//------------------------------//
// The Kiss 
// Story: Thirty Minute Ponies 
// by ThatOneWriter 
//------------------------------//

Of course ponies would talk.

As somepony making a name for herself in the world of fashion, ponies are always talking about me—good or bad. It's something I've become used to by now.

But poor Fluttershy never asked for any of this! It was readily apparent after her stint as a model that she would never fit into such a cutthroat business. Or fit into such a culture. She's far too gentle. Ponies like her only get hurt when ponies talk.

I suppose it's my fault. Fluttershy is my friend. She trusted me to keep it secret when she confessed her crush on me. Oh, this whole thing never would have happened if not for the kiss!

One moment, the poor dear is a muttering, clumsy mess, unable to form a coherent thought without tugging on her mane or shuffling her hooves against the cafe floor. The very next instant, I lean in to better make out what she's saying, and her lips are on mine!

Of course ponies saw. And of course they'd talk. Two of the Elements of Harmony, Equestria's heroes (not to toot my own horn, mind you), and one of them already a name being discussed in those same circles? How could they not? The whole thing no doubt made simply the juiciest bit of gossip in weeks! It certainly was a tasty enough morsel to still be discussed even now.

I must admit, in hindsight, it didn't help things that I walked out. I did mutter something about needing some time, but for appearance's sake, it must have looked simply horrid. A pony of my standing abandoning a friend who was willing to be so open? Honestly, I do think I deserve everything I got.

But Fluttershy... Fluttershy did nothing to deserve the sorts of things being said about her. Ponies with nothing better to do than to slander such an innocent and kind pony have implied that somehow she wasn't good enough for me, that even I, one of her closest friends, wouldn't so much as give her a chance. They've said the same thing about her modeling career, implying that she wasn't pretty enough to be a model, that her plain, unadorned look and manner failed to impress Ms. Finish.

I know she's taken it awfully hard. It has been days since I've last seen her, and that was before the talk got really nasty. Knowing her, she's likely curled up in bed. I'm sure even her animals are worried.

My heart aches at the very thought. I absolutely must make things right again.

I knock on her front door. There is no response. Animals stir, claws scratch at the floor, birds chirp... but nopony arrives at the door.

I try the front door and find it to be unlocked. Hesitantly, I wander inside to find the house as full of animals as ever. The sight comforts me, even if the smell doesn't. (Unfortunately, a house full of animals does not do much for the nose. Well, not as much as it does to the stomach.) Conspicuously, there is no yellow pegasus amidst the chaos. Nor, actually, the embodiment of chaos himself. The bunny—Angel, I believe his name is—is there, however. He scowls at me, then hops off to the bedroom. I follow.

There, curled up beneath the blankets, is Fluttershy. Or I presume she's there. It's hard to tell, since all I see is a pony-shaped lump.

Discord stands beside the bed. His eyes widen as he sees me. I hold a hoof to my lips, and I gesture toward the door. He pouts, but after I repeat the motion, he complies.

Biting my lip, I slowly peel back the blanket. Fluttershy blinks, then stares up at me. Her red-rimmed eyes are still moist. I would be impressed by how long she had been crying had I not had a few such fits of my own within my lifetime.

I take a deep breath... and let it out. What do I even say? Do I apologize for walking out? For not having the decency to give her some explanation of how I feel? Should I mention what ponies are saying because of that?

Her eyes look up at me, wavering, then dart away. She's scared. What pony wouldn't be after what she has gone through? But it is now that I know just how to apologize.

I lean down, wrapping my hoof behind her neck. The distance closes between us before our lips meet.

Her eyes widen, and I feel her gasp. She stares back, before hesitantly leaning against me, returning the kiss. I close my eyes.

There's no need for words. The message has been received. I'm sorry. And... I think I love you, too.

Let the ponies talk. They'll say what they want and make up whatever lies they feel like sharing. We'll just hold each other close in quiet moments like this.

As I rest my head on her chest and feel the steady beating of her heart, I find myself looking up at her. She wraps her hooves around me, a soft smile on her face. Maybe this will work out or maybe it won't, but in this moment, I know I have made my friend very happy.

And that is something worth talking about.