//------------------------------//
// II - Lonely Nights 
// Story: Mother Dearest 
// by Corejo 
//------------------------------//


Morning Glory smiled down at her empty wine glass on the table.  She had tried to stifle a laugh with a hoof, but found the act too difficult given how horribly inappropriate Flue’s comment had been.  Her face was far redder than decency allowed.  That went doubly so in a restaurant as fancy as Burntwood.  

She glanced at him, and he grinned back, barely able to suppress it.  Something in her head told her to look over again, and she couldn’t help herself.
 
The… well-rounded mare, as Flue had restrained himself enough to describe her, at the table across the aisle still hadn’t realized the stain on her gown’s chest.  Or the grossly large splotch of lasagna on her cheek.
 
“I can’t believe you just said that,” Morning Glory said, looking back to Flue. 
 
He let out a small chuckle.  “Well, I can’t believe those jowls are still shakin’,” he whispered.  “Look at em!”  He shook his head, jaw loose, making motorboat sounds.
 
Morning Glory started laughing again, but choked, doubling over the table in a coughing fit.  “You’re terrible,” she managed to say between coughs.
 
He answered only with a mischievous grin.  The way his crystal-blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the candlelight and how his hair curled just enough to be played with made it hard to think less of him for the comment.
 
A final cough into her napkin set her straight, and she looked down at the plate of lettuce fragments and excess olive oil to compose herself.  A sigh escaped her, finishing the task.  “You clean up nice,” Morning Glory said, looking back up, hoping to change the subject to something more appropriate.
 
“You say that all the time,” Flue said as he idly twirled his fork on his plate.
 
“Yeah, but I thought I should say it again.”
 
His eyes met hers, brow raised.  “Why, ‘cause I cleaned behind my ears this time?”
 
Morning Glory giggled.  “And the tip of your nose.”
 
He rubbed his nose, smirking proudly.  “It squeaks with the best of them.”
 
Morning Glory laughed, looking down at her wine glass.  The tiniest bit of her moscato sat in the bottom, giving the glass’s stem the finest hint of red.  It was the best she had ever tasted, and it made her feel warm inside.  “Do you remember when we first started dating?”
 
“Where’s this coming from?”  He set his fork down and leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hooves.
 
Morning Glory smirked.  “What do you mean?  I asked you a question.”
 
He shrugged.  “I was just curious.  But yeah, do you mean before you tried to kill me or after?”
 
The laugh leapt from Morning Glory’s chest before she could stop it.  She leaned forward, hooves set defensively on the table, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.  “I didn’t mean to.  My landlord didn’t tell me we’d be having a chimney sweep come through.”
 
Flue stared wide-eyed into the distance, his mouth drawn in a small ‘o’ to complete his “stupid look,” as she called it.  “Oh, well I guess it’s okay then.”  He broke into a laugh.  “You know, if Low Rent would have warned me that some crazy pony in a bathrobe was going to try and break my legs, I would have probably asked her out before she scared me off the roof—save myself the hospital visit.”  He toasted at her with an invisible glass.
 
She half-pouted, half-smiled at him, though her voice came out as a full pout.  “I was sorry and you know it.”
 
Flue chuckled and then sighed, looking down into his leftover carrot shavings.  “But yeah, that was the greatest day of my life.”  He smiled up at her in that way that always melted her like butter.  It worked, and Morning Glory couldn’t resist returning the smile.  She had to look away after a moment, though, or else she might get too many jitters. 
 
“But really, why’d you ask?”
 
Morning Glory smiled like a little filly talking to her schoolyard crush.  She really hadn’t expected him to pursue his question and didn’t know how to answer it.  In truth, she wanted to tell him how much she loved him and loved all the time they had spent together.  But she also knew how frivolous he saw words to be; she had said those words before, and ‘being met in the middle’ would have been a generous description of his reply.  To him, actions spoke louder than words.  Just the way he worked.
 
“I’ve… It’s just been a wonderful evening,” she said.
 
“Only ‘cause you’re here,” Flue said.
 
Morning Glory couldn’t help but blush.  She glanced back up at him, and he still wore that same winning smile.  Within his eyes she saw happiness, playfulness—a certain spirit of youth missing from the stallion she had last dated.  Or any of the ones before that.
 
To think it had been two months since they met.  Time flew so fast.
 
“So how’d you like your asparagus cakes?” he asked, his eyes flicking to her plate before returning to her.
 
Morning Glory nodded.  “Delicious.  Never had any better.”
 
“I told you you’d like this place.”
 
“Yeah,” she said, glancing aside.  She continued, worried, in a half whisper.  “But it’s so expensive.  You didn’t need to take me here.”
 
Flue waved a hoof.  “It’s your special day.  Why shouldn’t I?  Tryin’ to tell me you’re not worth it?”  He flashed his smile again.
 
“Hey, don’t go putting words in my mouth,” she said.
 
“Oh, so you are worth it?  Or are you too worth it and you’re trying to tell me this place wasn’t nice enough?”  He had leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. 
 
Morning Glory flustered.  “Wha-hey!  That’s n—”  She gave a small huff, trying and failing to suppress a smile, knowing full well she would have only been walking into a trap.  He loved teasing her, and the empty bottle of wine between them wasn’t helping much. 
 
Flue laughed at seeing her catch on, and Morning Glory rolled her eyes, sighing it away.  Their eyes met again, and Flue reached a hoof across the table.  She was about to take it in hers, but the waiter strode up, a pitcher of water and a bill presenter in his silver aura.  He glanced briefly between them, smiled, and set the presenter on Flue’s end of the table without a word.
 
“Thank you,” Flue said.  The waiter gave a small bow and headed for the other end of the room.
 
Flue took the presenter, opened it, and immediately clutched his hoof to his chest, eyes bulging out, tongue lolling.  Morning Glory blinked, hardly able to process what had happened before he chuckled and opened it in genuine.
 
“Wh...what?”
 
“I’m kidding,” Flue said.  “You know, it’s a thing I do sometimes.”
 
“Oh, shut up.”  Morning Glory looked absently out into the restaurant, grinning.  She couldn’t take him anywhere.
 
Business card inserted—for mailing of the real bill and gratuity, as the handling of bits was considered ‘unclean’ in fancy establishments for some reason—Flue stood the presenter upright on the table, then leaned his head on a hoof, gazing at her.  Morning Glory moved her hoof forward to make up for the earlier interrupted moment.  His met hers, and her stomach filled with butterflies.
 
“I love you,” he said.
 
Morning Glory’s heart skipped a beat.  Warmth rushed to her cheeks, and the ‘I love you, too’ she meant to speak stuck in her throat.  She only managed an “Uhh...”
 
Flue blinked, emotion draining away to mild surprise.  “Well that’s not what I expected, but okay,” he said, point blank.
 
Morning Glory shook her head, blushing furiously.  “Er, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.”
 
“Uh huh.”  Flue kept his eyes on her, part of him still cheerful, but the brightness of his smile never returned.
 
“I’m serious.  It’s just—” 
 
Morning Glory averted her eyes as the waiter swept past, grabbing the bill.  “Thank you, and you two have a pleasant evening,” he said. 
 
“You too, sir,” Flue said.  He sighed and then made a show of folding his napkin, flopping it on the table.  A glance up to her.  “Should we get going?”
 
“Flue,” Morning Glory said.  “You know I didn’t mean that.  I-I just wasn’t expecting it.”  She looked down at her hooves bunched on the edge of the table.  She could feel him staring at her, knew how he got when disappointed: smile and defer.  Why did she have to go and ruin such a wonderful evening?
 
“Come on,” Flue half whispered.  “Let’s get going.”  He stood, thanked the waiter again, and came around the table to help her out of her seat.  Morning Glory let him pull her chair out, to allow him his pout if nothing else, and she followed him to the door, head bent, ears limp, in silence.
 
The greeter thanked them for coming.  Flue returned the gesture, but Morning Glory could only muster a half-hearted smile.  They left Burntwood and made their way down the snow-dusted street.
 
It was a chilly night in Baltimare.  The snow fell from a windless sky in flakes large enough to cover a whole bit.  It crunched underhoof, neither too deep nor too heavy.  It was the kind of snowfall that would have made her snuggle up beside Flue during the walk, but she didn’t feel confident in that sort of gesture after her slip-up.
 
Morning Glory chanced a glance at him.  He walked almost absently, his eyes bouncing around the glowing lights and steaming marehole covers, all clammed up the way he got when annoyed.
 
Her heart weighed heavy thinking of how perfectly the night had gone.  The trip to Horseshoe Bay, the boat ride, and then their absolutely wonderful dinner at Burntwood along the port, overlooking the water.  Every bit of it had sparked a flame in her heart that no other night in her life had.  And she had thrown it down the drain with one little stutter.
 
A subtle wind whipped up a puff of snow, and Morning Glory took the opportunity to fake a shiver, hoping he might notice.
 
Immediately he pressed his shoulder against hers and wrapped his scarf over her neck, its thick wool quick to stave off the cold.  A genuine gesture, but over so soon—a minimal effort.  Yet another way he had found of pushing her buttons, whether he meant it or not.  She huffed, but made no other attempt to get him to open up.
 
Nearly ten agonizing minutes of silence stretched from that point until they reached her apartment.  Outwardly cordial, Flue walked her up the stoop and waited for her to unlock the door.  Just going through the motions.
 
Though she focused on getting her key into the lock, she knew the blank stare he was no doubt giving her.  Why one little thing could make him willing to ruin the rest of the night just to prove some point that didn’t exist.  She kept her irritation to herself in hopes he might come to his senses.
 
The lock opened, and a wave of heat rolled out from the apartment.  Morning Glory gave Flue a half-hearted smile.  He returned it, though he didn’t meet her eyes. 
 
“Well…” Morning Glory said.  “I had a wonderful night.”
 
“Yeah, me too.”  Flue glanced up at her, but quickly averted his eyes again.
 
Still?  Morning Glory huffed.  “Seriously?” 
 
That got his attention.  He stared back, wary. 
 
“We have the best night of our lives, go out and see the town, and when I make one stupid, little mistake you clam up, and it’s like we shouldn’t have even bothered.”  Heat rose to her cheeks, but it hadn’t come from the wine.  He stared back with those sad eyes, like he had something to say but not the balls to say it.  “Come on.  Use your words.”
 
Flue rolled his eyes.  She knew the phrase irritated him to no end.  Good.  Maybe he’d learn not to act so childishly.  

“I just,” he said.  “I don’t get why I can open up to you like that and then you don’t even say it back.  You’re all about saying it to me all day long, but the one time I’m really expecting to hear it...”

“Flue…”  Part of her heart sank as if into the icy waters of Horseshoe Bay.  There it was, that feeling again.  The one where her inner demons crawl into her head, spinning their little webs of how he was going to leave her.  How her efforts to bring them closer were only pushing him away, the foot of space between them a canyon.
 
“You know I say it to you,” she said, taking the tiniest of steps forward, over that unfathomable edge.  “Always.  Because I mean it.  I do love you.”  Finally she caught his eye.  

“I love you,” she reaffirmed, steadfast.  “You just said it so suddenly and—yeah, it was my fault.  I screwed up, but you know me.  We both make mistakes.”

Her words seemed to find effect in him.  The roughness of his frown softened, and a light flickered back into his eyes.  He looked down at her hooves, sullen.
 
“Look,” Morning Glory said.  “Can we just try this again?  Please?”  He looked back up with those beautiful blue eyes, hesitant, almost expectant.  She took the initiative: “I love you.”
 
Flue’s gaze darted away, ears back, but just as quickly returned.  “I love you, too.”
 
Hearing him say it again made Morning Glory melt from head to toe.  The warmth of the living room fought against the chill about them, beckoning her in for a well-deserved night’s rest.  She gave the warm interior a sweeping glance.
 
Flue stepped forward.  A gentle hoof brushed her mane aside.  He kissed her, and fireworks went off inside her chest  He held her there for what she wished would have been eternity.  But wishes never came so easily, and they parted all too soon.  He leaned his forehead against hers, a hoof stroking her mane.
 
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he whispered.  Confidence had returned to his voice, the youthful energy she loved.  She nodded, feeling his breath against her face, smelling the sweet, fruity wine.
 
She would see him tomorrow.  Flue always kept his word.  But it also meant she wouldn’t see him again until then.  And there were too many hours between.
 
She yearned for the day they would be together, when he would stay beside her and she would never have to say goodbye.  The nights were terribly lonely, and she tossed and turned as the midnight emptiness screamed ever louder, that she had nopony’s warmth to feel when winter’s breath snuck in through the windows.

They stood before the doorway, heads pressed together, sharing the frost of their breath in the cold stillness.  And still, persistent, the heat spilled out from the living room, calling her inside.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to be alone.

She raised her hoof to Flue’s cheek and reunited with him in a kiss.  She held fast against his gentle pull away, and he gave no further resistance.  His hoof brushed toward the back of her head as he leaned into the kiss, and, slowly, she stepped backward, drawing him across the threshold.