Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax


Chapter 46 - Family

* * * * *

We took the train home that evening. Everypony was in the same place as they had been on Friday. Same cars, same seats, and except for me, with the same companions. Spitfire and Fire Streak kept me distracted by talking about the team's performance, including who had shined and who'd been sloppy.

Sightseer had been a massive hit. Apparently, he'd done an impromptu fundraiser when some local filly scouts approached him after the Saturday show. He's a great flier and an even better ambassador for the team, and we all agreed he deserved a more permanent spot on the main squad. At least me breaking my legs was good for somepony. Sightseer's flying in my non-captain spot these days, next to Fire Streak, and he still sends his wife's taco dip over every couple weeks. I love that stuff, and I couldn't be happier for him.

Streak flew me home that night, but I didn't invite him in. I needed some time alone to grieve, and since the weekend shows were over and Sapph was ready to pounce with her pictures, I was… done. Braeburn and I had broken up, and we'd taken care of everything that had needed taking care of. I just had to keep flying forward.

As we stood on my doorstep, Streak asked me, "You're still coming to Spitfire's parents' place tomorrow, right?"

"I dunno," I sighed. "I'd be late. I've got my follow-up MRI tomorrow, and I don't know if I'll be up for it afterwards."

Streak blew a raspberry. "Bro, nopony's showing up until after lunch anyway. Just think of it as making a big entrance." When I sulked back at him, he frowned. "Don't do that do yourself, Soarin'." He cheered up and smacked my face with his wing. "And hey, if you need a reason to go, then do it for me. I'll need the support."

A laugh bubbled up. "Heh. Why? Stormy Flare likes you, and Deadlift's a big softie. You've met them after the shows a couple times, right?"

"Yeah. They're great, but it's still–"

"And Flare knows how hard it is being captain. She'll respect that."

Streak smiled and shook his head. "Context, dude. I'm not just a teammate anymore. I'm a coltfriend. It's a first impression all over again." He tried to cover up the little quiver in his voice by stretching his neck and back. "Plus, her whole family is going to be there."

I waved a hoof. "Eh, you'll be fine. Is she meeting your parents, too?"

Streak scratched at his face with a wingtip. "Yeah. We're stopping by their place for brunch, but just for an hour or two. Spitfire's not as worried as I am, though."

I smiled. "Yeah, she is. She'll be freaking out about being too stoic and off-putting. She just won't show it."

"You think so?" he asked. I nodded, and he said, "Yeah, I can see that. I wish I knew her as well as you do, bro."

I shrugged. "You'll get there. Hell, you've already slept with her, so you know more than almost every stallion in Equestria." I straightened up, and the idea of spending the day moderating Spitfire's family for Streak didn't sound like such a chore. "Yeah, I've got your back, bro."

He smiled. "I figured you did." Streak was a good captain like that. He knew what I needed – direction, purpose, and motivation – and he was providing it for me. We hoof-bumped, and he took off, leaving me to face my condo alone. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked in.

There… were a lot of tears. I took a walk around the condo, just to familiarize myself with everything all over again. It felt alien and grossly familiar, a lot like it had before I'd ever met Braeburn. His aura still radiated off of everything, though, like a dull glow that I just barely couldn't see. Everything reminded me of him, and as I walked around, I struggled to keep all the memories I had of him at the forefront of my mind. I was afraid I'd lose them, so I ended up tearing up little pieces of paper and making notes around the house. They were filled with little moments or funny or sweet things he'd said, and even though my hoofwriting was shaky and I was too stressed out to spell much correctly, it was therapeutic once I got into the flow of it. It took a load off my mind knowing that I still had all these memories of our time together. It helped solidify that what we'd had was real and had been worth all the pain. I'm glad I wrote so much down, even if it took me until past midnight to finish the whole ritual.

Even then, though, I didn't want to sleep. I was exhausted, but, well… Braeburn had been my coltfriend that morning, and as torturous as it had been, I was afraid to let the day end. I kept wandering around the house and doing menial tasks, from some random laundry – and no, I wasn't ready to wash the bedsheets – to cleaning the bathroom to planning my meals for the week. A few times, my hoof hovered over "Whitewing's Big Score," but I always stopped. I didn't know if I was focused enough to keep reading it, but more than that, I didn't want to… I dunno, use up the rest of the story. It was a gift from Braeburn, and if I read it all, then, well, it would be one less thing I could turn to. Feeling a heaviness in my chest, I finally whispered with a scratchy, tired voice, "I'll… wait until I really need it."

I did have one thing I could do, though. While I'd been planning my meals, I saw that Braeburn had restocked everything before he'd left. It was just one more little gift he'd left me. I took the pink box of recipes that he'd given me out of the cupboard to make his special Two-Apple Twirl pie. It wasn't as good as the original, but it was passable. I didn't let it cool off enough, but that sweet cinnamon warmth brought me back to our first meeting, and it calmed me enough to finally go to bed just before 4 AM.

Even smelling a little bit of Braeburn on my pillow case – which brought on a whole new set of tears – I probably only got an hour or two of solid sleep. I was lucky that my appointment was in the midday, since it gave me time for plenty of coffee, a warmup flight, and a few failed attempts at a nap. I would have gone to the Academy for a workout or something, but we always get the Monday after the Summer Sun Celebration off to compensate for the working weekend, and the Wonderbolts' official policy is to make us take our vacation except under extreme circumstances.

It's always rough when you have to relax. Your brain gets caught up in how it's not vacationing properly or something, and you just end up watching the time tick by while you wait for anything to happen. In between the ticks of the clock, I felt the world pull down on me, with every muscle telling me to just give up for the day even though I knew my heart wouldn't let me sleep.

As tired as I was, though, I dragged myself to Dr. Radiant Hope's office for my MRI. The secretary saw the state I was in and didn't ask me to do anything except fill out some basic paperwork – which was a whole ordeal itself – and I was able to get to the MRI machine without any problems. Even though I wasn't supposed to fall asleep, I asked for the sedative again. The numbness was very, very welcome. It spread from where they stuck me in the flanks to the rest of me, and for a few minutes, at least I didn't feel like my body was at war with itself. The loud noise from the machine kept me mostly awake, but I did nod off a couple times.

The sedative had mostly worn off by the time I walked into Hope's office several minutes later. Hope was wearing a smart-looking brown jacket with patches at the elbows, and he wore chic, brown-rimmed glasses to match. He furrowed his eyebrows as he stood to greet me and shake my hoof. "Good to see you again, Soarin'. Will Braeburn be joining us today?"

I felt a sharp jab in my chest, but I swallowed it and looked up. "Uh, n-no. Just me today." I sat down in one of the two chairs. The other remained empty.

He chuckled to himself. "Well, I hope he's getting some good rest. I wasn't able to make it to Baltimare myself, but I imagine you were all very busy what with the festivities." He adjusted his glasses as he sat down. His face became stiffer but retained its warmth. "I do hope you'll get some more sleep, though. It's good for the healing process, and you look like you've been partying all weekend."

My chest felt like it was unhinging itself from my body. 'Well, dammit. No use dodging it.' I shook my head. "No. I'm… not partying much these days. Braeburn and I, uh… We…" I deflated. It never got easier. "We broke up."

I looked up in time to see Hope raise a hoof to his mouth and gasp. His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed against his light pink coat. "Oh my– I'm… I'm terribly sorry, Soarin'. That was very insensitive of–" He looked to the side and adjusted his collar. "I had assumed that– Oh, I'm so sorry." He looked at me, hoof to his chin and biting his lower lip, before he brought a planner out of his desk. "Your MRI conflicted with your appointment with Souly today, correct? I can schedule an appointment with him – excuse me, sorry, that's Doctor Gentle Soul, not Souly, excuse me – I can schedule a session with him for you later this week if you'd like." He quickly flipped through several pages. "He has a few openings on Wednesday, I think."

It brought me ease seeing somepony so professional get so shaken. It made it feel like what I was going through was a real problem, like it wasn't just inside my head, and just acknowledging it made the tension in my neck melt away. I smiled. "Heh. Whaaaat, afraid to do the heavy lifting yourself? I'm not that crazy."

Radiant Hope grimaced. "My husband is…" He twirled a hoof, searching for the right term. "…better attuned to situations like this." He laughed stiffly. "I'm afraid I'm terribly ill-equipped when it comes to interpersonal matters. I'm just the brain pony. He's the heart of the operation."

I shrugged. "Well, you're making me feel better, so don't sell yourself short."

He relaxed slightly. "Thank you. I appreciate you saying so." He flipped back to his planner. "Should I schedule something? I can send a note and get you a confirmation in a matter of minutes."

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll see him next week at the usual time." My imagination flashed forward a week. "Just, do me a favor, please? Tell him for me. About me and Braeburn. It's… hard enough admitting it once."

Doctor Hope regained his composure and nodded. "Of course. I'd be… I'll certainly do it." He put away his planner and picked up the folder with my MRI results. "I do have some good news, at least. It's been a very good month for your brain." I shook my head slightly, remembering everything that had happened in the six weeks or so that Braeburn had lived with me. It had seemed so long and so brief at the same time. "The swelling has decreased, and there are early signs of structural repair. It's still a long road, but you're absolutely moving in the right direction, and Doctor Soul tells me your comprehension is improving. Do you have any questions or specific concerns so far?"

I smirked. "Yeah. Kind of a big one."

Hope frowned and leaned forward. "Oh dear. What is it?"

I shrugged. "I mean, do you know a good cardiologist?"

He tensed and ripped his glasses off his face. "What? Soarin', did something–" His shock quickly melted into another bright blush, and he covered his face and mumbled, "Ah. Right. Broken heart. I get it." We shared a small chuckle, and he put his glasses back on, adjusted his shoulders inside his jacket, and went back to reviewing my results.

We went over some the finer details of what was happening in my skull, including taking a look at the new images. They looked less scary this time, but I still wished I had an earth pony's hoof to hold. Eventually, Hope put the folder back into the drawer. "I'll mail you the full diagnosis by Wednesday." He put two hooves on his oaken desk. "In the meantime…" He sighed and glanced at the picture on his desk, the one from his wedding day. "Be kind to yourself, Soarin'. I can only imagine what you're going through, but I truly wish you the best."

I smiled. "You, too, doc. And give your husband an extra hug tonight."

He smiled back, despite the heaviness in his eyes, and quickly waved his planner in the air. "I've already made a note to." We said our goodbyes, and as I shut the door to his office behind me, I saw him pick up the picture, run his hoof along the glass, and give it a kiss.

I checked out with the secretary and began the flight across Cloudsdale. There wasn't hardly anypony flying around, since for the civilians, it was a normal day. The sunshine helped me wake up some more, but my wings still felt heavy, like I was flying through a rainstorm, and the thought of going home to an empty condo crept into the edges of my mind. I closed my eyes and glided on a warm thermal. "One day at a time, Stormcloud. Your family's waiting for you. You don't have to be alone today." The pep talk didn't make me feel any better, but at least it cut through the silence long enough to get me to the southern district. I knew the rest of the way like the back of my hoof.

Spitfire's dad, Deadlift, opened the door for me. He's a muscular, orange earth pony with a white and silver mane and a broad, welcoming smile. Real square jaw, too. He used to be a trainer for the Wonderbolts, which is where he met Spitfire's mom, Stormy Flare. "Soarin'! Long time no see! Come on in!" He gave me a slap on the back and shuffled me forcefully inside. "Finally decided to stop by again, huh?"

I faked a smile and said, "Eh, you couldn't keep me away forever."

"Well, we're happy to have you back. The family's grown since your last visit. You remember everypony, right?"

He brought me into a large three-season room with a high ceiling and giant, glass windows. It was spacious and decorated with some tasteful furniture and not-so-tasteful Wonderbolts memorabilia from his and Stormy Flare's time in the 'Bolts. Plus, there was an entire wall dedicated to family photos, including the infamous picture of the day Spitfire got her call sign, buuuut you'll have to ask somepony else if you want to hear the full story. I'd never embarrass her like that. Heh heh.

The three-season was almost at capacity, and Deadlift reintroduced me to everypony. Flame Rift, Spitfire's older brother, had the same coloration as Spitfire except for his piercing blue eyes. Flame Rift's wife, Mauve Rhapsody, held onto a baby foal named Melody Spring, while Fire Streak was trying to keep the attention of their oldest, Purple Lightning. Spitfire's younger brother, Curl Bar, took after Deadlift, but he listlessly ignored me to talk to his marefriend on the couch. I exchanged a few quick greetings with all of them, and I briefly said hello to Stormy Flare, who was preparing some kind of toast point appetizer in the kitchen. It felt strange being there again, since I hadn't seen them all since, well… since the last time I'd needed somepony to be with, back when Dad had died. I hadn't had any direction in my life, and Spitfire…

I hope you never think badly of Spitfire. She can be pretty tough, but she cares. She cares more than anypony else in the organization, and not just about the performance. She cares deeply about her teammates, and she wants all of us to do our absolute best, even if it means being standoffish. But she'll make sure you're okay if you're in trouble, and just like last time, she knew I needed to not feel alone.

Streak looked up at me from the floor with pleading eyes while the lavender-colored pegasus colt ran circles around him. He mouthed, "Help?" and grimaced.

I walked over to them and leaned down to the foal. "Hey, big guy! What's your name?"

"Puh-puh Linging!" he shouted, wing buzzing ineffectively.

"Puh-puh Linging, huh?" I laughed. "Sounds like somepony who's gonna be a great flier someday! Wanna practice?"

His eyes lit up, and he bounced up and down. "Yeah yeah yeah! Uh, please! Yeah!"

"Then get ready for take-off!" I quickly rolled onto my back, picked him up, and started darting and dipping him back and forth. He giggled as I bounced him around and made noises like, "Nyeer! Nyeer!" The whole time, I was thinking, 'Please don't throw up on me,' but it really was fun making him laugh. I think… that's what Braeburn had seen in me with Scootaloo, too, and whenever I was able to make a foal smile, I felt a little closer to my Dad.

Streak took a deep breath as Spitfire came up and nudged him. "Careful, or Soarin's going to be the cool uncle instead of you." She kissed him on the cheek. "I hope you're taking notes."

Before he could respond, Stormy Flare walked in with a tray of toast points and a hummus spread. "So he's going to be an uncle, is he? I didn't realize you two were already engaged." Stormy Flare reminded me of Mom, at least physically. She was thin and stood tall, and she dressed very well. The light blue jacket and creamy-white cravat blended well with her yellow coat and the orange mane, which had just a little more red in it than Spitfire's. She walked with grace and confidence, like nothing could get in her way, and… and I decided to stop comparing her to Mom too much. She was too nice for that. Or, if not nice, than loving in her own way. "Or did you elope behind our backs?" She shot a mostly-joking glare at Fire Streak. "Celestia help you if she's pregnant, Streak. Deadlift's not above a shotgun wedding."

"Shotgun's only if you're lucky," Deadlift said, gently rocking his granddaughter Melody Spring in his foreleg. He kissed her forehead. "I can have a guillotine here in half an hour."

Flare set the snack tray down, stifling a laugh. "You see, Streak, we're a very responsible family."

Streak went pale, even for him. His ears flattened against his head, but Spitfire just squeezed him with a wing and smirked. "You're one to talk, Mom." She turned to Deadlift. "Hey daddy: how many dates before you proposed to her?"

Deadlift walked over to me and picked up Purple Lightning, putting him on his back with a kiss. I was impressed he was able to handle both his grandchildren so deftly, but he was practically sweating grandfatherly pride, and the foals didn't fuss. "Just one, but I was mostly kidding. It wasn't even that romantic – it was just a candy ring."

Stormy Flare smiled. "You say that, but deep down, you knew you were stuck with me." She walked up to Deadlift and nuzzled Purple Lightning.

Deadlift grimaced, dreamy-eyed. "Ha. Well, I'm good at making snap decisions." They nuzzled each other briefly. "I'd say I made the right choice."

Purple Lightning started bouncing on his back. "Ride! Ride!"

Deadlift gave a guttural laugh. "Haha! Okay, champ! Here we go!" He passed Melody over to her mother and mock-ran around the room and into the yard out back.

And yes, it's a yard, even if there's no grass or trees. I don't get why earth ponies get so hung up on that…

The adults all chatted for a couple hours about work and recreation and maintaining a house, and mercifully, Braeburn didn't come up. Not that there weren't a few awkward pauses as a few of them danced around it, of course. I silently wondered how much Spitfire had told them. Once my mind went down that path, though, I felt the hollowness come back to my chest. The love and support of all those ponies couldn't warm the cold feeling deep inside me. When there was a break in the conversation, I said, "Excuse me for just a sec." I quickly stood and walked to a quiet part of the house.

Streak came up behind me, and we ducked into a bedroom. "What's up, bro?"

I looked into a large dresser mirror and shook my head. "Just… thinking about him. I'm trying not to, but–" I swallowed suddenly. My vision blurred slightly as I sucked in a breath and let it out in one big heave.

Streak wrapped a foreleg around me and brought me in for a hug. "I'm giving you ten seconds to be sad, and then you'll be okay. Ready? Ten…" He hugged me close and counted down aloud, and as he did, I felt the churning feelings subside. I knew they'd be back, but the storm was calmed for that moment. "Two… One." He squeezed again, then let go to let me breathe. "You good?"

I sighed again and dried my eyes. "Yeah. I'm good. Thanks."

Crisis averted, we grabbed a few board games from the hallway. Luckily, Spitfire's family has pretty good taste in games, and we played for a few hours until Stormy Flare and Curl Bar started to prep dinner. When a quiet moment threatened to make me spiral out of control again, I spoke up and said, "You guys need any help?"

Spitfire smirked. "No way, Soarin'. I've had your food before."

"It's fine. I've–" I was about to say that I'd had practice, but the words caught in my throat when I remembered who'd been teaching me. I blinked a few times and thought to myself, 'Steady.' I shrugged and waved a dismissive hoof. "Eh, if you want me to be lazy, that's fine by me." My voice was wooden, and they all could tell.

Stormy Flare cut the awkwardness off before it could grow too much. "Thanks, but we'll be okay, Soarin'. You three had a big weekend. You deserve some time off."

Deadlift set Purple Lightning down for moment, but the colt immediately clung to Spitfire. Deadlift said, "She's right. Besides, Flare and Curl will have their hooves full keeping me out of the desserts anyway. Why don't you all just go relax with some fresh air?" He jerked his head towards the back door. "I've got some real good beers out in the cooler on the porch. Show 'em around, Rift, yeah?"

Rift looked back at Mauve, but she said, "It's okay, hon. Grandpa and I have the kids, and it won't be long, anyway. You go have sibling bonding time."

Rift kissed her. "Thanks, Mauve. You want to come with, Curly?"

"I'm good here," he said politely but dismissively, pulling some aluminum foil from the drawer.

Rift rolled his eyes and turned to me and Streak. "Guess it's just us." He spoke up at Spitfire, who was tickling Purple Lightning. "See you out back, sis?"

Spitfire responded without taking any attention from her nephew, who was laughing like a maniac. "Yeah. I'll be out in a sec."

"Okay. See you there." As we exited through the back, Rift whispered to us, "I snuck some craft stuff into the cooler when Dad wasn't looking, so you don't have to drink any more of that swill he likes."

Streak and I both sighed in relief as we stepped outside. I snickered and turned to him. "Sooooo, Lift made you drink some of that Hoors Lite crap?"

Streak stuck out his tongue. "Blech. Three of 'em."

I wrinkled my nose as Rift dug a few high-quality amber ales from the back of the cooler. "Dude! Why?"

We sat on some patio chairs looking out at the early evening sunlight. "It's not like I could refuse! Dude could snap me in half. Plus, you know, I don't want my marefriend's dad to think I'm a wuss."

Rift came over and passed us the beers, opening them with a fancy bottle opener shaped like an anchor. "You're fine, Streak. You're doing a lot better than any of the other ones, at least. Heck, Dad's probably already thinking about what the grandkids would look like. Haha." He took a long pull of his beer. "Yeah, there we go." He wiped his mouth and looked back at Streak.

Streak snickered. "If that's all it takes to get on his good side, then maybe the shotgun wedding isn't such a bad idea.

"Ha! That might be pushing it. Mom appreciates you humoring him, though. He misses his old drinking buddies from before he retired, and this is as close as he gets." He raised his bottle. "And you took it like a champ."

Streak took a drink, then drew the cold bottle across his forehead. "Ah… See, though? Your mom's already evaluating me, and she won't miss a thing if I slip up."

I chuckled. "Uh, yeah? Where do you think Spitz gets it from?" I took a swig, and as soon as the beer hit my mouth, I nearly spit it back in the bottle. 'Shit, what am I doing? Braeburn might–' My expression collapsed. 'Oh. Right.' I swallowed the beer hard. Even though it tasted pretty great, it went down like a jagged rock.

"Chill, Streak," Rift said. "Mom and Dad like you, and so do I. And even if we didn't, Spitz does, and that's what matters." He playfully reached a wing over and batted him with a few feathers. "It's just some razzing. You'll survive as long as Spitz doesn't get under your skin too much."

I was only half paying attention by then. I remembered all the different restaurants I'd been to with Braeburn and how I'd always tried to get a rise out of him. Even when I'd tried to be annoying and foalish, Braeburn had gone along with it and even been playfully stupid with me. I suddenly felt very, very old.

"Ears are burning, Riffer," Spitfire said as she walked around the corner and onto the patio, amber ale in hoof. "Thanks for the red, by the way." She trotted up to Streak and kissed his ear before sitting next to him. "And he's right. I like you, and that's what matters."

His ear. I missed nibbling on Braeburn's ear and how, even if it kind of tickled him, he'd press towards me for more. I missed how he'd shiver with pleasure and nestle up against me sometimes. He was always eager to touch me and share his warmth. My fur bristled against an imagined cold.

Rift shook his head. "It's still weird seeing my little sister kiss somepony."

Spitfire laughed. "Aw, get over it, Riffer. We had to reconcile with you having sex with somepony." She lifted the bottle to her lips. "Twice."

I missed sex with Braeburn. He was the best partner I'd ever had, and I couldn't remember a time when I'd been unsatisfied. It had been more than physical pleasure, though. It had satisfied me somewhere deep down, someplace that only he'd ever been able to find. I stared down at my bottle of beer, then drank nearly half of it in one go. I think I was eager to make it as empty as me.

Rift shrugged. "Eh, fair. Heads-up: Mom and Dad get super weird about foals once you get married, and they aren't particularly subtle. I wouldn't be surprised if they sneak an aphrodisiac into your dessert one day."

I had to fight a frown. 'Braeburn said I'd be good with foals. We could have had foals. Would we have adopted? Gotten a surrogate?' My head spun with small ponies that looked like a mix of the two of us. 'Who would the biological father have been? Maybe one each?'

"Nah, I'm a career mare. Mom'll be cool about it." She saw Streak staring wide-eyed. "So you can relax, Hottie. You don't need to think about changing diapers yet."

"Hm?" Streak snapped to. "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure out if I've pissed Curl Bar off."

Rift mumbled, "There's a lost cause," and took a swig. "He's a good guy, but don't bother trying to be nice. That's just how he is."

I broke out of my thoughts when I remembered I'd promised to help Streak out. "Uh, yeah. Don't sweat it, bro. I got the same treatment."

Rift snickered. "Yeah. Dad's the only one you have to worry about, and as long as you and Spitfire don't break up and get all dramatic, you'll– What?" I caught Spitfire glaring at Rift. "Wha– Oh! Oh, shit. Sorry, Soarin'." His wings flattened out, and he looked away. "Sorry. Spitfire asked us not to bring it up."

'I knew it.' I held up a hoof. "You're fine, Rift. Honestly, my head was already there, anyway."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. You're a great guy, and hey, you're famous! You'll find somepony else pretty soon." He was genuinely trying to help, I think, but I could feel the heat coming from Spitfire.

I thought to myself, 'I don't want somepony else. I want my Applebutt.'

Rift drained the rest of his beer. "I better check on the foals again before Dad loads them up with sugar."

Spitfire laughed. "Riffer, it's been like five minutes! You don't have to spaz."

He wrinkled his nose. "It's called good parenting."

"Or just being clingy," Spitfire said with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm still learning." He turned to Streak and me. "Nice talking to you guys again. Don't wait for another bad day to hit me up, okay? I think we could all use more guys' nights." We said we'd be in touch, and he walked back into the house.

Spitfire looked at me, about to ask something. I shook my head as subtly as I could – I didn't want to get into my feelings again – so she turned to Streak instead. "You doing okay?"

Streak sighed. "Yeah, I'm good. Your family's awesome, and it is kinda nice to have a break. How you doing, Soarin'?"

Spitfire rolled her eyes, and I thought, 'Maybe he'll learn to be as observant as her someday.'

I thought about where I was: enjoying a successful holiday with the ponies I called my family. By most measures, life was good, and I wasn't just sulking home alone without anypony to talk to, so at least I was dodging the worst of it. In a lot of ways, it made me miss my old family. I kept thinking back to that last Hearth's Warming together, and that made me think about Mom again, too. Of course, I wondered how Braeburn and I would have been celebrating if he'd stayed, but even though I naturally imagined some idealized fantasy, I remembered what the reality had been when he'd lived with me. 'It would be worse for him here. He'll be better back home.' Even with all that on my mind, I looked back to Spitfire and Fire Streak, their eyes full of concern for me, and I was able to say sincerely, "I think I'll be okay."

We clinked our bottles together, a toast to being okay, and we talked about nothing until it was time for dinner. Stormy Flare and Curl Bar had prepared a relatively simple meal of lasagna, salad, and rolls, but it hit the spot. The adults talked, the foals fussed, and we were together. It had been a long, long time since I'd felt something like that. The closest I'd gotten was occasionally getting trashed with the stallion squad and going to a late-night buffet after a show, but this felt different. It felt… richer, somehow. It made me want to come back once the pain in my heart had healed. Or maybe this was how I could heal it. I don't know. It still hurt all over, but it sucked less than it could have, and what more can you really ask for in a family?

After dinner, Spitfire's parents helped Rift and Mauve give the foals a bath, and Curl Bar took the opportunity to duck out with his marefriend in the hustle. Spitfire asked Streak to help put the extra chairs and patio furniture away, partly so they could get some time alone, I think. With everypony else busy doing other chores, I was left with, well…

Doing so many dishes was kind of therapeutic, actually, and it brought me back to a simpler time, when I'd been talking to Big Mac at Honeycrisp's farm before all the trouble began. It felt like I was doing something instead of being stuck, and the rhythmic swirls and scrubs of the rags and sponges on the plates became hypnotic. It distracted me from what was going on inside, like somepony reading you a book when you're stuck in bed, and when that wasn't enough, I could look out the window and see my two best friends cuddling as the sun hung low in the sky.

At another time in my life, I would have been jealous of them, and even though seeing them cuddled up against each other prodded at a raw, vulnerable part of me, my heart stirred when I thought about how happy they were going to be together. I smiled and thought, 'Thanks for being my friends, guys. I love you both.'

Stormy Flare walked into the kitchen when I was about two-thirds done. "So you're doing dishes like a grown-up now," she half-asked. "I'm impressed you aren't just rinsing them and calling it good."

I scrubbed at a casserole dish. "Heh, yeah. Weird world, right?" I scratched at stuck-on piece of cheese, then rubbed the last bits of residue. "Braeburn's, uh…" I sighed. I couldn't resist talking about him, could I? "Braeburn's cousin Big Mac taught me how."

She smiled, rolled up her sleeves, and began drying dishes. "Funny what kinds of things stick with you, right?"

"Totally. Speaking of which–" I held up a heavy, black frying pan. "What's the deal with these? Big Mac didn't wash it. He just rubbed a bunch of salt on it and rinsed it off."

She didn't laugh at me or make a joke. Her tone was just… motherly. It reminded me of how Dad always sounded when I'd asked him about things as a colt. "That's a cast-iron skillet. It's porous, so if you wash it normally, all your food will taste like soap. That's why you scrub it with salt instead. It's called 'seasoning' it."

I set it on the counter and dug a box of salt out of one of the cabinets. "Seems like a lot of work." I poured a big pile of salt in, added some water, and started scrubbing.

"Most good things are." She set a dry plate in a cabinet with the others. "I'm surprised Braeburn never got around to teaching you."

I paused, shivered, and then kept going. "Heh. We're going there, are we?"

Her tone dropped a few notches, but she didn't stop drying. "Soarin', I'll be honest with you: you're hurting. I can see it. I've talked my kids through a lot of breakups, and I know you don't have the benefit of somepony to talk frankly about it with. I'd like to give you the chance."

Looking down into the dirty water, my hooves hung limply over the edge of the sink. "Do ponies still tell you how direct you can get?"

She chuckled. "Mm-hm. I've never taken crap from another Wonderbolt, Soarin', and I don't intend to start now." Her tone lightened. "Besides, Spitfire doesn't get to tell me what I can and can't talk about. My reputation's on the line, Soarin'. I wouldn't want my kids thinking I've gone soft."

I shrugged. "Eh, Braeburn would have gotten around to teaching me eventually." I looked at Flare. "Sorry, I… still feel weird just talking about this."

She smirked. "How's the weather? What's practice like these days? Read any good books lately? How about that Summer Sun Cele–"

"Okay, I get it!" I said, splashing a tiny bit of water towards her.

She shielded herself with the towel. "Careful, Soarin'. I used to towel-whip my fliers when they didn't do well enough. I've got a mean snapback."

I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "I'll let you off easy, but only because you're a great cook."

"That's a lie, but thanks." She dried another plate. "It's not that I like torturing you, Soarin', but you've been dodging talking about Braeburn all day, unless you were just rummaging through my drawers in my room earlier."

I rolled my eyes.

She casually rubbed the plate clockwise. "Just rip the bandage off and get it over with. You don't want to keep fighting it forever, do you?"

My mind flashed with thoughts of going home every night for a month and still making no progress. "No. I appreciate Spitfire telling you guys to be nice, though." I cocked an eyebrow. "…which seems kinda weird now that I think about it. She's the one that convinced me to fly yesterday."

Flare looked out the window. "Yeah, I think Fire Streak is going to be a good balancing force for her."

"Heh. Shoulda guessed." I kept scrubbing the skillet. It was a lot of work.

Flare shook her head. "I hope they stick it out. I'd hoped the same for you and Braeburn, too, but you have a thing for chasing ponies away, don't you?"

I laughed to cover the cut she'd made in my chest. "Ha. Haha! Well, at least I don't have anypony left to lose." My jaw tightened. The truth of that statement nearly made me retch, so I paused my scrubbing and looked at her. "You're really lucky that your family stuck together."

"I know I am. I'm thankful every day for it." She leaned on the counter. "And I meant what I said after Skywise passed, Soarin'. You can join us any time. It doesn't just have to be after a loss, and we'd love to have you over more."

"Heh. Rift said the same thing."

"He has a pretty good mother."

I sighed. "I wish I could say the same for myself."

She paused. Her mouth hung open for a bit before she said, "Yeah. You weren't as lucky as us." She stood up and looked out at her daughter and maybe-someday-son-in-law. Streak had a wing around Spitfire. "Do you keep in touch with her?"

I frowned and shook my head. "I sent her an invitation to Dad's funeral, but she didn't want to come. I… never responded after that. I don't know, I–" I let out a growly breath. "I don't know. I didn't really want to say anything to her."

She started drying again. "And now?"

I shook out a fetlock. The pan still hadn't come clean, and it was driving me nuts, but I still spoke softly. "Now I do. Maybe I always did." I thought back to Dad's funeral and the last time I'd visited Spitfire's family. Even though thinking about Mom hurt, it was a different pain than missing Braeburn, which was its own odd form of relief. "I couldn't… put it to words before. But now it's like, I'm angry at her for not teaching me better, you know? How the f–… How was I supposed to know what a good relationship needs? Nopony ever showed me. It’s not her fault Braeburn's gone, but…" I felt myself sealing up again. "I don't know."

But Flare was as encouraging as ever. "No, no. Keep going."

My pulse was quickening, and I started talking faster. "I want to know what happened, right? Like, I think I'm okay with her living a different life, at least in the abstract, but she made Dad sad, and that… that took a part of me away with her. She's supposed to know me and Dad better than anypony, right? And I still don't even get why they split up! Dad wouldn't talk about it, and she must have had a reason, right?" I was scrubbing harder and harder on the pan, determined to finally get it clean. "And didn't she care how much she was hurting me? I'm her freaking son! Her son! And it feels like I don't matter to her at all. But I can't just freaking say all that to her. She's not really my mom. She decided she didn't want to be. She doesn't owe me anything. She's not my mom."

Flare gave me a moment to make sure I was done. "Well, I'm not either, and you said all of that to me."

I shivered with a small, sad laugh. "Heh. You've got less baggage."

"Oh, I've got plenty. You just haven't asked my daughter the right questions." She examined a glass I'd cleaned earlier. "Missed a spot. I'll get it."

"Sorry. I'm just…" I gave the pan one more rough scrub, putting all my weight behind it. "With Braeburn gone, what do I have left? I thought he was my future, and, I guess…" The pan reflected my face in its black sheen. The bags under my eyes seemed deeper every time I looked. "It'd be nice to at least get my past figured out. Then I could actually move forward." I ran my hoof around the inside of the pan. It finally felt like it was clean, but somehow, I didn't believe it was.

All too casually, she said, "Then talk to her, Soarin'."

I frowned at my reflection. "Braeburn said the same thing."

"And does he have a good mother, too?"

I closed my eyes and remembered Gala, how she loved Braeburn so much and wanted him to be happy, even if she didn't understand him. How she'd stayed up all night and actually listened to him when he was ready to talk. And Braeburn had said he was doing it for me, too, to take the lead and show me that it could be done, even though he was scared. I remembered how relieved Braeburn had been that night when he'd come back to bed after spending hours talking with them. She'd listened. She'd tried. Both his parents had. "Yeah. He does."

Flare set a hoof on my shoulder. It was warm. "Then let me be your adoptive mom for a bit, Soarin', and just trust me. It'll be good for you."

My wings hitched up, ready to hide me. "I dunno…"

"You don't have to know. That's my job."

I bristled. "But, like, what if–"

She smirked. "Is this an excuse I'm hearing?"

I waved it off and tried to pretend her tone didn't annoy the hell out of me. "Maybe. If she actually cared, though, why didn't she talk to me first?"

"She sent you that sympathy card, Soarin'. Even if she didn't care for your father, she still didn't want to hurt your feelings. I bet it was pretty tough for her to even do that much." She backed off and sat with poise and precision. "She's probably feeling the same way you are: embarrassed, afraid, and with a million questions."

I sighed. "I mean, you're probably not wrong." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter either way. I promised Braeburn I would talk to her when I was ready."

"Well, that's easy enough, then."

"Heh. Yeah. Easy," I said sarcastically.

"Braeburn knew you could do it, Soarin'." She cocked her head back. "I don't think I have to tell you to think of him if you need support. Spitfire told me how much you still love him. He loves you, too."

The skillet had been the last dish. I dried my hooves. "Yeah. We do. But…" I looked at my reflection in a wet plate, then back to her. "Flare, I really appreciate the nice mom routine, but I don't like it. I don't need it. You've got this perfect life – I get that it's not perfect, but hear me out – and I… You really don't get it. You can't." I sighed. "And I really just need to talk to her on my own, but I can't do it for Braeburn." I shook my head as I stared at nothing. "Not because I made a promise. I have to do it for me."

She was silent for a second, then looked out the window, her lips pursed slightly. "You're right. It sounds like you've got it figured out, and you don't need me or Braeburn to tell you to do it."

I laughed. "Heh. Yeah, but I wouldn't turn down a support cuddle."

Her lips creased into a smile, and the slightest crow's feet formed at the sides of her eyes. "I would, but my husband wouldn't be too pleased."

I deflated. "Not really in the mood for that, Flare. I want my coltfriend."

"Sorry, Soarin'. But I hope you know he's with you." She set her hoof on my shoulder again and looked me in the eye. "So is Skywise, and they're both proud of you."

She was right, of course. I could feel it deep down. I smiled at her. "Thanks, Flare. I'll get around to it when I'm ready." Outside, Streak and Spitfire were stretching and finishing putting away the patio furniture. "Do you… think my mom's gotten as good as you over the years?"

She thought for a moment. "I'll pretend I'm a less competitive pony and say she's got a shot." She winked.

We finished drying the dishes, and when the foals had been put to bed, we all said our goodbyes. I promised them I'd visit more often, and I have. It's still weird at times, but… but it's nice not having to be alone when I don't want to be.

Streak and Spitfire took the long way home to give me some more company, but I let them go at the edge of the Estates. Mechanically, I flew down to my condo, unlocked it, and walked inside.

It was the same dark, cold condo I'd grown used to over the years, and now, it seemed more lifeless than ever. I knew what it could feel like to have somepony there, filling the house with love, and thinking about how lively Spitfire's family had been made my place feel outright dead. The small pieces of paper that littered so many surfaces helped, and I spent a few minutes aimlessly wandering around and reading my favorite memories from them. Whenever I looked around, though, the quiet night scratched its way back into my perception, and I felt hollow and fragile all the same.

I ate a cold piece of Two-Apple Twirl to settle myself, and I spent way too long just staring out my kitchen window as I slowly processed all the ups and downs of the day. I sighed. "Keep moving, Stormcloud. It'll only get worse if you slow down."

I trudged to my desk upstairs to get my reading worksheets, but even then, I could tell I was only doing it out of habit. I worked on them for twenty minutes before my mind wandered too far, and as much as I told myself it would be good for me, it all felt pointless without Braeburn there to encourage me. I didn't get far.

I put both forehooves to my face and groaned. My eyes felt dry and strained, and when I opened them back up, I saw that I hadn't answered a single question on the worksheet. I blew air out of my mouth and smacked my lips. The flavor had gone stale, and I craved anything that would give my senses a rush. "One more piece," I mumbled. I remembered how much weight Braeburn had gained, but it didn't stop me, and I lumbered back towards the silent kitchen.

As I reached the base of the stairs, though, I caught a glimpse of the parlor, and I saw "Whitewing's Big Score." I realized that, overall, it had been a good day, and I wanted to keep up the momentum. "Yeah, worth it. I need a little help tonight, Braeburn." I smiled to myself, relishing that warm, rich feeling that he could still make me smile, even from so far away. I lumbered over to the bookshelf, grabbed the book, and started carrying it to the kitchen.

But I noticed a gap in the pages – there was more than just a bookmark in there. I froze in place, a broad smile breaking across my face. Whatever was in there, it was big, and I realized what was happening in no time. Tears welled up in my eyes as I shook my head and, half-laughing, stifled a sob. "Dammit, Braeburn. I freaking love you." I didn't even know what it was yet, but I knew he'd left me something, which brought back all the warmth and love of having him in my life and the sharp pain of losing him.

I dashed over to the table, sat down, and stared at the cover, taking rapid, shallow breaths. My wings twitched, my jaw quivered, and I smiled, like a colt staring at the biggest, shiniest gift on Hearths Warming Day.

I paused, letting the feeling draw out a moment longer. With shaking hooves, I opened the book.

Two envelopes were inside, one on top of the other. The top read, in big, curly letters, "Big Blue." I picked it up immediately, but I fumbled it when I saw the second envelope. It was addressed and stamped, but not yet sealed, and I was able to read the addressee. In that split second, my heart exploded with love and fear and awe, and in my shock, I dropped the first envelope back on top of the second.

Because… I recognized the first name. It was a name I'd only said a hoofful of times in the last couple decades, and most of those had been to Braeburn when he'd pressed me. It had felt foreign to say it, but here, it was so familiar. Yeah, I recognized that first name, but not the family name, and I brought both fetlocks to my face, half-laughing and half-crying into them. "Hahahaha! Oh, oh fuck!" I ran both forehooves back across my face and through my mane, finally leaning my head back. "Oh, Luna. Aw…" I sniffed and swallowed. "Aw, wow, she remarried."

Just reading the name Jetstream Nimbus made me feel like I'd performed back-to-back shows in an afternoon, but knowing that Braeburn had found her for me – for me, to help me, because he loves me – made me want to fly forever. I imagined Braeburn running around Cloudsdale, figuring out how to find her address and quickly running home to get his surprise ready for me. I felt his love for me wash over me, overwhelming, and I held my hooves to my chest to keep my heart from bursting.

And as much as I wanted to savor Braeburn's gift, I couldn't. My heart palpitated, and I bounced in my chair. "I get to hear him again!" I practically screamed. With careful, shaky hooves, I picked up the first letter and opened it. It read:

Hey, Big Blue,

I grinned, already crying again. "H-hey, Applebutt."

Forgive me if I ramble. I've started four times now, and this ain't easy. I'll do it, though, because I love you, and you'll always have my love and support.

I've figured you out, Blue. This date of yours over the weekend? I get what you're doing, and honestly, I couldn't ask for a better send off way to be let go way to spend our last few days together. (Sorry for the mistake, but I ain't starting again. It might kill me.)

I shook my head and tried, hopelessly, to dry my tears. "You're fine, Applebutt. It's fine."

You're giving me what I need to grow, and I can't fathom how much it must hurt you. You're selfless, kind, sweet, brave, and all the other good words in the dictionary, and I count my lucky stars that you're in my life.

Truth is, I'm scared, Blue. I don't think I can muster the strength of character to say goodbye when the time comes. I hope you'll forgive me if I falter, but then again, I suppose you reading this means we did it, didn't we? I'm already proud of you as I write this, Soarin', for so much, from how you've loved me to how you made me a better stallion to how you're taking care of me even now. You'll be spectacular, Soarin', no matter what you do, and I'm going to cheer you on the whole way.

At that point, I broke down. My head rocked forward, and I caught it in my hooves, accidently crinkling a couple pages of the book and adding a few of my own tear stains to the letter to complement Braeburn's. I sucked in breath after breath, quaking and sobbing and mumbling, "I miss you, Braeburn. I miss you. You're the good one. I love you. I miss you," for almost ten minutes.

When my strength finally came back to me, I sat back up and continued reading.

And I hope you don't mind, but I did some snooping. The hall of records is pretty good up here, so your mom wasn't hard to find. She hasn't gone too far, either. It looks like she's with a unicorn guy in Manehattan. Weird for a unicorn to be named Nimbus, ain't it? Must be part pegasus, but dammit, I'm rambling.

I hope you'll contact her, Big Blue. I know it'll be rough, but I believe in you, and you need this. I don't know when you'll be ready, but when you are, I want you to know that I'm thinking of you and hoping and praying for everything to go smoothly, and I'm going to help out any way I can. To that end, I took the liberty of drafting a letter for you. Use it or not, it's up to you.

Ending this thing is proving harder than starting, so I'll just say this: I'll always love you, Soarin' Windsong. No matter what happens this weekend, you're in my thoughts and my heart, and you'll always be my Big Blue.

Your Applebutt, forever,
Braeburn

I cried.

And I cried.

And I sat up, and I breathed.

It felt… good to read his words again. Even just a day and a half later, our breakup felt so distant, and here I had this thread to the time before our last date. Between it and the hat, it felt… complete, somehow, like it was locked into me forever.

I read the letter that Braeburn had written to my mom. He'd done a pretty good job of sounding like me while keeping it pretty vague. He'd left all the details of when and where to meet up to her, and all I had to do was sign it.

But I didn't want to use it. I thought back to the conversations we'd had and how he'd faced his own parents when he'd needed to. My respect for him had grown so much that night, and I knew what I had to do.

Plus, I wanted to keep the letter for myself.

I kissed the letter he'd written to me and said, "Thanks, Applebutt, but I have to pass. I gotta do this for me, and that means doing things myself from here on out."

I carefully placed the letters to the side where I could read them when I needed a boost, and that night, for the first time in decades, I reached out to talk to my mother.