I know, right?
Hilarious.
We didn’t go shopping. Good.
I spent the rest of the day in my room. So did Soarin. He shut his door quietly, after I heard him put the dishes away. And it didn’t click open since. I’ve… I’ve been listening, I’ll admit. We said not a word to each other for the entire day – I didn’t see him once. He’s hurt, I think. I should probably apologize – it would be the right thing to do. I won’t. If he really wants to ‘make up’, he can go do it himself.
Today doesn’t seem like it’ll be any better. It’s still early, though, so I guess things could look up. Doubt it. Things never look up, even if one wants it so desperately… they’d kill. I know. Bed is soft as always, only bearable in that little Dash-shaped hole right in the center. Curtains are tied tight as always, sealing the rising sun out, out, out. Room is dark as always, taunting me with… are they there? Aren’t they there?
I'm lying still, curled tight into myself, when my ears pick up on something. I curl even tighter, wrapping my hindhooves around my forehooves, and locking into place. My ears stand straight up, pointing to the door. Instinctively, I have to scan the area sound is coming from. From my door, down the hall just a little, by Soarin’s room. Now, just have to wait for the little squeal… there. Yes, Soarin’s coming out of his room. I can’t hear hoofsteps, but he’s clearly moving. Flying, I’m sure of it. Which means he didn’t sleep. It... he... he could never fly - he was too out of it - right after waking up.
Now, I hear Soarin pouring something – water, I believe – into his coffee machine. Now I'm certain he didn't sleep. Flying is one thing, one thing that, in the morning, is already impressive, but getting coffee started this quickly... isn't like every other day. But... I guess it's good to see his love for morning coffee clearly not diminishing. He... really loves morning coffee. I… I almost want to smile, before I can help it. Morning coffee always signaled the start of a new day – a new adventure.
“Morning, Dashie.” Soarin mutters, as I enter the kitchen. He had beat me to the shower, but probably could have used the extra minutes in bed. Eh, I don’t mind. The scent of… something is already floating around, so… at least breakfast will be ready soon.
“Somepony’s tired today!” I tease, coming up next to him. His scent, fresh from his earlier shower, washes over me. It’s clean, very clean. Soarin-clean. My-Soarin-clean. “Tired, and grumpy!” I poke him with my wing, right above his own.
“Shut up.” He grunts, evading away from my touch. But always, always, keeping his sleepy gaze on the coffee machine.
“I don’t think so…” I lilt, dancing after him. Yes, I’ll be difficult today… I feel good! Wonderbolt training has been great – Spitfire even has me doing the hard stuff now! Soarin and I are going strong – living together is working out really, really well. Twilight and the others are stopping by later – today is our day off, after all, and we’ll be having a picnic later. Life is awesome, right now. I’m a mare with an awesome life – I get to show it! He growls, low in his throat. I love that sound.
“You are so annoying, know that?” He spins around, to face me. See? He’d even turn away from his morning coffee, for me!
“I know!” I answer, giving him a sweet smile. Something in his eyes… something shifts. They go from a rough fire, to a liquid love. Like… okay. Smile was meant to be light, but… I’ll not pass up the chance to see my stallion’s eyes like that!
He double-steps forward, coming around behind me, faster than I can blink. Celestia, he’s so light on his feet… he’s perfect. I feel his forehooves land on my back, playfully trying to push me into the ground. “And I love it.” He murmurs, right into my ear. I squirm under him.
“Okay. Get off.” I duck, trying to maneuver my haunches out from under him. His hooves grip tighter. Aw… now he’s just being unfair.
“What’s the matter?” He nips my ear, making it twitch. “Can’t move?” His tone is playful, just like an overgrown colt at playtime.
“N-No,” I protest. He… he knows I could kick him off, whenever I want, right? I-I’m just… just choosing not to. “Y-You’re bigger.” I squirm again. But I like his weight. He’s there, real, and warm. I just won't admit that, of course.
Something rumbles in his throat again, maybe a little laugh?
The coffee whistles. He falters, instantly.
“Coffee’s calling!” his forehooves drop; he hits the ground running.
“Love ya, Soarin, you know that?” I call after him, shaking my head. But I grin. It’s impossible not to.
“Of course I do.” He answers, fondly. I glance up, in the exact moment he does. Our eyes meet, both smiling bright.
And I think: this is what home feels like.
I want to smile. But I can’t. This isn’t the past, and it never will be, ever again. That day, that moment, will never happen, ever again. Soarin’s mad, Soarin’s hurt; I’m mad, I’m hurt.
For the first time since coming back from war, I grab my cloud pillow. It’s kicked to the side, precariously on the verge of falling into the narrow crack between the bed and window. For the first time since coming back from war, I pull it over my head. Slowly. Carefully. I don’t want to rip open the scabs; tear open the scars. But I want to go through the motions of an unsure mare. Just… just because. It’s… it’s what a normal mare would do, and I guess I just… want to act like one. It’s not a crime. I’m allowed to be a mare.
It’s strange, to be under a pillow. Dark. Actually, it’s a little comforting. I might do this again, sometime. It’s like I’m lost in a world only I know. My hooves are out, ready, and I could fight. But right now... I don't have to. It's... well, strange.
A knock. Right on my door, I can tell immediately.
A few things happen. My body goes rigid, tensing, as though to harden into a shield. My ears swivel to the door, instantly starting to process the who’s, the what’s, the why’s. My heart starts to race – is there a possible threat?
And… it also starts to beat. What if it’s Soarin? Oh… please let it be Soarin…
“D-Dash?” A voice, tone almost timid, murmurs from the other side. I see the door lean just barely. Soarin’s on the other side, and he’s leaning his forehead against the door. He’s nervous. G-Good?
“Yeah.” It comes out curter that I thought it would. Okay… my instincts. Yes, it’s my instincts. They want me to be on guard. Dash, a simple memory can’t bring back weakness. I know, I know. See? My tone’s harsh.
“Can I come in?” Soarin’s voice cracks. I feel my heart. Dashie… can he come in? Please? My instincts respond, warning off danger. No, Dash. No. No. No. No letting ponies in. You can’t trust anypony. Never. Ever. But… I want him to come in. I want the happiness of that day, because it sure as hay felt better than this.
“Yeah.” I whisper. “Sure.”
Then, I stand up, joints quivering just slightly, move to my door, and unlatch it. Both locks.
And Soarin steps in.