//------------------------------// // It's Easy // Story: All You Need Is Love // by Nightmare Prose //------------------------------// Lucky Clover knew his third date with Wild Fire was important, and he wanted it to be just as good as the original. He looked inside the picnic basket one last time. Everything was perfect, from the plates and utensils to the vegetables and other treats. With half his week invested in picking out everything, he was unwilling to settle for anything less, especially if it meant another smile from her. There was just one more thing to pack. The vial was quite tiny, he noticed, especially cupped against his gray hoof. Love potions were not easy to sell, or so the bespectacled shopkeep had explained. He'd also assured Lucky Clover at length of the quality—the brew would strengthen the love between two ponies. Most dismissed it out of hoof as snake oil. Some saw it in a more sinister light. He saw it as the last possible hope to salvage four years of marriage. Lucky Clover dropped the vial into an inside pocket of the basket, then grabbed the handles with his teeth and headed out the door. He was thankful for clear skies and a cool breeze for the afternoon aerial show. The Wonderbolts had been the only event she'd shown real interest in attending; she was an extremely loyal fan of the group, and even had dreams of joining them one day. At least I'll get to make her happy, Lucky thought. Even if she isn't happy with me. Dozens of other ponies were heading in the same direction as him, with many wearing the Wonderbolts' blue and gold on clothing and flags. Excited chattering surrounded him as five of the show pegasi flew overhead. As he shifted his grip on the basket and got his bearings, he finally laid eyes on the one pegasus that mattered. “Hi,” Wild Fire said, her brown eyes flicking to the basket. “Just like old times?” Lucky set it down next to them and smiled. “Better, I hope.” He leaned forward to nuzzle her. She didn't pull back, but her motions were stiff and restrained. It took effort to keep the pang of hurt out of his voice. “It's good to see you again.” “You too. Listen,” she said, then stopped. He tried to keep his mind from racing at the weight of that single word, and tried keep the anxiety out of his expression. “I have, uh. I've got something to tell you, but I don't know...” He took in a sharp breath. “I-if it's about us, if you don't want to-.” He cut himself off, unsure if he could complete the sentence. “No! No, nothing like that at all.” Wild Fire smiled, and even though he could see the tension of whatever troubled her, it was still like a sunrise to him. “It is about us, though.” Lucky nodded and placed his hoof on hers. “It's okay, you can tell me anything. Whenever you have the words.” “Okay.” She looked up, following the gazes of a hundred other ponies. “I have to think about it a little bit, alright?” He wanted to know right away. “I can tell it's important to you,” he said. It was probably something he should insist she tell him, before it became something that slipped away and festered under the surface like everything else. “Let's watch the show together, there'll be plenty of time left in the evening to talk.” She kept smiling as she held his hoof, but he knew it was the smile of a bombshell waiting to drop. It was about the two of them, and despite her protests, he couldn't help but think it would change things for the worse. Not that it could get much worse between us. Until recently, they had been separated for several months. She had finally suggested a plan over drinks: the two of them would try to start fresh and work through all their old troubles, recapturing the old magic and making it work for them. Lucky remembered that night well, when everything had changed. He'd been nearly convinced there was no going back to the way things were; they simply didn't see eye to eye on too many things, and the bad blood had long since doused the fire of passion, leaving only ashes. The more she talked, though, the more his doubts seemed like bitter vestiges of the old arguments. He had grown tired of sleeping in a cold bed every night. He had wanted a new start, and so did she. Their agreement had been to start 'dating' again, as if getting to know each other anew. The first date had gone well at the start. What he thought was awkwardness on her part lasted past the lame jokes and drinks, and well into their quick meetings for coffee. All through the second date he'd felt a sinking pit in his gut, growing tighter and heavier every time her words didn't match her reactions. Four years of marriage had taught him when things would turn stormy. Lucky looked at her in the present. He hoped it was just his overactive mind at work, and her smile nearly convinced him. Her ears were too far back, he noted, and her expression held too much tension. You're overreacting, Lucky. He smiled back. It could be her work, or the fact that we've had some bad splits in the past. He knew better, and his thoughts drifted back to the potion. I'll make a decision after the show. Give myself some time to think. Above them, five Wonderbolts drew streaks of lightning-charged smoke across the sky. The crowd's chatter died to excited murmurs, and even the preoccupied Lucky found his attention snared. Each of the pegasi parted from the close formation for a moment, only to cross paths again in a starburst. Cheers rose from the ponies on the ground as all five Wonderbolts closed ranks once again. Lucky glanced over to see Wild Fire grinning at the display. She caught his gaze and leaned closer. “I still want to be up there one day,” she said. “That would be the life.” He nodded. “Just save me a good seat in the stands, right?” “Of course!” Her laughter was pure, real, and Lucky couldn't help but laugh along with her. It was a bit of the old magic. He hoped it would last. The show continued on, and Wild Fire would occasionally comment on a particular flier or formation. Some tricks were far from new for a devoted fan's husband, but watching a unicorn walk across the barely-touching wings of two pegasi could never get old. As the surprisingly explosive finale wound down and the still-crackling smoke began to clear, Lucky started to unpack the picnic basket. When Wild Fire turned to join him, she was still beaming. “Thank you for that,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. The warmth in his chest sent another nail into the coffin of his doubts. Still, his hoof brushed by the pocket sewn into the basket. I'll wait just a little longer to decide. I'm sure an opportunity will come up. “So,” she said, her gaze fixed a little too solidly on the picnic spread. “Dinner first, then talk?” He nodded, pushing the basket—and its remaining contents—to the side. “Sounds good to me.” Their meal was peppered with smalltalk, which gave Lucky some room to think about his own particular decision. The vial was small enough to easily dose both of their drinks; the shopkeeper had warned him about the troubles with only one pony drinking the potion. Would it be right to dose us both without her knowledge? He knew the answer. The real question is: will it be worth it in the end? Can I live with myself if it means having her back? Could she live with me if she ever learned the truth? He looked over at Wild Fire as she finished off her plate. The conversation was awkwardly suspended, with only half-glances passing between the two of them. Lucky felt the pit in his stomach return. If I do it without telling her, I betray our wedding vows. I can't do that; I won't. If I ask, I risk losing her. He slowly exhaled. But, if I do nothing, I'll probably lose her anyway. The last thing I need is another regret. “Hey, Fire,” he said, managing to catch her eye. “There's something I want to... well, ask. I've been thinking about it, and I feel like it'd be the best thing for both of us.” “Actually,” she said, slowly, her expression clouded. “I'd like to say my part.” “Really, mine won't take long.” He didn't want to argue with her, but neither could he sit back and let his only opportunity pass by. “I just want-” “Luck, please, I need to do this first,” she interrupted. “I promised myself I'd be strong if it came to this, and if I don't say it now I might not be able to. Please?” Lucky kept his eyes locked on hers, looking deep into her. “Fire, I know this is very important to you, but I also know what you'll say will change us, and probably not for the better.” Her eyes tightened in a wince, but she didn't speak. “Before that happens, there's a way we can fix everything. Make things the way they were in the beginning, if we both do it together.” He fumbled at the basket's small pocket and fished out the vial. “I know what you're thinking, but I know it works. It has to work. We split the love potion, and we, well...” He trailed off. She'd recoiled at the name, and his heart plummeted. He tried to keep his breathing level. “Please, at least think about it. Remember all the good times?” She looked away from him, and only her jaw working in that little way while she searched for words stopped him from rambling on. Finally, she murmured, “Like that one time at the coffee shop.” She looked back at him when he didn't answer. “We were arguing about something. Hooficures, I think.” He smiled as the memory surfaced. “I swore we were brewing for a big fight. And all of a sudden, everything changed.” She nodded. “It seemed like such a silly thing to get angry over, not when we had each other.” “Yeah.” He reached out a hoof, and she held it with her own. “We can, still, if we settle things. We can bring back some of the fire.” “It's too late for that,” Wild Fire said, her voice heavy. “We can't just make it come back.” Her words hurt, but he'd come too far to be defeated. “I know that's not true. It's happened before, and if you and I both take that step, together...” She met his gaze again; her eyes looked heavier, almost haunted. “Luck, I need to tell you now. It's something I should have admitted back when we met up again, when we agreed to try dating again.” Her ears flattened, and she held his hoof tighter. “Things were just... I was too weak, I was tired of the pain, of being alone every night. So I tried to fix it, but.” She shook her head. “I shouldn't have tried. The love potion won't work.” “Don't say that,” he said. “Don't give up. I know what it does, and-” “Luck,” she firmly said, her hoof trembling in his grip. “I know what it does too. That's what I wanted to tell you about.” She breathed in. “That night when we met up, and talked about getting back together? I had a vial just like that one, and I put that same potion in your drink when you stepped out for a moment.” He tried to say something, to question or shout or cry, but the words were gone. It felt like someone had filled his chest with lead. “I thought it would help,” she continued, her eyes focusing on some far-off point. “And at first, it did. Our new first date was so warm, good. Happy. But it didn't stop the guilt.” She shivered. “I wanted... I was selfish. I betrayed you, when I thought I was saving us. Every time I looked at you, I felt unworthy of your love and trust. I'm... I'm so sorry.” His head was spinning. He could barely sense her grip on his hoof tightening. He could see tears forming in her eyes; in all the months of their separation, and even before, he'd never seen her this sincere. The lie was still there. Wild Fire looked at him again. “Lucky, please, I... I wanted... I'm sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “Say something? Please? Anything, even if you hate me, I just... please.” Lucky forced himself to take a breath. “I don't hate you,” he managed to whisper. Everything was a whirlwind in his head and heart, but he couldn't feel hate. Still, he withdrew his hoof from her grasp. “I just... need a moment.” She nodded, though the hurt was clear on her expression. Lucky remembered the shopkeeper's words about only one pony getting the potion. It would work, so to speak, but the effects would be too lopsided to have a normal relationship. The stallion had also mentioned it carried the same criminal penalties as unauthorized mind magic. I won't turn her in for that, he thought. I nearly did the same thing. Neither of us are in the right. Lucky took a few steady breaths to help settle himself. The opportunity to collect his thoughts was welcome, but it only made him more aware of the ache in his chest. Everything he'd been feeling since that night was now in question. How much is real, and how much came from a bottle? Would I still have wanted her back? He didn't know. “I have to leave,” Lucky said, finally feeling certain about something. “I need some time to sort things out.” Wild Fire's mouth worked for a moment before she managed to speak. “I... okay.” She wrung her hooves together. “I understand if you don't want to come back.” “Hey. I forgive you,” Lucky said. He reached out to touch her again and felt a pang in his heart. He still loved her, deeply. It didn't matter how much was real; there was still enough to make the farewell painful. “But... I don't know if I can forget, or move on, or whatever.” She held his hoof once more, briefly, before both of them let go. “I understand.” An awkward pause settled between them. “There's no easy way to say it, is there?” “No, there isn't.” He looked at her for a moment, then stepped forward to give her a close hug, like the ones they used to share. She hugged him back, and he could feel her slight trembling. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He whispered. “You too.” She squeezed him a bit tighter. “Please, at least promise me you won't do anything... well, you know. No matter how much it hurts.” “I won't, I promise.” They split apart, and silently worked together to place all the picnic supplies back in the basket. There was little left to say. “I love you, Wild Fire.” “I love you too, Lucky Clover.” He nodded. “Good night.” She repeated the words, and they both turned away. He could hear her flying off as he grabbed the basket's handles in his mouth. It was a long walk home. The next afternoon, Lucky finished packing his belongings into two suitcases. Three letters rested on his table; one was addressed to his landlord, containing a bank draft for his remaining rent. The other was written by a different hoof and bore an express stamp from Ponyville. He swept the second into his saddlebag and placed the first in the mailbox outside. The third was still open. He checked through everything in the apartment again before returning to the table. One last time, his eyes went over the words he'd written: Dear Wild Fire, I'm leaving Canterlot today. I already know that running away won't help with the pain, but there's too many memories here. I've talked with a friend who can give me some work and a roof. At least I won't be starving in the street or anything. I don't know how long I'll be gone, there's just too much to think about. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but I'm not strong enough for that right now. What I can tell you is this: I still care about you, and love you. I love you so much that every word of this letter hurts. I've felt empty for every night alone during our split. I may not know how much of my feelings came out of a vial, but I know that more than enough of it is real. It's just not enough to overcome the walls we've built between us. Maybe one day it will, but not today. Whatever may happen in the future, I wish you all the best. I really do. You are a smart, talented, and beautiful mare, and one day I hope to see your picture on a Wonderbolts poster. Whether this is farewell or goodbye, my heart will always be with you. Love, Lucky Clover He read it again, then rolled it up and sealed it. Her place was on the way to the train station; he'd already bought a ticket to Ponyville once he'd gotten word back from his old friend Caramel. He picked up one suitcase and hitched the other to his back, taking one last look around at his last home in Canterlot before heading out the door. The streets were somewhat busy, the afternoon crowd starting to wind down as the evening crowd hit the streets. It took only a couple minutes to reach her door. He wanted to lift his hoof and knock, even though he knew he couldn't. Instead, he slipped the letter under her door and kept walking. He reached the train early enough to pick a decent seat, one with a window view of Canterlot. For all the pain he felt now, he was already missing everything – and everyone – in it. “All aboard!” the conductor shouted, and moments later the train began to move. At the end of the platform, a pegasus landed. For the briefest of moments, their eyes met. Then the train passed the walls, and she was gone.