//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 - Coming Out of the Closet // Story: Changelings, Love and Lollipops // by Georg //------------------------------// Changelings, Love and Lollipops Chapter 17 Coming Out of the Closet The world slowly faded back into view, even though ‘world’ in this case appeared to be Pinkie Pie’s closet, and ‘faded’ was more like a throbbing pulse of cranial trauma that subsided just enough for him to make out the surrounding circle of various sized party cannons, all seemingly pointed at his bound nose-to-hoof body. The changeling was getting used to pain the longer he stayed in Ponyville, but the echoes of the saucepan landing on his head twice still seemed to be bouncing around between his ears even as his skull was growing two sizable bumps that would technically make shifting into his disguise less a unicorn and more a triacorn, or triceracorn, or whatever a three-horned pony would be called. In a quite succinct summary of his present situation, he groaned once. He even tried to put a hoof on his aching head, only to find the mummification of his body by way of tightly-wrapped streamers was nearly complete, with only the lack of canopic jars to separate him from the specimens of embalming he had once seen in a museum from the outside. From the inside of his head, it didn’t look much better. With the greatest of care, the changeling shifted into the smaller form of Scootaloo and shrugged out of the loose ribbons before changing back to himself. It could not have been very long ago that he had been slugged over the head with the skillet, and possibly the Royal Guard wagon was still out in the yard. With luck, he could slip out of a window and over to the escape wagon before anypony even noticed he was gone. If so, there was no time to waste. He flung open the closet door and paused. So that’s where Pinkie Pie and her cannon— * * * This time as Pinkie’s closet slowly faded into view around the changeling, there were a few changes that he could not help noticing. For starters, his nose was packed completely full of confetti. Again. Secondly, the additional streamers that had been tied all around his body were strung through the holes in his legs this time, making it impossible for him to change forms without incredible pain. Thirdly, the number of party cannons in the closet was one short, which he really should have noticed before. And fourth, there was a stabbing agony in his chest that felt as if somepony had ripped his heart out and packed the bloody cavity with burning salt. It made it very difficult to light his horn and use his magic to unwind the tight ribbons, but he struggled through the agonizing pain and associated tears. Whatever body part that had broken was unimportant. He had to escape while Pinkie Pie was away. He couldn’t hurt her any more. As long as he was here, she was going to be in pain, like a long wooden splinter that only quit hurting when it was removed. At last, he managed to get the final ribbon pulled free from his leg and regarded the closed closet door. Again. There were only two distinct sensations of love in the immediate vicinity, which he could easily identify as Carrot and Cup Cake. All the rest of the emotions from the small town were vague and fuzzy all around him, but he could not feel the distinctive sensation of Pinkie’s bubbling personality anywhere within range, so he flung open the closet door and stumbled out into her bedroom. Oops. She must be really good at hiding her emot— * * * The closet swam slowly into view again, somewhat blurred and echoing from the ringing in his ears and the taste of an entire mouthful of confetti, and also seeming as if all of the cannons stored around him were duplicated due to his eyes not wanting to focus. After working up enough saliva to spit out the wad of tasteless flakes, he took as deep a breath as he could from inside of his tight cocoon of streamers and considered his next move. First, I’m not going to open that door. The agonizing pain in his chest only grew as he lay there and considered his condition, but at least the rest of his body was remaining un-cannoned. Undoubtedly, Pinkie Pie was still outside the closet door, which was the only way out of the closet, so for now, his world had shrunk down to a very small space filled with unloaded party cannons and various other party materials. And pain. It was an unusual pain, and even gently using his magic to unwind a few of the encasing streamers and look at his chest did not enlighten him to the source. Although none of his thin chitin was split or cracked, it seemed as if the pain came from inside, radiating out from where he normally could feel the flow of love pouring into his chest. Or more correctly, where he could still feel the incoming flow of love, mixed with a bitter emotion he had never felt before: Loss. So this is what it feels like. He wanted to run, to fly away as fast as possible, to tunnel through the floor of the closet, anything that would get him far, far away from the agonizing pain that poured directly into his heart. The wave of pure pain grew until all he could do was sob wordlessly into the floor for the longest time, and then all of the sudden with no warning at all, it cut off. In the dead silence, he could hear Pinkie’s bedroom door creak slightly open and Twilight Sparkle’s voice whisper, “Pinkie? Are you up to having visitors?” “Yes.” Pinkie’s voice was nearly inaudible, and the faintest echo of that unbearable pain made the changeling hold his breath in fear of it returning. The shuffling sound of another pony coming into Pinkie’s bedroom preceded another long silence, mixed in with the occasional sound of two uncomfortable ponies sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed, neither of them willing to speak first. Finally, Twilight Sparkle ventured, “So, he’s gone?” “Yes,” whispered Pinkie Pie. “I told him to fly away.” “Oh.” There was a faint rustle of somepony rearranging themselves instead of talking, then Twilight Sparkle continued, “I wondered why I didn’t see him go out to the wagon.” “He said it would be easier for the little ponies.” “I see.” The sound of Twilight Sparkle uncomfortably shifting positions mixed with the faint rustle of a set of notecards and she continued, “You knew he had to go. He’s not like other ponies.” “I’m not like other ponies either, Twilight. None of us are. He could stay and everypony could get used to him. He can’t help what he is, but he can change. He’s a changeling after all. They change. He told me so.” “He can’t change from being a changeling, Pinkie,” insisted Twilight Sparkle. “If he were still here, he would be sucking the love out of everypony in town.” “No,” said Pinkie. “Just me.” “We can’t know that for certain. He could be a scout for an invasion, or a saboteur, trying to prevent the Elements of Harmony from being used against them.” There was a faint flipping noise of notecards being rearranged. “He could even be here to kidnap somepony or steal something.” There was a sniffling noise from Pinkie Pie. “What if he only wanted my love, Twilight? And I was giving it to him without any stealing at all.” “He can’t give you any love back, Pinkie. Changelings don’t give back.” “He does too. He makes me happy,” said Pinkie Pie. “He’s never really been really happy before, and when he’s happy, I’m happy, and that makes him happy too in one great big circle of happiness. Is that what you’re protecting me against, Twilight? Don’t you want me to be happy?” There was an exceedingly long pause before Twilight Sparkle said, “He’s still here, isn’t he?” “Maybe,” said Pinkie Pie. With a glow of unicorn magic, the door to the closet creaked open very slowly and the changeling looked out into the bedroom. Twilight Sparkle was staring in his direction with a mixed expression of physical tolerance and mental exasperation while Pinkie Pie just kept her head bowed with her normally poofy mane all flattened into a dull cascade of magenta down the sides of her face. It took considerable effort, but the changeling began an inchworm-style crawl through the bedroom until he could curl up at the base of the bed and brush up against one of Pinkie’s hooves. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how much leaving would hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.” “You did,” she whispered back with a dry sniff. “I’m sorry for hurting you too. You were just trying to go home and I panicked. I’m a bad pony.” “You’re not a bad pony. You’re never a bad pony. You know I’m going to have to go back to the hive eventually or I’ll explode,” he added, trying not to envision just exactly what would happen to an overfed changeling and how large the eventual explosion would be. It will probably involve confetti. And streamers. And cake. “Stay just a little while longer,” she whispered. “Please?” He rubbed his horn against Pinkie’s hoof as he tried to make sense of the flood of emotions that poured down on him. Love had been such an easy emotion to absorb that he had avoided all of the others that she radiated, leaving a sour residue to her taste now. There was regret at leaving her family rock farm, fear that her friends would abandon her, uncertainty about her ability to laugh when times got difficult, and he opened his heart to the bitter flow. Despair, loss, guilt, envy, they all poured into the vast pool of love he had already harvested, swirling around as they mixed and frothed inside. He could feel the pride she had in her friends, the joy of seeing a little foal’s face light up at a party, respect for the towering Princess Celestia and her fragile sister, Princess Luna. Even the fear of losing her brother’s love to her childhood foalsitter… The changeling shifted positions a little farther from Twilight Sparkle, trying to make the words as soft as possible. “And you’ll let me go?” “If you love something,” she recited, “set it free. If it comes back, it was, and always will be yours.” “Changelings don’t come back.” Still wrapped up in the entirety of her complicated emotions, he huddled up to the one pink hoof that he could reach from the floor. “Ever.” “Then I’ll know,” she replied, sliding the hoof down the side of his face and beginning to untie the streamers. “Come on. Let’s get you out of those things and into the tub.” “I’ll just…” Twilight Sparkle slipped off the bed and backed up towards the door. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while.” He never even heard the door shut. * * * Late that evening after they had gone to bed, the changeling remained quiet with Pinkie Pie wrapped around him in a very possessive fashion. The agonizing pain in his chest had faded to a dull throb, but Pinkie had maintained close physical contact from the moment the last streamer had been untied, even in the tub and the long soak that it took to clear his sinuses of multicolored flakes. They had settled down into bed some time ago, but he remained awake with his thoughts as the moon slowly rose outside the window and spilled its light across the floorboards to highlight the room in cold silver. His familiar unicorn form seemed more appropriate to wear this evening, even though the slightest move away from her seemed as if a strip of flesh was being peeled off his furry chest. After all, fur worked much better than chitin for soaking up the frequent tears or sniffles, despite feeling as if he were lying about his true self. Would it be wrong to stay? No changeling has ever stayed after being found out. What’s the worst that could— He cut off that line of thought with a distinct wince. With only a few days in town so far, it seemed as if his life was being lived at the whim of some violent sadist with a typewriter who was constructing a script in which the maximum amount of laughter could be extracted from his mishaps until the eventual end of the story and his life. But that was just a foolish thought. More likely, it was a firm indication by Fate that showed just why ponies and changelings needed to keep a certain amount of distance between them. As if Pinkie could read his mind, she snuggled closer into the longer yellow hair that covered his disguised body, wedging her damp nose under his foreleg and relaxing with a ripple of tense muscles from her ears down to her tail. “Can’t sleep?” she asked with one long stroke of her cheek against his chest, shining silver in the moonlight that beamed in through the open window. “No,” he admitted. “My mind is all full of thoughts.” “Me too,” she said, moving her lips to his.