//------------------------------//
// Chapter 20 - Say You Will, Say You Will 
// Story: Sensation - Appleloosa 
// by Vivid Syntax 
//------------------------------//


==X===X===X===X===X==


Braeburn opens the lock to his shed. "Might wanna take your shirt off. It'll get dirty haulin’ bushels."

We stand at the edge of his orchard, north of his house and just east of the buffalo trail. The fragrance is overwhelming, even here. It makes my head swim in such a pleasant way, especially in the rising heat. 

Wood clatters against wood while I take my shirt off and hang it on a hook in the shed. Braeburn does the same and sets the bushels down on the wagon. "Now, I'm not gonna run you ragged, but I wanna see some improvement before I let you go."

I smile. "Taking some drill sergeant tips from Spitfire?"

"Ha! Hardly. You'd know if I did. Let's see what you got with Twinkle over here." He points to a tree with some very shiny apples. 

My heart races. I'm used to being more passive in stories like this, but now it's my turn to be judged. I hold my head high and step up, trying to keep my shoulders back and project confidence.

Braeburn laughs. "You gotta relax, Viv."

I blow air out of my lips and hop in place, shaking out my limbs. "I don't really do that."

"Then you best stay a few extra days until you learn." He walks up to the tree with me and shows me how to stand properly. "Back straight but not tight. Eyes forward. If you look over your shoulder, you'll end up twisting your body and falling to the side. Just worry about hitting it square with both hooves."

I try to mimic Braeburn’s stance. He reaches out and pushes a bit on my chest, presses my haunches down and forward, adjusts my chin… I feel like a show dog. "This feels unnatural."

"Years at the desk will do that to ya'. Give it a go."

I take my stance.

"Even breaths, and just go for it. Exhale on the buck."

I rock my weight onto my front hooves. A fire smolders deep within me, ceremonial in a way. I exhale and kick, trying to think as little as possible. There’s a connection to my roots that I haven't felt in years as my hooves hit the trunk.

Of course, I only knock four apples down. Braeburn seems pleased. "Not half bad!"

My ears fold down. "That was pathetic."

"Naw, don't get in your head like that. Your form was good. It's just a matter of scaling up. You know what they say?"

I remember some advice from my dad that he got from his grandpa. "When you're splitting wood, it doesn't matter if you get it right in half or just shave off a little. As long as you make progress with each swing, you're doing well."

Braeburn stares. "That's… probably better than what I was gonna say, actually. Old farm family wisdom?"

I smirk. "You know it."

I take a few more bucks at the tree, and the power in them increases. After we find our rhythm and Braeburn takes position by another tree, I ask, "With Soarin', it seemed like everypony wanted you back together. Do you feel like you had much choice in the matter?"

Braeburn bucks one more time and answers, "Oh, I'd already chosen. They were just helpin' me face it."


==X===X===X===X===X==


I bet I spent twenty minutes at my kitchen table, debating on whether to address it to "Soarin'" or "Big Blue." In the end, I trusted my heart. 




Hey there, Big Blue,

Been a crazy couple months, hasn't it? I guess we're used to that, though. Fortunately, the media has kept off my ass. I've got Sapphire Shores to thank for that, though I suspect it ain't a coincidence. 

I'm trying to decide whether to keep it brief or write a novel so you can practice. Let's go with the former.

I'll be in Canterlot on the 31st and 1st on election business. Yep, it's official: I'm running for mayor. Between that, the buffalo negotiations, the harvest, and my new, very close friends, there's so much to catch up on. Can we get lunch or dinner on Friday? My treat if you pick the place. If you're not traveling with the team, I understand.

I'd love to see you again, even if we're just friends, and I hope you feel the same. 

Applebutt




I thought it would hurt to send, but slipping it into the mail slot felt like sending a Hearth's Warming list to Auntie Crisp.

Waiting for a response was the same. I'd sneakily poke my head into the post office every time a train arrived, just in case he sent a rush letter. I was almost disappointed when it came the regular way a few days later, but that feeling quickly gave way to glee as I tore it open back home. 




(3rd try. Feeling good about these one!)

Hi, Applebutt!!!




His hoofwriting was better than I expected, but it deteriorated towards the end.




Bad news, good news, band news, good news:

Bad news: I'm not cleared to travel with the team.

Good news: I know what train there taking, and I'm a private citizen. Kind of. 

Bad news: I can't get us backstage at the shower, or management will have my ass. Probably not the showers, either. Heh. Unless…

Good news: that means I'n free Friday night. Meet at the Fillygree Stalble at 6? I'll have a privates room.

Sorry for bad words. Migraine. Can't wait. Miss you. Tons.

Blue




I lifted the page to my nose and took a deep whiff. It smelled like his house. Laughing at myself, I set the paper back down. "Yeah, I'm doomed."

It's strange what can make a week feel long. During harvest, I'm always dog-tired by the time I crawl into bed. That one winter with Bronze, every day dragged on as I waited for something else to go wrong. With Soarin's letter, it was like knowing I had a birthday party coming up, and every little thing reminded me of the gift I was about to receive. 

Folks noticed, too. I bumped into Dawn and Trail at the grocery store. Dawn said, "Somepony's got a bounce in his step. Did Soarin' get back to you?"

"That he did, Dawn! We've got everything set up for Friday night. Looks like I've got a nice night ahead in Canterlot." I blushed. “As friends, of course.”

Trail stood a little taller. "Happy for you, Braeburn." He wore a sad smile, but there was a hopeful light in his eyes that I'd missed.

Folks commented all week how chipper I was. The only gray cloud was Sandstone, who was officially running against me for mayor (and my only opponent, in fact). Ahead of our meeting in Canterlot, I offered to split the cost of a sleeper car with him. His response was, "Thank you, but no, Braeburn. I wouldn't want folks to think I was sleeping with the enemy." Still, I wouldn't let it get me down. 

But Wednesday night, as I packed my bags, I leaned over my bed and stared at my clothes. “Easy, Braeburn,” I whispered to myself. “Soarin’ is just your friend. Don’t forget that.” I had to repeat it a bunch of times. “Friend.”

Folks always talk about how hard it is to stay friends after a breakup. My mind ran with images of us sitting awkwardly or getting bored or, heaven forbid, having a fight right in the middle of the restaurant. Those thoughts were punctuated by pictures of it going the exact opposite, too, with the two of us tearing our clothes off and making out on the table before we’d even placed our drink order.

But a heaviness settled on my heart. “No. I ain’t doin’ that to us. Not again.”

I built a wall around my heart that night. Brick by brick. As much as I loved him, I remembered every word we’d said to each other in Baltimare. I recounted the disagreements, the fights, the hugs goodbye, and everything else that told me that we weren’t dating anymore. All the logic. All the emotions. A part of me would love him forever, sure, but we both had futures to think about. As much as I wanted him to be a part of my life, we needed to be responsible.

With a deep breath, I reminded myself, “It’s just dinner. It ain’t a date. He’s an important friend, and I’m happy to see him. Nothin’ more.” A thought burned at the base of my neck. “Maybe someday, but not right now. Friend. Friend.”

As the day drew closer, though, I felt that knot of excitement in my stomach, and it grew so much that I could hardly sleep on the mail train Thursday night. Luckily, I'd learned from the previous excursion, and I brought some paperwork to study up on. It put me right out. 

There's not much to say about the Friday meetings. Sandstone was standoffish in the waiting room where we spent most of our time. He kept glancing at me nervously. See, he hadn’t dressed up at all, whereas I was in a nice, brown suit with my apple-clasped bolo tie. I’d wanted to look presentable without letting Sandstone accuse me of looking too “city,” and given that he never commented on it, I think I hit the mark.

We were only invited into those big, scary boardrooms when we were needed, and then we'd wait outside again. When we did speak, it was clear how ill-prepared Sandstone was. Oh, he talked a lot, getting pretty adversarial about how Appleloosa wouldn't get bossed around by Canterlot, but he was talking out his ass whenever the ministers asked a policy question. Everypony knew it, and I think it made me look better, even if it made the town look worse. Shame, really.

At four-thirty, Sandstone and I parted ways without much of a goodbye. He was catching a passenger train to spend the night outside Haulahay. 

I headed over to the Filigree Stable. It was inside the City Center hotel, not too far from the Garden Center Suites where we’d had our guys’ night, and I sat at the bar. I know what you're thinking, but I wanted to test myself. I'm happy to say I passed. Whenever I had an errant thought about getting some booze, I reminded myself I didn't need it and that Soarin' would be proud of me.

The Stable lived up to its name. Intricate metalwork covered every surface. The lighting was low so that the polished details could really shine. It all looked so delicate; I was even afraid to put my hooves on the bar for fear that I’d bend some silver decoration. The pony-watching was nice, though, and I was certainly taken aback by a burly, milky-white stallion in a tweed jacket who plopped down next to me.

“Seat taken?” he asked in a deep-south accent that put me at ease.

“All yours, partner.” I reached up to tip my hat, only to discover that I didn’t have one.

The stallion rumbled a laugh. “Heh heh. Old habits, yep.” He tipped an imaginary hat back at me. “Fancy meetin’ another country colt up here.” He turned to the barkeep. “Two whiskeys. Neat.”

I choked up and blurted out, “Well, uh… Sorry, friend, but I, uh… I’m not drinkin’ these days.”

He gasped a little. “Oh, damn! Apologies.” He leaned into the bar. “Hold that order, barkeep.” He looked at me sincerely. “My mistake. What are you takin’ then? My treat.”

I knew better than to refuse an offer like that. Wouldn’t be polite when a stallion is setting things right, and I wanted to lighten his mood. “Eh, somethin’ fruity, like me.”

He snorted a laugh. “Alright, I gotcha.” He ordered a pineapple saffron cordial for me and then turned back. “Hell, I sure am steppin’ in it, ain’t I? Orderin’ a gay stallion a drink, and the wrong one at that. Should let you know: I’m happily married.” His jaw tightened a tick. “To a mare. Sorry.”

I chuckled. “All good, friend. I ain’t lookin’ tonight, but I’m flattered.” I extended a hoof. “Name’s Braeburn.” 

“Cotton Creek, but friends call me Cree.” He shook my hoof. “I'm the Ag Rep from down in Hayseed. Yourself?” Agriculture Representative, I'd eventually figure out.

“Oh! Uh… well, mayoral candidate for Appleloosa, I suppose. Nothin’ as important as all that.”

Cree raised an eyebrow. “First rule of government: your part of the world is always the most important.” He leaned on the bar and spoke with his hooves. “Folks hear you backin’ down, they’ll leap on you faster’n a timber wolf on a sheep.”

I blushed. “Sorry. Still new to this.”

Cree waved a hoof dismissively. “All good, friend, all good.” He whapped me on the back. “We all gotta learn sooner or later.”

“Heh. I hope not.” The drinks showed up in front of us. I could smell the pineapple even through the strong fragrances that wafted from the restaurant. “I really just want to get back home to my business once I’m done here.”

Cree smirked. “‘Cept y’all got farm loans and a locust problem.”

I sat up straight. “You’re smart as a whip, ain’tcha?”

“Naw, I just pay attention. Sorry to tell ya’, friend, but this ain’t the last you’re seein’ of Canterlot.” He grabbed his whisky, took a sip, and nodded in approval. “Appleloosa’s got a lot of attention right now. Wheatberry – that’s the Agriculture Minister – she’s got her eye on that place like a hawk on a mouse. Real curious if a desert farm region could expand our trade to the south without needing a lot of proppin’ up.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “You know an awful lot.”

“Necessity. Ya’ don’t wanna be caught with your trousers down around her. And friend, if’n you get your mayoral appointment, then get used to writin’ a lot of reports.”

I spun my mocktail in my hooves. “Heh. I do that already.”

Cree smiled. “Well, then I imagine you’ve already got the job.” He lifted his drink. “Cheers to you, and good luck on the campaign. Look me up after you win.”

“Of course! I owe you a drink, after all.”

We clinked our glasses, and it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Cree kept me company for an hour or so. Conversation was mostly light, but we swapped stories of family and home, and we promised to make trips out to each others’ towns one day. As enrapturing as he was, I kept an eye on the clock, and I said my goodbyes just before six. I'm grateful that he occupied my mind during that time.

I gathered my wits and checked the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. My heart fluttered, and I remembered, ‘Soarin’ and I are friends. He'll be tempted, too, and it's up to me to keep myself in check. This isn't a date. This isn't a date.’ Satisfied with my emotional masonry, I walked to the front and asked, "Six o'clock for Soarin' Windsong?"

The hostess nodded and grabbed a few menus. "Welcome to the Filigree Stable. Right this way, please."

"Is he here yet?" My tail wagged, but I shook my head and reminded myself: walls.

"No, sir. You're the first to arrive."

I nodded and wondered if I should wait in the lobby for him, but I followed. The Stable was smaller than the fancy Canterlot restaurants I'd seen. It felt classy but cozy. She brought me to a small private room in the back, and I caught the eye of a few snooty Canterlot socialites who would no doubt gossip about the mysterious cowpony in the back room the next day. The room had a divider, at least, so we couldn’t see the rest of the restaurant, and I took a seat.

I fiddled with my napkin and all three of my forks, constantly telling myself that it was just seeing a friend. That nothing was going to change between us, and that no matter what, we would take care of each other. Even so, I couldn't ignore the feeling in my heart. It beat faster and faster, sure, but it was something else too. Like a flower that's just waiting to bloom in springtime. 

My heart jumped to my throat when I heard a rhythm of quiet, mechanical squeaks getting closer. I put together exactly what it meant when I saw him walk around that corner.

There he was. He gave this cute little gasp, and as soon as he had, a smile formed on his face. It spread wider and wider, until it became this really big, toothy, dopey grin. I saw the little crow's feet around his eyes, and it looked like he was sleeping pretty well. Even more heartening, he still wore his yellow stud earring, just like I wore mine. And despite the massive, chrome braces on his forelegs, he stood tall and proud, and he was beautiful. 

Then he threw his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed, and he covered his face up like he was embarrassed. He wasn’t just cute; he was a damn fantasy come to life.

And I thought, 'Aw, shit, I'm still in love with him.'

I chuckled lightly and quipped, “What, got some food in my teeth?”

He shook his head as the last little bit of laughter left his lips. “You're fine, dude.” My eyes found his leg braces again. They were probably the best that money could buy, but they looked unnatural on him. He was still showing scars where the accident messed up his legs, and I realized this was the first time that I had seen him outside of his casts. He didn't let it bother him none. He sat down across from me. “It's good to see you, Braeburn.”

"Likewise, Soarin’." 

We just stared into each other's eyes. They hadn't lost their glow, shining like emeralds. Neither of us said anything. If you asked me at that moment or immediately afterwards, I probably would have said that there were no words that I could bring to mind, or that there was nothing that I’d want to do that would break this moment. Truthfully, though, I think it's because I didn't need to say anything at all.

We would have stayed that way for hours if the waitress hadn't interrupted us. “Can I start you with anything to drink?”

Soarin's ears flattened as he looked between her and me. “Oh. No thanks.”

“It's okay,” I reassured. “I'm 2 weeks sober.” That word felt good in my mouth, better than the alcohol ever did.

Soarin’ rested on a foreleg. “You're amazing, Braeburn.”

The waitress didn't miss a beat. “We have a fun selection of non-alcoholic cocktails. I recommend the lavender orange juice spritzer.”

Soarin' cut in. “Is it yellow?

“Uh, yes! It is.”

“I'll take it.” He leered at me.

And I smirked back. “If you've got a blue mocktail, I'll take that.”

The waitress left to fulfill our orders, and I turned back to Soarin’. Before I could speak, he started, “Wait, hold on. I'm sick of these things.” He held his legs out to the side, and he bent his neck to grasp an oversized wingnut with his lips. With some very uncomfortable twists of his neck, he loosened it and slid the first one off. “Uh… Sorry. This takes a bit.”

“You're good.” I tried not to stare, but that was hopeless. My heart ached for him.

He repeated the process on his other brace, and it wasn't hard to see how frustrating it was for him, but as it slid off, he sighed and sat up, holding his thin forelegs out. “Tada!”

I smiled. “You look good like that.” 

“Wow, Braeburn,” he said with a mocking lilt. “It's been two minutes, and you're already hitting on me. I mean, I get it. I'm a celebrity.” He leaned back and waved his forelegs around dramatically. I tried not to notice how skinny they looked. “Not that I blame you, but I'm trying to stay a little professional here.”

I looked away and ran a hoof through my mane. “Yeah, sorry about that. I told myself I wouldn't do that, and well, here I am.”

“You're good, Braeburn.” He shrugged. “And hey, accurate if you believe the fan letters.”

I was grateful for the change in conversation. “Been getting a lot of those, I reckon?”

“Oh, dude, tons. It's been good reading practice, but I'm way behind. Something to do when I'm sick of physical therapy.” He held up his hooves. “Makes these bad boys super dry, though. Did you know that paper is absorbent? It's like trees need water or something.”

I snorted a laugh. “Sorry, I shoulda warned you.”

“Braeburn. I've eaten over a dozen apples in my life.” He theatrically held a hoof to his chest. “Clearly, I'm the expert here.”

The way that stallion could make me laugh, like it was nothing at all. “How have you been, you doof?”

“Good.” He nodded. “Good.”

I frowned. “So, you ain't been so good.”

“Oh, it sucks!” He dragged down the skin under his eyes. I started to wonder if that's why they always look so stretched and baggy. “I don't want to complain, and I promise I won't trauma dump on you, but like, yeah. I'm sure you remember how hard it is to even…”

He was remembering Bronze. He was going to say that I knew what it was like to have a broken leg. And he was right. I clarified, “Yeah, I do. But if I counted all those scars that we have in common, I think folks imagine we're cut from the same cloth.”

“Nah. I wouldn't want to date my cousin. No judgment.”

“I oughta up and leave after that,” I snickered.

“Not before you tell me about all your stuff.” He leaned in. “Wouldn't want to leave me hanging, right?”

“Never.”

I gave Soarin’ the long and short of my life over the past two months. He paid attention to every word, and with a few jokes for extra flair, he asked a whole bunch of questions about my mayoral campaign, the buffalo, and my trip to Canterlot with the guys.

Soarin’ hadn't been idle, either. On top of his physical and reading therapies, he'd met with his mother twice: once in the hospital and once at his place. He was trying to work things out with her, and they were making progress. They had scheduled their third meet-up the following week on the anniversary of his father's death.

“Proud of you, Blue.” I reached for him before I remembered my wall.

He noticed, but he stayed chipper. “Couldn't have done it without you, Applebutt.”

Time flew. There's an ease in talking with Soarin’, like a colt telling his friend about summer vacation. We got our dinner, but I hardly paid attention, and we'd nearly finished eating by the time my mouth was dry from going on about how I’d stood up to Bronze and my own parents’ visit.

Soarin’ picked at his dinner omelet. “Sounds incredible, Braeburn. I'm not surprised you're so busy.”

Meanwhile, I polished off a caprese salad that had some of the best basil I’ve ever tasted. “Aw, ‘busy’ doesn’t cover half of it. What else you been up to, though?”

“Physical therapy, mostly. And brain therapy. Lots of that. It's… most of my world right now.” His voice lost its color. “It's going to take a lot to get back to where I was, if I get there at all.”

All my attention focused back on him. Whether friend or lover, my heart wouldn’t let me leave him sad like that. “You're Soarin’ Bucking Windsong. You'll get there.”

“Yeah. It's still a long ways off, though. And I've been laying low.” He glanced at me. “I didn't want to draw attention to you. I think we're mostly in the clear, though.”

My ear flicked. “Only mostly?”

“Yeah. The world's moved on. There's this one guy who's bugging me about writing a book about us, but I haven't gotten back to him yet. I wouldn't say yes unless you cleared it first.”

My mind spun with all our previous media experience. “I'm surprised you're considering it.”

His shoulders were tense and growing moreso. “Keeping it all in is hard, Applebutt. Doctor Soul says that talking through it helps. He's probably right. Aaaand to be honest, the residuals might be kind of nice. No idea how long I'm going to be without a regular paycheck.”

My instincts to help kicked in harder, but I fought back. ‘Friends.’ I cleared my throat. “Well, don't do it just for that, of course.” 

“I wouldn't.” He crossed his forelegs and looked at some art on the wall. “I kinda want to make sure your story gets told, too. You got rawed by the media, and maybe it would help set things straight. Well, gay. So to speak.”

I sighed. “I'll think about it. Maybe we can talk more next time.”

He flashed his pearly whites. Even if it was for show, he couldn't hide the brightness in his eyes. “Careful, Applebutt. You're already promising to see me again.”

“Of course I am.” The instincts won out, and I reached across the table and held his hoof. The love bloomed in my chest again. “I've missed you terribly.”

“Me, too.” He squeezed back, and even though it was weaker than what I was used to, it was perfectly him. Soarin’ looked at me. But at the same moment, our memories and promises hit us again. His voice became sad. “We made the right choice, Braeburn.” He was asking as much as telling.

“Yeah. We did.” I could feel him tense again. “But there's a big ol’ ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, ain't there?”

He shrugged. “You know how I am with big butts.”

I braced myself. I knew this was the moment I'd be tested, and I reminded myself of what we both needed when we'd split up. 

But… I wondered if we needed something different now. And then I immediately recognized the crack in my wall. I shook off that thought and hardened myself. “Go on, then.” My heart fluttered despite my desires.

“We made the right choice, but that doesn't mean it has to be the last choice.” He looked me in the eyes. “Right? We can choose again.”

It's astounding how much a sentence can bring me joy and haunt me at the same time.

He continued. “We're here now, and things are different, and… we said how it might have worked if we'd had more experience–”

“And if circumstances were different. Right.”

“Right.”

We held onto each other. The walls were cracking more now. I wanted nothing more than to stand up, walk around the table, and hold him. What stopped me was the memory of Cloudsdale. I remembered how bad it had been, especially for Soarin’: working through his aphasia, trying to balance the drama with the team, and keeping me happy and entertained to the best of his ability. Something had needed to give, and in the end, it had been me, which had been even harder on him.

I choked up. “Blue, I know where you're going with this, and I don't want to hurt you again.”

“And I'm not going to pressure you. Heh. You've got a much clearer head than I do. Literally. Just full of junk up here.” He knocked his temple with his free hoof. “But I think about you every day, Applebutt.”

“Same,” I answered immediately.

I looked up at the clock. We'd been there for almost two hours already. 

My mind tumbled. Every thought of getting back together with him was met with a hundred ways it could go wrong. And yet… “How would it even work? Hypothetically.”

“I… have a couple ideas, but I don't want to throw too much on you.” He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and had the same wrestling match with himself that I’d been having. He looked back up. “It's enough to just put it out there, I think.”

I squeezed his hoof. “Heh. Or you don't have a plan at all.”

Soarin’ smiled. “Braeburn, I know better than to lie to an earth pony. I've had a lot of time to think about it, but I don't want to rush this time.”

“I believe you, and you're right. No need to rush.” The tick of the clock was like a thief tapping my shoulder in a dark alley. “So…”

He sighed. “So, we shouldn't give ourselves the time to make a mistake.”

Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Right.” 

…

The wall had held, and I felt so, so damn bad about it. I quickly followed up, “This was great. I love seeing you again.”

Soarin’ agreed just as quickly. “Yeah. Same. Same here.”

We looked into each other's eyes again and held each other with our thoughts. I got lost in those eyes. There was kindness there. Love. I felt safe again, like I was wrapped up in a green blanket on a cold night. 

…until his eyes flicked behind me, and he whispered, “The waitress is being super patient.”

“Oh!” I turned my head and saw her waiting. “Sorry! Uh, one–”

“Two checks, please.” Soarin’ winked at me. 

“Blue, I told you I'd pay.”

“Yeah, but we're being responsible, right? Taking it slow.”

I snorted. “Alright, but I owe you a meal.”

“Huh. Guess we have to meet up again, then.” He winked once more. “Oh well.”

We finally let go of each other's hooves, and I realized how sweaty mine had gotten. We paid, Soarin’ put his braces back on, and we walked together out of the restaurant and into the hotel lobby. Thankfully, we didn't see any cameras as we walked to the front door and stopped. 

Everything already felt like it was over. We weren’t doing a long goodbye, which I cursed myself for despite the wisdom in it. My stars, how I longed for him.

Clearly, he returned the feeling. He gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for this, App… Braeburn. This was great. I'm looking forward to the next time.”

“Me, too, Bluh-Soarin’.” I nudged his face with mine, and we chuckled together. I didn’t want to leave without setting another date, so I asked, “When are you–”

“WHORE!!!” shrieked a stallion's voice. “HARLOT!!!”

Soarin’ raised an eyebrow and looked back towards the restaurant. “The fuck?”

With a groan, I hid behind a hoof. “Ah, shit.”

Gallant Heart marched up to the two of us, right in the doorway, redder than a fire and roaring like one, too. “The absolute nerve of you to show your face like this!”

Soarin’ snickered. “Old coltfriend?”

“Naw,” I said. “Gallant, it's okay. This is–”

Gallant pulled out his pocket square and threw it on the ground. “It is most certainly not okay! You lied to me!” He put a hoof to his heart and turned to Soarin'. “Mister Windsong, I am terribly sorry, and it brings me no joy to say this. This… slut has been cheating on you.”

Soarin’ tried to stifle his smile. “How?”

“With–” Gallant’s lip quivered. “With me, sir.” He spoke quickly. “I asked him directly about you two, and he said you'd broken up, and I assure you that I never would have–”

“No,” Soarin’ interrupted. “I mean like, we are broken up, so how could he cheat on me?”

“You…” He went pale and looked between us.

I groaned and forced a smile. “We're grabbing lunch to catch up, Gallant. As friends.”

Gallant stumbled on his hooves. I think he nearly fainted. “Sirs, I apologize profusely.” He stuffed his pocket square back into his pocket as he mumbled in terror. “Please don't allow my behavior to reflect poorly on the Garden Center Suites. I… really like my job.”

I sighed. “You're good, Gallant. Just take a moment next time, okay?”

“I will.” He paused. “I can get you a free night if you're still single and want to–”

“I'm good, Gallant.”

“Fair enough.” He scrambled away.

Soarin’ burst out laughing. “Good for you, Applebutt.” He lowered his voice as a hoity toity couple walked past us, and we moved away from the door. “Glad you're back in the game.”

“Heh.” I ran a hoof across my mane. “Hardly. That was the guy from our guys’ night. I haven't had time to get off since he and I spent a night together. How about you?”

“Nah. Sex isn't really feasible with my injuries. I don't know if my junk even works right now.”

“Bullshit.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, I bought a couple toys.”

I snickered. “Front or back?”

“...both.” He glanced away and blushed. 

Pride swelled up in me. “And are they the same colors as me?”

“Actually, no. I didn't want to be creepy.” He grimaced and rubbed his leg. “Buuuut I do imagine they are.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah. It's not as good as the real thing, but it's great for leg strength and hip flexibility. Might have to give myself a workout later.”

“Heh. Yeah, don't let me stop you. I need to hit the rails, anyway.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

We smiled at each other.

I felt the cruel tug of the world. Thoughts of Appleloosa crept back to mind, and I reminded myself how I should be grateful for what I'd gotten. Joking or not, he was right that we had to be responsible.

And yet, neither of us could avoid it. Soarin’ broke first, “Actually, could you–”

“Do you want a– sorry, go ahead.”

“No, you go.”

“I insist.”

Soarin’ softened. “I'm still pretty wobbly, and I'm supposed to walk instead of flying. Could you… escort me back to my room?”

“And here I thought you'd make a joke about me trying to get in bed with you.”

“Eh, it crossed my mind, but… I want to be real with you, Braeburn.”

“Me, too, and yes. I'd love to.” The thoughts came back. “But that's it, okay? I'm not going to force myself on you.”

A bit rigid, Soarin’ replied, “Right. Yeah. I'll be good, too. Responsible.”

“Responsible.”

We both smiled, and then we walked to the elevator. This one was automatic, not like at the Garden Center Suites, and it was all the better. We started by standing a respectable distance apart, facing the door, but almost as soon as it closed, Soarin’ raised a wing, and I sidestepped and nestled into him. I rested my head on the side of his neck.

We felt very comfortable there, together in the quiet. 

That ride could have lasted forever, and I wouldn't have minded. We stepped off on his floor, and we walked down the hallway. Soarin’ stumbled a few times, and he took the long way down the halls while we listened to each other breathe. 

But after the second lap around, his legs were getting shaky, and we arrived at a room we'd already passed by twice. Soarin’ hesitated, and then he dug out his key, opened the door, and crossed the threshold. He turned around, and we looked at each other. We saw each other. “It was great spending time with you, Braeburn.”

“Likewise.”

We stood there. Neither of us moved. 

And smiles curled across our faces.

Soarin’ hid behind a braced hoof and groaned. “I swear I didn't mean for it to go like this.”

With a half-sigh, half-laugh, I admitted, “I know. Neither did I.” I felt like I was glowing. “But it was always gonna go like this, wasn't it?”

“Heh. With me tricking you into coming back up to my room?”

“Naw. With it turnin’ into a date.”

Soarin’ looked at me, ears up. “We said it wasn't a date, Braeburn.”

I don't know why, but I started choking up. “Why not? This is all I ever wanted, Blue. Something normal. A nice meal. Conversation. The chance to fall in love on our own time. And… I like what I've seen.”

“Me, too,” he whispered. His lips quivered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Same.”

“Then…” He got all small, and his eyes got wet. “Wanna keep going?”

So did mine. “I do.”

Soarin's jaw rattled, and he took a shaky breath as he stepped aside to invite me in. 

Sure, those thoughts about being responsible came back. I knew what I was doing, but being with Soarin’ felt so right, more than anything else. Soarin’ didn't need to tear down the wall. He'd found the door.

And I walked in with no more hesitation. We embraced that moment—not clinging to it out of desperation, but experiencing it fully and appreciating it for the miracle that it was—and we made love the way only the two of us could. It was the slow kind, where all you want is to draw it out more, because the journey together is the best part.

Mm…

…

When I'd rolled back into Appleloosa from my time in Cloudsdale, I'd had this feeling about being home again. The air was easier to breathe. My body felt lighter. Everything down to my bones relaxed and unwound, and I let go of all my cares. I'd thought Appleloosa was the only place that could make me feel that way. Happily, I'd been wrong.

I lay there, spooning him and massaging his chest while lightly kissing his neck. He moaned, and slowly, I found every little way I could shift my body closer to him. 

I tried to scratch my face, but he took his shaky foreleg, grabbed my hoof, and kept me wrapped around him like a blanket. I didn't mind the itch at all, and he didn't even open his eyes. 

Seeing him like that, blissful as a spring morning, brought back all the wonder of our time together. I rested my face on his head. “I love you, Soarin’.”

I felt his body shiver with delight. He turned his head, and with sleepy eyes, he said back, “I love you, too, Braeburn.”

If seeing him again was bliss, then hearing those quiet words was paradise. 

He hauled himself around to face me, and we hugged each other tighter.

We held each other. 

We breathed.

We existed.

Together.

I kissed his cheek and confessed, “I never want to leave.”

“Okay, but then who's…” He didn't finish.

“Heh. What was that?”

“...nothing. Forget it.” His shoulders went slack.

“Blue, you're bein’ mighty cagey today. What's on your mind?”

He looked up with puppy eyes. “I don't want to wreck it. I just… want to enjoy this time with you.”

I cradled his face, then brought him into a long, slow kiss. His mouth had a hint of aluminum and oil from his leg braces, but he still tasted like my Blue. 

But he should have known better. When he started to pull away, I stuck my tongue out and ran it along the roof of his mouth. And he had a laughing fit, just like I knew he would. “Hahaha! Haha! Ow!” His right foreleg tensed. “Ow ow ow!”

“Sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to hurt you!” I grabbed his foreleg and started rubbing.

He shook it off. “It's okay. Just weird.”

I cuddled back up to him. “In that case, there's more where that came from unless you fess up.”

He looked at me with nothing but love. “I was going to say, if you stay here, who's going to welcome me to Appleloosa?”

My head rested on the pillow, and I watched him. He was serious. “Blue, that won't work. It's… There's nothing out there for you.”

“There's you.” When my response got caught in my throat, he added, “You can say it. I've had the same thought, and I'm still trying to figure out what it means.”

“It's not enough, Blue. I’m… hell, this hurts to say, but I know from experience: one pony is not enough to base your life on. It's unfair to the both of us.”

“I know. But…” He kissed my shoulder. “I think this time, at least we know that going in.”

“You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?”

He reached out and gently stroked my face. He could only keep it up for a few seconds before he had to rest. “I'm trying, Braeburn. I really am. I told myself I wouldn't bring it up today, that we'd take it slow, and I wouldn't pressure you.” He swallowed. “But the second I saw you, I–” He stifled a laugh. 

“You did that earlier, too. What's so funny?”

He sighed and focused on me with those dreamy eyes. “I told myself the whole way in that I'd play it cool and just be your friend, but the second I saw you, my first thought was, ‘Oh, fuck, I'm still in love with him.’”

I felt warm all through my chest. “That was my first thought, too.”

He nuzzled me without a word, and I returned it. 

But that big, stupid wall came back. “I don't want us to hurt each other again, Soarin’.”

“I think it's unavoidable, Braeburn, no matter what we do. But… I don't want to give up.”

“Neither do I.”

Soarin' looked deep in my eyes. Here was a pony that had seen beauty and excitement all across Equestria, and of all the things in the world he could have been looking at, he fixated on me. "It's funny," he remarked without an ounce of humor. "I can barely walk, my career got derailed, I have no idea what's going to happen… and I wouldn’t change it, because it brought me back to you."

I didn't give in, per se. Giving in implies I wanted to resist it. "So we try again?"

He brought my hoof to his lips. "It's not 'again,' Applebutt. I want to keep trying, because I have never, ever stopped loving you."

Then we held each other close, and he said…


And I never will.