried to, and I just blew up at him. But I'm just trying to protect him.'

I scoffed. 'Or I'm just trying to protect myself.' My head shook slightly. 'I don't really want him to stand up for himself, not deep down. If he did, he'd leave me. I'd be alone.' I shuddered and clutched the pillow tighter. With a soft, cracking voice, I said, "And he'd never come back."

With another tight squeeze, I heard a seam rip. A few feathers poked out, and my eyes watered, and my heart beat irregularly, and I sobbed into the pillow.

But I couldn't let go. I wanted to. I wanted to untangle him from my giant mess of a life and just let him be happy, but I couldn't. I still needed him. I wanted him by my side. I wanted him with me.

But… he was with me, and we still weren't happy. It wasn't the lack of sex or the fights or the conversations we weren't having. It was seeing Braeburn so sad. He was miserable, and I couldn't do anything about it as long as I kept him in Cloudsdale. 

I know. I know. Maybe it feels obvious to you. Maybe you know what I should have done the whole time, but when you're in that moment, you still cling to the hope that everything will work out the way you want, because it's the only thing getting you through the rough days. It feels like it's all you have, and if you let go, everything else will unravel with it. So you try every other possible option. You try to sustain that hope and keep it alive, because you're afraid you'll die with it.

I'm not even exaggerating. When I imagined him leaving, I imagined him slamming the door like Mom had or suddenly disappearing like Dad or telling me that I wasn't wanted like the 'Bolts. And… and I didn't know what would happen to me afterwards. I couldn't even imagine it. He was the last thread in my life that hadn't been cut.

But as every other option fell away from me, I took another deep breath of the pillow. His scent filled my nostrils and flooded my mind with thoughts of his smiling face. I stopped thinking about myself, and I started thinking about what leaving would be like for him. I knew he'd be sad, of course. I knew it would be rough for him. I'd seen how hard it was back on our date at Honeycrisp's, and it wasn't going to get any easier. 'Leaving somepony you love must be so hard.'

And I… thought of Mom. I thought of how she must've been broken up about leaving, at least a little. I'd seen how she'd looked again at Dad at Hearth's Warming. She'd had love in her eyes – real love – and that spark between them reignited, even if it was just for a few days. Some part of her must have known what she was giving up when she left, and it must have hurt her. 'She… she couldn't have been completely heartless.'

And I thought about the 'Bolts. Sure, Bottom Line had had it out for me for a long time, but even he knew it would be a pain to replace me. He didn't like having to hurt the team, either, and even if my squadmates had been annoyed at my attitude, they'd all been so relieved when I'd come back. In the end, they didn't want to lose me any more than I wanted to lose them.

And Dad. The doctors said he passed in his sleep. You get it, right? They wanted to spare me. But I asked around, and I found out that it doesn't work like that. If you're his age and as healthy as he was, you wake up. You feel something wrong with your heart, and your body fights back. But it doesn't win, and as a cost for trying, you have a… few seconds of awareness. Dad… H-he…

…

Sorry, this was stupid of–

No. No, it's not stupid for me to talk about. B-but it's really… d-dammit…

S-sorry. Again.

…

Dad must have known. He must have known what was going to happen and how awful it was going to be for me, and he must have fought back. And… and he must have been thinking of me. He loved me, and his last thoughts were probably about wanting me to move on, to keep going, and knowing that, even though it would never stop hurting, I would get through. He wanted me to keep living.

Separation sucks for everypony, at least when they really love each other. It's not like all the flings and one night stands I'd had before I'd met Braeburn, where we parted ways and I never thought about them again. Leaving somepony you love hurts. It's hard, probably even harder than letting somepony go. It's usually not malicious, either. It's… It's what you have to do, I guess. Because sometimes, things just don't work out, either due to circumstances or some flaw that two ponies have that just can't fix itself. But it still sucks for both of them, just like it must have for Dad. He didn't want to go, but he had to.

I'm still not… healthy when it comes to this kind of thing. I don't know if I'll ever really be "fixed" when it comes to my abandonment issues, and I don't even know what "fixed" would look like. But if nothing else, Braeburn helped me see past myself and understand how hard it is to break somepony's heart. It was the first step, and I never would have taken it if it wasn't for him.

And just like Dad had thought about me, I started thinking about what Braeburn would face if I wasn't there. He'd need to go back to Appleloosa, for one thing, and explain to the townsponies what had happened. He'd need to find his friends and work himself back into the community, and even though my eyes burned, I smiled when I realized he'd be back at it in no time.

But he'd also have to face Bronze. He'd need to take back his town and his house and his life, and he'd have to face his past.

But maybe he wouldn't have to face everything alone. Over the past couple months, he'd finally talked to Big Mac about what had happened with Bronze. He'd opened up to Cortland and Gala about who he really was and how he felt, and they were starting to come around. His aunt Honeycrisp was always in his corner, and so were Slate and a bunch of ponies in Appleloosa. He didn't have to be alone back there. I knew he could thrive there, back where he belonged, surrounded by his friends, not like in the gilded cage I'd trapped him in. And, as much as I hated it, he… didn't really need me. I couldn't know for sure if life would get better for him, but I knew he could be happier out there. There was a chance for him to have a better life, and in the end, wasn't that more important to me than cuddling him? I love him. I'll never, ever stop loving him. He's what matters the most to me, more than my career or my health or having him all to myself. And even if I didn't have a plan and didn't know how to set him free without breaking his heart, all the other options had fallen away, leaving just one choice left, and seeing it there in my mind's eye, standing alone and unblemished in the ruin of everything else I'd tried, it looked like a choice I was finally willing to make.

And I… couldn't believe I was having those thoughts.

Braeburn might not have needed me back in Appleloosa, but he did need me to help get him there. I clutched the pillow close to my chest all night, breathing heavily and telling myself that I'd be there for him, that when the moment came, we'd have a chance to make it right. 

But in the back of my mind, I still didn't know if I was strong enough. 

I skipped breakfast the next morning. Braeburn hadn't made anything, obviously. I considered grabbing some alfalfa, but Braeburn was already scrounging for some whisky in the kitchen by the time I came downstairs. Neither of us said anything as I left.

I flew to the Academy as fast as I could. The wind tore at my ears, cold for a summer day, and I went fast enough that a lightning contrail began crackling behind me, the electricity causing some warmth in my ear near the stud. I pushed on and arrived to a mostly quiet campus. Besides a few recruits doing marching drills and a couple janitors polishing statues, the grounds were empty. Security waved to me, and I managed a half-hearted wave back, but instead of talking to anypony, I flew directly to my office. With mechanical precision, I walked in, shut the door behind me, and sat at my desk, hooves pressed against my temples.

Sunlight filtered in through the window behind me, softly illuminating those old-timey Wonderbolts propaganda posters I'd hung when I'd moved in. Dust motes hung in the air, and my filing cabinet sat motionless while all my awards and certificates looked down on me from the back wall behind me. The familiarity of it all helped rein in my heartbeat.

Still, though, I sat, hooves on my head. I glanced to my inbox, which only had a few papers in it – they don't give you much paperwork when you can't read – but even that pile felt like a hailstorm that I needed to fly through. Doctor Soul had given me a few techniques for when I was stressed, but this… I didn't have anything that would help with this. 

I stayed in my office until I heard a knock and a set of hooves lightly trotting in. I looked up. "Hm?"

Spitfire stood there, tall and wearing her sunglasses. "Ten minutes until briefing in Prep Room A. We're going over the protocol and the roster for Summer Sun Celebration this weekend. I'll do the heavy lifting, and I need you to get the teams psyched up. Think you can do that?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Just gimme a minute."

Spitfire stomped a hoof and grumbled, "Dammit."

I cocked my head to the side. "What?"

She sneered. "Streak says I need to work on evaluating emotional states before I assign tasks. I was supposed to ask how you were doing first. Force of habit."

Despite myself, I chuckled. "So what does he win?"

Spitfire shrugged. "Eh, he'll probably just fire me again. So, are you, uh… you okay?"

My gaze sunk, and I shook my head. "I'll be fine. See you at the meeting."

She paused, then said, "Alright. Talk to us if you need to. You know where we'll be."

"Thanks, Spitz."

"You're welcome, Soar." She paused, walked out the door, and left.

I stretched out a wing and looked into the small mirror on the back of my door. The Soarin' that looked back still wore a smile, but it quickly faded. I didn't like seeing him sad, though, so I quietly said, "You're gonna do what it takes." I started to frown and shake my head, but I caught myself. "Don't give me that. It'll suck, but you'll do it." I smacked a hoof on my desk. "Game face. Who the best?" I smirked and nodded to myself. "You the best." And I found the strength to keep moving.

That strength carried me to the preparation room, but it didn't sustain me for long.

Spitfire, Fire Streak, and I took turns explaining about the event that weekend: the Summer Sun Celebration, which ran from Friday through Sunday. The main events, including Celestia's big appearance, were in Baltimare this year, and like usual, the Wonderbolts were doing two shows. It was a pretty simple setup: the whole team, including main and secondary squads, would do an abridged show on Saturday morning after Celestia raised the sun (basically just an entrance and a few stunts), with a one-act show on Sunday afternoon before the closing ceremonies. We honestly weren't doing all that much – way less than a usual weekend for us – but that was mostly due to the sheer number of ponies that were getting in on the festivities, including the biggest stars from all across Equestria. It was one of the shows that let you know you'd made it big, and even the most famous celebrities couldn't afford to skip it.

During the meeting, I did a decent job of telling stories about previous Summer Sun Celebrations, but a few times, Streak had to cover for me or jab me when I zoned out in the middle of Spitfire's explanation of the formations and teams. The show was pretty unique in that basically everypony got to perform together: our goal was to fill the sky with Wonderbolts rather than pull off complex moves, so the routines were pretty basic, too. Streak was slated to lead the stallions at the Saturday show with me as backup, and I was going to take over on Sunday. Besides that, we went over a bunch of stunts we'd be doing as a group. It was mostly the traditional, boring stuff that stretched back to the early days of the E.U.P. guard from around a thousand years ago. I mean, the historical aspect is cool and all, but it's pretty simple compared to what we do these days.

I phased in and out of focus, though, and after we'd dismissed the teams to do their weight training regimen, Fire Streak nudged me. "You're down, Soarin'. What's up?"

I chuckled half-heartedly. "Heh. That obvious?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, it is." 

I sighed. "Eh, you know."

We both just kind of grimaced.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, stood up, and said, "Alright. Family meeting in my office. Now." She jerked her head towards the door and started walking. 

I smiled to myself. It helped to be reminded that I had a family I could count on.

We walked to Spitfire's office, and she shut the door once we were inside. "You're not doing well, Soarin'. Are you sick?"

I sat down in a chair and shook my head.

Sitting down across from me, Fire Streak asked, "Is it… something that Doctor Hope found? You have another MRI next week, right?"

I kept staring at the floor. "No, it's not that."

Spitfire grunted. "I'm going to do what I do best and be blunt. If it's not work and it's not your health, then tell us what's wrong with Braeburn."

Fire Streak flinched. "Maybe give him some time, Spitz?"

She glared at me. "No. Tell us."

I looked up. "She's right, Streak." I wanted to shrink again, but I tried to sit tall. "Spitz, do you remember that party at our place a few weeks back? Where Braeburn… had too much?"

She sat on the floor and nodded. "I do," she said gently.

The back of my head tingled, like it was trying to keep out the sad memories. "Do you remember anything he said when you were sitting outside?" My breathing was becoming ragged.

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. "He kept wanting to talk about trees, and he seemed really upset that there weren't any in Cloudsdale."

"Brae–" My voice caught in my throat, but after taking a long breath, I forced it out. "Braeburn's miserable here, and–" I pursed my lips and looked away, and I really, really wanted to cry. 'Just freaking say it.' Even though I knew what to say, it didn't want to come out. "No, it's worse than that. He's self-destructing, and… and I can't help him."

Streak said, "Bro, maybe he–"

I shook my head, and my chest felt tight. "I'm not good enough for him. He… He never should have come here." I looked between both of them with pleading eyes, my pace quickening. "Did I tell you I asked him to? H-he didn't want to. I begged him to come live with me, because I was too freaking insecure to let him go. He wanted to try long-distance, a-and I couldn't do it! I couldn't, and now it's destroying him."

Spitfire cocked her head to the side. "Then why doesn't he leave?"

My mind flashed with all the times Braeburn told me he wouldn't leave me, all the times he'd said he'd be there, through thick and thin. I knew it was supposed to make me smile, but instead, I felt a pang in my heart. "He's too good for that. He doesn't want me to be alone. It's not the aphasia, either." I looked up. "Braeburn loves me, and he doesn't want anypony else I love to abandon me ever again. He'd never do that."

Spitfire took off her glasses and sighed. "Soarin', I know you don't want to hear this, but for his own good, you need to kick him out."

My thoughts cycled back through the previous night. "No!" I shouted. "Spitfire, that would kill him. He's still broken up about Bronze dumping him." My shoulders slumped. "I can't hurt him like that, and I don't know what to do."

Streak looked between Spitfire and me, ears flicking as he thought. "Well, could you guys talk about it?" 

I shook my head. "Heh. We've tried. I wish it was that easy."

"Maybe you're in a slump," Fire Streak said, fidgeting. Poor Streak. He was reaching for something comforting to say, but all he was coming up with were clichés that he didn’t sincerely believe. At least he was trying. "You're both under a lot of stress. Why don't you take him on a date this weekend? You know, during the Summer Sun Celebration?"

I smiled as I thought of our previous big date, the one at Honeycrisp's farm. Braeburn had wanted to make it perfect for me, and he had. My heart warmed, and I felt myself back there. It might have been the happiest day of my life. He'd done so much for me, and everything from the swimming to the sex on the beach to the dinner had been perfect, just like he'd wanted.

My family kept talking, but I was only half listening. Streak said, "You could probably show him around the city. He's never been there before, right?"

Braeburn had given me something amazing, and at the end, he'd only asked for one thing in return: to be set free. He'd known what he'd needed, what we'd needed, and I'd refused. I'd trapped him far away from his home, from what could have been the start of a healthy long-distance relationship. He'd needed just that one simple thing, and with four words, I'd taken it away from him.

Spitfire flicked a small thread from her lapel. "Braeburn would hate that. He needs to be someplace where there aren't so many buildings. How about the open-air concert on Saturday night, the one on the outskirts of town?"

My heart knotted, and my thoughts raced. 'Why did I beg him to stay? He would have been fine. I wasn't strong enough, and now I've wrecked everything. I can't just kick him out. He wouldn't see it for what it was, and then Bronze would just have him back in his clutches.' My head spun thinking about it: Bronze would have Braeburn wrapped around his hoof in a week, tops. I knew the techniques, and with Braeburn in the state he was in, he wouldn't have been able to resist. 'I can't let that happen.'

Fire Streak winced. "Uh… That's probably not the best idea, Spitfire. Sapphire Shores is headlining that night. Might be a little awkward bringing your coltfriend to your ex's show."

I took a shuddering breath. 'Why did he come with me? He should have just left me for his own good.' I wanted him to feel stronger, like he could be honest with me and stand up for himself, and I wondered if he'd ever even had practice with something like that. Braeburn is such a strong pony, but at the time, he couldn't see it. He couldn't see how close he was to getting what he needed. I thought, 'He needs to know it's okay to stand up for himself. He has to see that he can do it and that it'll be for the best. He just has to take that first step and–' My eyes snapped wide open, and my heart dropped through the bottom of the floor as it all clicked together.

  


'Braeburn has to leave me.'


  

Streak and Spitfire both stopped and looked at me. Streak said, "What's up, bro? You look like you've seen a ghost."

It felt like I was suspended in air. It was just like that moment at the apex of a flight, right before you start falling, right when you're weightless and everything feels so wrong and so right at the same time. Everything that was about to happen was clear to me. Sure, I could keep struggling to stay aloft, but I had to come down sometime, and the longer I tried to fight it, the harder it would be to come down safely. I wondered if it was already too late.

I mean, in some ways, I knew it was. Back at Honeycrisp's, I'd had my chance to let Braeburn go, to avoid all the pain I'd caused him. Maybe the media would still have pursued him and it still would have turned out terribly. I dunno. But he wouldn't have felt trapped. He would have had his town behind him, and his parents, and Big Mac. It might have all been better.

But that's not what had happened. My stomach sank, but even so, I stopped worrying about Braeburn disappearing from my life. I stopped worrying about him stepping off that train in Appleloosa. I stopped worrying because I knew it was going to happen. Because that's what he needed.

Spitfire stepped up and set a hoof on my shoulder. "Soarin'?"

I looked up from the floor, swallowing the lump in my throat. My voice was soft but steady, and quiet tears rolled down the sides of my face. "I know how to fix it."


* * * * *


Soarin' looks out of the gazebo. He shakes his head just slightly before bowing it down a few degrees. The brim of Braeburn's hat shields him from the sun, which hangs just above the horizon. There is a long pause. Behind us, a few pegasi make small noises as they swoop into their homes for the evening, but here, on the edge of Cloudsdale, there is nopony but us.

The corners of Soarin's eyes are downturned, and a deep frown cuts across his face. He breathes evenly, then bends his head down to take off his leg braces. He methodically wraps his lips around the butterfly screw on his left brace and slowly twists his neck.

I won't rush him. He may just need a moment, so I allow him to finish his work without interruption.

"You know, I…" He pauses and sighs. As he slides the first brace off, he continues. "It's like Braeburn said." He's looking down. "I felt relieved more than anything else. I… didn't even really think of trying to stop it anymore. I knew I had to let him go, and in a weird way, it felt peaceful. I guess that, even though I'd failed to keep us together, at least I didn't have to worry about it anymore." He begins working on his other brace.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you think you made the right choice?"

He pulls his head up. "Heh. Totally. Nooooo question. I just wish I hadn't taken so long to see it."

"Why do you think it took so long?"

Soarin' pauses again and sticks his lower lip out. "I think we needed each other, you know? Like, everything that happened, from the apple cart to Las Pegasus to Honeycrisp's? We both grew from it. We helped each other. We loved feeling like we were becoming better ponies, and we knew how much better we could make each other, but when the time came, neither of us could let go. Not even Braeburn. It must have been so hard for him to tell me he was going back to Appleloosa, and when I resisted, he couldn't stick up for himself, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. But it's not his fault, really. It's… It's on both of us."

Soarin' finishes taking off his second brace, and he sets them neatly on the ground in front of us, one across the other. He looks at them for a moment and then lifts his head. The sunlight hits his face, and he breathes a long sigh. "You know, I always blamed myself for everything that went wrong. Even today, while I've been telling you the story. I kept thinking that, if I'd done something differently or if I hadn't screwed up so much, then maybe I could have saved us. Maybe I could have avoided every bad thing that happened." He shakes his head. "But it was on both of us. Both of us made it worse, but both of us made it worth trying in the first place. Braeburn taught me what love really feels like. He helped me reconcile a lot of my past, my anger issues, and the way I see myself. And I think I helped him, too. I helped him learn how worthwhile he is and how much support he really has and that it's okay to be true to himself." Soarin' smiles and turns to me with a small nod. "We both needed each other."

I meet Soarin's gaze. His eyes look different from this morning. They're not the sunken, tired eyes hiding a faded soul that I saw earlier. They seem brighter now. Greener. More alive.

I smile back at him. "So it sounds like you wanted a second chance."

Soarin' looks back towards the sun. "Yeah. And I promised him I'd get it right this time."


* * * * *


The flight home after work took no time at all. My head quieted down, and I felt light. It was like when you're at the end of a show, right before the final stunt. You see all the individual wing flaps and turns you have to take. There aren't any more problems to solve – you just have to do it, even if that ends up being the hardest part.

I thought to myself, half in my own voice and half in Dad's, 'One last stunt, Stormcloud. Make it spectacular.'

The door to our condo was unlocked. I walked in, and from the kitchen, I heard the slosh of liquid, a gulp, and a bottle being set on the counter. As I turned the corner to the kitchen, Braeburn turned around and gave me a half-hearted wave. "Hey."

"Hey." I looked at the bottle next to him. It wasn't even half gone. "You drank less today."

Braeburn sneered and looked out the window. "Yeah, well, not for lack of tryin'."

I breathed easily. "I'm proud of you."

He raised an eyebrow and snapped, "Why? I didn't quit."

I walked into the kitchen. "But you took a step."

Braeburn cocked his head back and flared his nostrils. "You're actin' funny, Soarin'. What's goin' on?"

I sat down at the table and motioned for him to join me. After a pause, he did, eyeing me suspiciously. I took a moment to appreciate his body again. Even with the extra weight and the staggered walk, he was the sexiest stallion I'd ever seen. After he sat down, I asked in a soft voice, "Do you have any plans for the Summer Sun Celebration this weekend?"

He scoffed. "Feh. Course not. Why?"

I'm sad to say that I hesitated. My eyes watered slightly, and my lips quivered, but I was already falling. I was past the turning point, starting to build momentum, and I wouldn't fight it. It was time to freefall. Time to let it happen. Looking him in the eye, I set my hoof on his.

"Braeburn, I want to take you on a date."