There’s really no reason to be nervous.
We’re just talking. Two friends talking.
Side by side, talking. In a room alone together. On the bed he sleeps in. Pressed against one another. Looking into one another’s eyes, talking.
I don’t think I can remember the last time I was ever so close to a friend.
John tells me he’s fine with what’s happened to him, and I can tell he believes it, but I worry anyway. I worry about him a lot. I’d trust Twilight with my life and I knew she’d take care of him when he was sent to her - and knew she had been, she told me after all - but I still worried.
That doesn’t often happen.
And John makes another joke at his own expense. Don’t like those that much. I’d rather he not make them, personally. I pull him against me a little tighter with my wing. Not sure if he notices or not. It’s a little hard to tell with him sometimes.
This is going somewhere. I’m not sure where. I have an idea of where I want it to go, but it’s vague. More of an impression, a desire of where I’d like it to be rather than anything definite.
I care about John. In a particular way. In a way I’m finding difficult to describe.
I’d like him to know that.
He’s clearly more relaxed when it’s just the two of us, and that’s good sign, isn’t it?
And he liked the prank with the book! I’d forgotten I’d even done that! That’s also a good sign!
His arm is around me. That’s surely a very good sign.
Earlier, back at the party, when I’d surprised him - again; he was very easy to sneak up on - and he’d turned around, the look on his face when he saw me. His face had just lit up. Like he’d seen the most amazing thing in the world. And that was me! I’d done that! Just by being me! Just by being there!
That had to be a good sign. No reason to be nervous. We were both on the same page. Both of us were thinking the same things, surely, just too nervous to broach the subject. Skirting around it. For our own reasons, clearly, and clearly good ones, but we were both coming from the same place.
I assumed. Baselessly.
It’d be better to be honest with myself.
There are good reasons to be nervous.
Something like this doesn’t come along often. Not for me. It’s unusual. The possibility of a mistake is very real, and a mistake could ruin the whole thing, and then it’d be gone. Forever.
And I’d know about forever.
Days just go rushing past. Months. Years - centuries even! Things happen over and over and over and over, so many times they hardly matter. Just like breathing. Background noise, an unconscious reflex.
Then you get a moment like this and the seconds are important! Where opportunities are unique and can be missed!
I’m out of practise. Monsters? Commonplace. Nobles? All the same. Foreign kingdoms? There’s never a huge variance in what a sovereign nation wants, really, and if there is you can see it coming. Politics move quickly but never so quickly you can’t steer things correctly, if you’re paying attention.
A specific someone? Just one individual? One friend right beside you who you care about and like and find interesting and don’t want to hurt? Someone who you know is vulnerable but doesn’t want to admit it and who you just want to protect and show how important they are to you?
Why is that so much harder?
Because I’m out of practise. Because it is hasn’t happened in so long. And because John’s different. He’s unique. It’s not his fault, but he is. His circumstances are unique. Nothing like it has ever happened, might never happen again. And he is himself unique. The only thing like him.
That shouldn’t matter. It does, but it shouldn’t. It makes him more interesting by default. That shouldn’t matter, but I think about it. It makes me guilty to admit that it’s part of why I like him. Not the only reason, but part of the reason. It’s part of what makes him him, and I like him.
That’s not so bad, is it?
This is happening fast. I know it’s happening fast. These things always do, yes, but maybe not quite this fast! But I don’t want to waste it. I don’t want to wait and let something slip away! Not something like this. Not something like what I know this could be.
Though, what it could be I’m not sure either. But it could be something. That at least is clear.
Possibility is not a good thing to build anything on. Not fair on John, very selfish of me, I know. But you have to take a risk sometimes, don’t you? When one comes along so rarely?
And I may be out of practise but so much of this is promising, even for so little time spent together. Getting the jokes is one thing. It’s that he just seems to like me. He was friendly, treated me nicely, warmly, not with deference. I may have liked that a bit too much, held off on telling him things I should have told him.
Not strictly dishonesty, withholding important information. It just feels a lot like dishonesty.
Though that would depend on who you talk to.
Even now he knows who and what I am he still doesn’t look at me any differently. He looks at me like he did at the beginning.
Not right at the beginning when he was scared of me, obviously. After that. Once he started smiling at me.
That look.
The one he’s giving me right now, with his face so close to mine.
It could all go wrong. So, so wrong.
John has nothing, John has no-one.
Well, that’s not true. But what John has he has because of me. Everyone he’s met he’s met through me, one way or another. I was the first thing he encountered here, even if he didnt notice. That puts me in a very particular position. A position over him, whether he knows it or not.
He might have misplaced feelings, might think he owes me something.
He might think he has to accept. To go along with what happens to him. I don’t want that. I don’t want him to feel he’s obliged. I don’t want to hurt him. I really, really don’t want to hurt him. He’s already lost everything, I don’t want him to think he might lose everything again because of how he reacts to something I do.
I wonder if he’s as worried as I am. He doesn’t look worried.
Time is passing, the window is closing. If I was a normal pony I might have a better idea of just how big the window was, but I didn’t. It was just one of those things that would normally have rushed by so fast I wouldn’t even have noticed.
If the window closes will it open again? I don’t know! What if it doesn’t? What if this - this moment right now, right here, these seconds - is the window? What if everything else after this is different? I’ll have missed the moment! He’ll never know! I’ll never have the right moment!
I have to do something.
If I choose not to decide, I will still have made a choice.
He treats you like a normal pony, what would a normal pony do right now? What would be the normal thing to do?
Forget the detail. Forget worrying about the consequences. Worrying will keep you from acting, and keeping from acting will let it slip away forever. Focus on the moment. Focus on the now. How long has it been since you’ve had a good reason to do that? How long has it been since it’s made you feel so nervous? Since it’s made you feel like this?
So what would a normal pony do? With someone they care about? With someone they know cares about them but hasn’t said it? What would be the risky thing to do?
A kiss?
No, no too much. It’s too soon, much too soon for that. What would John think? No, no.
Something smaller, but similar.
Just a peck. A little peck. Nothing major, just a little one. Friendly, even. Just on the cheek. He won’t mind that, will he? Just a friendly little peck. Show him I care. Because I do care and I want him to know I care.
If he doesn’t like it? Apologise. That’ll be fine. Apologise and then you’ll know. Apologise and you can know you tried and you can move on.
But you can’t do nothing! Every second counts!
You’ve already lent in so close! He hasn’t pulled away! He has to know! He can see you! He’s looking at you!
Just a peck! Just on the cheek!
Now! Now!