The Winter Concert was no less than two days away. Instead of alleviating some of Ms. Bee Flat's stress, it raised it to epic levels. Practice was now being held before and after school as well as during class. Thankfully, Stitches was back. He and Sweetie Belle had practiced their duet in a separate room, one of the soundproof testing rooms used by the band and orchestra classes.
It was hard to tell who was more enthusiastic about the duet: Sweetie or Stitches. They had been closer since that day Sweets visited Stitches house. Whether because she was trying to convince the male populace she wasn't a fillyfooler or colttease, Sweetie Belle never said. She did feel more at ease in his presence than before. She even didn't mind the fact that his two missing teeth (a right side incisor and one of his cuspids) because it didn't affect his sweet, tender voice.
It surprised her when, one day before class started, he swept through the class room, belting out operatic ballads. His range was rather impressive: he could hit high Gs without wavering and drop to a below-staff A without issue. Ms. Flat saw fit to make him lead baritone; that seemed to fit his timbre and there were only two other baritones before. Snails was one of them; the other was Rumble. The whole choir seemed more robust with Stitches in the risers.
On this day, Sweetie and Stitches were perfecting the duet. Her soprano melded well with his baritone, although he kept striking mid-range notes better suited for basses. She wasn't sure what he was doing. The colt was either showing off, or he was just getting bored. Sweets couldn't tell, either way.
"Okay, I think we got it. Ms. Flat is gonna be pleased."
Her words towards the end were drowned out somewhat by the thumping of hooves. Some wayward colts were smacking against the observation glass. Neither occupant of the chamber could tell what the colts said, but Sweetie was convinced that their choice of words was lurid, at best. She looked to Stitches, who shrugged. He couldn't understand their behavior any better than she could. She wasn"t let this go without a rebuttal. She grabbed Stitches by the hoof and exited the cubicle.
"Okay, you assholes, KNOCK IT OFF!"
The string of colts fell back by Sweetie explosive use of profanity.
"Sweetie Belle, what are y-"
"Just follow my lead," she whispered to him, then to the other colts, "Just what in the FUCK is YOUR PROBLEM?!"
One of the colts acting as leader stepped forward and said, in a prurient way, "We want a kiss, Sweetie Belle."
"Oh, is that all you want?"
The lead colt nodded.
"Okay, then."
She then swept Stitches into her forelegs and kissed him. Not a friendly peck on the lips, nor a lurid smack. Her tongue searched his mouth and found his own. For a while there was a slight tussle as two glossa slipped and slid around, under, and over each other. When Sweetie broke from the kiss, she found herself more than a little flush in the cheeks; her entire body was flustered. The on looking colts were floored; the lead colt's jaw dropped almost to the floor.
"There," she said brightly, "Are you happy now?"
Only one colt had anything to say, and it was Stitches, "Ecstatic…"
The other colts left, downhearted. Only Sweetie Belle and Stitchen Time remained. The next thing she said was an unbidden thought given voice by the excitement of it all.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while…"
"Me, too." answered Stitches.
"W-what?" Sweetie asked, looking at the colt still in her embrace.
"I've wanted to do that since I first saw you. I didn't wanna scare ya… I thought you might not like me."
"But, I do like you, Stitches." she protested.
"Do you mean 'like' or do you mean 'like-like?"
And there was the rub: Sweetie Belle had been on the fence about whether she liked Stitches as a friend or as a colt. The difference was: as a friend, he could be there for her when she was down; as a coltfriend, he could give her something she had only just now recognized she was missing. That thing was love. Oh, Celestia, was high school a bitch!
"I- I think I mean- I- 'like-like' you. Best not to beat around the bush here."
"You mean it?"
Sweetie nodded, "Yeah, I'd like it if you were my c-coltfriend."
Stitches didn't reply. He simply hugged her. Sweetie was swept up in a tide of emotions. A warmth spread throughout her body. She was fine with this, actually. It felt nice. And she needed this. In spite of the protests her mind was giving her, she really needed this.
"Stitches, we should head back to the choir room." Sweets said, breaking away from the hug.
"Oh, yeah, we- uh, should, yeah." then, as an aside, "Does that mean you're gonna call me Stitchey now?"
Sweets giggles, "No, Stitches, hearing your mom call you that was traumatizing enough."
Stitches smiles, assured. They closed the door of the little soundproof cubicle and walked towards the choir room. They were hoof-in-hoof all the way there.