“You know what, Key? I’m beginning to have some serious doubts about this.”
“Aw, come on, Johannes,” Hotkey calls from ahead of me, peering over her shoulder as she ascends another earthen step of the abandoned forest trail. “It’s only a little further to go.”
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“And I mean it this time. Trust me.”
Well, whatever trust I had in her is wavering. I had my suspicions the instant she directed me away from the city proper and into the woods surrounding it, but after ten minutes’ travel stumbling through the ever-darkening bush, I’ve had nearly enough. For all I know, this could all have been a plot to get me away from civilisation, to a place where no one can hear me scream. Perhaps she’s done this with dozens of others, possibly a hundred or more.
She is part bat, after all. I know that makes her more inclined to fruit than fresh blood, but still.
“Trust me, she says,” I mutter under my breath, continuing to follow despite the chill that slithers down my spine, reminding me how exposed I am. I don’t even have a proper jacket to ward off the cool air, just this long-sleeved shirt, made of either cotton or wool… or something thicker than whatever polos are typically woven from. “You do realise we only met each other an hour ago, right?”
“And look where we are now,” she counters in a teasingly smug tone, and in what little light the canopy filters through, I see her cock an eyebrow. “If this isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”
“A sign of what?”
“That we’ve hit it off.” She rounds a corner where the path levels off, where some of the original asphalt hasn’t crumbled into loose gravel, and begins walking backwards. Apparently she’s been this way enough times that she doesn’t need to look where she’s going. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing is yet to be seen. “And to think all it took was a little confidence, some cider, a bit of polite conversation and a few wiggles of the old hips.”
I grit my teeth and glance for the city through the foliage. The illuminated streets and building windows are barely visible; most of the light under the forest canopy comes from the full moon. Perfect night for vampires. “Yeah, I’m not really in a joking mood right now.”
“Afraid of the dark?”
“And those who might take advantage of it.”
Her ears perk up and her pace slows. “You mean… me?”
“Well, come on, you have to admit that if our roles were reversed, this’d be way, way creepier, wouldn’t it? A stranger from across the bar takes an interest in me, expresses a desire to engage in certain activities, and invites me to somewhere she won’t disclose, in a city I’m unfamiliar with. That’s, like, B movie horror one-oh-one.”
She comes to a halt and stiffens, blinking at me with widening eyes. “Johannes… that’s not what’s happening.”
“Then what’re we doing here?” I gesture to the city. “Why couldn’t we have gone to the park, or somewhere less… remote? I mean, I understand this is supposed to be your special spot, but what’s so special about it?” After a beat, a certain emptiness tickles at my insides, and I allow my hand to fall back to my side. Perhaps it’s guilt, perhaps it’s the anxiety I should be feeling finally catching up to me. Whatever the case, I refocus on her, and the faint glow in her eyes like a cat in the dark, and shrug questioningly. “And why me?”
Hotkey holds my gaze for a long moment, her mouth slowly closing. While the atmosphere here isn’t exactly quiet, what with the gentle sway of branches and the rustle of leaves in the early night air, the world around us seems more still than usual. But eventually, she glances to her right, my left, and sighs. “Would you rather we turn back?”
“No,” I blurt out, and immediately shut my mouth afterwards. I look at the trail beneath my sneakers, fold my arms and shift my weight uneasily. “I mean… I don’t think I do. I dunno. I’m just…”
“Lonely?”
I hesitate, then nod apprehensively. Not because she scares me or anything, but because it somehow feels like the wrong answer, or that I shouldn’t be admitting to it. “And confused.” With my brows furrowed, I lift my attention back to the city. “Well, maybe not confused, but there’s this, like…” Once my voice trails off, I realise that I’ve forgotten what I want to say, or never thought that far, so I look at her with another questioning shrug and shake of the head. “Really, Key, I don’t mean to sound suspicious… but what’re you hoping to get out of this? Whatever this is.”
She chews on her words carefully as she stares at the ground with a brooding frown, then meets my gaze and offers a brave if uneasy smile. “This… is what I do when someone needs a certain kind of companionship. And what I hope to get out of it is… the knowledge that I’ve done some good for you, whatever that may be.”
Which means, thanks to the power of technicalities, some things are still on the table. And I wish I could feel more embarrassed about them being there. Awkward, definitely, but embarrassed? I’d simply rather not think about it.
“As to what we’re doing,” she continues, appearing more sure of herself, “I told you before: there’s a place I like to go when I wish to be by myself. The park doesn’t work because it’s too… artificial. It doesn’t offer the same degree of privacy either. But if you’re after the true reason why it’s so special… well, that’s because it reminds me of home.”
“And where is home?”
“Hollow Shades.” She turns and resumes strolling along the path, indicating for me to follow with a casual wave of her wing. So I obey, catch up and match her stride. “Calling it a village would be an insult, but you wouldn’t really call it a town or a city either. It’s more a collection of hamlets in a valley – cave-homes and treehouses everywhere. It’s also where most of my friends lived. My childhood friends. What few I had.”
“You were a loner?”
“Such is the life of an introvert.”
“An introvert?” I cock an eyebrow and angle my head toward her sceptically. “You? The pony who asked me if I wanted to…?”
She winces and twists her muzzle, peering off to the right as her ears lower again. “My preferences have… shifted somewhat, yes. But I was never much of a social butterfly. That’s still the case today, frankly. You, my new friends and the occasional fling are the rare exception.”
That last line plucks at a nerve in my chest and I squint at her. “Define ‘occasional’.”
Now her ears flatten, and she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even glance in my direction, merely staring straight ahead, leading us onward and around a gradual bend.
I fold my arms with my hands in my pits for warmth. “So, what, I’m just meant to be another trophy to stick on your shelf? Another box on your list to mark off? Use once and then discard, like a wet tissue?”
“Are you belittling me?” She looks directly at me with a soft yet warning frown. “Is that all you’re doing, just trying to make me feel bad? To what end? What do you hope to gain from that?”
With a new chill that creeps into my core like icy needles from all sides, and an unpleasant tingle along my scalp, it’s as if my heart skips a beat as I flick my attention from her to the way forward. My pace falters too.
“If you think I’m the sort of pony who’s only out for personal satisfaction, you’re sorely mistaken. There’s more to a relationship than that, even one-night stands. And sometimes, either by providence or virtue… nothing happens at all. It’s just a quiet night about town, or a shared meal back at their place. Sometimes all a pony needs is someone to cuddle up with come the morning.”
Hesitantly, I peer at her from the corner of my eye. “So… you really just want to… be there for me?” And then my brows knit themselves together. “But why? I mean, is it just because I’m… exotic?”
“It’s because you’ve been decent company.” She turns to me with a sympathetic look, although she doesn’t seem any less resolute for it. “Introducing myself was a gamble, and I think it’s been paying off. But if you’re uncomfortable with this…”
“I’m not.” It’s an almost automatic response, and I’m still unsure how to feel about it. “I don't want to be, anyway. It’s just… odd. Everything. Talking ponies. Hybrids. A parallel universe full of them. Being hit on. It’s new to me, all of it.”
She cocks an eyebrow and flashes a smirk. “Haven’t you ever been flirted with before?”
I open my mouth to speak, then close it, then glance away as the words tug at my innards. It’s like they’ve suddenly found themselves full of lead, weighing me down, sickening me. “Not from someone who isn’t my girlfriend.”
She snaps to me with tall eyes and widening eyes, almost horrified. “Your girlfriend?”
Groaning to myself at how carelessly I’d answered, I return to her and offer a rueful look. “Ex, I should say. Sorry. I’m… still not used to it, I guess.”
Her shock patters out into surprise, and then disconcerted understanding. “This sounds… fresh.”
“More or less.” I sigh, then bite my lip and avert my gaze to the path, which is winding us up another flight of wide, earthen steps. “I dunno. It’s all a bit messy, really.”
“How do you mean?”
The thought is like bad-tasting medicine: I have my reservations, and it might make me feel better eventually, but I’d rather have nothing to do with it right now. Regardless, she hasn’t kept anything from me, so it’s only fair I return the favour. “We’re done,” I say, and it’s as if a lead blanket has settled on my shoulders. “It’s over. I mean, the most she said is that she needs a break, but I know her. It’s as close to a signed contract as you’re gonna get. Hasn’t returned any calls or texts for a month and a half either, so… yeah. I’d say we’ve broken up.”
She nods, but doesn’t seem any less perturbed, and only breaks eye contact to ensure nothing trips her up. “What caused it? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Actually, I do, but it’s not like I can pretend I haven’t said anything. And although she’d probably respect my privacy if I said I’m not in the mood, it’d hang over us like our own personal stormcloud, spoiling the nice, sunny day we’re having, nighttime notwithstanding. May as well get it out of the way.
“Family.” The path flattens out again and the trees are less dense. I sense a clearing ahead. At least neither of us have to worry about tripping over anything now. “She didn’t like them, they didn’t like her. They accused her of being something she isn’t, she accused them of being… something they probably are. And because I couldn’t pick a side without pissing someone off, she left. So they turned around and said good riddance… and now I’m stuck with parents who hate someone I liked a lot, and don’t trust me because I hadn’t defended their values.”
Our pace has slowed, and only the crunch of gravel underfoot breaks the silence. Whether it’s mutual or awkward, I can’t tell. I just hope this doesn’t mean I’ve presumed too much of her. After all, why would she care to hear about my past dating life when she’s trying to get lucky with me? All that reveals is how much baggage I’m carrying. Damaged goods, some might call it. A risk. A liability.
“That’s why I’m here,” I conclude with a despondent shrug. “To distract myself. To get away for a bit and… find something that might help me get over it. Somehow. I don’t know what I’m searching for, honestly… but I can’t get any further from home than this, can I?”
Hotkey stares ahead, blinking with a stunned, vacant expression as the little cogs in her mind spin. And when everything clicks into place, she clears her throat and glances in my direction. “That’s, uh… quite the predicament.”
“You’re telling me.” I sigh once more and scan the forward area. Moonlight pours in through the trees, which are growing fewer and fewer in number. I also hear the gentle sound of running water whisper through the branches. “And now I have a pony sizing me up. Quite the predicament indeed.”
She peers at me, slightly anxious. “Have I overstepped my bounds?”
I meet her gaze, then purse my lips and refocus on our surroundings. I’ve already seen all there is to see, but I’m just after something to pass the time while I think. And when I come up with an answer, I fold my arms again and ball my hands into fists – partly to keep myself warm, mostly so I don’t feel too vulnerable to… whatever I’m afraid of. “I should probably say yes.”
“Should?”
“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” With another shrug, I return to her as the canopy breaks. “You must be doing something right.”
She lingers on me, then idly nods and comes to a halt, huffing a small, quiet, affable sigh of her own. “Perhaps,” she replies, sounding somewhat aloof as she slowly cranes her head from left to right. “Or maybe you’re just that starved of attention, and wish to fill the void however you can.”
Surprisingly, a faint smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Like you’d be complaining,” I muse aloud, shifting my attention to the clearing. The terrain dips towards the centre, where a stream cuts through the grass and disappears into the treeline on our right. A willow grows by the shore, and shrubs spring up here and there with peach, orange and pale purple flowers. The pleasant scent of freshwater and damp earth permeates the air, and I relish it all with a deep breath. “Are we there yet?”
“We are.” She strolls a few steps ahead and spreads her leathery wings, smiling back at me. “Welcome to my humble sanctuary. A home away from home for all those in need of rest and respite.”
And now the smirk breaks through in full-force. “Not that this concerns either of us.”
“Certainly not. Why, we’re simply here to admire the scenery.”
“The serenity is just a convenient side-effect.”
“Absolutely.” She continues down to the grassy bank of the stream and stops at a safe distance from the water itself, then turns and faces me with a flick of her tail. “Nobody comes up this way anymore. I think this was a park, once upon a time, or maybe a trailhead. Whatever the case, it’s mine now. My own little slice of paradise.” She gestures to a nearby bush. “You see those flowers there?”
“Yeah?”
“Those are midnight azaleas. They usually only grow in Equestria’s northeast, around my hometown. They shouldn’t be this far south. But here they are, and… aren’t they just the prettiest?”
I can’t deny it, nor would I try to: they’re unlike any azaleas I’ve ever seen, with the multihued petals and… a faint glow in the moonlight. It’s as if they're catching its shine and using it to illuminate themselves. Never thought plants could be bioluminescent. “Do they always look like that?”
“Only at night, when the moon shows herself.” She wanders toward them and bows her head to close her eyes and take a deep whiff. “Ah, they bring back memories. When I was a filly, we used to make crowns of these and wear them every night until they wilted. They lined every footpath, were a part of every garden… Everywhere.” She lifts herself and swings her attention to the distant horizon behind her. “They lost their lustre by the time I left, but when I found this place after I got a job here…”
“…You realised how much you missed them?”
She nods again, aloof once more. “It’s the little things.”
I nod in kind, stowing my hands in my pockets and meandering closer, and an unfortunate truth strikes me as I slow to a stop within arm’s reach of her. “It’s hard to know how much you appreciate something, until it’s gone forever.”
“Sage words.” She returns to me with a gentle expression. “Sad, but sage. And I’m sorry you had to go through… what you went through.”
I shrug and look at the azaleas again. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t empathise,” she implores, reaching a hand up to just below my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze, which feels… nice. “I haven’t experienced what you have, but don’t think I don’t understand. What happened is something that nobody deserves.”
Although it’s a welcome gesture of goodwill, I can’t help feeling a bitter twinge at my core. “Didn’t stop it from happening, though, did it?”
Her only response is silence. For a while, at least; by the time I start worrying that I’ve permanently soured the mood between us, she leans a tad closer to my ear and offers a sober smile. “Do you know why else I like this place?”
I keep my mouth shut, focussing on the azaleas instead. I don't know the answer, and considering the question was rhetorical, I’m sure she’ll be spilling the beans soon enough. I just wish she wouldn’t sound so damn reassuring all of the time. But I know I don’t really mean that, because if that were true, I wouldn’t have followed her out here, and I wouldn’t be staying.
“Lie down.”
Now I peer at Hotkey from the corner of my eye, more curious than suspicious, and to the relief of the doubtful side of my mind, her gaze is soft and sincere.
“Lie down for me,” she repeats, just as compassionate. “Tell me what you see.”
My brow quirks again, sceptical, but after a beat and an inward sigh, I lower myself to a knee, slump onto my rump, and then recline with my fingers locked over my stomach, gazing up at the sky.
And… I’m astounded. Stars, hundreds of them, thousands, tens of thousands, all starting back at me from the void, and twinkling too. I’ve never seen them do that in my world. They’re like glitter in the air, shimmering with moonlight. And more impressively, beyond them, is the swirling arm of the galaxy – the sort of thing you’d only ever see through a telescope. It’s mesmeric. And suddenly, I wonder what it must be like to be an astronaut, weightless, watching the Earth roll by every day.
“Well?”
And then I’m brought back to reality and look to my right, and realise that Hotkey has taken up position beside me, lying parallel on her stomach with her limbs tucked beneath her, resembling a loaf of bread. A large, winged, sapient loaf that smiles down at me with a twinkle in her eyes, not unlike the stars above, but a loaf nonetheless. Her gold-brown coat certainly adds to the effect. Dare I say, she looks almost cute like that.
“What do you see?”
I linger on her, then return to the cosmos. “A universe unexplored,” I answer wistfully, “where no man has gone before.”
“Or pony,” she counters with a giggle, rolling onto her back in my direction, gazing up at them too. “Or any other creature for that matter. We’re all just… specks of dust, lost in the wind. Not even that when you compare us to what’s out there.”
“That sounds almost philosophical.”
“I try.” After a beat, she sighs contentedly, hands resting on her abdomen like mine, and shimmies into a more comfortable position on the grass. It doesn’t seem any different from the one she was in before. “You can’t see it when you’re in the city. There are too many lights there. Sitting on a cloud doesn't have the same ambience. But here? The stars align, so to speak. And if you imagine hard enough… you can pretend up is down, and you’re about to fall into the abyss.”
I think I’m starting to get vertigo – seasick on solid ground. “That’s kinda trippy.”
“It is, isn’t it? To be honest, that’s how I felt when I first learned how to fly.”
I turn to her in mute surprise, and I’m thankful to be stationary once more. “You fly?”
She smirks at me, unfurling her closest wing and spreading it upwards. Fully extended, it’s almost as long as I am tall, and the muscles around the limb as thick as my arm. “These aren’t just for show, y’know. How else do you think I reach the clouds?”
My mouth opens, then shuts, and I blink in stunned silence. I can’t believe I missed that. “Sorry, I’m an idiot,” I mutter with a dismissive wave and a roll of the eyes. “Guess I’m still not used to… creatures like you.”
“Which part?” Her wing folds and tucks itself in, then she rolls onto her side and props herself up on an elbow, watching me from on high with eyes like honey, and a soft, sly smile that bares the tips of her fangs. “Talking ponies, hybrids, or beautiful mares who want nothing but the best for you?”
I stare at her for a while, waiting for the moment where an irked tingle would cut through me like talons raking along my spine. But to my silent disbelief, it never comes, and nothing even tries taking its place. I don’t exactly feel shocked either, merely curious, so it isn’t hard to keep my face neutral for her, but I can’t gawk for too long, or else she’ll start feeling weird.
And truly, she is weird, but that’s only from my perspective. If she says she’s beautiful, who am I to argue? And would it really be so wrong if, maybe… I tried helping a little? Perhaps it’s unfair to judge her by my standards, but it doesn’t take long for an idea to spring to mind, so I look to the shrub on my right and pluck one of the azaleas from its branches. And then, after picking off the leaves and shortening the stem. “Come here for a sec.”
She cocks her head inquisitively, angling her ears in a similar fashion, but soon obeys and leans in as if I’m about to whisper something conspiratorial.
But instead, reach up and use one hand to tease and toy with her mane, and slip the flower into a secure lock with the other, where it won’t have any reason to fall out. “There,” I breathe, as if putting the finishing touches on an artistic masterpiece. “Now you’re even prettier.”
Blinking as she pulls back, she glances up to try and see it without moving her head, and delicately touches the petals with a finger. Her eyes are wide, her brows are high and her lips have parted slightly. But when she returns her attention to me, she huffs a gentle laugh. “Thank you, that’s…” She clasps a loose fist to her chest, where I notice her fur is puffing out a little. Just a little. “That’s so sweet of you.”
There’s a flicker of pride in my core, but I play it off with a casual shrug. “Don’t mention it. I don’t know how to make flower-crowns, but something’s better than nothing, right?”
She breaks into a grin with a snort, then lays the same hand over both of mine dotingly. “And to think that you’re available. That girl doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
And then the flicker dies, replaced by an acrid sting like lemon juice on an open wound, and I look from her to the stars again. “She wasn’t the problem,” I murmur, then furrow my brows and sigh gloomily. “Well, maybe she was part of it, but it wasn’t like either of us wanted it to end. And now I’m stuck wondering if…”
“…If she was the one?”
My gaze languidly drifts back to her once more.
Her expression has grown a tad gloomy too, and she watches the gradual rise and fall of my chest, and the way her hand eclipses both of mine. Its grip on them tightens a smidge. “It happens, from time to time. Were they merely convenient, or attractive… or was there something deeper? A connection. Love, even. And it sticks with you for months at a time – that if this connection had been given time… it could’ve grown into something wonderful.”
I resist the urge to act cynical. She’s been empathetic before, of course, but I never thought she’d understand the feeling, or at least never thought to think about whether she’d understand. Still, it’s a relief to know that I’m with someone who gets it, and I relax into the grass some more. The cool earth beneath me doesn’t feel so cold anymore.
“I like you,” she affirms, meeting my gaze and sharing a warm, kindly smile. “Whatever life is like back in your world, I’d just like you to know that you have a friend in this one.”
Now I can’t resist, and I give her a look that’s equally prying and smug. “Just a friend, huh?”
“I’m not above admitting defeat,” Hotkey says, bowing her head.
I snort, then groan as I stretch my arms and heave myself to sit up, closer to eye level. “Thought you’d be a bit more bummed than that. You’d gambled on me, gone through all this effort to make me comfortable, only to put yourself in the friendzone.”
“You’re telling me there’s still a chance?”
Puckering my lips, I look to the ground between us. I’d walked right into that one, but I still don’t feel that apprehensive pang – the sickening sensation in my gut, or the prickle of a thousand needles dancing along my shoulders. I should be feeling it… but I don’t. And somehow, I’m okay with that.
It’s probably a good thing anyway; a sign that I’m seeing her as more of a person than a horse.
“I’m telling you… that you intrigue me,” I eventually answer, offering a small, self-conscious smile, “and that I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better too. Y’know, as well as I’m able, and for as long as I stay here. If you don’t mind me saying, that is.”
“And why ever would I?” she questions with a nonchalant shrug, then rolls away from me onto all fours, circles back around, and settles down on her stomach by my side, one forearm over the other. “You’ve been, if you don’t mind me saying… one of the most fascinating ‘flings’ I’ve ever had.” She daintily sweeps a few stray strands of her mane into place, and adjusts her azalea while she’s at it. “Quite the charmer to boot, when you mean to be.”
My attention hops from her to the flower, and then wanders to the stream, its water glistening with moonlight. “It wasn’t anything special. I just… thought I’d try and be nice.”
“You should do it more often. You’re bound to win somebody’s heart that way.”
Part of me wishes that I would. Win somebody’s heart, that is. But another part reminds me that it’s only been a month and a half – that I need to get over her before I move on. It’s appropriate. It’s expected. Because if I don’t, then it only proves that it was never about us; that anyone could fill the emptiness, so long as they would have me. I’m better than that. I hold myself to a higher standard. It would be wrong of me if I didn’t. “Why hasn’t somebody won yours, then?”
She shrugs again. “It’ll happen when it happens.”
“And… how do you imagine it happening?”
Hotkey pauses, staring off into the distance, then looks to the sky in meditation, drumming her clawed fingers on the grass. “Thoughts like those are best left to young, naïve fillies. Life isn’t a fairytale. The fewer expectations you have, the less you’ll be disappointed by. That’s what I’ve learned.” She returns to me with a genial smile, then glances up at her flower. “That being said, if someone were to woo me… a night like this would be a good start.”
Well, it appears I’ve been doing something right. And even now, no discomfort. In fact, I feel… proud of myself, for impressing her without meaning to. It starts at the core and emanates out, filling up my stomach and chest with a warm, fuzzy sensation. And I should be guilty. I should be, I’m sure of it. But like the discomfort, that doesn’t come either. “You’re welcome, then, I guess.”
“Indeed I am.” She giggles, bringing the back of a hand up to cover her mouth. “But then that begs the question: how do you imagine it happening, if you believe otherwise?”
I let my breath go in a quiet, resigned, light-hearted sigh, shaking my head and rolling my eyes as I look away with a smirk. “Well, if things were ever gonna go the way you hoped they would between us, I suppose you’d have to take me out to dinner first.”
“Done.”
I snap to her to check if I’d heard her right, but then find myself ogling a bag of chips held in a large, scaly, outstretched hand. My jaw drops and my eyes go wide and I refocus on her with a confused frown. “Okay, where’d that come from?”
She snorts in mirth and opens the bag, then offers it again with a shrewd grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Either she has magic of her own that I’m unaware of, or she hid this in a place I’d rather not think about. Thankfully, though, upon a brief, wary inspection, it’s neither sticky nor stinky, so I’m inclined to believe the former, and I venture in and withdraw a single chip. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”
“Perhaps,” she concedes, retrieving one of her own and popping it into her mouth. “But sometimes it does nobody any favours. For example, if we never met, we wouldn’t be here. I’d consider that a loss. Positively tragic, even.”
I’m not sure I’d call that a tragedy, never getting to know me, but if that’s how she feels about it, then I won’t complain. Nonetheless, I chew on my chip and take in the ambience – the stream, the breeze, the fresh air and the scent of salt, potato and preservatives. And beneath it all, the azaleas – the sweet aroma of their perfume. These sensations combine all at once into a single, irrefutably calming experience, and I find the seconds of silence between us tick over into minutes.
“I bet you think it’s weird,” she says distantly, “that this is where I go to relax, instead of behind a computer. One should cancel out the other, theoretically, and yet… here we are.”
“I’m not complaining,” I reply placidly. “It’s nice here. Better for the eyes too, I reckon.”
She laughs and adjusts her glasses. I’m amazed they haven’t fallen off yet. “Not only that, it’s better for the back as well. A long session hunched over at your desk tends to cause a few aches and pains. That’s why I keep a couple of these around.” She shakes the bag of chips for emphasis and looks at me, neglecting to mention where a second might be hidden. “The salt helps keep cramping to a minimum. Flying helps too, but… not as much as a massage…”
Arching the eyebrow closest to her, my attention drifts left, and then I track her gaze and discover that she’s staring at my hands. And to my credit, it only takes a fraction of a second for me to connect the dots. “Oh no, you can’t be for real.”
“Aw.” She locks eyes with me and angles her head downward, lowering her ears and pouting, doing her best impression of a wounded puppy. “But it’d really help, I swear! You have no idea how hard it is to find someone with digits who knows how to use them, and who keeps their claws trimmed.”
I linger on her and blink wearily.
“Please? It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re friends, remember? Just friends. You can stop whenever you like.” She waddles on her stomach to face away from me, then peers at me from the corner of her eye, less pleading and more supportive. “Think of it as a favour. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. And trust me, I know a thing or two that’ll nearly put you to sleep from sheer delight.”
My expression remains empty, and I trail the length of her spine from mane to tail. Her hair could do with a brush – with all the rolling around she’s been doing, I’m surprised there aren’t more tangles. But then again, there are plenty of things about her that’ve surprised me.
Still, her rear end isn’t where I should be looking, so I skew my jaw in thought as I study her shoulders. They aren’t anything like a human’s, but they aren’t too dissimilar that I can’t imagine how I’d work with them either. It’s just a shame that a few bittersweet memories come rushing back too, like a burning throat after a shot of cheap whiskey. Yet, if things are staying platonic…
“Screw it,” I remark, shrugging and rocking onto my knees. “I’ve come this far.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I shuffle to her left side and sit facing her, and after collecting myself and putting any unwelcome images out of my system, I let a heavy breath go and reach out. My hands hover above her for a long moment, however, stiff and unresponsive, teetering perilously on the edge of a diving board.
“You kinda need to touch me if you wanna give me a massage, silly.”
“I know, I know.” Sighing internally, and without much ceremony, I begin between the shoulder blades, or where they’d normally be in a human, kneading my fingertips into the muscle beneath. “Sorry. It’s been a while.”
“That’s okay,” she whispers, tensing up with a small twitch of her wings. “You’re doing… juuust fine. But if you don’t mind, please, be firmer. I’m not brittle.”
“A girl as big as you, yeah, I bet.” I chuckle, and immediately feel somewhat guilty that I’d joked about her size. That can be a tricky subject around the wrong people. So, I clear my throat and move on. “But that doesn’t mean you ought to rush things. Entrée before the main course, ya dig? Besides, I… should probably do it right, y’know? Make a good impression.”
She nods with an absentminded air about her, and rests her chin on the ground, closing her eyes. “Take your time. I don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow, so it’s all good. It’s all good…”
I continue on her shoulders and withers for close to a minute, gradually working up and down, but mostly keeping to the base of the neck – that’s where I’ve always had the most luck. Not that I’ve had any opportunities to do this since… Well. Since what feels like an age ago. Strange how being in a bad mood can make the days fly by, yet also make them drag on forever.
Upwards I go, following the crest, digging my thumbs in ways I know I’d like, and considering that she’s humming along with every action of mine, I’d say that she’s enjoying it too.
“Did you learn this,” she coos, “or were you born talented?”
I hesitate for a split second, caught on another memory, but quickly dismiss it and resume. “Trial and error, I guess, but mostly instinct. We’re really not that different, physically.”
“I’ll say. Fingers are the best.”
That gets a snort out of me, and my hands wander lower, back down to her withers, and then between her wings. “They have their uses, I suppose. But I’ve been surrounded by them my whole life, so I don’t know what it must be like over here.”
“Nightmarish.” She groans and begins to stretch her wings outward. “Hooves everywhere. Masseurs may be good at their job, but only a few have digits like ours. And those who do are expensive. If you wanted, I bet you could make a lot of ponies very happy. The pay would be nice too.”
The thought curls my lips into a wry smirk, imagining a queue behind me and winding down the path all the way to the city. “Wishful thinking, sadly. I’m a tourist, not a worker – my visa wouldn’t allow it. Besides, I’ve got a job of my own back home.”
“And what’s that?”
“Library clerk.” A brief gust shakes the leaves on the trees, and although I’d dressed for a cool day, I hadn’t expected to be out this late at night. Should’ve thought to bring a jacket. “Part-time. I’m the, uh… the guy you see behind the front desk when you head into your local branch. I’m also the guy who does sorting, interlibrary loans, setting up scheduled events in… in the common area. Basically everything that doesn’t have to do with management.”
Her ears perk up and she lifts her head from the grass, looking back at me with an eyebrow raised in concern. “Are you cold?”
My ministrations cease, and I realise that aside from her body heat, my hands are actually quite numb. I don’t need to put them in my pockets for warmth, but they’ve lost a bit of sensation. The subtle tremor in my chest warns of a shivering fit if the breeze doesn’t fade. “Maybe a little.”
She nods, and before I know it, her left wing has draped itself across my shoulders, carefully pulling me a tad closer and shielding me from the wind. It sends electricity cackling up and down my spine, and which echoes through me and into every muscle, but it soon withers and I’m left feeling… cosy. Reassured. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, then loose a shaky breath and clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks.”
She smiles in contentment, but glances at her back before too long. “Keep going.”
“Oh, right.” I give myself a mental shake-down and begin massaging her again, using the heels of my palms to dig deeper, press harder than my fingers can. It also gives them an opportunity to recover. And already I’m starting to feel warmer.
Hotkey purrs in satisfaction and turns away, bowing her neck and lowering her ears once more, and the opposite wing stretches to its fullest extent. “Is it your dream job, working at a library,” she queries after a short silence between us, “or did you ever aspire for something different?”
Although she can’t see it, I shrug. “I’ve thought about becoming an author, I guess. Be the guy on the other end of the process. But I don’t have the talent for it.” Now my hands wander underneath her wings, rubbing in slow, smooth circles. At this point, it’s less like a massage and more like I’m experimenting with her anatomy. “I have ideas, sure, but I can never really bring them together into a single, holistic narrative.”
She hums, and the tone is hard to place – somewhere between appreciation and amusement. “You’re lucky I’ve got some griffon in me. What you’re doing there would send any other winged pony mewling. I can’t speak for your writing skills, but I think you’re a natural at this.”
I freeze, looking up at her without moving my head. And somehow, for some reason… I’m disappointed. It’s as if I thought I’ve been treading a thin line all this time, only to find out there are no consequences for crossing it. “Thanks,” I quietly, musingly reply, then retract my hands to start working on her lower back. “That’s, uh… how my ex felt about the whole thing too.”
“Oh?” Her ears stand to attention and she swings her head the other way, watching me with fascination from over her right shoulder. “You did this often with her?”
The memory of us sitting in the living room late one Saturday evening flashes before me, and it tugs on my heart like a starving dog on a leash, pleading for more of it. “On occasion.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it. You keep doing this and I might just have to keep you.”
The dog heels, stops yanking on its chain, and Hotkey gradually comes back into focus. And all the while… I feel oddly at peace. For the first time since I arrived in this world, no regrets about the past, no fears or despair for the future. Just me, her, the glowing flower in her hair, the still air separating us, and the stream in the background. “You think so?”
“And miss out on the free service? Nah.” She softly shakes her head, then shrugs and smirks. “I'd probably ask for a happy ending too, but... we're not there yet, are we?”
In the face of everything I’ve come to believe about myself, her parting shot doesn’t faze me in the slightest. In fact, it tightens my chest, slows my breathing down to where I may as well be holding it, and makes the whole world seem out of focus – blurred by a fog that’s as familiar as it is daunting. And I shouldn’t let it roll in. I can’t allow it. It’s too soon.
But would it really be so bad if I just… took a chance on her? That’s how I met my ex. Bucked up the courage, dove headfirst, and that ended up being something real. Tangible. The lives we led when we weren’t together were the problem, not us. And here… I have none of that. All that matters is what I want, and if someone wants me…
“…Hotkey.”
“Hmm?”
The words are hard to summon, inescapable and utterly frightening, but I want to know. I must. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop myself. “Do you… like me? Like, like-like me?”
Surprised, she blinks and draws her head back a little way. Her ears are ramrod stiff, and she remains speechless for what feels like an entire minute, but she eventually manages to process what I’d just said and relaxes her expression, smiling cordially. “I wouldn't be opposed,” she professes, retracting her wings and shifting her weight to roll onto her side and caress my cheek with a finger. “You're kind, caring… adorably handsome… Who says we couldn't be more than—”
I silence her with a kiss. It’s a long, deep one planted squarely on her muzzle, and I feel a muffled squeak through her closed lips. But although she could push me off, shove me away, tell me never to do that again… she doesn’t. Instead, she leans into it and hums her approval.
The kiss itself is really nothing special, but a great weight leaves me, and I feel so much lighter – so much more… elated. And when she at last breaks contact and gazes into me with heavy-lidded eyes, a warm, fuzzy shiver shoots through me like the crashing wave of a tsunami. “Aren’t we eager.”
“It’s just been… so long… since anything right happened,” I murmur, and it’s almost automatic, as if I’m running on instinct alone, and a simple breeze could steal this away at any moment. I watch as my hand tentatively ventures forth and strokes her chin in a reverent fashion, then I hone in on her eyes. They’re so foreign, so alien, so… extraordinarily beautiful. And they’re listening to me. “I want something to go right for once. And you… you’re—”
“Shush,” she whispers, pressing a fingertip to my lips, and her smile widens. “Is this really what you want?”
I swear my heart skips a beat at that, and a shudder runs through me in its place. I may as well be weightless, lighter than air, lost in space with no up or down. Her eyes are like pools of honey, and steal any words before I can think of them. They’re entrancing. Enticing. Magnetic and spellbinding.
What else can I do but nod?
“Well then, let’s make this a night when right things happen.”