A Crafter's Dream (Discontinued)

by ruthim345

A Crafter's Christmas

Steve didn’t celebrate holidays anymore.

The last time he’d celebrated any sort of event was one of his friend’s birthdays, which had been only a few days before that final fight against Herobrine and his army, and the subsequent death of his race. Sure, during his travels thereafter, he’d occasionally visited villages during some celebration, but he’d never really participated. The festivities had always reminded him of what had once been, and so he’d always move on.

Steve didn’t want to remember the past too much. Now, he swore he’d never forget his friends and family, as well as the people who’d fought and died in the battle against Herobrine and his army. If he forgot them, he’d be spitting in the face of their sacrifice. However, he didn’t dwell on the past too much, fearing if he did, then he’d fall into a swirling pit of despair and sorrow that he wouldn’t be able to escape from. He remembered their names, their faces-

bloody…

broken...

-and other stuff, but he didn’t dwell on it. It was in the past for him, and that was where it belonged.

That being said, as the snow slowly fell from the gray, cloud-stricken sky, Steve couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. The Equestrian holiday of Hearth’s Warming sounded suspiciously like a holiday that Minecraftians used to celebrate, Christmas, what with the snowy theme, generally merry atmosphere, and exchanging of gifts on Hearth’s Warming Day. Luckily, Steve had already bought his gifts, a muffin-themed apron for Derpy, a stencil-and-coloring set for Dinky and a few cases of apple cider for Dash and Trench, though Steve had to send Trench’s gift to Canterlot, since the stallion was stuck in Canterlot for the holidays.

Now, it was simply a matter of waiting.

If Steve was being honest, the days leading up to Hearth’s Warming passed just like any other day. While he understood his friends excitement over the coming holiday, he himself didn’t care all that much about it. Sure, he enjoyed the festive air, the snow, the food, the decor, all of it, but overall, the Crafter just wasn’t a ‘Hearth’s Warming’ kind of guy. He was certainly no Pinkie Pie, who’d been celebrating each day of the past week like it was Hearth’s Warming. Steve had briefly wondered how the mare could have so much energy, but quickly dismissed the thought. The mare was strange, simple as that. He wasn’t going to question it.

Regardless, while Steve would’ve been just fine without celebrating, he knew how much the holiday meant to Ponyville, and more importantly, his friends. It wouldn’t be right to not celebrate with them. It was this same reason that the Crafter had offered to host a Hearth’s Warming party at his house. The original idea was to just have his friends over, but after a bit of discussing (and no short amount of puppy-dog eyes from Derpy and Dinky) he’d allowed Dash’s friends, the Apple family, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, some colt named Button Mash that Rarity insisted was a family friend, and a few others that Steve didn’t remember to come as well. Of course, Steve wasn’t entirely comfortable with hosting such an event, but he’d figured that out of everything he’d managed to ever accomplish, hosting a party wouldn’t even be close to the top of that list.

Now, while he wasn’t exactly ecstatic at the rather large increase of guests that had been invited to his formerly small gathering, Steve knew it was probably for the best that he do so. While he’d been declared a friend of Equestria by Celestia, that hadn’t meant the town necessarily liked him. Besides Derpy, Dinky and Dash (and technically Pinkie Pie, but she was pretty much friends with everyone in town), Steve didn’t have any friends in Ponyville.

And he was fine with that. He liked the friends he had, and failed to see the need to have anymore.

However Pinkie, being herself, disagreed whole-heartedly with his opinion, which was the main cause behind the ‘Friends’ incident that had occurred a few weeks before. It was afterwards that Steve sat the hyper-active mare down and told her that while he appreciated her efforts, he just wasn’t ready to have a lot of friends again. Not yet.

She understood and backed off a bit, still talking to Steve every time she saw him and inviting him to whatever party she was planning that week, but stopping in her attempts to ‘make him friends,’ which the Crafter appreciated. However, upon hearing that Steve was planning a party, the pink mare had immediately sought him out and demanded he let her help, which Steve instantly agreed to. After all, it’d been years-

years…

alone…

-since he’d last held such an event, so he’d take any help he could get.

Knock knock knock!

“Steve!” Pinkie Pie’s voice rang out from the other side of his front door. “I’m here! And I’ve got stuff for the party!”

Steve jolted slightly as he was swiftly brought out of his thoughts by the mare’s knocking and shouting.

“One sec!” He called back before standing up from his seat and walking over. Upon opening his door, he was greeted by the sight of the bubbly pink mare, along with several bags and packages which were filled to the brim with (assumedly) party supplies and food. “Hey Pinkie.”

“Hey Stevie!” She replied with a grin before gesturing to the bags. “I brought the stuff!”

“That you did.” The Crafter spoke, nodding as he looked at the supplies. Walking over, he picked up a few of them. “Here. Let’s bring ‘em inside and then we’ll get started on-”

“Done!” The mare called from behind. Steve whipped around to see that not only had Pinkie grabbed the rest of the bags without his notice, she had also moved them all into his front room, in the time it’d taken for him to just pick up what bags he had. Without him realizing.

Steve suddenly remembered his journal entries on the mare, about how she could do things that made no sense, even to him. About how she could do those things, just because she wanted to. It boggled the Crafter’s mind, but he quickly shook away any thoughts about figuring out how the mare worked. As he had learned from Twilight Sparkle’s experience, trying to figure out Pinkie Pie would only drive one crazy.

“Well that was quick.” Steve spoke, causing the mare to giggle.

“Well, the party’s tonight, silly. And, it’s your first party in Ponyville, so I figured we should make every second count!”

The Crafter chuckled. “Alright then. Let’s get started.”

Steve placed the platter of brightly-colored cupcakes down on the kitchen counter.

“And that’s number three.” He spoke, checking the number off in his head. He glanced at Pinkie, who stood dutifully in front of his double ovens, wearing an apron and chef’s hat, which somehow managed to contain most of the poofy mess that was her mane. “How many more you got?”

“Just one more.” She responded, gaze landing on Steve before shifting around the room. “Though I think we might need another table with how much food there is.”

At her words, the Crafter glanced around the room as well.

His front room was, well, it looked different, and not just because of the decorations Steve and Pinkie had set up, or because of the Hearth’s Warming tree that the mare had stored away in one of the packages somehow. It was just how…. not-empty it was.

Steve, having been living by himself for some time, was used to having lots of empty space in his house. He himself was something of a minimalist, not seeing the point in having a bunch of stuff around that he wouldn’t use anyway. But with everything Pinkie had brought, as well as stuff Steve had gotten in preparation for the party, made his home feel different. Whether that was a good different or a bad different, he didn’t quite know yet.

“Kinda reminds me of-.” Steve muttered absentmindedly.

home

“What was that?”

The Crafter shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Oh. Uh, nothing. Just saying you’re right. One sec.”

Walking over to his front room, Steve picked what he thought was a good spot before pulling some wooden slabs. Placing three down in a line, he placed three more on top of them, then built off of that, making a rectangular 5 x 3 table.

“How about this?” Steve asked. “We can put a lot of the food here, and clear up some room on the dinner table.”

“Alright, sounds good!” Pinkie replied. “I’m almost finished up with this last batch!”

“Cool. Now, I just need to-”

Knock knock knock knock!

Both Steve and Pinkie’s eyes shot toward the front door.

“Steve!” The Crafter heard the familiar voice of Derpy hooves call from the other side of the door. “We’re here!”

“Oh! One sec!” He called back. Jogging over, he quickly opened the door to reveal Derpy, as well as Dinky. Derpy was carrying a covered tin with a saddlebag on one side, while Dinky wore a pair of saddlebags that looked stuffed to the brim.

“Hey Derpy! Hey Dinky!” Steve greeted with a smile. “You guys are just in time for me to be totally not prepared for guests!”

Both ponies laughed. “Well, I suppose we’re a little early, but that just means we can help you out! Right Dinky?”

The filly grinned and nodded. “Yeah!”

“Well, that’s great!” Steve replied before standing aside, allowing them both entry before closing the door.

“Hey there Derpy! Hey Dinky!” Pinkie Pie called from the kitchen.

“Hello Pinkie!” Derpy replied.

“Hey Miss Pinkie!” Dinky exclaimed.

“Helping Steve with the party?” The gray pegasus inquired, to which Pinkie Pie nodded.

“Yupperooni! Since it’s his first official party in Ponyville, I figured the least I could do was help him with preparation and everything!”

“And how’s everything going?”

“Well, the last of the cupcakes are almost done, and then Steve has to make the salad, and then that should be it!” No sooner had she spoken that Pinkie suddenly perked up and rushed over to the furnace. Opening it, she swiftly slid the cupcake tin out of the furnace and set it down on the countertop.

“There we go!” The bubbly mare spoke, grinning. “Just gotta let these cool, then we can frost them! Derpy, Dinky, do you wanna help me with that?”

“Of course!” They immediately replied.

“Alright.” Steve affirmed. “In that case, let me get the salad made, and then we’ll be good.”

Walking over to his food chest, the Crafter opened it and pulled out a head of lettuce, a tomato, a beet, a carrot and three bowls. Closing the chest, Steve went to his crafting table and got to work.

Steve placed the head of lettuce on the grid. After a moment, the head shook slightly, then morphed into nine pieces of lettuce. (While weird and new, seeing as how lettuce didn’t exist in Minecraftia, it made sense to Steve. It was similar to how nine melon slices made a whole melon.) Placing the three bowls on the bottom of the grid, Steve put three pieces of lettuce above the bowls, then put the carrot, tomato and beet above that. After a moment, the items placed shook slightly then morphed together into a large bowl of salad. Grabbing it, Steve placed it on the countertop.

“Will one bowl be enough, or should I make more?” Steve asked, still looking at the crafting table. After a moment of no response, he glanced up to see the other occupants of the room looking at him in surprise. “What?”

“That’s so cool!” Dinky and Pinkie both said in awe.

“Is that how your ‘crafting’ works?” The filly asked, to which the Crafter nodded.

“Yep. Just put the right materials in the right place on a crafting table, and you can make just about anything. Though, finding the right order is difficult.” He tapped the bowl of salad. “It took me a few hours of guessing and checking just to figure out how to make this thing.”

“Still, the fact that you can make perfectly edible food in seconds just baffles me.” Derpy spoke, shaking her head with a grin.

“Well, that’s understandable, all things considered.” Steve replied, shrugging his shoulders. “After all, what am I, except weird?”

This roused a laugh from everyone in the room, which was interrupted by yet another knock at the door.

Knock knock knock knock!

“Hello?” It took Steve a moment, but he eventually remembered the owner of the voice to be Applejack. A second later, he managed to make out other voices, but they were too muffled to make out what they were saying.

‘Looks like people are starting to arrive.’ Steve thought. Taking a breath, he steeled himself. ‘Alright. Let’s do this.’

With a grin, the Crafter walked over and opened the door to greet his guests.

It took about an hour or so for everyone to arrive and for the party to get up to full swing. Just about everyone that had been invited had come, except for that colt Button Mash. Rarity had said his mother had refused to let him go, something about him being grounded.

Regardless, everyone else had shown up. Even Fluttershy, shy as she was, came, although that had probably been no small amount of effort on Dash’s part. Speaking of the prismatic mare, she had been talking to Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy about something, which made Steve feel better. After everything that had happened, he was glad to see that she was doing better and that she had made up with her friends.

Steve grabbed a cupcake off the nearby table and chomped it down.

“Hmm. Things are pretty damn good.” The Crafter muttered to himself. “Pinkie definitely knows her stuff.”

“Hey Steve!”

‘Speak of the devil.’ Steve thought as said pink mare suddenly appeared. “Hey Pinkie. Enjoying yourself?”

“Of course! How could I not!?” She replied, throwing her hooves up to emphasize her words. “But, more importantly, are you enjoying yourself!?”

Steve chuckled, nodding. “Well, I would hope so, since it’s the party you and I both planned, and one that I’m hosting at my house. Food’s great, thanks for that by the way.”

“No problemo. After all, it’s the least I could do.”

“Still, thank you. Not sure this party would be going half as well if it weren’t for you.”

The mare waved a hoof. “Oh, I’m sure you would’ve been able to figure something out. You always do.”

crack

Steve’s smile faded.

“...Yeah.” He murmured, gaze moving away from the pink mare, instead looking back out at the guests. Pinkie noticed the sudden change immediately.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” He replied, not moving.

“Are you alright?” She asked, brows furrowed slightly in concern. Steve hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m fine.” He replied, waving away her concerns. “Just thinking.”

“...About what?” Her voice was more hesitant now.

“Stuff. Nothing really important.” Glancing at the mare, he saw her face, her expression telling him she didn’t believe him. He gave her a grin, forced though it was. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m okay. Trust me.”

The pink mare didn’t look fully convinced, but she eventually left his side to mingle with the other guests. Steve remained at his spot near the food table, taking and eating the occasional food item when he felt hungry enough.

It was strange to him, to be eating when he didn’t really have to. Back home, and even for most of his time in Equestria, he’d only ever eaten when he’d needed to heal, or when he’d gotten hungry enough. He’d never really eaten just to eat, there was always a reason why he ate every piece of food. But in Equestria, they had the luxury of being able to eat just because. Not just because they were hungry, but because they could and they wanted to. It was strange to him, but in the end, he could understand why. Saying his world was different would be like saying that diamond is kinda tough. In Minecraftia, especially during the wars, things like food and housing weren’t always easy to come by. Sure, there were times when there was plenty, but even then, people didn’t eat unless they had to, always choosing to save up what food they had ‘just in case.’ Steve couldn’t count the nights he’d gone hungry in the early years, before he became a soldier and everything else that happened afterwards.

‘Back then, the only reason I survived was because of Alex.’ He thought, eyes downcast slightly. ‘If it weren’t for her, I’d probably have ended up dead in a gutter somewhere.’

The Crafter’s thoughts began to drift, as did his gaze. He saw the other party-goers. They were eating, talking, laughing, just overall enjoying themselves. He saw Big Mac and some gray pegasus stallion chatting near the fireplace, the fire inside said fireplace gently crackling just behind them. He saw Derpy and Pinkie eating cupcakes. The Cutie Mark Crusaders had been playing some form of tag with Dinky, the four fillies laughing all the while.

Everything was good, lively, peaceful. Steve should’ve been happy that the party had been going fine, and he was, but he wasn’t thinking about that. All the Crafter could think about was how the scene before him reminded him of-

‘No! I can’t think about that.’ He thought, quickly shaking his head. Sighing, he rubbed his face with one hand. ‘Geez, what is wrong with me? I thought I was finally getting better, damn it, so why does it keep coming back now, after-?’

“Steve?”

He stopped, body tensing up. The noise of the party faded, becoming barely noticeable. A chill ran down his spine as his gut suddenly felt like it’d been filled with obsidian. The voice had come from behind him, but he didn’t dare turn around. Because he knew that voice, despite the fact he hadn’t heard it in years. He knew that voice, because there was no way he would forget it.

It was Lilly’s voice.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

The voice of Lilly spoke again. But it couldn’t have been her. Steve knew it couldn’t have been her, because she had died years ago, in the Battle of Ascension. He’d found her body there, amidst her fellow soldiers.

“Steve?” This voice was different, but no less memorable. It was the voice of Clara, a happy-go-lucky blacksmith that Steve had met shortly before his enlistment into the Ironwood army. She’d died at the beginning of the First Mob War, when Herobrine had burned Ironwood to the ground.

He shook his head. ‘I’m just hearing things.’

‘Steve, what’s going on?’ He heard Onyx ask, the Nightmare speaking up for the first time that day. The Crafter didn’t respond. ‘Steve, your heart rate is drastically rising, and your beginning to hyperventilate.

‘I’m fine.” Steve insisted, closing his eyes. ‘J-just hearing things.’

“Steve?” A different voice again. Rough, gravelly. Butch. He was part of Steve’s platoon. Had an arrow take his head off in the Battle of Daybreak.

‘That’s- you are? How...I can’t hear anything. Steve, I need you to take a deep breath, you’re starting to panic.’

‘I know, I know, I know. Just give me a s-’

A hoof touched his shoulder.

“Steve?”

He snapped.

“GAAAH!!”

X: Jump

D-pad Up: Sword

It took all of about five seconds, but in that time, Steve screamed, leapt over the table he’d been standing next to, unsheathing his sword in mid-air, then landed back on the ground, glowing blade at the ready.

Everyone stared back at him, eyes wide at the seemingly random outburst from the Crafter. Derpy, Dinky and Dash, in particular, looked extra frightened. Not of him, of course, they knew he would never hurt them. They did not fear him, they were afraid of what had caused him to act like he was being attacked.

Steve panted like a dog, sweat dripping down his face. Each breath he took was shaky, like he was about to collapse. Even his sword wavered as he held it, the tip pointed at his guests.

D-pad Up: Sword

He quickly sheathed the diamond blade.

“Steve?” Derpy asked, taking a step forward.

“I’m…” He took a step toward his front door, stumbling slightly as he did so. “I’m, just gonna go, uh, get some air.” He smiled thinly, knowing no one was gonna buy it. “I’ll be right back.”

He staggered over towards the door, throwing it open as he made it outside. He pitched over to the side, quickly collapsing against the side of his house, only a short distance from the door.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Thought the Crafter, head buried in his hands. ‘What the fuck was that!? What the actual fuck was that Steve!? You fucking moron!’ He berated himself. ‘You just had to suck it up for one damn night and you fucking blew it and pulled a damn sword on your guests!’

‘Steve.’Onyx spoke, gently breaking the Crafter free from his thoughts. ‘That was not your fault.’

‘Oh please, Onyx. Who else’s fault could it have been?!’ He shook his head, arms dropping back down to his sides. ‘I’ve been dealing with this for years, I should’ve been able to get a handle on it before anything happened, but instead I blew it like a moron!’ He slapped his face with both hands. ‘I thought, I was, I just-’

“Gah!” Steve cried out, slamming his fist into the ground. The chunk of dirt cracked slightly, but was otherwise fine. Burying his face in his hands once again, Steve continued to take deep, shaky breaths as he tried his best to calm down.

Creak

The door a little ways away slowly opened.

Steve didn’t move.

He heard the sound of hooves on grass, moving towards him, only to stop a short distance away.

“Hey.” Spoke a deep, masculine voice. Confused, the Crafter looked up to see Big Macintosh standing there. The red-furred, broad-shouldered stallion looked a tad uncomfortable, but his expression was determined.

Sighing, Steve let his head drop again. “Hey.”

“How are ya doing?”

Steve hesitated, then replied. “....Could be better. Just ruined the first party I’ve attended/hosted here in Equestria, so there’s that.”

“Ya didn’t ruin the party.” Big Mac responded, shaking his head.

“I drew a sword on my guests.”

“...Granted, however, Ah think it was clear to anypony with eyes that something was wrong.”

Steve nodded slightly. “Yeah, well…” He glanced up at the stallion. “Anyways, why are you out here?”

“Because Ah wanted to help ya.” Big Mac replied, earnestly.

“Why you?” Steve asked, his question causing the stallion to take a step back. “Like, I’m thankful you want to help, really I am, but why do you want to help me?”

The stallion was quiet for a moment or two, seemingly thinking over how to respond. Eventually, he did.

“When you had your sword drawn and pointed at us, I saw your face. I saw just how terrified you were in that moment, and I also realized…”

Steve perked up slightly when Big Mac trailed off.

“Realized what?”

“...That Ah used to see that same expression on mah own face, a long time ago.”

Steve turned to face the stallion. “What do you mean?”

Big Mac hesitated, then sighed before sitting down. “My… parents died when I was very young. House fire. Happened just a few months after Applebloom was born.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve spoke, softly. “I’m sure they were good ponies.”

“The best.” Big Mac agreed. “My pa, Bright Macintosh, taught me almost everything Ah know. And my ma, Buttercup, made the best damn apple pies you’d ever had.”

“It must’ve been hard.” Steve said, though internally kicking himself for saying something so obvious. Big Mac, to his credit, only nodded.

“It was. I was only thirteen at the time, and AJ was only eight. Luckily, we still had Granny Smith, so we didn’t end up in no orphanage, but still. Having to be the stallion of the house that young was difficult, and the nightmares sure didn’t help.”

“Nightmares?”

The stallion nodded. “Yeah. Almost every night. Nightmares of mah house burning down, and mah folks still trapped inside. Ah was terrified that since it happened once, it could happen again, and the next time, we wouldn’t be able to get out.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Those damned nightmares plagued me for months.”

“How did they stop?”

“Believe it or not, it was because of my Granny. She sat me down, and told me Ah wasn’t fooling anypony. She saw the bags under mah eyes and the stumble in mah step. She knew something was wrong. It took a bit, because Ah was stubborn as a mule back then, but eventually, Ah broke. Started crying my eyes out on her chest, blubbering like a foal about how Ah missed my parents and how unfair the world was to take ‘em from us. She just held me while Ah cried, telling me it was okay, that feeling sad was natural, but that what Ah had been doing wasn’t okay. Ah shouldn’t have been forcing my emotions away, repressing them would only end up hurting myself and others. And she was right, Mr. Steve, she was damn right. Which is why Ah’m here, talking to you. Pinkie, Dash and Derpy wanted to come, but I told them to wait. Figured you would want to talk to somepony who kind of understood.” Big Mac made eye-contact with the Crafter.

Steve said nothing, so the stallion continued.

“Granted, Ah don’t know what happened to ya, and Ah don’t know you lost. Derpy hasn’t said much, only that you’ve been through a lot, more than we could ever know.”

“I lost my race.” Steve spoke, stopping the stallion short. “Everyone. My friends, my family. Everyone. I’m the last of my kind, in this world, and my home world. Once I’m dead, the Minecraftian race dies as well. I’ve been suppressing that pain for years now, because there was no other option. I would’ve gone crazy or killed myself or even both, and I couldn’t allow that to happen, because if I did, I’d be spitting in the face of those who’d died to defeat Herobrine, those who’d made the ultimate sacrifice so that the Minecraftian race could live on, through me.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “But now, after so long, it’s all coming back, all those years of repressed pain are suddenly coming back and I don’t-” He took a breath. “I-I…I don’t know. I feel like I’m floundering in an ocean, slowly being dragged under and I’m….I’m terrified. Kinda, heh.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Kinda like you, actually. I’m terrified because if I lost everything once, what’s stopping that from happening again?”

plop

plop

Steve wiped his eyes, his forearm coming back wet with tears. Wiping his arm on his shirt, Steve sniffled, trying to push back the tears that threatened to pour forth.

Suddenly, there was a hoof over his shoulder. Confused, he looked over to see Big Mac sitting next to him, looking forlornly out at the street.

“What-?”

“Ah know this doesn’t really help…. but Ah’m sorry.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, then nodded before following the stallion’s gaze towards the street. “Thanks.”

The two sat there for a while, not doing anything. The air was cold, causing Big Mac to shiver every-so-often, but besides that, the pair hardly moved.

Overall, the situation wasn’t foreign to Steve. The cold winter night and the silence surrounding him reminded him of Nitebane, back before it’d been destroyed. Of course, he couldn’t think of Nitebane without being reminded of what happened there. He remembered the Minecraftians that had died there, the reactions of his men when they’d come upon it. But then… he remembered something else. The song that had been sung that day, in remembrance of the once proud kingdom. It’d been sung by Billy, a young Colonel who once lived there before he’d moved to New Ironwood, as a eulogy to those that had lost their lives.

"..."

"..."

Steve began to sing. He saw Big Mac look over at him in confusion, but didn’t respond, instead choosing to continue.

Steve finished his piece, tears trailing down his face, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t try to stop them. For the first time since he could remember, he let them flow freely.

And it felt freeing.

He cried for a while, until the tears were finally spent and the front of his shirt was practically soaked. Wiping his eyes and nose, Steve sniffled one last time before glancing at Big Mac.

“Thanks.”

The stallion smiled. “It’s no problem. Mah folks would be ashamed of me if Ah didn’t help somepony in need.”

The Crafter chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

“Ya want to go back inside now?” Big Mac asked. “Everypony else is waiting. Of course, there's no rush, so if ya don’t feel ready to go in yet, Ah understand. But everypony else is waiting for you.”

“They are?”

Mac nodded. “Yep. Ah imagine it didn’t feel right to celebrate a party without the host there as well.”

The Crafter chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.” He sat there for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and standing up, the stallion following suit. Steve walked over and opened the door before stepping inside, Big Mac right behind him.

Upon entering, Steve was immediately met by the sight of everyone staring at him. Some seemed nervous, most looked concerned, but all of them were looking at him. He took a breath.

“Hey everyone. Sorry about what happened. Long story short, it’s just some stuff I’m working through. I’m better now, thanks to Big Macintosh, and I know it’d be too much to ask that everyone just carry on, so I won’t. All I’ll say is that it’s over, and with any luck, it won’t happen again.”

“Steve?” Derpy asked, slowly approaching the Crafter. He made eye contact with the mare as she did so. “Are you okay.”

“...”

Steve thought for a moment. Then, he sighed.

“If I’m being honest, no. I haven’t been okay in a long, long time, and I think talking to Mac helped me realize that.” His response caused Derpy’s face to fall. However, before she could say anything, he quickly knelt down and swept the mare into a hug, causing her to squeak and look up at him. “But I think I’m getting better. Of course, I know I have a long, long way to go before I’ll be okay, but I’m willing to try and get better. Would you be willing to help me?”

Derpy stared at him for a moment, then she grinned and laughed. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there to help you, just like you were there to help me.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Steve.” She nuzzled deeper into his chest. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

He felt it. It was distant, but still very much there.

He grinned.

“We’ll see each other soon, Steve. Then we’ll see who’s really stronger.”