A Fragile Heart
His legs are bouncing uncontrollably, making the table shake and jump with jackhammer-intensity. His eyes glance from the clock to the door and back again in synch with the amped-up rhythm of his heart, and he can't seem to hold on to any coherent thoughts for longer than a moment or two before his mind leaps back to the all-important fact: she's on her way.
The cheerful pink pony has to try three times before she finally gets his attention, though the smile on her face is just as bright on the third "Hi! How are you today?" as it was on the first. He shakes his head and coughs. "Oh, yes, sorry, no," he stutters.
The pink pony laughs. "Yes, sorry, no what now?"
"Oh, sorry," he says. "I thought you were asking for my order. I'm doing okay, I'm just, um, I'm not ready to order yet. I'm waiting for somepony."
"Oooooh, is this a special sort of somepony?" she asks with a giggle that makes her curly mane bounce.
He blushes and looks back at the clock again. "Well, sort of. Something like that, I guess."
Her eyes widen, and her smile brightens several degrees. "Is it a first date?" He hesitates, then nods, and she squeals with delight. "Oh, I'm so excited! It's not every day I get to help somepony with their first date! Is there anything I can do to make it extra-special? Some flowers, maybe? Ooh! Or I could put out some candles! I mean, I know it's the middle of the day, but candles are always romantic..."
"Oh, no, that's okay," he interrupts. "Thanks, but I just want to try to keep it low-key, you know? I don't want to make too big a deal out of it. It's just lunch."
"Okie dokie, low-key it is," she replies with a wink. "I bet she'll appreciate that. Don't want too much pressure on a first date! Gotta keep it fun and casual, like a pool party." She nods sagely. "Oh, speaking of pools, I bet you're thirsty. Could I get you something to drink while you wait?"
He nods and allows himself a nervous grin. "That sounds great, yeah. Thanks."
She stares at him until the silence gets uncomfortable, and he starts to fidget with his napkin. "Sooooo what kind of drink do you want?" she prompts.
"Oh, right. Right, sorry. Can I get a Foala-Cola?"
"Is Pepneigh okay?" she asks.
He nods, perhaps a little more vigorously than necessary. "Yeah, of course. That's great."
"Alrighty! I can get that for you in a jiffy," she says, then trounces back towards the kitchen.
He feels a little bad for misleading her - she seemed so excited - but it wasn't technically a lie. Depending on how things go, this could be a first date of sorts. Then again, it could be the last.
After the pink pony comes bouncing back with his soda, he switches up his routine - a glance at the clock, a glance at the door, an infinitesimal sip of cola, a glance at the clock, a glance at the door, a sip of cola, clock, door, cola, repeat until he's too nervous to even pretend to drink his cola anymore.
This isn't the first time he's found himself alone, waiting for her to show up, wondering if she'll even bother, but none of the others were like this. At least back then he knew he'd see her again - if not where and when they'd agreed, then somewhere else later on with an apology and an excuse to patch over his bruised feelings - but they're out of patchable territory now. Every minute that passes leaves a cut on his heart, stinging and raw, and every cut brings him closer to breaking.
The friendly pony comes by a few more times, and each time she asks, "Is there anything I can get for you?" his "I think I'll wait a little longer" grows a little more frail, a little more cracked, until at last his composure breaks. "Can I get an order of hay fries?" he asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster. "You know, just to hold me over until she gets here." The tiny pause between "she" and "gets here" burns like bile in the back of his throat, and he barely chokes out the mangled remains of the phrase.
Her smile dips into a tight-lipped frown, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse before she turns on the hi-beams again. "One basket of fresh hay fries coming right up!" she announces. The words are louder and more eager than they ought to be, and he winces as her pity sinks in, like salt in a fresh wound.
He glances at the clock less often, lets his eyes settle on the table in front of him and his heart sink to the floor. Every time the bell above the door rings he turns to look, but each time he sees it's not her he turns back to his table more slowly, and each time the bell rings it grates more harshly on his ears. Alone, it chimes. Alonealonealone.
The cheerful pink pony brings the fries without a word, and he stares at them just as silently for a long time, listening to the shuffling of hooves and the murmur of voices punctuated by the shrill chime of the bell. Eventually the smell of warm hay and the growl of his empty stomach untie the knot in his throat and he gives in. As he swallows the first bite, the truth he's been trying to hold at bay breaks loose - she's not coming. When he finishes these fries, he's going to pay his bill and go home alone. When he finishes these fries, he has to admit to himself that it's over.
He eats slowly, mechanically, his head hunched over the basket of fries and his eyes shut tight. He lets the sullen rhythm of chewing and swallowing drown out everything else, but memories of his time with her still surface, unwelcome and unbidden.
Lazy afternoons in their apartment, the blinds closed, relaxing comfortably, aimlessly, content to be in one another's presence. Their fight in the park a week ago, the last of so many, all meaning in their words stripped away by the raw fury with which they spoke them. Their first date, right here at this table, the sun streaming through the window and illuminating infinity in her eyes. She had been so vibrant, so happy, smiling and laughing at every little thing that caught her fancy - the tiny filly in the high chair with a bad case of adorably tiny hiccups, the misspelling of the word "bagel" ("bagle") on the menu, and then the way he pronounced "bagel" ("It's 'bay-gull', silly!"). She had always teased him about that when they were together, but it was the sort of teasing that made him want to say "bagel" more often just so he could watch the corners of her eyes crinkle and hear her silly imitations. "Mmm, I love bag-gulls! Don't you think a nice bag-gull would hit the spot right now?"
Staring at the menu now, he can't see for the life of him why they'd found it so entertaining. The word "bagle" looks sad, awkward, out of place, like it's the only one that doesn't realize how silly it looks and all the other words are embarrassed for it. He wonders if that's how he looks, if everyone else in the diner is embarrassed for him. More likely they haven't even noticed that he's there.
There is one pony, of course, who's noticed. The pink pony watches him from across the room and frowns as her mind races to find some way to help him. A grand gesture seems out of place for somepony who looks so sad, but she can't just ignore his plight, so she walks over to him and offers him a gentle smile. "Those fries are on me," she says. "I'm sorry things didn't turn out so well."
He looks up at her, flustered, and shakes his head. "No, that's okay," he says, and his voice is thick and heavy. A holding-back-tears voice. "I want to pay, I don't mind."
"I insist," she says. "You look like you could use a little kindness today." He grimaces, and she stammers, "Not that you look bad or anything, I mean it's none of my business and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I just wanted to do this for you because you were waiting for somepony special and she never showed up and you seem so sad and seeing you sad is making me so sad and I was just hoping I could do something to make you smile just a little bit. I'm sorry."
He looks at her for a moment in silence, weighing her words and intentions, then he sighs. "I appreciate the gesture," he says, "but it's going to take a lot more than a free basket of hay fries to make me smile right now."
She wants to ask him a million questions, but the look on his face tells her now is not the time, so she does her best to hold them all in. One word slips out - "Why?"
He debates how much to tell her. "She was an incredible listener," he could say. "She wasn't just quiet, you could tell that she was paying attention to you while you were talking, and when you were done she knew just what to say. She understood what you meant even when you were hardly making sense to yourself. But she doesn't listen to me anymore, and now I don't know what to do."
Or perhaps, "She had the most ridiculous sense of humor. She'd laugh at the strangest things, but once she did start laughing it was impossible to make her stop. Everybody would be cracking up by the time she was done because her laugh was so infectious. She used to make life more fun just by being there. Now every time we talk we fight. I haven't heard her laugh in weeks, and I was hoping I could change that today, but she didn't even come. I've tried everything I can think of to fix things between us, to start over, and I'm just not sure how much longer I can wait."
But all that is too much, too soon for a stranger. Or rather, it's too little, too late for the pony he should have told those things to weeks ago. Finally, he settles on an appropriate answer for a kindly diner waitress. "Because she isn't here yet," he says. "I've waited and waited and waited, and she's still not here. And I want to believe she's on her way to meet me, that she just got lost or she's running late, but the longer I wait the harder that gets."
She nods. "That is pretty rough," she says, her voice sympathetic. "I know how hard it can be to wait for somepony, especially when you're nervous. Still, you wouldn't still be waiting for her if she wasn't worth waiting for, right?"
He stares straight ahead, frozen, the question weighing on his mind, crushing him. Is she worth waiting for? He thinks of all the other times she's stood him up, made him feel small, only to tell him he was the one in the wrong for making a fuss about it. He remembers all the little ways she used his adoration like a blank check, a means to an end, as if it would never run dry. He wonders, if she did walk through that door right now, what would be left to say? And would they even be able to say it? Then he realizes that he's been staring at the pink pony, that she's starting to look a little puzzled, and he nods and looks away. "Right," he says. She starts to grin, then he adds, "can I have my check, please?"
She stops mid-grin and blinks. "What?"
"I'm ready to go," he says. "I'd like my check. For the soda."
"Oh, I don't work here, silly," she giggles. "You looked really excited about something so I came over to introduce myself, and then I wanted to help make sure your first date went super-duper, but then your date was super late and you looked really sad so I bought you some fries to cheer you up. And don't worry about the soda, I've got that covered, too."
He narrows his eyes, waiting for her to drop the joke and give him his check, but as far as he can tell she's not messing with him. He shrugs. "Okay, well. Thanks," he says. He stands, feeling a little awkward but not sure what else to do.
"You're welcome!" she says, then she casts him a suspicious look. "Wait, you're leaving? Now? But she's not here yet!"
He sighs. "Exactly."
He hesitates for just a moment, something in him urging him to sit down, to wait, but he crushes the impulse, forces his feet to carry him to the door. The pink pony deflates a little as she watches him go, but she doesn't try to stop him. As he steps outside, the bell over the door chimes one last time. It echoes for a moment, then the air goes still.
A few minutes later, the bell above the door rings again and she trots into the diner - casual, collected, and as beautiful as ever, an excuse ready on her lips - but there is nothing waiting for her except a half-eaten basket of hay fries and the ghost of a fragile heart freshly broken.
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Good God. I love it. Excellent job at keeping things minimal and still delivering a powerful story. Reminds me a lot of the song Schism by Tool. "Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion." You've created a very high tier fic, in my opinion.
A writer noticed him at last! Oh HAPPY DAY! <3
Reading now, but did you notice he suddenly got nice foreground focus after that Twilight Time episode? Me thinks he's under relationship stress or something. Poor dude.
Anyhow, onto the reading!
Well. Now that ending. That would teach a pony a nice lesson there. Great story.
That was amazing
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The feels!
Damn it, you made me cry.
4160478 Wow, thank you so much!
4160638 Heh, a friend pointed him out to me the day the episode aired and I got this idea stuck in my head, but it took me so long to finish it I wasn't sure anyone would even remember he was there.
Glad to see he caught someone else's eye, and I'm so glad you liked the story! 
4160750 Thanks! You're amazing for following me.
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(Newtaloo, Inc. is not responsible for any emotional, psychological, or physical damage caused by reading affiliated sadfics. If you find that your feels are attempting to flee your body via your tear ducts, please avail yourself of the complimentary tissues.)
4161070 Why thank you! It didn't occur to me to see if he had a name until I'd finished the fic since I was planning on only using pronouns for him and his ex, but I was surprised to find out how many other times he's shown up in the background of the show. Maybe I'll write about him again if any more of his background antics catch my eye...
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You're very welcome, can't wait to see more
It was enjoyable.
Beautiful and moving. Bravo.
Well, that was depressing.
Well done, sir.
Excellent! I was waiting for a story about this sad pony ever since I saw him in the background of Twilight Time!
It's stories like these that I come here for. The theme is very adult-oriented, a problem that many of us have faced at least once in our lives. I do also love how at the end you've made it ambiguous what her true intentions were for being there, so that readers are left to interpret it for themselves.
Readers can either see it as depressing, should the colt have been wrong and that there WAS a chance to save it... or see it as inspiring, if even HALF of his negative epiphanies about her were true. Hell, that dude could've been in a very unhealthy and one-way relationship, and he was one of the LUCKY ones who took charge of his own destiny and saved himself!
The only problem I had was with the starting paragraph. Using words like "jackhammer-intensity" can leave little to the imagination and make the reader wonder, "Why aren't the other patrons noticing this goofball make a commotion of himself?"
My advice to you is to watch your choice of words, or at least rephrase what's being affected. Maybe the tip of his hooves were moving with "jackhammer-intensity" on the table, rather than the table itself. Makes more sense than having the ponypocalypse descend on Equestria, all of a sudden.
Another thing I note is how you managed to use present-tense consistently in this story. Impressive work, but not my style-cup-of-tea, made me feel a bit weirded out. Guess I've gotten too used to reading stories in the past tense.
So here's my overall verdict:
Quality:
of 5 (Higher means story theme is intriguing and worth investing)
of 5 (Higher means more uncomfortable to read by conventional viewers)
of 5, definitely a keeper
Errors: 0 of 5 (Higher means more spelling/grammatical errors pointed out, jarring the reader)
Style Conflict:
Total:
it maked me cry but i luv it :))) <3
4327102 Thank you so much! To borrow your phrasing, it's feedback like this that I came here for. Constructive criticism that's not just praise but genuinely critical is invaluable, and I appreciate your taking the time to break it down for me like that. I'm also thrilled that you enjoyed the story so much - that really makes my day!
I know the story's really about Goldengrape, but this:
was just perfect.
4327905 You know, I actually considered writing Pinkie out of the story at one point because I was having a hard time getting her to fit with the tone, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She's just too much fun to write!
I'm shipping Pinkie and this colt now 0_0
This fic is AMAZING, fantastic, simply fantastic, I love it
This was a very well done story, my friend. I applaud you!
Touching.
You described the feeling of loneliness very good and especially the process of him paying attention on little details while dwelling in thoughts.
The end is very sad, though it gave me the feeling that he realized that his marefriend isn't so good like he thought.
But he still seemed kinda sad when he left, instead of relieved about having realized that, so I'm not sure if I understood it right.
All in all, she does seem to have good qualities as well, so I hope it works out for them somehow.
Also, I love it how you nailed Pinkie! The end when she says that she isn't a waitress, while totally acting like one before, made me burst out in laughter.
You wrote her perfect.
And I have the feeling I should ship them now. While reading the story I had the whole time the feeling that he and Pinkie will end up with each other. Maybe I will continue this story one day.
Oh man, so close to heart.
THIS. IS. AMAZING!
It hit so close to home too
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It hurtssssss
where did I put my anti-depressants
Damn. That ending.
I need a sequel. It's the only thing that will cure my feels.
Reading this is a bit of a surreal experience for me, considering I also wrote a one-shot based on the same clip! Mine isn't exactly the same, but it comes pretty close. Funny how that works out sometimes, isn't it?
I never cry...
/10.
Okay, sometimes I do, but I can keep it in, bro.
Still, really sad, keeps me connected with the character at the spotlight, and PINKIE.
I give it:
Well done! And Pinkie was spot on!
Well done. The feels
but very well done.
Buck that mare through window, it's what she deserves.
I noticed that guy to and im like: why is he so sad this a show about ponies for Christ sake......we need Pharrell Williams Now
Nice job making it to the Popular Stories list. I rather enjoyed reading and reviewing this one.
4339549 Thanks so much! Your review was definitely a big help in getting me there.
What a bitch.
la increible manera en que los interactuan y sienten... es tan perfecta... tan real que podes tranquilamente meterte en los zapatos de los personajes... señor: lo felicito por el buen trabajo... es la primera vez que leo un texto en ingles y me siento asi...
(sorry for the lack of english
)
I came here ready to feel
and my god
I feel EVERYTHING
Some p[ony else wrote a story on this guy. It was good. I think it's in my favs!
Oh my Celestia! The feels man! The FEELS!!!
Gotta love this fandom. Turning something completely pointless into something with more meaning than anyone could imagine.
Why. Why. I was already satisfied with the whole story.
WHY'D YOU TEAR MY HEART APART IN THE LAST PARAGRAPH?
4329721 Thanks! I think you're right about both things - he realized what was wrong with his relationship and that it was too late to fix it, and he'll be grateful he did, but it still hurt to leave it behind. Sadness often comes before relief.
It makes me so happy to hear that I wrote Pinkie well, too. Since she's the only canon character in the story I was nervous about getting her right. And while I've got no plans to add anything to this story, you're more than welcome to pick it up where I left off and give Pinkie and Goldengrape the happy ending they deserve.
4335281 That is an impressive number of mustaches - a compliment of the highest order. Thank you!
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