Thunder and blood.
That was all Big Macintosh could hear as he raced aside his...assistant, yes...to do what had to be done. Keeping his face forward, he made a point of stomping into the ground with each gallop, pretending the assistant's stomps were just an echo of his own. Thousands of brittle leaves trembled and collapsed to the soil, still damp from the morning's dew decorating their edges. He wished he could see the cascade of reds and yellows and oranges and browns behind him; he settled for appreciating the multihued trees in front of him as they raced by. They shook with all eight hooves before succumbing themselves to the thunder, dancing and swaying like muted flames.
“...So are we on speaking terms?”
The blood still engorged his inner ears, forcing odd disturbances like voices to hum in his brain. How odd. One of them resembled Applejack's dismay before they started running. At least it was bottled inside his head, instead of cheerfully smothering the mood in unnatural therapy. No, he kept the voice bottled for its own sake. He briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to clear his thoughts. But as soon as he opened them again, the non-flames gifted their own clarity to him with each sway.
“I saw you and June yesterday. You two are cute together...surprisingly.”
Macintosh wished he weren't wearing his glasses. If he could let his eyes lose their focus, then the plant-flames might appear almost alive in their sickly dance. Then again, he never truly appreciated the understated beauty of the forest along the walking path: a good pair of lenses made that much more feasible. The sky was overcast as well, ensuring no rogue sunbeam would blind his corrected vision.
“...I'm sorry. Okay? If nothing else, I want you to understand that. I'm really, really sorry. I-I did some thinking while I was away, and I see things a lot more clearly now. A-And I'm not trying to pull anything here. I couldn't if I tried...”
The stream of blood in his ears receded slightly. Yet the voices became clearer.
“I...”, mumbled the assistant, “I never actually destroyed Smartypants. I mean, I know you know that now, but...I had to say it. I just had a fake one made and ruined that one to spite you. I...I shouldn't have lost my temper from just being jealous for no good reason. Or, at least I thought...n-nevermind. Oh, by the way, did you know that belonged to Twilight this whole time? J-Just curious is all.”
Big Mac remembered where Patches was at that time: sitting next to his bed on the small set of drawers. He got that set of drawers a year ago specifically so he could set her on it. Seeing her tossed aside by Caramel in a mud pit, behind the bakery where he was courting Junebug...he had to lie down after that. He was tempted to make his own doll of Caramel and tear that up. Instead, he undertook the nobler response. He carefully washed the mud off her poor, dingy hide and mane; tenderly attached her to a clothesline to dry, with Winona watching over it; and lovingly ferried her back to her wooden throne by his side.
And by the time his head was finally clear...he wasn't even mad. It would have been cruel to be mad, although he had every right to be. Well, okay, he was still mad, but that was his problem. No, something else had to be done. At least his assistant seemed to be behaving himself for now.
...Maybe this'll be easier than Ah thought. Maybe. Jus' don' look at him fer now.
“...I was too scared to give it to you personally. I shouldn't have wussed out on that either. I-I have no excuse for it, and I'm truly sorry. B-But anyway, I talked to Twilight about it before I left, and she said you can keep it. And...”
Trickles of sweat dropped tentatively onto his glasses. He kept thundering as if his vision were crystal clear.
“...Well, the point is we don't have to avoid each other all the time. We can still...acknowledge each other if nothing else. Please...”
Big Macintosh sighed. He shouldn't have ignored what the pony said so easily. After all, here was his chance. He needed to calm down and not ruin what he had been given unconditionally. He could make Caramel do what should have been done the moment the Stallions' Field Cup ended.
“...Ah've done some thinkin', too. But Ah don' think it wuz th' same kinda thinkin' you did.”
Beyond reason, the thunder seemed much quieter...or was the reason so imperceptible after all? Mac was actually glad that his vision was obscured. Even if it was going to be easier, that wasn't to say it would truly be easy at all. And that pretty little face of his was not going to help.
“Huh?”
Careful, now. He's not yer enemy. Jus'...jus' lead him along.
“Well, you go first. Whut'd you think 'bout?”
Both of them vaulted over a small stream, but Mac could see that Mel was lagging behind a little. Although a small part of him protested, he made sure to slow his pace to match.
“Uh...alright. It's a bit of a story, but it started when I arrived at Canterlot...”
---
...but I'm sure they were just as frustrated as I was. Having an incomplete talent wasn't even heard of at that time; it was completely counterintuitive. So they floundered, my parents floundered, and I floundered as we all tried to make do with what we had.
Caramel stopped and checked how much he had written. At forty-five pages, it was turning into quite the essay. He turned an ear behind him: Fancy Pants was still showering two doors away.
Macintosh was different, though. He was free of all that baggage. I adored his warm and unassuming attitude to others, and I envied his Paradise-given prowess to destroy any obstacles to his and others' lives. If anything, I resented him a little: I needed prowess like that more than most ponies, but the closest thing to that was completely inappropriate. I wanted his love and guidance, but it wouldn't have solved anything.
That was partly why I held back from him. He must have thought I was too proud to associate with somepony stronger than him; but as he told me, he admired my stubborn will to succeed. Unfortunately, my stubborn will also kept me from relating to him on a deeper level. We talked and played a little when we were still small...but especially once my support system vanished, we barely interacted at all.
I hated it...and I wouldn't have tolerated anything else.
It was easy for me to forget most everything just by watching him. Others may call it creepy, and yeah, I guess it was. But I would see him play with his sisters, cart ponies around, laugh with them, work for them, be an integral part of their lives...and I had no input in it at all. I was able to merely spectate his life as a harmonic, wholesome object. There were small moments where I even forgot I had a body! I felt calm and balanced as a result...or at least I did for a time. Even when Macintosh would humor some “curious” mares hanging around the farm, I was able to detach myself and appreciate how contented they all were. Jealously was just a bittersweet drink keeping my insides warm. I forgot how I was an awkward detriment to the town's collective, and to his work schedule. I forgot Caramel Shine, becoming just 'Caramel'.
And that was how it was. That was how I got through three years of being homeless. Every now and then, I would 'date' some mares to try and eke out something better for myself...but it was a joke to even call them that. Truthfully, it was just an excuse to mooch off of their hospitality and get a warm bed for the night. I lived that way as long as I could, up until it became too exhausting to put up that front; eventually, I just hid away in an Apple Family barn and atrophied. But when Spike turned into a pony and the entire town metamorphosed into a sitting powder keg, I saw a new opportunity forming in the distance. All I had to do was wait for the largest, ugliest development to take place.
And there it was: the joke that was the Ponyville Jubilee and the Stallions' Field Cup. It was the perfect excuse for the new money to watch the lower class run around and even get into fights: I'm told this wasn't so uncommon a thousand years ago. I thought that the horseshoe-throwing segment of the Cup was my chance to break free from my horrible limitations and find some miraculous way to live happily.
What happened instead changed me permanently.
Celestia's sun had climbed to the cen---
“I'm finished now, if you wish to take one yourself.”
Slightly startled, Caramel dropped his quill and turned to face his gracious...and very damp host. The fact Fancy Pants offered to let him stay for this long was staggeringly generous. And stepping out at odd hours? No questions asked. Perhaps the discreet pony really did understand Caramel's delicate situation and decided to merely be a stepping stone, instead of a ladder. He would have been grateful for either from him, and he was flabbergasted at the wealth and influence that surrounded him just for being near the stallion. It was still hard to imagine that the wealth Caramel himself had could have easily made a life like this for him. Or at least, that was the case for a few more days.
Seeing the fancy pony cool and refreshed from the mineral-rich aquifer water made him realize how hot and stuffy he felt. The room he was given needed better ventilation. Taking a deep breath, he turned away to continue writing...only to remember he had dropped his quill.
“M-Maybe later,” Caramel answered. “I just want to finish up this part.”
Acting on his word, he retrieved the quill from the floor and made to wipe any dirt off the tip. But as he examined it, he looked at the floor again and saw that no dirt could have possibly come off the impeccable, marble layer. Caramel wasn't even sure he had seen a spotless floor in all those doctor's offices he endured. But there it was, softly shining from the fading purples of the setting sun...yielding to the pure black ink as it spread its stain carelessly.
“That particular quill has a nasty habit of falling away from me, oddly enough,” commented Fancy Pants. “At the moment when I change my focus, it leaps from my hoof as if to spite me! If that's the case, then I wonder what I did wrong.”
Caramel snickered, but he still found it hard to tear his gaze away from the ink pool. He ended up compromising with himself by looking for a way to clean it. Scanning the writing desk, he surprisingly found nothing; scanning behind him and to the right, the mandatory luxurious bed and the perfectly complimentary dressers held no obvious cleaning implement; now to the left, he ignored Fancy Pants' amused face to scan the single shelf between two entrances to branching hallways...which had nothing he could use. A deep blush undoubtedly must have colored his neck and shoulders. He should have checked for a cleaning cloth before he started using the ink! What was he supposed to do now?!
...Why am I so upset over this?
“Ahem,” said Fancy Pants, as if the grunt were a complete sentence.
“...Haha,” blustered Caramel. “I-I'm sorry about your floor. W-Where could I could something to clean--”
“Oh, I wouldn't worry about it,” interrupted Fancy Pants, as if the off-hoofed comment were a deeply philosophical mantra. “You need to focus, and I could use a refresher on elimination spells.” He smirked, as if humor were the only valid conclusion to draw. “Then again, I may just leave it there: a nice contrast against the obnoxious white, don't you think?”
Caramel smiled. He just sat there and smiled.
“...I-I suppose it is.”
Who...Who does that? Who just leaves ink on the floor to get stepped on and trip somepony up? And why am I going along with it, for that matter?! STOP SMILING, DAMMIT!
“...Oh, don't pull that face,” chided Fancy Pants with a bemused frown. “I was only joking. Goodness me, you look like I just told you all your money had been whisked away.”
Caramel tried to reclaim his smile, but even he knew it came off as a painfully self-aware grin. He had no way to escape this awkward little moment gracefully. So instead, he decided to take the obviously leading comment to its conclusion.
“Oh, how subtle,” he softly mocked. “I'm still doing it. I just can't live with that much money I won't use, and other ponies actually need it. It's the best idea I've had all month.”
Predictably, Fancy Pants sighed in disappointment...but Caramel couldn't have predicted just how profound it sounded. Oh, who was he kidding? Everything this stallion did came off as poignant and meaningful. The classic white hide and blue mane; the charm-drowned eyes unleashing a pinpoint gaze on the audience; the almost comically smooth baritone hitting all the right notes; the unavoidable fact that the guy was large and in charge...nothing about him went against his reputation. If anything, his appearance enhanced it to where he could pretend to be anything he wanted. Didn't it? In any case--
“In any case,” persisted Fancy Pants, “At least keep a large enough sum to pay for your cost of living back home for a year. I don't care what this city makes ponies think: getting established is not an overnight job. Not to mention...”
For the first time, Caramel saw Fancy Pants look puzzled. Saying he needed some time away from Ponyville without explanation? Offered a place to stay. Stepping out without a word to the guy, to do some things he'd rather not ponder? Smiled and accepted it. Breaking down and showing him just how torn up he was about losing Macintosh over his own paranoia? Not an inch of the fancy pony's face was unsympathetic. It was almost...it was almost like he had been expecting Caramel to inconvenience him. But now a sliver of uncertainty ran down that pretty mask.
He had completely forgotten about the ink blot.
“...What exactly are you going to do? Abilities aside, your – *ahem* – 'legacy' will make it difficult for you to get into a business.”
...And suddenly, the blot spread over his mind again, steadily staining the pristine floor even further.
“Ponyville has plenty of business that need a helping hoof, whether they'll admit it or not,” answered Caramel, as if it were the only logical observation. “If my 'legacy' closes too many doors, then...the oranges in the fields will be ripe come winter...”
For some reason he couldn't fathom, he didn't stop himself from adding that last sentence. It ricocheted off the walls of his throat and bounced off his tongue with no regard to how pathetic it made him look. Why was he acting so weird; was he really that hot? He wasn't surprised at Fancy Pants' disapproving sneer.
“I can't say I've seen a pony blush from certainty,” said Fancy Pants. “You've made your position clear, but I'll say it one last time: please reconsider. A reputation is a tricky thing to maintain, let alone repair. You still have time.”
You still have time...hmph. I have time, but not the time I need. I need...what I need is...
Realization struck the beige pony, as if it were waiting to do so for far too long. He didn't have to reject the advice being offered to him, nor did he have to demote it to a strawpony argument. If he opened up to the ideas he was offered – no matter how flawed they might be – then he could learn something. Hells, the attitude of receiving ideas more carefully was more likely to win-over any employer than throwing up a wall. So he didn't have to resist Fancy Pants...just because...
And in that moment, Caramel realized why he felt so damn hot. He smacked his lips.
“...I'll think about it.”
Expecting a dramatic sigh of relief, Caramel instead saw Fancy Pants smile gently...a cruel kind of gentleness. He couldn't describe it, but the barest curve of those lips made the fancy pony look like something beyond the mortal realm. It was as if the Hell of Apathy had released one Changeling to take that persuasive form, just to taunt him. Well, whether divine or devilish, everything about that serene face made him feel dirty.
Just how fickle can a pony be...? Barely two weeks, and I'm trying to forget him already. Heh. A big pony like Big Macintosh? Couldn't escape him if I tried. And damn, I've tried...
Suddenly, he saw the too-fancy pony levitate a cloth from the dresser and will it over to him, dabbing his wet cheek. His cheek was wet. He was crying in front of the most dignified pony in all of Equestria. And for some reason, he didn't feel anything but flattered.
“Excellent,” soothed Fancy Pants. “I knew I could get you to see sense.” The still damp pony looked askance to the now moonlit window. “As for...the other decision you're considering, I should make myself clear.”
Caramel stopped breathing. He couldn't help it.
“I am...fond of you, have no doubt, but fondness is where it ends. I would not move mountains to shade you from the sun, nor trick the stars to shine brighter where you stand. But I hold the greatest respect for the stallion that would.”
...There it was. If the blush that dirtied his face were mild before, it must have spread into a blood-drenched fire now. Blazing calmly and with a gentle cruelty, patiently eroding his peace of mind; he feared breathing lest he risk it growing into a greedy inferno. The pinpoint gaze would have combusted it all at once, so he turned to have it pierce his fur instead of his soul. Instead, he absorbed the sight of the ink and found it could only be seconds away from a similar fate. The moonlight showed it wasn't black, but a remarkably dark blue. Pages and pages of his life were scrawled with dark blue ink.
He forced breath into his lungs without a word. He wasn't...sad. Truth be told, he mostly just felt...embarrassed?
“The shower's waiting for you,” offered Fancy Pants. “You should clean up and get some rest.”
Caramel felt himself complying far too easily than normal. He felt like a little foal again, oblivious and suggestible to the slightest idea. Without his permission, his fire-red horseshoe and its royal brother pulled him toward the floor, deliberately avoiding the stain when the tear-stained cloth wiped it clear and retrieved the errant quill.
“U-Uh,” stammered Caramel, “I-I would've--”
“Done it instead? My silly friend shouldn't worry about it,” insisted Fancy Pants. “He has a much bigger mess to manage.”
In the back of his mind, he could hear the words Oh, very clever make circles around his ears. But his throat relentlessly strangled his voice beyond any hope of release. Instead, he weakly nodded and got on all fours, shakily cantering to the exorbitant wash room down the hall.
As he gazed in the wash room's fogged mirror, he became aware of how bitter the inside of his mouth tasted.
---
“...On second thought, I'll just skip to the moral.”
Macintosh felt his lips stretch into a weary frown. It didn't take Caramel five seconds to reconsider his little story; it was painfully clear something was being hidden. He kept his ears up and alert, despite the ponderous thought of just how much information he would have to uncover later.
They were halfway through the trek when they passed by the field where the Iron Pony Competition was held. All he had to do was look at it to shudder with discomfort. Now that he thought about it, the worst moments of their relationship both took place right there in front of a gaping audience. As young as their bond was, it was oddly...public and exposed, everypony throwing opinions around that he didn't care to know. His life really had been quieter since breaking it off with the silly pony.
Finally daring to look to his right, he saw Caramel deliberately avoiding looking at the field. Even his refracted vision from the smeared sweat on the lenses couldn't hide that from him. For once, he understood his reaction completely.
“The longer I spent up there, the more I realized how idiotic I acted with us. I...eugh, just thinking about it...I was so nervous about being discreet with the operation that I forgot who I was hiding it from. Yeah, I wanted it done right and only one pony I knew could do it. But I-I shouldn't have hid it from you, no matter how much you freaked me out when you lost your temper.”
Before, he had to consciously avoid looking at Caramel to focus on guiding the prodigal pony to what he needed to know. Now, he found it greatly preferable to keep looking forward and not look his mistakes in the eyes. He took a deep breath to soothe his nerves.
“I think it was just...”, continued Caramel, “...it all just happened way too fast. I hadn't been in a serious relationship before, and suddenly I had to address everything that had ruined my life at once! It was...unfair of me to take it out on you when you were only trying to help. I should have considered your feelings more while it was all happening.”
Big Macintosh mildly shook his head as he said: “Nnope.”
“H-Huh?”
“Wuzn't that,” countered Mac gruffly. “You woulda been right t'tell me you were worried 'bout gettin' a botched operation. Shoot, Ah cain't blame you in th' slightest. Whut you shoulda done is passed yer decision by me before you made it.”
Caramel fell silent, and the subtle flames of the falling leaves blazed even brighter; perhaps the water in front of him only made it bolder? As the void of silence grew longer and larger, thunder and blood struggled to fill its expanse. The complementary sides warred to establish domain over the deciduous forest, neither winning but both making the contrast unbearable. Macintosh tried to force out what he wanted to say, but his voice was cancelled amid all the psychic bloodshed.
“...You're right,” Caramel finally said, forcing an armistice. “I should have made you part of that decision. I'm sorry.”
The void was defeated, and the pretty flames falling behind them consumed the blood pounding through his flesh. But something else took its place. Now that he was free to do what he intended, he felt afraid to do so. Unconditional surrender could make the most brutal horse feel generous; but this has nothing to do with compassion. It was now clear as day that he had to play the part of defendant now.
...At least he was mostly sure it had nothing to do with compassion. But he couldn't let the past distract him. They both ran in front of the flames wordlessly, at least one of them not even considering where exactly they were.
“...Come on, Big Mac. Say something. Don't leave me in the dark here...”
Tell him tell him tell him, now's th' time! You've been plannin' this fer over a week! Why're you clammin' up now?! Jus'...start slow an' keep him relaxed.
“Eh...”, started the awkward farm pony, “T-Thank you fer...fer bein' sensible. Ah do git it wuz nerve-wrackin' fer you, an' Ah shouldn't've behaved th' way Ah did. Apology accepted. N-Now...Ah need you t'listen t'me f-fer a bit.”
“...Really?”, asked Caramel suddenly. “Wow. I thought this would be a lot rougher. Hells, I thought bringing up Smartypants would--”
“Ah'm serious,” insisted Macintosh more calmly. “Ah need you t'listen t'me seriously; Ah scared off mah own sister fer this. An' her name's Patches, fer yer information, mister.”
Only the grace of the fact Macintosh was galloping down a dirt road kept him from trembling, although it would have been slight. It occurred to him just how much was riding on this exchange: if he didn't manage to convince Caramel, then their future – possibly the future of certain elements in Ponyville and beyond – would become uncertain. Again. Enough cults and monsters and general weirdos vied to shake their morale; this was one point of chaos that could be and needed to be neutralized.
“Take your time,” said Caramel in a calm voice. “It's been a weird...adventure, let's put it that way.”
Taking two short gasps for fresh air, Mac ignored the bitter taste in his mouth and urged himself forward.
“Ah...Ah suppose Ah should start with us,” he said with surprising serenity. “Yer daddy aside, Ah didn't approach our relationship right.”
“Yeah...me neither”, interjected Caramel. “We went way too fast without stopping to think. I didn't really believe you loved me; you didn't know why you loved me; not to mention we had trouble loving each other...excuses be damned. We were scared and didn't acknowledge it! I-I mean, I assume that's what you're getting at.”
“S-Sorta,” responded Macintosh. “Ah was so confused Ah couldn't think clear. In particular, Ah didn't realize that Ah...you...we...”
Spurred by the thought of the revelation, he looked at the beige menace next to him. Even now, he couldn't articulate quite how he felt being with him. Warm memories mixed with horrible ones without rhyme or reason. But from the first time he stepped off the roller coaster in his heart, he saw the one truth that he could state with depressing clarity.
Macintosh slowed down, with Caramel matching the new pace.
“...W-Well? What is it?!”
Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. It'll all be okay.
“Ah...Ah never loved you,” he finally uttered in shallow breath. “N-Now before you say anythin', please jus' lemme explain it all. Ah gotta say mah piece here. Okay?”
It almost went without saying that he wasn't looking at Caramel anymore, obscured or not. It would be self-sabotage to do so. If Caramel interrupted his flow as he painted his humiliating portrait, it would only make him fall back into that half-crazed mudslinging; let alone if he saw Caramel's blurry face as he tried to justify his behavior for the past four months. It was bad enough that he knew how it probably looked: the same face that haunted him at the crevice.
After an insufferable pause, Caramel finally croaked out a pitiful: “Fine.”
“Thank you,” said Big Macintosh gratefully. “Ah thought you were th' one fer me fer th' longest time...but it wuz all in mah head. You looked like somepony Ah could live with, but Ah never pictured how or where or whut it would all mean. Ah respected you an' wuz a mite fond o' you, don' git me wrong. But once Ah saw who you really were...once Ah saw Ah didn't know a damn thing 'bout you...”
Macintosh slowed down even further, allowing him to take a deeper breath that was desperately needed. He had to stomp his hooves to make sure the leaves were still falling, making him almost bounce with each gallop.
“Ah shoulda realized Ah wuzn't helpin' you cuz Ah wuz in love. It wuz t'prove Ah wuz a good pony despite neglectin' you all this time. Ah wuz...bein' selfish.”
“We should just stop here,” said Caramel, eliminating any ambiguity by slowing to a trot, and then a full stop.
Macintosh hesitantly followed suit, despite having to turn around and walk back toward him. His obscured glasses could only show him a beige blur amid the lazy flames and upturned clods of earth. And yet he couldn't stand the sight of that blur returning his gaze. His relaxing body became vulnerable to the trembles he anticipated, growing in intensity with each step shaping the blur into the pony who had changed him so thoroughly. No matter how much he tried to change back, it was obvious that the name Big Macintosh carried a different weight to everypony now. It certainly carried a different weight right at this moment, the exact mood battering his psyche as he sat down in front of his ex.
It was amazing to him how he could come to fear such a small and cute pony. Horseshoes made a hell of a difference.
Caramel sat silently, not meeting eyes with him.
“E-Eeyup,” acquiesced Macintosh. “Well, seein' whut you'd been reduced ta jus'...got t'me in a way Ah didn't understand. Ah still cain't forgive yer daddy fer puttin' you in that situation, an' Ah still wish you had asked fer help; but mostly Ah hated how Ah wuz too clueless t'do nothin' 'bout it. So Ah tried t'do whut yer daddy couldn't...an' that wuz th' wrong thing t'do altogether.”
Caramel was still silent and avoided his gaze as Macintosh inhaled deeply again.
“Whut Ah shoulda done,” continued Macintosh, “wuz taken you t' th' ponies who coulda actually helped you. But Ah jus' let you talk me into flounderin' without a plan. That's not love, that's foolishness. Then after this summer happened...um...”, he stalled as he wiped his brow, careful to avoid his glasses, “well, even at th' time, it felt a little like an obligation.”
Macintosh paused as he saw Caramel furrow his brow. No, no, he had to focus. He had almost forgotten his original objective amid the blaze.
“It's different with June, though. Ah jus' spent time with her, nothin' fancy or dramatic, an' Ah started wantin' t'spend time with her more an' more. She didn't give me anythin' but herself; n-not that Ah'm tryin' t'shame you or nothin', but it's true. It's jus' nice an' calm with her.”
“It's easier,” commented Caramel without any inflection.
“Uh, y-yeah,” responded Macintosh. “That's a good way t'put it. Anyway, we're not tryin' t'do anythin' but have a good time together. An' that's really how it should be. Maybe Ah'll grow t'love her – in fact, Ah'm sure that's whut's happenin' – but nopony's forcin' it. Ah had to force it with you, an' that hurt you more than me.”
This time, Caramel was the one to inhale deeply.
“Ah swear Ah wuzn't lyin' t'you on purpose. Dear Gods of Paradise, Ah swear it. Ah wuz jus' sore confused with everythin' that happened this year...an' with not ever bein' in real love, though Ah thought it wuz. Heh,” he chuckled weakly, “maybe that's why Ah have a green cutie mark after all, th' way Ah wuz actin'. Jumpin' into love without a clue...jumpin' into all sorts o' messes jus' cuz Ah felt Ah hadta. Eeyup.”
Ever so softly, Macintosh heard Caramel whisper: “But you always get to the core of the matter.” He always knew that was the true nature of his talent, but it was weird hearing it from the pony who gave him the most trouble for it. Perhaps that was due to Caramel's talent being extremely vague: just something to do with horseshoes. Or maybe that was just the autumn morning. It was certainly beautiful enough to take his mind off the worst of the whole ordeal. Sometimes.
“More than anythin' else,” he persisted, “Ah shouldn't've forced mahself on yer, eh, difficult past. S'not a good idea t'have a confused pony helpin' another confused pony. An' Ah mean nothin' but the words Ah speak here, but yer sure as all six hells confused.”
“Wait, wait, wait a minute here,” interrupted Caramel. “I'm the confused one now?”
“Eeyup.”
An' whut d'you mean now?
A sharp wind whisked the fallen leaves into a short-lived whirlwind around them. Macintosh felt himself, beyond reason, wishing it had been much larger and much longer.
“...Okay. Confused about what?”
“Jus'...confused,” said Macintosh helplessly. “You admitted how you behaved poorly, so don' take me th' wrong way here. But confused is th' only way t'describe you! Fer everythin' you did the past few months – hells, further back than that – Ah cain't guess whut you were hopin' t'gain from it. You don' even know, do you?”
“Well...”, hesitated Caramel, “yes, I do know! I'm not confused about that at all; if anything, it's obvious in hindsight! What I AM confused about is--”
“Nngh, forget it,” Macintosh interrupted, rubbing his head where it began to ache. “Like Ah said, Ah'm not th' one t'be doin' this stuff. All Ah'll say is Ah don' think poorly of you fer it anymore. Ah see you didn't know whut you were doin'. That's why Ah want t'make you a deal, Caramel.”
“...A deal?”
“Eeyup. Ah'll drop any pretense with us an' support you in yer efforts from now on...if'n you start seein' a therapist. Twilight tells me she knows a darn good one. So...what say you?”
No whirlwind imposed its whimsy on them now. The ponymade forest was completely silent, with the leaves on the ground retired and the leaves still on the branches stubbornly resisting their fate. No birds or squirrels or other little critters were around them. That was curious, now that Macintosh thought about it: they usually hung around this section, if he remembered correctly. Yes, just before the cottage and actually close to the (now pointless) finish line. But a simple look told him they weren't there, either. Whatever the reason, it was horrible timing: he would have given most anything he had for some noise, some deterrent from the soul-crushing quiet that bore down on him now.
Finally, Caramel looked up and said: “I'll agree to your deal if you clarify something for me.”
Half-crazed with relief, Macintosh almost snorted as he said: “Anythin' you need!”
“Alright,” continued Caramel as he stood up. “What are you trying to pull saying you never loved me? That's a pretense if I've ever heard one!”
Big Macintosh sighed, knowing he would have to explain why he sighed along with everything else. Again. He stood up to tower over Caramel.
“Ah wuzn't in love with you from th' start, like Ah said. Ah jus' loved an idea o' you Ah had made up t'please mahself. Nothin' more, nothin'--”
“Don't even try to...oh. OH. I understand now. You really don't see it, do you?”
The blood below his ears began to surge with greater force. Everything he had avoided was now cruelly thrown in his face, and he had to set things straight without ruining everything.
“T'ain't a lie, Mel. Ah know it's awful t'think 'bout, but we were both--”
“We were both confused, yes. And you still are. You still can't come to terms with liking stallions, so you're rewriting your memories of us for convenience's sake!”
“W-Whut?!”, blustered Big Macintosh. “Now that's jus' hogwash. Think 'bout this carefully, please.”
“Oh, I am,” rebutted Caramel. “I've thought about this for a while, actually. Your attitude toward me when my dad came up; dating a mare after you broke up with a stallion, and way too soon for that matter; chickening out whenever I suggested we have sex – you know, that thing couples do; you just couldn't deal with it! Now, I admit some fault on that last one, too, but if you had been willing, then--”
“Nnope,” interrupted Macintosh a little too forcefully. “You got th' absolute wrong idea. Ah prefer mares t'stallions on balance. Simple as that.”
As soon as he made that last statement, Macintosh noticed a ray of sunlight peeking out from a stray cloud, unfairly deciding to shine on Caramel's shod hooves. They were surprisingly clean for galloping through a dirt path, but still filthy. The glare was so strong that he had to shuffle to the left slightly. Even the mysterious cutie mark seemed to be glowing slightly.
“Oh yeah?”, said Caramel. “Name one other mare besides Cheerilee that you've dated. Go on.”
“Caramel. You an' Ah both know Ah haven't.”
“Exactly. And why not? You were daydreaming about me! Or maybe some other stud, I don't know, it...it d-doesn't matter. You were ten times more involved with me than you are with Junebug now. You can't write that off as self-delusion; it doesn't work that way.”
“Now yer jus' makin' stuff up!”, retorted Macintosh. “Love messes with ponies' heads all th' time!”
“Yes,” continued Caramel, seemingly undaunted. “It does. Love messes with ponies' heads. You loved me. Maybe not now...but...but you certainly did then!”
“...No. Ah. Didn't. Ah had mah head up mah rear, that's whut happened.”
“I'm not saying you didn't”, replied Caramel icily. “But that wasn't because you didn't have feelings for me. You were starting to see yourself for who you really are. So if anything, you were scared to admit that you loved me as much as you did! You lied to me and flirted with Junebug over the summer – while I was abroad – just because “we” didn't make sense to “you”!”
Up in the sky, two pegasi raced above Macintosh, though he barely registered it. He barely registered anything but the horribly triumphant look on the strange beige pony's face. All he could do was fall to his rear with his jaw dropped in bewildered defeat. Out of nowhere, far too quickly, that stud-licker had ruined everything. Yet again.
“She told me herself,” Caramel answered without prompt. “Nice conversation. She had quite a lot to say about you, actually, really good things. I like her. She doesn't deserve our mess.”
...Wrong move, boy.
“Don' go talkin' 'bout whut you don' understand,” he grunted. “Our “relationship” didn't make sense t'me cuz it didn't make sense, period. We're not a fit pair, an' June's mah future. End o' story.”
Caramel just laughed at him.
“Sure, tell yourself that if you like. But make sure you remember what happened accurately. You cradled me. You shed tears for me. You were amazing, Mac. A heart that pure doesn't come from selfishness, and you know it. Don't be ashamed of it; be proud of it!”
“Yer a little too proud, if'n you ask me!”
“Hah! Whatever; it doesn't matter now. Come on, let's take the rest of these leaves down. We're late.”
Big Macintosh watched furiously as Caramel cantered into a running pace. Just like that, everything was fine?! This pony had the gall to talk to him that way, after everything that happened?! After vandalizing his property?! He decided to make his position clear, raising his hooves without ceremony and pulverizing the dirt beneath them as they crashed. The thundering vibration agitated the blood rushing under his hide...and left the forest completely bare. Caramel stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him again.
“Yer not goin' anywhere, not now,” growled Big Macintosh. “Ah shoulda known you'd have th' nerve t'be this callous. Ah shoulda known this wuz a bad idea. But you know whut?!”
Caramel had a fiery look to his eyes as he answered: “What, lover of mine?”
“Ah...Ah feel SORRY fer you. Yer story's a sad one, yet you act like everythin' jus' peachy. You cain't STAND feelin' like a victim, so you throw yer baggage 'round fer everypony else t'bear. An' that's jus' pathetic. How could Ah love you when you won't love yerself? Answer me that!”
“...Because of you. You did love me, so you helped me see I wasn't doomed to be helpless for the rest of my life! You're right; I was pathetic! You were the best thing that happened to me, and I hate how it all ended! You yell at me, yet you're the last pony I would be mad at; I see that now!”
“Oh, very smooth,” hissed Macintosh. “Very pretty. That one o' yer speeches? You couldn't wait t'burst mah bubble today, could you? Jus' admit it an' do yerself a favor!”
“I couldn't wait to burst that one. Look. Deep down, you know that finding out you were more selfish than you thought was devastating to you. That was what made you crazy for the last few months. But you're still what I think of when somepony mentions purity and goodness. And rightly so! You shouldn't be ashamed that you like stallions, even if it's a little weird when you think about it!”
“Would you QUIT IT with this 'likin' stallions' crap?! That has nothin' t'do with this! YOU were th' one t'put me on th' roller coaster! YOU were th' one t'make mah heart hurt all that time Ah wuz helpin' you. An' all th' time Ah wuz waitin' fer you! Ah'm not confused how Ah love STALLIONS; Ah'm confused how Ah love YOU!”
...Whut? Oh, Gods fuck me. Ah did not. But Ah did. Mah heart hurts. Ah...That's...
“...I knew it,” answered Caramel calmly. “And you know it now. It's okay; that makes sense! You should have just said that and spared us both--”
“NNOPE. SHUT UP. AH DON' LOVE YOU, YER JUS' SO...MANIPULATIVE! YOU TRICKED ME WITH YER SILVER TONGUE, LIKE...like you threw a damn horseshoe in mah head!”
“Oh yeah?! Then let me pull it out! Answer this, point blank: do you miss me? No silver there!”
“DON'...Don' be an idiot, Caramel Shine. O' course Ah miss you!”
...No. No. NO. It cain't be; there's no reason fer it. You ruined me. Caramel...oh damn it all, Ah cain't keep this up with you lookin' at me like that. Lookin' at me like...like there's not th' slightest thing wrong with me.
He took off his glasses and saw Caramel's face, shining with sweat and beaming with determination. Caramel was not angry. Caramel was...passionate. Dauntless. Strong. He wanted that strength; he had always admired it. But something else shone forth, something that had suckered him in every time. Yes...he saw it when the little stallion smirked, when he glanced away, when he squinted, when he cried, when he laughed, when he smiled. If it was a real smile, then he was completely enthralled to that 'something'. It was always there, even when he wanted to strangle the little pony. And it was he tried to avoid as he ran alongside him.
So maybe he wasn't looking at what he wanted...but what he needed? Something he could never have on his own, something Caramel had this whole time? Desperate for certainty, he looked straight into the beige menace's eyes for answers. They shone bright and clear...as if just for him. They were shining just for him. Like before. Junebug's eyes were similar, but they didn't shine nearly as strong. He didn't know if they would ever shine that strong, enough to pierce him to the core, like a knife to an apple, and leave his weakest self exposed. He sat down on the bare dirt path and let his own eyes shine back.
“...Oh Gods, Ah miss you.”
Caramel faltered, shining even brighter for it as he weakly said: “I...I miss you, too. I tried to move on, even just a little, but I couldn't. I-I can't. You're it...”
“Ah wuz done missin' you. Dammit, Caramel, Ah'm...Ah'm sick.”
“No,” defied Caramel, walking forward unsteadily. “You're just confused. And it's okay. I don't want anything but for us to be on good terms."
"G-Good," he stuttered, feeling weaker with each step his ex took toward him. "T-This hasta stop. Whutever th' hells this is, it hasta stop."
There. As horribly wonderful as he felt, he had made things simple. All of this had a simple answer! Everything would be fine. Eeyup.
Caramel finally sat down in front of him, now fully beyond the blur. Now Macintosh could see him clearly...he could see the helpless tears starting to pool in those baby blues. He couldn't even remember his girlfriend's name.
"We may r-really be a bad match. *Sniffle* I-I can sorta see that. But that doesn't--”
Macintosh pulled Caramel toward him and grabbed his head to plant an unrestrained kiss on those lips that twisted him. He massaged the sassy mouth with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, with a ferocity that scared him to death. It was true. It was all true. Why did it have to be true? Because now...now it had to become untrue. But it couldn't be.
It could never be.
Macintosh pulled apart from his little stallion to let them both breathe. It was so much easier; they could both breathe so much easier. But it was only for this moment. They rested their heads together and simply drew breath, savoring each synchronized inhale and exhale. What little time they had would be theirs and only theirs, a singular memory stubbornly blazing against oblivion. It was all they had left.
“Ah love you, Caramel...Ah jus' wish Ah knew why. But we'll make do."
“Yeah...I love you too, Dad.”