//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Assumptions // by Arbarano //------------------------------// A light, chilly gust whisked across my chest, tugging me away from the glorious image that still floated in my mind’s eye. I pushed the covers away and slipped off the mattress, my hooves making sturdy contact with the wooden floorboards. With a song in my heart and a flow in my veins I reached back and dragged my duvet back into its proper place, taking extra care to tuck the corners in and fluff the pillows. I smiled. Surely, if I was to be welcoming my beloved into this room later this evening, I would have to make it worthy of her presence. I frowned at the empty bottle on my bedside table, the sugary residue around its tip winking at me defiantly in the low light. That would have to go. I picked it up by its scruff and swept my eyes over the rest of my domain. Fortunately, I had little reason to worry about the rest of the room. Those pesky cobwebs that had recently begun to weave the corners of my ceiling together had been swept away a couple of days ago with a firm swipe of my duster, so that was clean. Further down, a few crumbs lingered on the bedside table, the only remains of the gooey, delectable muffins I had had for dinner. A quick wipe would deal with those, and then there was the floor. I had swept it last night, after I retrieved the Post Office uniform I had casually tossed on the floor after… After… She had winked at me. I know she had. I was giving Derpy her satchel—the special one that had her beloved muffin embroidered on the side—with her deliveries freshly checked and ordered inside it, and she winked at me. My eyes fell shut and I took in a deep, warm sigh, still able to smell her wonderful, sugary scent. I grinned, unable to help the happy little chuckle tickling my throat. Yes. Today was the day! I popped my eyes open again, flicking them over to the closet, in which my clean, pressed uniform was safely tucked, ready for to coming Monday where I would finally be able to join Derpy at work in… in… I almost rose off the floor, blood rushing through my ears. In my rightful place. Bottle still tucked between my teeth, I turned tail and stepped out of the room. My hooves struck up a jaunty beat as I trotted down the hallway, nodding at the photograph of us together at the company picnic last year, and into the kitchen. The door opened to reveal a brightness that assaulted my eyes and forced me into a squint, but I soon adjusted and gave the room a cursory sweep. I pursed my lips as I spotted the state of the garbage bin, but that could be resolved later. At that point, I needed a plan. I set the bottle on top of the trash and poured a bowl of my favourite cereal. It felt a little light as I carried it to the table, but it was a decent breakfast for a stallion of my needs. However, it wouldn’t be enough for me and my special somepony. I hummed as I took my first bite, my chest practically dissolving into mush as I digested those two incredible words. Yes, it was finally going to happen. I gulped down the mass in my mouth, swiftly replacing it. I had tried to confess my feelings to her last year, at the company picnic. I had tried to pull her to one side, tried to let her know what a majestic, wonderful soul she was and how honoured I would be if she were to let me be her special somepony, to let me be her island of hope in the sea of disgust and hatred that washed over her from the rest of the townsponies. But I hadn’t counted on their insidious nature; they had kept us apart. Deliberately. Every time I had tried to talk to her, or walked towards her with her favourite treats on my back, I had to watch as those ponies buffeted her around with their laughter. I swallowed, taking a bigger bite. The same had happened on Hearts and Hooves Day, too. I had spent all day preparing that big, fluffy heart for her, but I was never able to get close enough to her. I stamped a hoof, the bowl chinking as it shook. That… that stallion had surrounded her. He pushed her around the whole day, never letting her out of his clutches and letting out that menacing, booming chuckle whenever she tried to escape and join me. My chest plummeted. I had failed her. I licked up the milky dregs from the bottom of the bowl and purposefully planted a hoof. No more. No more would I stand idly by and let my mare suffer in her lonely nightmare. I would make myself hers… But how? I frowned as I picked up the empty bowl. Perhaps I should start with some roses? I nodded to myself as I dropped the crockery in the sink. After all, Derpy had been the only mare at the Post Office who hadn’t spent the entirety of Hearts and Hooves Day riding a great wave of delicious red petals, and she had looked so wistful, so adorably hopeful whenever one of those smug fillies wandered by, slathering over their bouquets and childishly waving them in front of my sweetheart’s poor, innocent eyes. I finished tying the garbage bag and picked it up, smiling. Yes. Roses were definitely the way forward. I could already see her face light up as I presented her with my offering. I would bow my head, showing proper reverence to the most wonderful creature to walk this land, and she would let out that giddy little giggle that an entire symphony would never be able to recreate as she took her corsage of flowers. Her soft, delicate lips would gently parse out one of the petals and she would let out the most satisfied, gracious hum as she savoured its sweet juices, before she pressed them against my cheek. And then the whole world would stand still. I grinned as I placed the trash-bag in its metal dungeon on the kerbside, and my stomach gurgled as I stood back up. I frowned. The bag had been bound good and tight, so it couldn’t have been that. I sucked my teeth, and a strange staleness washed over my tongue under the pervading sweetness of my breakfast. I probably should have checked the box before plunging in. Then again, I didn’t often eat breakfast; I was usually too busy working that early in the morning or jogging when I knew I could exercise without bumping into any of my beloved’s— “Hello, there.” —tormentors. I knew that voice. My eyes shot around and found a green pair glinting smugly back from atop a preening sneer. I knew this voice and I knew this mare. Not by name, but by deed. She had been one of the ponies who attended the company picnic last year, and she didn’t even work for the Post Office, so she must have been there just to poke fun at my Derpy and make her want to run away in tears (she didn’t, but I could see in her eyes that she was fighting them back). She had also been part of Derpy’s team last Winter Wrap Up, and had dared to scream at Derpy just because she tried to find the southern birds a different way to other ponies. She was different; that didn’t make Derpy stupid! But it certainly made mares like this cruel, judgemental harpies. I glared at her, and felt a certain satisfaction well within me when I saw her recoil. Served her right! With a snort I stalked back into my house and slammed the door, hoping the sheer force of the blast would knock that disgrace into something equally disgusting. I had the roses locked in place for my plan, but that didn’t seem quite like enough for my sweet. Derpy may be the most wonderful mare in the universe, and she would never judge anypony by their failings, but I couldn’t treat her like that. She was my princess, my world, my everything; she deserved only the best! I walked back down the hall and into the bathroom, grimacing slightly as the door squeaked open instead of its typical smooth glide, but the grin quickly returned to the silver face in the mirror. Two rows of creamy teeth marched in straight rows to form what I hoped was a charming smile, though they could have done with a clean. I squirted a minty dollop onto my toothbrush and scrubbed away, eyes resting on the quirky burst of slate grey that sprang from my scalp, where odd strands stood proud because they had been blessed by her touch. Long ago, she had run her hooves through my mane, twiddling it betwixt her delicate hooves and even taking the time to deem it ‘cute’. I had been a mere colt before that day, when those gentle pools of gold had first shimmered at me and lit up my life; since then, I was a stallion. I glanced at the glimpse of my body I could see in the mirror and allowed my grin to turn cheeky. Not only was I a stallion, but I was something of an imposing stallion; not a slab of dumb muscle like that red brute, but hints of subtle strength creased my barrel, ready to leap to my mare’s defence and shield her from whatever horror the world could throw at her. I spat out the slick foam and fixed a stare at myself. No, I could not allow myself to I think in such a way. Derpy was the embodiment of all that was wonderful and good and pure in Equestria, and she never allowed her mind to be sullied by actually thinking she was. I had to be good, and humble, and worthy of her. A sigh rustled through my nostrils, cut short by another lurch from my stomach. Perhaps my breakfast had not been as filling as I had imagined. However, this would allow me to treat Derpy to a lavish meal. I grinned. Last month she had scrimped and saved enough to treat herself to a plate of something sweet and creamy in that fancy place on the other side of Ponyville, and she was beaming and giggling and lapping it up like she was having the time of her life… alone… in a restaurant… With everypony staring at her… I tapped my hoof on the sink, grin spreading further still. Of course this was the answer. My darling would be loping through the streets, the weight of everypony’s ills and eyes daring to press her into the ground and crush her gentle spirit for good, when I would rush to her aid and whisk her away to a lovely afternoon nosh, maybe bringing a muffin or two of my own and watching her face light up as she melted into their chewy goodness. Then we would return to my humble abode, our coats pressed together like two halves of the one whole, and curl up on my bed with the sweet sounds of her breathing being the perfect lullaby… I choked back a tear at the beauty in my mind’s eye, because there was one thing left that could complete that image. After cleansing my muzzle of minty residue, I raced out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom. I scooted around the bed, barely avoiding tripping on the polished floor before I arrived at the closet, flung the door open, and dived for the bottom of the clothing pile. A crisp, dark suit hung limply from my beaming mouth, hoofkerchief still tightly folded into its breast pocket, my father’s cufflinks glinting at me in the dawn sunlight. I had not donned this particular piece of finery since my last date with a mare, back in the days before I knew better. Now it would help set me on my path to romantic bliss. I briskly folded my suit and gently placed it into my saddlebags and sprinkled all the bits from my drawers on top of it. A proud grin framed my muzzle as I stepped back into the hallway, ready to put my brilliance into action, but I paused for a moment to take one last look at my picture. The ghosts of the tingles that her forearm sparked across my back danced for one last time as I pressed my lips against the glass. From today, I would no longer need this picture; I would have the real, wonderful, incredible thing.