‘’Alright, let’s try this one again,’’ Rainbow Strike said to himself as he was perched on the edge of the bed, electric guitar held in his bandaged-up hooves. The sunburst finish of the Stratocaster gleamed in the morning light of the sun, glowing a brilliant and radiant orange that was so polished it reflected the light, casting celestial auras around the walls of the bedroom.
Although it was a little harder than usual for him to manoeuvre his hooves around the strings with the bandages cutting off his agility, making progressive chords were a tad strange, but he made do. He began to strum on the strings while he sang,
‘’I have amnesia, what’s my na-ame?’’ He sang quietly to himself, having a practice run with the chords progressions and the rolls of the words on his tongue, carefully locking them in-sync with his strumming, trying not to come in too early. (That’s what she said.)
‘’I can see your flame, flickering in the night. A dying light,’’ He continued singing to himself. ‘’I cannot breathe, I cannot hear. I cannot feel, nor can I see,’’ He imagined himself kicking out on the distortion pedal, which when tied in with a chorus effect set on a low rate, sounded like a symphony of angry angels howling in a passionate cry of pent-up frustration in an effort of catharsis.
Rainbow Strike was alone, like he had been for the majority of his life. At times like this, whenever he was left on his lonesome, with Fluttershy being out of the cottage, he would spend his time having a relaxing session on his guitar, the only real means of venting his emotions. Once upon a time, he used it to express his sadness and his white-hot anger at the world, but now he used it for reasons derived from heartache, past regrets and inner frustrations that originate from intimate feelings for she who he had no chance with. A pity play, if you will.
Back in the city of Fordstone, he at least had a partner to join in with. Like when his fiancé was in the shower after a show, she’d like to sing. Strike would take the opportunity to improvise a riff to blend in with her sweet, resonant vocals, like the tender kiss of honey whiskey upon first sipping a glass, along with the warmth that it brought to the drinker. It was comforting and pleasant, as inviting as a warm kiss during a cold winter night.
‘’Hmm-hmm-hum-hummm-hum,’’ He hummed the ‘I have amnesia’ line again, and he came to a stop once he had finished up on the chorus. It was so amazing how singing his inner-most thoughts released the monkey from his back, the part of his anxiety that was ripping him apart at the seams.
There weren’t many factors in life to cause him distress these days, the marauders known as The Elements of Crime having been killed years ago and putting an end to the beginning of the chain of events that pushed him into a downward spiral of suffering and agony. He had really learned so much about himself since those days when he was a runaway in the town of Stockholm, and those memories were best left in the dark corners of his mind.
Nowadays, Rainbow Strike had a reason to live. For starters, he had his precious younger sister. He recalled how badly he wanted to meet her once he had been given word through the mouth of a friendly messenger that night in the bar in Fordstone. It was like a new light had kindled at the end of the dark tunnel, giving him sight and illuminating his way back to normalcy, an excuse to revisit his old life and return to his family.
Then there was Fluttershy. The mare he had tried so hard not to fall for, out of the respect he had left for his deceased wife-to-be, but, oh, how he had foiled that promise. He found himself to become smitten and overwhelmed by her beauty. She took him in when she noticed the distress he was in, all of the weight pressuring his brain to the point of imploding, literally squeezing the sanity out of his bodily fibres. It warmed him how much she cared about him, and that was when he first realised the warmth in his chest whenever she was around him.
Oh, sweet, dear Fluttershy, one of two only things on the face of Equestria that gave him a purpose. With each day that passed, every therapy session he sat through with her, the way she just listened and offered a friendly, sympathetic ear. She was an angel. There was no way he could repay the kindness he was shown by her, meaning he knew he’d always be in debt to her priceless advice.
‘’I have amnesia-aa-aa,’’ He continued to sing, louder this time. ‘’What’s my na-ame?’’ He was almost shouting now, the rhythm having taken over his vocals. He was told that he had a very good vocal projection, making him a natural on-stage when it came to really getting into the music and expressing lyrics with a wide range of emotions.
‘’What’s my na-ame? I have amnesia-aa-aa!’’ He shouted, the push rumbling out through his muscular throat and ushering out between his lips with a powerful breath of air, grungy and rough through his raspy voice. Although the lyrics were sweet and soothing, his unorthodox style tied in with rough, gritty vocals usually reserved for use in heavy rock, it was a surprisingly fitting mix that could only be truly achieved and expressed by those whom have lived a rough life. As ponies say in the music business, ‘’You can’t sing the blues until you live the blues first.’’
‘’Hello there, the angel from my fantasies, the unsuspecting saviour of my broken dreams, we could live like Celestia and Luna if we want to,’’ Strike began playing a much happier tune, chippy but still holding a slight dark undertone. He hadn’t explored this style of music too much, but he enjoyed it from time to time when nobody was home to hear him sing to such tones.
This wasn’t the style he’d typically delve into, not even when it came to rehearsal sessions or sound checks in concerts back when he had a band to play with on late nights at big venues or bars. The only other time he’d sang something so heartfelt, sweet and tender was when he serenaded his fiancé, back when she was still his girlfriend. That was the night he had proposed to her and she became so much more with him. How her heart melted and the way she swooned with that flirtatious, lovestruck expression, whiskey-coloured eyes warm and gleaming.
It felt nice to be playing this song again, although it wasn’t a song he knew by-heart, nor did he know all of the correct chords or all of the lyrics, having never fully studied the song, but he never needed to know. He had gained the heart of his girlfriend upon the first verse. Man, if Fluttershy came home and heard him playing this song right now—-
‘’Strike?’’
‘’AH!’’ Strike jumped half out of his skin upon hearing his name being spoken in the soft voice of its owner. In fact, he was so startled that he dropped his Stratocaster, it landing hard on the wooden floor with a cringe-bringing thud and metallic clang as the strings rattled. It sounded as if a split had run through the neck and fretboard, judging by the force of the bang it made.
‘’Oh, Fluttershy! Y-You’re home!’’ He said, doing his best to compose himself, forcing away his blush. (He failed miserably to do so.)
‘’Yes, I just came back from the market,’’ She said, evidently still wearing her saddlebags. Without a doubt, she had entered the upstairs of her cottage and lured into her bedroom where Strike was playing, able to hear his singing. Her expression was confused but curious, her warm pools of turquoise heaven shining bright and staring right at him. ‘’What was that? The song you were playing, I mean?’’
‘’Oh, it’s just, um, a l-love song,’’ He said awkwardly as he scrambled to the floor to grasp his guitar, praying that it wasn’t damaged. His fiancé had bought him it when she asked him to join her band as her lead guitarist, so if it was broken, he’d be devastated. Unfortunately, as he had suspected, the fretboard now had a giant split running from the first fret and stopping between the third and fourth. ‘’Oh, dammit,’’ He groaned.
‘’Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you—-‘’
‘’No, no, it’s not your fault,’’ Strike quickly stopped her, getting back up and sitting down on the bed, placing his guitar next to him. ‘’I was the one who dropped it, not you. I should have listened to Remedy and used a strap so I could avoid dropping it when I get distracted. I suppose that’s her way of telling me ‘I told you so’,’’ He said, trying to find a silver lining.
‘’Aw, well, I’m sorry. I know how much that guitar means to you,’’ She cooed sadly. ‘’So, um, you said that it was a love song? A love song about who?’’
‘’Oh!’’ Strike blushed hard now, so visible that he wasn’t going to weasel his way out of it. ‘’Well, Fluttershy, you see, it was…it was about…you…’’ He finished lamely, thinking he might as well get it out now than rather wait for her to squeeze it out of him with faces of pure cuteness.
Fluttershy stood there, silently and expressionless. Her cheeks were very lightly tinged with pink, eyes wider than usual, taking in what had been said.
‘’I…what?’’ Is all she said, her tone touched, a hoof touching her chest where her heart would be. Her expression soon melted into a dreamy one. ‘’A love song about me?’’
‘’Well, technically, it’s the same one I sang for my girlfriend when I proposed to her, but the lyrics were different so that it matched you and your personality, so, yes,’’ He said, explaining himself to her. ‘’Listen, you’re great, Fluttershy, and I would be stupid to not find you the least bit attractive, but I was playing it because I really appreciate all you’ve done for me,’’ Strike got up and he came in front of her. ‘’May I?’’
‘’Huh?’’ She asked, confused. ‘’May you wha—ah!’’ She squeaked in surprise as Strike picked her up gently between his bandaged hooves, being gentle so that the saddlebags on her back lightly slid down her rump and onto the floor. Strike held her in his hooves so that she stood on her hind legs, the blush on her cheeks darkening as she realised how close their muzzles were.
He felt her gingerbread latte-scented breath pulse in comforting heat against the hairs of his face, a favourite aroma of his. He also detected magnolia and shea butter emanating delicately from her lush pink mane.
‘’May I have this dance?’’ He asked her, pulling her slightly closer to him. He loved holding her close like this; she was so comfortably warm and elegantly toned, her hips so smooth and contoured.
‘’O-Oh, m-my, Strike, I, um!’’ She stammered, taken aback by this sudden close proximity of her body against his, their chests touching and their muzzles only mere inches apart. She saw himself in his large, emerald eyes, those eyes that she adored so much and which squeezed around her heart and tickled her stomach lining with butterflies whenever she gazed into them. Not that she’d let him know that. Being a hopeless romantic like he was, it’d be a terrible idea to give him more ways in which he could pitch woo to her.
‘’Hey, shh,’’ He spoke in a hushed tone. ‘’It’s alright - follow me,’’ He said, pulling his lips towards the side of her ear so he could whisper into it. ‘’Trust me, I know how to dance. I’ve always wanted to dance with an angel.’’
He heard her give a muffled ‘’Meep!’’, so cute and adorable. Regardless, the pair of them began to sway, practically hugging as Strike lead their movements with gentle, simple leg movements, his hooves all the while snugly secured around Fluttershy’s waist. Her own hooves were enveloped around Strike’s neck, her face gazing up at him with a loving expression.
From then on, the both of them enjoyed each other’s company, spending the rest of the day together and relaxing around the house. (Involving cuddling, hugging and snuggling together in bed.)
AND THEN THEY SHAGGED!