//------------------------------// // All the Years We Shared // Story: A Pegasus Is Fine, Two // by stanku //------------------------------// The ceiling of the cafeteria had little hearts hanging from it, Dash noticed. Fancy that. “Dash!” exclaimed Fluttershy, peering hurriedly over the table at the fallen pegasus. “Are you okay?” Dash raised a front hoof as a sign that she could at least manage that much. In her vision, little papery hearts glimmered. Yes, they had these sparkly things sprinkled all over them, which made the candlelight really shine upon their fragile surface. Their glitter reached deep down into Dash’s soul, wherein a little filly dwelled, squeezing a ragged wonderbolt doll to her chest. “Did you slip?” asked Thunderlane as Dash made her way up again. Inside her, the little filly remembered that she was an adult. “No, that was all planned,” she said, painfully aware of the looks she was yet again drawing like a magnet. Shrugging them off was starting to become the game of the evening. “Must be all this glitter; it’s starting to affect my hearing, too. For a moment I thought you said you were–” She saw their faces. A silence ensued. “Oh.” Fluttershy, rubbing the tablecloth between her front hooves, coughed. “You’re not… happy for us?” Dash looked at her. Happy? For you? For getting engaged with… him? “Uhh… Sure I am! It was just, eh, ah, ih, well, whaddayacallit… unexpected?” All the years we shared. Every moment we held our breaths together, never once saying it, never, ever. And then you blurt it over dinner in the bucking Heartmend Cafe. “We thought that you should be the first one to know,” continued Thunderlane. “After all, you’re the one who really brought us together.” Under the table, he squeezed Fluttershy's hoof ever tighter. Dash turned her eyes to him. For a moment, she saw herself leaping over the table, toppling him on the floor while yelling at his face. Several of the night’s cider’s were rooting for the move, which made her think better of it. “That’s… good thinking,” she managed. This was… my fault? For one mad second, she pressed her hooves against the edges of the table. The waiter arrived with the promised drinks, although he wasn't the same one who had taken the order. After dealing out the frosty goods, he proposed to take the orders for the actual food. Fluttershy and Thunderlane hurriedly picked some salads while Dash mumbled something about a pasta. For the most part, her mind balanced between the urge to fly out of the room in sonic rainbow speed and the prospect of poking herself with a fork, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Ultimately, she ended up biting her tongue. After the waiter went away with their arbitrary orders, Fluttershy looked again at Dash. “I know this may sound a bit rushed… but it also feels very right.” She glanced at Thunderlane, whose happy smile made Dash want to poke him with the fork. “We share so much in common.” “You, most of all,” said Thunderlane. All signs hinted that he genuinely thought it would be a clever thing to say, which only fueled more Dash’s growing nausea. By now it was already close to her wingtips. “I need some air,” said Dash abruptly. Her voice was remarkably steady. “Been sitting here too long. Need air.” She stood up. “Uhh, Shy, mind coming along? There’s this… thing I remembered. You should hear it. Now.” She knew she was losing it, losing it bad, but the thing was that at the moment, any pretense was better than the honest alternative. At least if she wanted to avoid a Scene. Fluttershy, who had known Dash before she had learned to fly, blinked. “Of course. It wouldn’t be right, leaving you alone after the wait we made you go through.” She looked at Thunderlane. “If that’s okay?” The stallion shrugged. “Sure, I can keep the fortress standing for a while.” He gave Fluttershy the most innocent peck conceivable. Dash managed to look the other way just in the nick of time. Had she not, Thunderlane might have next wondered why he had a fork sticking from his hoof. You betrayed me. You stuck the first fork. You betrayed me. The two mares exited the room, entering the young night outside. The warmest days of the summer were already well behind them, so the customers who still wished to savour its memory had dressed up warmly in the terrace outside. Dash didn’t stop there though, but rose to her wings right as she got outside and headed farther away. Fluttershy followed her on the ground, avoiding the close set tables while keeping her eyes on Dash. When she caught her at the small fence that marked the end of the Cafe, her worry was written all over her face. “Dashie… What’s wrong?” Dash, still floating in the air, grimaced. “You had to ask, didn’t you?” Puzzled, Fluttershy stopped. “Is it the place? I know it’s a bit silly, but Thunderlane–” Dash landed with a thud. “The place is an insult. He is the injury.” Fluttershy stared. “You don’t mean that. What do you mean by that?” “What do you think?” responded Dash with a poisonous tone. “You thought I’d be happy to see you get… to see you…” She blinked quickly a few times, averting her gaze. Fluttershy took a step closer. “Dash, you’re not making sense.” The magenta eyes snapped at her. There were tears blooming in their corners. “How could I be happy to lose you!” she cried.     Fluttershy froze. There was a tinge of desperation spiced with panic in her friend’s voice that she could not have imagined in her wildest dreams to hear, not from her. Not from Dashie. “I friggin’ love you!” continued Dash, her wings opening, her face distorted by naked sorrow. “And you love me! I mean, what the hay?” She stepped forwards so quickly that Fluttershy flinched. The hooves that grabbed her shoulders squeezed her like meat hooks. “What the hay, Shy?!” Her eyes were aflame. Fluttershy’s mouth twitched open. A series of strangled words followed, not making much sense. Dashed pushed her. Not hard; just a sharp shove. Hardly anything to write home about. It drove Fluttershy over the edge of her world. Around them, most tables were quiet, their occupants giving their best to show the discretion that they didn't have. Dash wiped her eyes, her heart racing in her chest, her wings stirring the cool air aimlessly. “Have a nice dinner with your… husband.” She couldn’t have put more venom in the word “backstabber”. “Rainbow, no!” yelped Fluttershy. Too late, way too late. Dash was already speeding away. The tears falling behind her were barely visible in the dim light of the setting sun. Fluttershy was about to fly after her, but the shock, along with the knowledge that she might as well chase a lightning bolt, leashed her. For a moment, she could only stand there, staring behind the horizon. “She’ll get over it, dear,” said an elderly voice behind her. Fluttershy turned, seeing an old mare sitting in a nearby table with an equally aged stallion. She recognized neither of them. “Young are always so hot-headed,” continued the mare, smiling empathetically. The stallion seemed to tacitly concur. Fluttershy gave them a look and returned inside. In their table, Thunderlane was carefully studying a rackful of napkins. “These must be the cutest napkins I’ve seen in my life,” he said as Fluttershy seated herself. “I mean, I knew the place was famous about being cute, but this is ridiculous.” Only after that did he notice that somepony was missing. “Dash really needed the air, huh?” Fluttershy, leaning over the table against her hooves, started sobbing. Thunderlane panicked. “Oh, hey, aaah, what is it? Hey, come now, calm down!” He smoothed the mare’s back uncertainly with a hoof, aware that their table was drawing looks again. The waiters were talking quietly by the kitchen door, looking at them, too. “She left me,” sobbed Fluttershy into her hooves. “She just… left…” The tablecloth, spotted with hearts, crinkled under her trembling hooves. “What was that?” asked Thunderlane, his attention disturbed by the soothing, which was by now turning into more like patting, and the waiter that trotted towards them. He could feel the situation fleeing out of his control fast. This is not what I had planned. Suddenly, Fluttershy’s head rose. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Rainbow Dash left me.” Thunderlane’s head turned. “Left? Like, she’s not outside anymore?” “Yes!” bursted Fluttershy, sinking to her front legs again. “And she wouldn’t come back…” The waiter arrived just as Thunderlane became certain that the situation couldn’t get any worse. “I’m terribly sorry to bring this up, but could we perhaps relocate you to our private cabinet?” said the stallion with a calm voice. “It seems that you are disturbing the other customers.” “I think we were about to leave anyway,” said Thunderlane hesitantly, for he had been taught that retreat was always a valid strategical option. “Come, Fluttershy, let’s… get some more air, yes?” He helped her up, and together they moved towards the exit. “But your orders are almost done!” said the waiter, trotting after them. Thunderlane could sense distress in his voice that was not caused by the prospect that they would miss the gourmet experience of their lives. It was more of the sort “you haven’t paid yet”. Thunderlane, practically feeling every pair of eyes in the room looking at them, produced a hoofful of bits and shoved them to the waiter along with his apologies, thanks and reprimands, all packed in a few hasty words. His only solace was that Fluttershy had already half-galloped out of the room, crying of course. It wasn’t much of a solace, but at times you just needed that silver lining, however small. Some minutes later he found her in an alley, not far from the Cafe. She was still sobbing, but not that fervently anymore. Thunderlane approached her carefully, leafing through scores of opening lines that he usually used in these situations that shouldn’t have procedures written beforehoof in the first place. In the end, he said nothing, but only wrapped a gentle hoof around the mare’s neck as she poured her shock against the brick wall. “I’m sorry…” she finally said, swallowing hard. Her wingtips got wet as she used them to dry her face. “I don’t know what got into me…” He caressed her with his neck slightly tilted, recalling the conversation they had had earlier during the day. That one had ended in tears too. “It has been an emotional day,” he said quietly. “Nothing to be ashamed about.” “But… all those ponies inside…” “Who cares? Let them keep their stares. And their sparkling heart-things.” And my bits. All of them. She leaned against him, resting her neck on his. Thunderlane let the silence do the soothing for a while. “What happened?” he finally asked.   Fluttershy pressed just a bit closer to him. He remained quiet as she recounted the small scene, every line of it. However, it was the unspoken parts that he felt were the key to this particular event. “We should’ve met in her house,” said Fluttershy with an almost normal voice. She sighed. “It would’ve been more comfortable for her.” And maybe she wouldn’t have had so many ciders then. Gosh, why didn’t I see this coming? “She’ll work it out eventually, I’m sure,” said Thunderlane. It was only later the night that he realized that perhaps he could have rephrased that one better. Fluttershy, after keeping quiet for a moment, pulled away from him. “I feel tired. And cold.” “How about we hit your place, see if the bed’s any warm?” Another line that he’d later regret. Sometimes, you just fell for all of them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quietly. She was looking at the ground as she said that. “You should go home, too. It has been a long day.” His comforting smile thinned down. “Oh. Okay.” A pause ensued, and he wasn't sure if that one needed filling or not. “Uhh, see you tomorrow then, right?” “Okay,” said Fluttershy. She gave him a light kiss to the cheek. “Good night.”   “Good night,” echoed Thunderlane as she gradually disappeared along the alley. The memory of her lips faded quickly in the chilly evening. He went into the opposite direction, but not towards his house. Instead, he headed for the other establishment that was often crowded at this hour, in this season. The Blueberry Inn, famous for it’s various berry-based drinks, stood in the opposite end of the street in relation to the Heartmend Cafe, and the contrasts didn’t end there. For starters, they didn’t have many heart-shaped things in the Inn, and scarcely anything pink either, unless you counted the stuff that some of the drinks made you see. Second, they didn’t serve food. Nopony went there when they were hungry. Thunderlane pushed the door open, noticing how many hopeful looks turned to his direction, only to sink back to the folds of solitude and whatever they had on their finely crafted glasses. He had been expecting the reaction. He took an empty seat on the counter and said: “One Strawberry Dream, please.” He thought for a moment and added: “Make it double.” The bartender, a middle-aged earth pony mare with the words “tell me about it” etched into her essence, began mixing the drink without hardly even looking what she was doing. Her name was Cheery. “Haven’t seen you in awhile,” she said while shaking the metallic mixer. “Always a good sign, right?” he quipped, but without much enthusiasm. Even the best jokes lost their edge at the Blueberry Inn. Unless they came from Cheery. “You want this with an ear?” she asked while pouring the deep-red colored liquid into a thin glass. Thunderlane couldn’t help but to smile at that. “The strawberry will do fine.” He watched as one was carefully split against the edge of the glass. As the cocktail appeared in front of him, he couldn’t help but to recall the last time he had wondered at its silent elegance. The night then had not been very different from this one; late summer, or early autumn, with just the pinch of winter wafting in the air. It had been raining, and the moon had been full. The causa prima had been the same, too. Rainbow. Rainbow, Rainbow, Rainbow. Always Rainbow. And now Fluttershy, too, but that was only because of Rainbow. In the end, it always came down to Rainbow. Why can’t I get over her? Why? She can get over anything, literally. He put a hoof on the wooden counter, resting his head against it. Contrary to what one might have expected, there wasn’t a large mirror behind the counter; there were none such in the whole building, not even in the toilets. Ponies generally didn’t want to look at themselves while they were in the Inn. Maybe we should. Might be a lesson there. “You sure about that ear, Thunderlane?” asked Cheery. She could practically taste when a pony needed more than just the bottom of a glass. “Maybe I’m not…” he said, studying his drink. The color of it reminded her of a certain mare, which wasn’t completely accidental. Is that creepy? Or just plain sad? “Tell me all about, then,” said Cheery, taking a step closer to Thunderlane, who at the moment was the only customer on the counter. He glanced at her. Cheery was, by all standards, a good-looking mare for her age, the exact number of which was one of the great riddles of the Inn. The few wrinkles, the light-orange mane with a hint of grey, and the compassionate blue eyes created a mix of a grandmother and distant cousin, a combination for which you could tell anything without the fear of awkward silences ensuing. Cheery was the reason the Inn existed, and the reverse wasn’t that far from the truth, either. Thunderlane sighed. “There is this mare…” To that, somepony might have immediately said something like: “There always is,” or even the very tasteless “I knew it”. But Cheery said nothing. That was the art of her trade: to know when to keep quiet, which was more often than not. “...then there’s this other mare…” To this, even an experienced listener might have added a surprised “Oh?” or at least arched an eyebrow. But Cheery was a true professional. “...and somewhere in between, there is me,” finished Thunderlane. His eyes were lost in his drink. At this point, Cheery saw it fit to steer the listening a bit. “Is it either/or kind of thing?” Thunderlane gave this a thought. “More like ‘one and the other’, but with a twitch. More like ‘I just engaged with the other so I could be closer to the One’. Of course it backfired. The problem is, it backfired in the way that I hadn’t planned.” Hearing that, even Cheery had to stifle the instinct to bring herself into the picture in the disguise of a surprised reaction. That would have been a rookie mistake, no matter how unorthodox the story was. Still, a hunch told her that something needed to be said. “How was it supposed to go, then?” Thunderlane didn’t answer immediately. “The best part is that I don’t even know. Maybe I had this vague idea that we’d all be closer then, or that at least I could be closer to them, that is, to Her, or maybe… maybe I was trying to make Her jealous. Maybe.” Thunderlane looked at Cheery again. “Am I scum for doing that?” In the Blueberry Inn, questions of that ilk were gunpowder. They were also Cheery’s nightly bread. The important thing was to avoid using the pronoun “I”. “You’re nothing you don’t want to be,” she said. That was a stock-answer: they were always a safe bet. Not universally true, but safe. “Then maybe I want to be scum,” he said. “How could anypony mess up this badly on accident?” Cheery could spot the signs of the game called “deny me if you dare” miles away. For those occasions, she had come up with a game of her own. It was called silence. “I mean, I really botched this time,” continued Thunderlane, removing his front leg from the counter to better wave with it. “Now Dash is mad for Celestia knows why, and Fluttershy left home in tears. And I’m sitting in the Blueberry Inn!” He slumped in his bar chair. A few customers raised their drinks to his outburst. It went pretty quickly to names, thought Cheery as she judged the stallion with a professional eye. And he hasn’t even touched the glass. This might demand the Big Blue One. But before she could determine that, she needed to prod deeper. That didn’t mean asking for a solution: that was not what for the Inn existed. Its function was to mentally prepare you for the part where fixing things could be considered. “That’s what we’re for,” she said with a tone that avoided condescension at all costs. “For knowing that you’re here. We’re a lighthouse.” Now, what she expected was a casual chuckle, a counter-quip or perhaps even a hopeful pause. What she got was: “I’ve tried everything. Denying, acceptance, self-deception… and now I drew Fluttershy right in the middle of my heartbreak that I’m just too thick to forget. I’ve ruined what ruins there were left of my hopes to get together with Rainbow and hurt Fluttershy in the process.” This time, there weren’t any raised drinks. Cheery decided that she had just heard a coded call for the BBO. Some would have considered her idea of coding, which was basically based on instinct refined by thirty years of experiment, rather arbitrary. She would have none it; she knew when a pony was down enough to need something more than a hoof or a kind word to pull them back. That’s when the BBO ought to kick in. “Haven’t touched your drink yet,” she said, for facts were in general very safe things to build conversation around in the Inn.   Thunderlane payed the liquid an indifferent look. It seemed to be winking at him. “Yearning for something stronger?” she went on casually. The nearest customers pricked their ears. They could sense the code being spoken. Thunderlane, who was of the younger generation in what came to the Inn’s customer base, only shrugged lazily. “Don’t have bits with me. Payed all of it for food I didn’t eat.” “Only fair that the next one’s on the house, then,” said Cheery. She produced a key from her mane and picked it up with her mouth, after which she turned and moved some of the bottles aside on the shelf behind the counter. There was a small door embedded in the wall. The lock was of the calibre that made crowbars look silly. She put the key in and turned it. There was a click. It was heard in the farthest corner of the bar, for all the other noises (which had largely consisted of various sighs) had ceased. Even Thunderlane could feel the subtle changes in the atmosphere. He also noticed that he was suddenly the center of all the attention. “Uhh… what’s this?” “This…” began Cheery as she carefully pulled a bottle out of the small locker. It seemed to emanate an eerie indigo glow, although depending on the way how light touched it, the shade might change from deep purple into the brightest cyan of the sky in a mere blink of an eye. “...is your drink.” “The whole bottle?” asked Thunderlane warily. The thought visibly made Cheery’s neck hair rise. “I’d hate to think what might happen,” she said. “No. A drop will do, but it needs to be thinned down. Your first drink should serve.” She set the bottle on the counter and bent down. When she got up, she was holding a pipet between her teeth. Thunderlane swallowed. “You sure this is safe?” “Most certainly maybe,” she said. “Take the top off, will you?” He could feel the eyes burning his neck. How do I get myself into these situations? He eyed with caution the glass cork which, he could swear, had melted a bit from the sides. But how bad can it really be? It’s just some strong liquor or something. And the color could be some simple spell, or just my imagination combined with blueberry juice. She is just trying to take my mind off my worries with the show. With some hesitation, he removed the top. A faint pillar of white smoke escaped from within. Meticulously, Cheery sucked some of the liquid into the pipet, after which she immediately closed the bottle. Next, she moved over Thunderlane’s drink, and holding her breath, let one drop fall into the glass. The carmine fought fiercely for a moment, but ultimately lost to the foreign substance. Even the strawberry, which was hardly touching the liquid, turned navy blue. It all glowed, too. Smoke and mirrors, told Thunderlane to himself, eyeing the drink with mixed feelings. Cheery had put the pipet down; she was waiting, just like everypony else in the room was. This is silly, he decided, seized by sudden irritation. He picked up the glass, closed his eyes… and gulped it down in one go. The room waited. It waited for some more. Wait… No. Keep on waiting. It was only a burp. “You happy, all?” asked Thunderlane finally from the room in general, turning in his chair. “Gosh, you really thought I was gonna explode or something, didn’t you?” He chuckled to himself. Then he payed more attention to their faces. “What?” “Very interesting… Haven’t seen a reaction like that before,” said Cheery behind him. “What?” repeated Thunderlane with some anxiety, turning to her. “I don’t feel any different.” “You sure?” “Yes!” Cheery frowned deeply. “Very interesting indeed…” Somewhere in the back, a pony chuckled. This was most unheard of in the Inn. Thunderlane felt his blood rising. He whirled around, landing on the floor. “Somepony better tell me wh–” He saw his legs. They, and every other part of himself that he could see, was blue. Very, very blue. “Oh, buck…” The room burst out laughing.