Granny Smith had always been upfront with her mortality. She’d planned for her funeral the way young fillies planned their wedding day. A nice, humble casket made from apple wood, a spot next to her late husband for the burial, and an apple sapling in place of a headstone. She even had her burial dress picked out.
Applejack was going to bury her in a cardboard box after this. In the middle of the desert. Wearing a clown wig!
At her grandmother’s insistence, Sketchy had rented a room in the local bed and breakfast. Twilight and Starlight dropped her out front and gave her a choice, either go in of her own free will or under magical compulsion.
The compulsion spell had tingled.
Applejack stepped inside and found a small desk covered with small bottles of massage oils. An elderly mare sat behind the desk, smiling warmly. “You must be the lucky mare for the Eros’s Escape room.” She held out a key. “It’s at the end of that hallway over there.”
Speaking was still too much for her sore throat, so Applejack had to content herself with a nod before taking the key and marching off down the indicated hallway.
She unlocked the door and stepped into something out of her most romantic nightmares. Glowing red gems in the shape of hearts covered the ceiling. Thick carpet covered the floor. A large hot tub sat in one corner, opposite an enormous bed. And there was Sketchy in the middle of it all, looking as calm as he ever did.
“Hello, marefriend.” He frowned. “Or should I only refer to you as that when speaking to others? Hello, Applejack? Is that better?”
Applejack sighed. For a moment there, she’d been expecting something romantic. “Sec-” She winced. It looked like talking was still off the table after all that screaming earlier. Instead, she tapped the floor twice.
“The second?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
By Celestia’s tail, hadn’t he seen her wince when she tried to speak? Applejack pointed at her throat then made an X with her hooves.
“I don’t understand.”
Obviously. Applejack tapped her throat and tried to speak again. All that came out were a few squeaks, and even that hurt.
“Did something happen to your throat?”
She nodded.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sketchy said. “It’s a good thing I’ve been studying facial expressions and body language.” He walked to a table that Applejack hadn’t noticed before and pulled out a seat for her. “Your grandmother suggested a romantic dinner. She even provided the food.”
Applejack considered her situation for a second. The compulsion had only been to go into the room, not to stay in it, and certainly not to do anything with Sketchy while she was here. There wasn’t a thing stopping her from kicking down the door and leaving … but, well, she was hungry. It couldn’t hurt to enjoy a meal before she ran like tartarus.
“By the way,” Sketchy said, taking his own seat, “what’s this for?” He held up a shovel.
She was very nearly sick. A few minutes of shaking her head convinced Sketchy not to ask about it again. Though it took a few minutes longer before she felt hungry again, even with the huge meal laid out before her. Granny had included all her favorites: green-bean casserole, candied yams, stuffing, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and gravy.
One plate later, Applejack was feeling well enough to wonder just what day it was. Twilight had taken two days to recover from the Pinkie Special. Applejack sure felt like she hadn’t eaten in two days.
Sketchy worked through his own plate slowly and methodically. “Are you thirsty? The room came with a bottle of champagne.”
Of course it had. Though a bit of alcohol would help when it came time to go home and face Granny. Applejack found the bottle in a bucket of ice. There was a short note around its neck, written in Granny’s hoofwriting, ‘Have fun tonight, or I’ll tan your hide.’
Maybe she could get Granny declared mentally incompetent and thrown in a psych ward. This room had to be enough evidence to convict her. Applejack poured herself a glass and sat back down.
“Would you mind explaining something?” Sketchy asked.
Applejack gave him a flat look and pointed at her throat again.
“I know,” Sketchy said. “I’d still like to ask.”
Why not? She tried to tell him to go ahead, and winced from the pain in her throat. Ugh, this was going to make communicating impossible!
“Are you angry about something?” Sketchy asked. “That expression means anger, right?”
She nodded.
“What are you angry about?”
That, at least, was easy. She pointed to her throat.
“You’re angry that you can’t talk?”
Another nod.
“I understand,” Sketchy said. He took one last bite then pushed his plate to the side. “My question is this, why do you spend so much time with me?” He looked down. “I’m not easy to get along with, or handsome, or even rich.”
Applejack’s mind went blank. She honestly had no idea how to answer, especially without being able to speak. He was sort of right, spending time with him could be a colossal headache, but her life just felt … she didn’t even know how to describe it … More full now? And she couldn’t help but respect how sincere and dedicated he was. Sketchy had a goal, he had the talent to reach it, and he worked hard every day to do just that.
There was a lot to admire about him, now that Applejack thought about it. He was the only stallion to ever make her feel like she should be more honest, the only one who was always honest with her in return. She spent time with him because being with him felt right. She didn’t want to be with any other stallion.
Except, she didn’t know how to say any of that without words. Maybe he’d get a metaphor of some kind.
Right, and maybe the sun would grow a giant smiley face.
The only way to get her feelings across was probably to kiss … Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head. Nope, not gonna happen.
“Can you not think of any reasons either?” Sketchy asked quietly. “I didn’t bring it up earlier, because I worried you’d come to that conclusion and decide to stop spending time with me. I don’t blame you or anything.”
Argh, fine! Applejack got up and marched around the table to him, cupping his face in her hooves. Now she just needed to lean in and … and … and there had to be a force field around his face or something, because her lips weren’t getting any closer to his.
“What are you doing?” Sketchy asked.
What do you think? Applejack thought. I’m working up the courage to give you a big old smooch and prove all those obnoxious busybodies right, because I really do like being with you. My life might be crazy with you around, but it’s the good kind of crazy, and I don’t want it to end.
Unfortunately, Sketchy hadn’t spontaneously developed mind-reading powers, so her heartfelt inner monologue only earned her a blank stare.
Maybe she could say it a different way. She took his hoof and pressed it to her heart. Even Sketchy would understand the significance of that.
“Are you not feeling well?” Sketchy asked. “Your heart is beating a lot more quickly than normal. Should I get a doctor?”
Never mind. Applejack facehoofed.
“I recognize that gesture,” Sketchy said. “It’s used to express frustration, right?”
She nodded.
Sketchy’s ears pressed back against his head. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder.”
And now she felt like a jerk for getting angry. She patted his hoof and went back to her seat.
“So why do you spend time with me?”
Right, she still hadn’t answered that question. What she wouldn’t give for a quill and some parchment. Actually … She pantomimed writing something and gave him a questioning look. Did he have anything she could write with?
“You spend time with me for my art?” Sketchy asked, his face scrunched up in thought. “But you don’t let me pay you for the money you’re helping me earn.” He tapped a hoof to his temple. “It can’t be because you enjoy modeling for my art. You rejected me several times at first. So …” Understanding lit up his face. “So you like looking at what I draw?”
The conversation was starting to get away from her, but she did appreciate the work and talent that went into his art. Applejack hesitantly nodded.
“Thank you,” Sketchy said, a heartfelt smile on his lips. “I’ll be sure to keep sending you pictures once I move to Canterlot. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”
After he moved …
Applejack reminded herself that it was for the best. He’d get the fame and fortune he deserved, and she’d be fine without him—a little bit less excited to greet each new day, but fine. She faked a smile.
Sketchy poured himself a glass of champagne and sipped on it while looking around the room. “I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next. Your grandmother said something about churning butter and making me into a real stallion, but I didn’t understand any of it.”
Applejack did, and a furious blush appeared on her cheeks just thinking about it. She didn’t want to admit it, but she kind of didn’t mind the idea so much. As long as it was with Sketchy, that was. Maybe it would even convince him to stay. Except … she didn’t want her first time to be like this, a desperate attempt to manipulate somepony. Both of them deserved better than that.
“I don’t see any equipment to manufacture butter,” Sketchy said, turning back to her. “Should we tell the pony at the front desk that there’s been an oversight?”
She shook her head, blinking to clear her eyes. The right thing to do, the only thing to do, was to leave.
“Then what should we do?”
Applejack pointed to the bed and pantomimed sleeping.
“I suppose it is getting late,” Sketchy said. He did a double take. “Wait, there’s only one bed. Should we share, or should I go back to my apartment? It isn’t far.”
Applejack shook her head and pointed at him then at the bed. Next she pointed at herself then gestured toward Sweet Apple Acres.
“Understood.” Sketchy stood up and walked to the door. “Tomorrow’s going to be extremely busy, with all the moving stuff going on.”
The words hit Applejack like a slap to the face. He was moving tomorrow? But she still had a few days to- She bowed her head. No, she didn’t have a few days. She’d wasted them because of that Pinkie Special.
Stupid! Applejack barely held back tears of shame.
“What’s wrong?” Sketchy asked, hurrying over to her. “Is it something I said? Why did you suddenly look so sad?”
Applejack stood up and looked away. She really didn’t want to break down like some dainty mare too weak to live without her stallion.
“What can I do to help?” Sketchy asked, moving right up to her, so close she could feel his coat brushing against hers. “Anything. Just say what I can do, and I’ll do it.”
Those words crumpled the last of Applejack’s resolve. She pulled him into a fierce hug, burying her head in his neck. The faint scent of ink touched her nose. She almost wanted to laugh. Of course he’d smell like ink.
Sketchy tensed up at first, then he leaned into the embrace. Holding him like this made everything feel a little better somehow. It wasn’t just that he was warm and sturdy, though it helped. Rather, it was the simple fact that he was there, another pony with his own worries, cares, and problems, who was putting all of that aside so he could help her. He deserved the same in return.
And so Applejack slowly, forcefully pushed aside her selfish desire for him to stay. He deserved the kind of success he’d find in Canterlot. That thought strengthened her enough that she could let go and step back.
Sketchy still looked worried, even lifting a hoof like he wanted to wrap it around her.
Applejack didn’t trust herself to let him. If she went back into an embrace, she might not leave until the next morning. Instead, she faked another smile and croaked out, “Th-than … ks.”
“For what?” Sketchy asked.
She just smiled once more. Then she turned and walked away.