"I'm allergic to apples."
It was the four worst words he could have said.
The night before had been amazing, after all. And not simply in the way that Scootaloo would imply with a raunchy wink and a grin. It had been a celebration - Sweetie Belle's coltfriend had proposed. And while we all liked the guy, the who mattered less than how happy Sweetie was.
Obviously, it meant we had to celebrate.
So Scootaloo and I hopped on the train to Manehatten for the sole reason of finding Sweetie Belle and partying.
And boy howdy, did we ever party! Sure, it wasn't a Pinkie Pie party, but that's like comparing a home-made pie to something from the Princess' personal chef. Maybe it's not quite as fancy, but that doesn't mean it's not fun.
It started as soon as we got off the train - we stopped at the hotel long enough to drop off our luggage and then the three of us beelined for the nearest club. What followed was a disaster, and not the fun kind. Y'see, we made one critical mistake: we weren't in Ponyville anymore. Scootaloo and I hadn't been to Manehatten since we were foals, and Sweetie only arrived there for her summer internship two weeks before. None of us had any idea where the good places to go were, so our first stop was just what we didn't want to celebrate: stuffy, barely populated and too expensive.
But we learned our lesson quick and that's where the power of friendship really came in. Because while we didn't know anything about where to go in Manehatten, we knew plenty of ponies who did. Granted, most of them were Rarity's friends but it still counts, right?
So it was the three of us - cousin Babs was gonna join us, but she wouldn't be able to until a couple hours later - plus Rarity's friend Coco, some actors she hung around with, a kirin for some reason… and Pistachio.
He had my interest right away because he was actually close to our age. It's not that I didn't like the others, but all of them are a good ten years older than us and into fashion and theater. They knew the good clubs around town but we didn't exactly have a lot in common. Sweetie could talk to them, but Scoots and me? Not a bit.
But him? Pistachio was different. Sure, he was all about fashion. He was apprenticing under Rarity and Coco, after all. But he was like us - not just that he was young too, but he came from similar roots. We talked a lot about growing up on a family farm, about searching for our own purpose outside of just that farm, about… well, everything.
Alright, when I say 'we' I just mean him and me. By the time Pistachio and I really got going, Sweetie Belle was talking shop with the actors and Scootaloo was with the kirin at the bar, shouting "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS" over and over.
But that was okay. I know Scoots was just being herself and trying to look big - I could drink her under the table any day of the week (and I have) so I didn't mind letting her have her fun. She just likes to impress new ponies and I think the kirin was kinda enabling her. But they were enjoying themselves, so what's the harm?
I was having fun, too. Pistachio knew Manehatten like I know Sweet Apple Acres - but even with the fancy duds, he still had the heart (and accent) of a farm colt. I'll be honest, I can't remember half of the things we talked about. The afternoon just seemed to fly as we sat together and just… clicked. Before I knew it, the sun was down, Babs had showed up and we were being ushered along to a different club.
This one, I remember the name of - the Avant Garden. It was what Manehatten ponies thought was 'rustic'. They thought that hanging a few wagon wheels on the wall and scattering some planters around made it 'farm-like', and that not having tablecloths was 'roughing it'. The actors kept praising the place for how authentic it was. Pistachio and I spent the first hour making fun of it.
After that hour, we started the toasts to the bride-to-be. Then we toasted to the upcoming play the actors were starting next week. Then we just started drinking for drinking's sake.
By eleven, Scootaloo was passed out across the kirin's shoulders, Sweetie Belle was throwing up in the bathroom and I was sitting in Pistachio's lap. Coco, being the responsible one and only two sheets to the wind, broke everything up and helped us get back to our hotel rooms.
Well, except Pistachio. He came back to mine.
We were both in a pretty sorry state - but we had a good time anyway. And I was lucky enough to remember it all the next morning.
Even in the grips of the worst hangover I'd ever had, I was still the first one up in the morning and making breakfast. And I won't lie - fun as the night before had been, I'm not one for a quick roll in the hay and then hitting the road. I really did like Pistachio. He was just the sort of colt that'd fit into the Apple family: he knew his way around a farm but could make his own way in the world, he was smart, he was funny, and he understood me in ways nopony else really has before. I figured that we could talk longer term relationships over breakfast - something hearty and filling.
He got up with the smell of it in his nose and sweet thing that he was, the first thing he did was kiss my cheek. I turned that into a kiss more like we'd shared the night before.
"What's on for breakfast?"
I gave it a quick stir more before grabbing the bowls to dish it out. "Oatmeal with brown sugar and sliced apples."
His face wrinkled up. And then he said it.
"I'm allergic to apples."
I'd found the perfect colt. Somepony who understood me, who knew where I came from and how to stand on his own. Fancy, but not too fancy. Strong, independent, understanding… and who could never, ever be part of the Apple clan.
My dreams fell apart in an instant, and I slumped to the ground.
There never was a conversation about something longer term. We barely talked over breakfast, and I left immediately. The girls say I was miserable and morbid the rest of the weekend, but I barely remember it.
Now I'm here and… Sugar Belle, what do I do? I'm pretty sure I could love him - I want to love him. But… Apples. My family.
What do I do?