Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax

Chapter 14 - Confront

I couldn't move. My eyes wouldn't blink. I couldn't even breathe. He'd been so loud, and his face had scrunched up so tightly. Nothing on my body worked, and my brain was too occupied burning that image onto itself forever.

After a few seconds, my eyes dried out. I shook my head and snapped out of it. "Um..." The door in front of me was closed, which I couldn't even begin to deal with. It felt like I was floating, that none of it was real. Subconsciously, I think I convinced myself that it had been a dream, that I hadn't even really knocked yet, and so I... well, what else could I do?

I tried again, knocking on the door with the same enthusiasm from as before. No answer came. I knocked some more, louder than the first two times, and it finally started to sink in that, no, he'd really slammed the door on my face. "Breaburn? C'mon. Lemme in." I sounded super whiny, but my brain was way too fried to care. I pressed an ear to the door and listened closely.

Hoofsteps again, and then a weird noise. It sounded like Braeburn was snoring, but I gave up trying to figure it out when the door opened again.

I backed up a step. The excitement and nerves started coming back, and I wanted to speak quickly to get it all out. "Look, Braeburn, I–"

P-TOO!

He spat at me, right at my face. I flinched in time for it to hit me just under my ear.

SLAM!

I was dumbstruck all over again. The ooze ran down my face, leaving a warm trail that quickly went cold in the breeze. It eventually got too gross, and I had to wipe it away. I scraped my hoof against the porch to clean it off, dizzy from the whirlwind of emotions I'd gone through in the past minute. I wasn't going to quit, though. I'd come too far.

I knocked again. "Dude! Braeburn! I'm just here to apologize. Let me in!"

A muffled shout came from behind the door. "No! Go away!" There was a heavy thud followed by a loud shatter. "Damn it!"

Was I embarrassed? Hurt? Of course, but everything was giving way to the anger building in my chest. I beat on the door over and over again, shouting for him to open up, and all of a sudden, I heard hoofsteps dashing up a flight a stairs. '...Window!' I jumped backwards and started flapping as hard as I could. My body twisted in a half-loop corkscrew as I made for the side window on the second floor, desperate to get there first.

It wasn't even a contest. I put on the brakes and hovered right outside of it as he reached the top of the steps. He stopped and looked right at me.

My wings twitched, and I lurched half a meter forward before a pang in my chest took some of the edge off my rage. "Dude, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry!"

"Fine! You're forgiven. Now leave!" He made a break for the window.

I could have made it into his house. I could have forced my way into his home and made him listen to me, and my competitive instinct was jumping up and down in my brain telling me to go for it, but I didn't. I couldn't. I wasn't going to let myself fly into a rage. 'No, not this time.'

Braeburn reached the window and jerked it closed. It caught on something halfway down, and he let out a shuddering, sobbing noise that almost knocked me out of the sky with guilt. He got the window shut a moment later, and with a quick hoof, he flipped the latch before locking his eyes onto me.

Something was off. A lot of things, actually. Instead of making a move, I kept hovering a safe distance away and wrestling with a bunch of conflicting thoughts. I was definitely looking at Braeburn through the window, wearing his same hat and vest, but his face was different than I remembered. Wrong, somehow. There he was, wide-eyed and fogging up the glass with his heavy breaths, but he wasn't the same, plucky pony I'd met before. He stood rigidly instead of comfortably, his mouth open just a little in a small frown. His face looked sickly and tired, but getting a good look at his eyes was the worst of all: they were bloodshot, weary, and they had the same dark circles I always seem to have. They didn't sparkle. They didn't shine.

"Braeburn..." I whispered. "What happened?"

"What?" He cocked his ear at me from the other side of the glass.

I held my hooves up to my face and repeated myself, louder: "I said, 'what happened?'"

He blinked hard a few times, then turned his head and mumbled something.

"What?"

Braeburn turned back to me and rolled his eyes, and then he unlatched the window and forced it open. His voice was shaky at first. "I-I'm fine." But then he collected himself and scowled. "...and I don't need any more lectures on greetin' my wardrobe, so you got no business here."

That stung. My heart hurt, and my wings felt heavy. "Look, I screwed up. Can't we just talk?" My mind raced with the same thoughts over and over. 'This was supposed to be easy! Why won't he let me in?'

Braeburn's expression softened a little. He opened his mouth, but he stopped himself before any words came out. He didn't say anything. Instead, he slowly turned away from me and made his way toward the stairs with his head held low.

He just walked away.

The only sounds were the hot desert breeze and the beating of my wings, which both began to die down. I sank to the ground and landed a few meters from the porch. As soon as I touched down, my wings drooped, and most of my body went slack.

I stared at the front door like a puppy that had chewed up the furniture, and I felt about the same way. My brain wasn't processing what had happened. I kept thinking about walking up to the door and trying for, what, the fourth time? 'Maybe he confused me for some other pony?' Nothing made sense. I'd done what I'd needed to do. I'd come all the way across Equestria. I'd found him out of all the ponies in the world, and I'd been stopped by a wooden door and a pane of glass.

You aren't supposed to lose that much velocity that quickly. When you're racing forward, you shouldn't stop. You dodge obstacles that get flung at you, you correct your course, and you keep going forward. The only time you ever stop that quickly is when you crash.

I'd crashed alright, and it had left me paralyzed. "...What now?" I asked nopony. "Just... go back home?" It seemed kind of appealing for a second: shrugging my shoulders with a "meh" and walking back to the train platform. Heading back to life as I knew it like nothing had happened. Resetting my last few months and pretending I'd never met the butter-yellow cowpony or thought about him nonstop for almost a week. Moving on and finding somepony else to keep me warm at night. I lived the entire rest of my fantasy life in a few short seconds.

When my thoughts came back to the moment, though, I hadn't moved. I was still just a light blue pegasus in the desert.

The ground was hard and uneven. A few small, sharp rocks dug into my flank, and the heat rising off the dry land was making me sweat. Or maybe it was the sun. The top of my head felt hot, especially under my mane. It was like I was slowly roasting, but I didn't move.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Must have been a while though, since I started getting really, really thirsty. I think I noticed my shadow getting longer at one point, but I was kinda outside of time for a while, if that makes any sense.

"You lost, stranger?" a gentle voice asked. I turned my head to see a light-green mare in an orange bonnet standing nearby. "It's a scorcher out here. What are you up to?" There was a lot of concern in her voice, and more than a little confusion. She reminded me of Holli.

"I'm..." The words were hard to choke out, especially with how dry my throat was. "...waiting for Braeburn."

"Oh! Uh... does he know you're here?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. It was like I was a little colt lost at the grocery store. She was talking down to me, but I was too stuck in my head's downward spiral to comment.

"Well, you can wait at the bar if you like. Braeburn might not be home. I hear he was taking a vacation, and, well, if anypony deserves one, it's him."

"He's here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh." I saw her shift her weight and bite her lower lip. She looked around and suddenly seemed very alone and out of place. You ever been out on a street late at night, someplace you've been a million times before but that feels super weird with all the lights off? She had that look. "Don't stay out too long. You'll get sunburned." Weird advice, but then again, it was a weird situation. "Good luck." She left.

Maybe I was just being stubborn. I'd like to think that I was waiting for him, that I was repenting for something and knew I had to suffer alone for a while before I could be satisfied, but I might have just been a bratty, stupid celebrity that was throwing a quiet tantrum until he got his way. On the outside, there isn't much of a difference, is there?

It was getting hotter. The rocks jabbing into me were getting pointier. My head was getting sweatier. I kept watching the door.

The windows on the lower level had the curtains drawn. For just a second, a yellow hoof pulled one of them back. It was slight, but 'Bolts can perceive the smallest movements. Plus, I'd been staring at the same scene for Luna-knows-how-long, so it wasn't hard to spot the difference. Before I could contain myself, my whole body perked up, smile and all, and my eyes locked onto the window. The curtain fell quickly back into place, and so did my expression.

I sighed. "Yeah, still here, Brae." My mouth was super dry, and it had that weird, white cottony stuff inside. I dug into my saddle bag for a bottle of water and took a drink. The warm liquid hit the back of my throat, the best thing I'd tasted in weeks. No, wait. Second best. After pies. The feeling of water back in my system got my brain lubed up again, and I finally realized how psychotic I must have looked waiting outside his house like that. "Buck, Soarin'. Obsessive much?"

I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. A soft jingling of spurs grew louder and louder, and I looked over my shoulder to find a brown pony with a blue vest and the most ridiculous moustache I'd ever seen walking my way. There was an air of authority around him, like I needed to sit up and take notice. After all, he had the biggest hat.

He stopped a few paces away and spoke in a tone that was friendly on the surface but threatening underneath. His words all landed heavily, but they had some bounciness to them, too. What I'm saying is, his accent was as preposterous as his moustache. "Son, welcome to Appleloosa. I'm Sheriff Silverstar, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He reached up and tipped his hat at me. "Need a place to stay the night? The Resting Tumbleweed's got the softest beds in town."

I blinked at him. He didn't blink back.

He wore a slight, forced smile, and he stared right through me. We both knew what game we were playing, and I think we both knew how it was going to end. It was almost relaxing doing the social dance like that. Still, I wasn't budging. "Thanks," I said casually. "But I'm okay. I'm waiting for Braeburn." My tail flicked involuntarily to the opposite side.

"Seems like you been doin' an awful lot of waiting." Silverstar cleared his throat and adjusted his vest. The hoofcuffs on his waist clinked against each other, and he turned his body a little so I could see them clearly. He tried to be sly about it, but ponies generally notice when you shake your hips at them. "Braeburn ain't been having a lot of visitors lately." His voice was slowly getting sterner. "I think it's best if you mosey along."

I sighed. Fire Streak once told me that every good celebrity gets arrested sooner or later. I'd dodged it so far, and the thought of explaining myself to Bottom Line sent a chill up my spine, but I wasn't going down without a... well, not a fight, maybe, but he wasn't going to push me around. "No," I spat, narrowing my eyes and lowering my voice. "I thiiiiiink it's better if I stay here a while longer." I turned my head back and faced the door again. Braeburn was peeking out the window through the curtains.

"Son, that wasn't a request." His voice had lost all its color. "You're about to leave here one way or another, and I don't take you for the bracelet type. Why not just make this easy?"

'Would I hit a cop?' My leg muscles tensed, and I tried to remember the last time I'd bucked somepony, even accidently. I looked over at his legs and tried to judge whether or not I could take him. 'He's an earth pony, so...' This guy was no Big Mac, but I still didn't like my odds. I drew in a slow breath, nickered, and stayed planted.

"You got thirty seconds."

I deadpanned at him. "Dude, I'm not changing my mind. And you aren't, either." My heart felt black and shriveled. "Just do it, already."

Silverstar hesitated and scratched the side of his neck. I'm guessing the crime rate in Appleloosa is almost non-existent. He sighed and resigned himself to what was happening. "Well, alright, then. You're under arrest for loitering and disturbing the peace."

And that was it. There wasn't a fight or even a small struggle. I was numb. Didn't feel a thing. Not worry, not anxiety, nothing. Instead, I just held out my hooves in front of me. Something must have snapped in me that day, or maybe I thought getting arrested felt... "cathartic" is a word, right? I think that's what it is. Where you feel better after a lot of buildup, even if you're not really happy?

I heard a dull thud come from the house. Instinctively, I glanced over while Silverstar fumbled with the cuffs. Braeburn's head was pressed up against the glass of the lower-story window, and he was giving me the same look Spitfire had given me the night I'd clipped Fleetfoot during the show. It was the "I absolutely can't believe you" look. He blew air from his lips and disappeared behind the curtain.

I was... sad all of a sudden, and the feeling of failure was like a rock in my guts. All I could do was grimace toward the empty window and shrug at nothing, both my forelegs sticking straight out in front of me.

* * * * *

Soarin' pantomimes the motions, weakly holding his forelegs out.

Don't stare at his legs.

He grins at them and chuckles humorlessly. "Heh. You'd be surprised how minor things can seem in hindsight." He looks over at his leg braces, which he's left lying on the floor near the couch. "I thought the cuffs were bad."

* * * * *

Silverstar tightened the cuffs at my fetlocks. I could have easily flown away if I'd wanted, but instead I hobbled to my hooves and tried to get used to walking with my forelegs so close together. I hung my head and looked back at the house, but there wasn't any movement.

The sheriff cleared his throat again. "Son, you really ought to make better decisions."

Didn't he get it? I sighed. "I was trying to."

We started marching towards town, but we only got a few steps before a door opened behind me and a set of hooves clopped out onto the porch. The sound of a soothing voice floated on the breeze and warmed me inside. "Now... now hold on, sheriff."

I didn't dare look back, but while I stared at the ground, a smile found its way across my face. It was nice hearing him again.

He spoke softly, a little whiny and a little unsure, but just as cute as ever. "He... H-he can come in."

I had to roll my eyes at his timing, but of course I was relieved. I perked up and raised my head to look at Silverstar.

The sheriff stroked his moustache once and raised an eyebrow, talking past me. "I don't know. He seems seedy." Heh. Ladies. "You sure 'bout that, Braeburn?"

"Well, no," he said flatly. "But I think I can handle him." Silverstar didn't look convinced, so Braeburn spoke up again, more confidently. "I'll be fine. This ain't my first featherhead rodeo."

Like an idiot, my first thought was, 'Was that a race thing?' I shook my head and looked up at a contemplative Silverstar. He needed another nudge, so I gave it to him. "You heard the stallion. He's got me under control." I sat down and held my hooves out again with a big grin on my face. I hadn't even considered why Braeburn was telling him to let me go, but I didn't care. I was getting my chance. My heart started beating again.

Silverstar paused. "Well, alright, but holler if he gets too unruly." With a complete lack of dexterity, he undid the cuffs and secured them back on his belt.

I snuck a glance over my shoulder at Braeburn, who was smiling politely at the Silverstar. "Thanks, sheriff."

With a final nod from Silverstar, I was free. I gave him a sarcastically cheerful, "Thanks, sheriff!" that matched Braeburn's. With a quick spin on my hoof, I turned and pranced toward the house, head held high.

Braeburn's smile turned to a scowl as I got closer, and my light-hearted trot broke down into a cautious shuffle. I trudged up to him until we were face-to-face, and I finally found my voice. "Uh... thanks. For that." He didn't say anything, but instead turned and walked inside. He didn't close the door behind him.

I followed him into the dimly-lit house. The air was humid but cool, and it was a lot more comfortable than standing outside. After the temperature, the first thing to hit me was the strong smell of whisky mixed with freshly cut wood. The cramped entry way was at one corner of the house, and against the nearby wall sat a large, heavy looking table with rope, a rain slick, and a few farming tools. On the ground next to it were the shards of a large bottle sitting in a pool of brown liquid. Braeburn must have seen that I was staring. "Mind the glass." He stepped around the mess and moved into the house.

There were two sets of stairs in the far corner, one up and one down, and to my left I could see a small living room with some raggedy furniture, a bookcase, and a dresser full of knickknacks. A big structural support beam in the middle of the house made the ground floor feel small, especially with the big black wood-burning heater that looked like it had never been used. With all the curtains closed, the yellow walls looked dingy and forgotten, and the portraits on the wall were too obscured to make out who was pictured.

I kept looking around and thinking, 'He could use an interior decorator.' After squeezing into the house, I shut the door and unconsciously dropped my saddle bag. It landed next to a hat rack that had been tucked between the open door and the wall. Did I mention how bad I am at noticing things?

Braeburn walked slowly around the house, opening the curtains to let some light in. Neither of us said anything, and it felt awkward just standing there. I took a few cautious steps forward, careful not to step on the glass, but my hooves felt like they were made of lead.

I repeated myself, since I hadn't gotten an answer before. "I... appreciate you keeping me out of the slammer." I chuckled nervously and added, "And I think Silverstar does, too. He didn't seem too good with those hoofcuffs. Know what I mean?"

He jerked the curtains on the last window open using a lot more force than necessary. "Wasn't for you," he said flatly, looking out the window and towards town. "Word's gonna get around, and it would only be worse if you'd ended up arrested. I need another rumor like a bullet to the head."

The imagery made my stomach churn, and I spat out, "There are rumors?"

Even though he was facing away, I could feel him sneer. "Yeah. What did you expect?" He looked over at me with narrowed eyes. "Appleloosa ain't really known for its pride parades."

I shrunk back and realized how unprepared I really was. I'd been expecting either a warm welcome or a heated argument as soon as I'd gotten in. This wasn't either of those. It was just... cold. The whole house felt cold. It needled at my skin and dug deep into me, like the frost in the middle of winter.

Braeburn waited for me to respond, but when I didn't, he moved over to a large, plush chair and flopped back into it. He reached down, tugged at the handle to bring up the leg rest, and reclined back. The pose he struck looked comfortable and menacing at the same time. His forelegs were crossed on his chest, and he tilted his head to stare at me from under the brim of his hat. I could barely make out two green slits, but it was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. He was still for a moment, like a wild animal before it pounces. "So..." He drew out his words. "You got my attention. What do you want?"

I sat down opposite of him in a wooden chair. My gaze dropped for a second, just long enough to see another bottle on the floor next to him. This one was apple schnapps, and it barely had a swallow left.

I started to speak, but he interrupted with, "And don't try anythin' funny. Silverstar's not one to wander away, and I'd bet you this house he's waiting outside." He sounded annoyed and angry, the way that you do when you're hurt but don't want anypony to know. Hearing him that way pushed my heart further down into my stomach.

After a deep breath, I found the courage to look up at him again. "Braeburn...." The words were heavy. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for last week." My throat felt like it was closing up, so I kept talking. "I screwed up. I didn't–"

"You gonna take all day?" For a second, he sounded like Bottom Line. "You're sorry. I get it."

I reeled back a little. "Well, yeah. I wanted–"

"And what? You don't know how to write a letter?" He flicked a forehoof at me. "Secretary on vacation, and you had to stalk me all the way to my home to cause me more trouble?" He snorted.

"How the..." It felt like he was holding a sword to my neck, and it was starting to piss me off. There I was, apologizing, laying myself on the line, and he wasn't even letting me do it right. "I'm not trying to make trouble."

"Well, ya' are!" He pointed at the window towards town. "Everypony saw you out there, and they'll be cluckin' like hens by tomorrow morning."

The hairs on the back of my neck were sticking up. "You could have just let me in. You didn't have to be such a jerk about it!"

Braeburn slammed a hoof on the foreleg rest. "Oh, so you could holler at me some more!? You've been here two minutes, and you're already insultin' me!"

I was arching my back and gritting my teeth. "I'm just trying to apologize!"

He leaned forward suddenly and practically screamed, "Well it ain't going so well, now, is it!?" His words echoed around the empty house, and I got another good look at his eyes. They were puffier than before.

"Dude, what the buck do you want me to say!?" There's fight, and there's flight, and my wings weren't budging a hair.

"Nothin'! I want you to leave, s–" He stuttered, and his voice wavered as he finished. "–so I can forget about you and that whole mess and move on, ya' big idiot!"

"Well, too bad, because I'm not going to forget about you!"

Braeburn set his jaw. He was breathing heavily, but his expression softened just a little. He leaned back, his shoulders sank, and he looked away. There was a moment of silence. Braeburn reached into his vest and pulled out a flask. With a twist and a rattle of the cap, he tipped it back and took a long, long pull, draining the rest of it. He let out a big sigh and a big burp, and the air was sour with the smell of alcohol and stomach acid.

My brain caught up with everything I'd said. I worried that I'd gone too far, that I'd hurt him again and had only made things worse by showing up. 'Maybe I should just go.' Before my heart could break at that thought, I sat up and told myself, 'No. I'm not abandoning him again.'

He didn't look at me while he capped his flask and put it back in his vest. His voice was soft and weak. "It'd be easier if you'd–"

"No, it wouldn't." That got him to look my way, so I relaxed my tone, and my body slumped as I remembered how futile it was to try and keep everything all bottled up. "Braeburn... You can't just ignore this sort of thing. I should know. I've... tried." I looked directly at him. He was looking back at me, and our gazes held onto each other, refusing to let go. "I mean, I have noooooo idea how to make it better, but I've got a lot of experience with what doesn't work. My life's been pretty bucked up lately, and..." I hesitated, but it was time to put the cards on the table. No going back. "And I know yours has, too."

Braeburn took in a sharp breath as his eyes widened. "H-how do you figure?" He turned his head away.

I feel terrible about it now, but at the time, our conversation felt like a tug-of-war, and it was a relief for him to be the one on the back hoof. "I looked for you at the farm house." Braeburn was breathing heavily. "Big Mac..." I didn't want to spill the beans that I'd read his letter. "...let me know a little about Bronze."

Braeburn tensed, and his head shot up to look directly at me. His eyes darted all over my face, probably looking for some hint that I was lying, but when he didn't find it, his face relaxed, and he mumbled to himself, "Peh. The one time he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

I pressed him. "Bad breakup?"

He absentmindedly ran a forehoof along his flank and shrugged. "Are there ever any good ones?"

I couldn't think of a response. There really aren't. Some are just worse than others.

He kept going. His voice was back to the velvety, smooth tone from the orchard, but it was tainted with sadness. "It ain't easy, you know? Sure, the worlds' gotten better in the past few decades, but it's still hard. Ponies talk. Everypony talks, and it doesn't matter how good you do. They'll always talk about the parts that aren't quite normal, the parts that they don't think are good enough."

Just like with the 'Bolts and the media. "Heh. I know that feeling."

Braeburn whipped his head toward me and squinted. "Do you, though!?" His rage had come back full force out of nowhere. "Life on the frontier ain't like the city. Ponies here depend on each other. We need each other. It's not like being a big, fancy celebrity, Soarin'. You can't just move on to the next fan out here, or you'll find yourself alone by the end of the week!"

My hackles came up again. What right did he have to go after my job? "Braeburn, it's not that easy for me, either. We don't get close to ponies because we can't get close to them." I was trying to keep my cool, but I was losing it. "We're always on the road, and all we've got is our teammates, fliers that would sell you out in a second if it gave them a better shot at being the lead! Don't act like you know what it's like!"

And we were back at it.

Braeburn leapt off the chair and took up an aggressive stance: head down, like he was going to charge. "You don't get it! Sure, 'it's lonely at the top' or whatever, but you've got thousands of fans to pick you up again if you fall. I've only got a hoof-full of ponies I can count on, and that number feels like it's shrinkin' every day! And it's all the worse when you've got actual responsibilities to take care of instead of just floating around orchards all day!"

My face was burning. "What the–! You're kidding, right!?" I saw red and stood up, flapping my wings. I hovered, looming over him. "I'm responsible to my whole team! They all need me to be at the top of my game!" I dropped to the ground and jammed my forehead against his. "My team–"

"Your team!" He pushed back, and I gave a half step. "You've got all of them to take care of you when you're too stupid to... Ugh! I'll make this easy for you, featherhead. I. Don't. Have. A. Team!"

I backed up another half step. That clearly wasn't true. Big Mac was in his corner. "Bullshit! You've got a family–"

"My family!?" He stomped a hoof. "Fat lotta good that's been ever since I came out. You know the only thing my dad said after I told him I was gay? He said, 'You haven't told anypony, have you?' That's it! That's all they cared about! Mom didn't even say anything at all!" His back hoof stomped again. I backed up further. "No support, no questions, no effort. Just shame." Tears welled up in his eyes, and he took quick, shaky breaths. "Just SHAME!"

A feeling started building in my chest. It felt like a hollow space was getting filled up for the first time in a long while. My eyes started burning as a flood of thoughts came rushing back to me, thoughts that I'd buried years ago. On some level, I could already see the whole conversation unfolding.

Braeburn kept up his tirade. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I only did it because I thought they'd understand!" The water was streaming down his face. "I told them the truth, and they rejected it, and just like that, I'd screwed up the most important relationship I've ever had." He was shouting in every direction, like he was looking for a way out. "Just like always. Just like every other time, I went and screwed it up. I needed them, Soarin'!" He sniffed and jerked his head back to me. "You don't know! You don't know what it's like to have somepony important abandon you like that!"

My chest seized up. I lowered my head and paused, and a word slipped out. "Actually..."

You don't get many moments like that in life, where you know exactly what's going on and what choice you're about to make and what it might mean. It's that feeling that something you can't stop is coming. It feels so natural, and for all the little lies you tell to keep up the illusion that you've got your life together, for all the big lies you tell yourself just to make it through the day, the truth just spills out of you, and it only ever happens when you're at your most vulnerable. "...I do."

Braeburn recoiled a little and examined me. His face was somewhere between confused, hurt, and curious, and I couldn't bring myself to keep looking at him. I started pawing at the wood floor beneath me. I hadn't ever talked about Mom before, not to anypony. Not even Dad. It was this wounded part of me that I thought couldn't hurt me anymore if nopony ever saw it.

I sighed and sat down. It wasn't the time to hide anymore. "My mom... left my dad and me when I was a colt." It felt weird to say it out loud, and it hurt. It hurt a lot, and it hurt everywhere. "She wasn't happy. Dad wasn't either, really, not at the end. When I was really young, they'd smiled all the time, but then I got older, and they started fighting about everything." I felt the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to fall. I was holding them back as best I could, and that meant I couldn't check anything I was saying. "S-she said that he didn't pay enough attention to her, that she was getting shut out of her own life. Dad would shout back about how she never got involved with me and how we had to do things as a family now because that's the way families worked. She'd yell back about sacrifice and how she couldn't pretend she didn't have dreams of her own. I... I don't think she ever wanted a kid."

My chest felt exposed, like I could feel the breeze on my heart. Drops of salty water freely dripped from my chin and onto the floor, and my heart was breaking all over again. My brain was panicking, trying to shut out the memories before they could flood back, but it was too late to keep them all from spilling out for Braeburn to see. "That last night, I heard them yelling downstairs. I'd already been put to bed, but I got up and went to the top of the staircase." My breathing was irregular. "I got there right before she left, just in time to look down and see Mom with her suitcase. She looked up the stairs, right at me, but she didn't say anything. Not even a goodbye. She walked outside and slammed the door behind her, and I... almost never saw her after that."

I wanted to die. I wanted to crawl into a little shell and be forgotten about, or to wake up from a nightmare and be a colt again with my whole family. I wanted my mommy.

I looked up and blinked away the tears. Braeburn was sitting down, frowning and motionless. His jaw hung open for a few seconds until he finally murmured, "I'm... sorry to hear that. I didn't know." His voice was soft and gentle, and somehow a small part of it reached deep into my soul to make me feel a little better, just like at the apple tree.

I wiped my face with a fetlock. "It's not your fault." Big Mac's words rang in my head. "None of it is. Not the farmhouse, not this. Nothing."

It was quiet. It was dark. In that empty house, it felt like we were the only two ponies in the whole world. Two lonely ponies. I wanted to reach out and hug him and for him to hug me back, but everything felt cold.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had gotten better, and it didn't seem like I was helping anything. I sighed and let the chemicals in my brain sort themselves out for a minute before telling him, "I guess that's it, then."

A clock ticked from somewhere in the kitchen. "Yeah."

"I should get going."

A few more seconds ticked by. "Mm-hm."

My body didn't want to move.

But it did.

I stood up. "I'm sorry for–"

"Why'd you come here?" He caught me off guard, and he lifted his head to stare at me with big, sad, inquisitive eyes. "Nopony travels all the way across Equestria just to be polite. Why'd you come here?"

Up to that point, I hadn't really thought about it. I'd just been following my instinct for days. My first response was, "To apologize," and while that was partly true, it didn't feel totally right. The truth tends to keep flowing once it gets going, though, so I followed up with, "And... I wanted to see you again."

The corners of his mouth curled up, just a little.

It wasn't much, and it wasn't going to fix everything, but my chest loosened up at the thought that he was going to be okay, that I hadn't messed up his chances of happiness. It felt amazing, and it hurt even more. It hurt because I knew that I was done, because I knew that I'd said my piece and that it was time to leave, and even as unsatisfying as it might have been, it was all I was going to get: a small smile from a beautiful stallion.

I smiled, too, as I turned toward the door. "Take care, Braeburn. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest."

I walked.

There was a little squeak from him that stopped me in my tracks, but when he didn't say anything else, I kept going. When I got to the broken glass on the floor, I glanced to the side and noticed a dustpan on the table. Maybe it was silly of me, but I wanted to help out. It only took a few seconds to sweep up the glass and set it aside before moving on. It felt good to help, and as I reached for the door, I was finally able to hold my head high.

Aaaaaaaand that's when I saw them. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I shook my head around, but no, they were still there. They were real. They seemed so out of place, hanging on that hat rack, and I couldn't help myself. I reached out and picked them up. A floorboard creaked behind me, and Braeburn trotted quickly over while I turned them over in my hooves. "Heh. Heh heh." I looked over my shoulder at a wide-eyed earth pony that looked like he'd been caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. My grin was as wide as it could go, and I let him squirm a little before I finally said, "Nice goggles."

Braeburn fidgeted, and even in the dim light, I could see that he was blushing redder than any apple I'd ever seen. "You, uh..." he stammered, crossing one foreleg over the other and looking to the side. "Y-you left them at Aunt Honeycrisp's. I-I figured, maybe, uh, you'd want 'em back?"

We get a million of those things in the 'Bolts, new ones for every fourth show. I hadn't even noticed they were gone, but he'd kept them. Even after that fight, some small part of him had still wanted to see me again, and he'd kept them! He kept looking at the wall and stealing glances my way, muttering and searching for words, but having my goggles in his house said more to me than then I could tell you in a week.

I consciously hung them back up on the coat rack and turned around to him. "Thanks, Braeburn." For a moment, everything really was okay.

Braeburn struggled to make eye contact, and my head felt light. I knew what was coming again. It's so rare to get do-overs in real life. You should take advantage of every one you can.

His gaze finally met mine, and he spoke with a forced casual tone. "So, uh... You staying in town for a while?"

My heart melted, and electricity surged through every part of me. I could have performed a whole Wonderbolts show myself in that moment, and I was feeling just bold enough to toy with him. He was so cute when he was awkward. "Well..." I stroked my chin and put on a show of pondering about it. "I've got a couple weeks off, and I was thinking of sitting in my house eating ice cream the whole time, buuut..." I glanced back at Braeburn. He was giving me a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk. "I guess I could hang out here for a while."

"GREAT!!!" He shrunk a little at his own voice. "Great! I can give you the grand tour of–" For some reason, he reared back and whinnied, "–AAAAAPPLELOOSA!" He landed back on his hooves, and I smiled at how lively he looked, though the moment was a little short-lived. His eyes started darting around his messy home. "I, uh, just have to..." Shifting his weight, he paused and stared at the dustpan full of glass. "Is tomorrow okay?"

"That's cool." I wanted to hang out right then and there, especially since App... sorry, AAAAPPLELOOSA was such a small town, but I was willing to take what I could get. "Anything to do around town until then?"

Braeburn blinked a few times and rolled his eyes in thought. "Hm..." He snapped up suddenly, pointing a hoof at me. "Hold on a tick." In a flash, he dashed back to the living room to a bookcase and, after a quick scan, pulled out a book with a tan cover. He rushed back over and gave it to me.

I turned it over and looked at the title, printed in gold. "Whitewing's Big Score?" The name rang a bell. 'Whitewing...' It didn't take me too long. "Oh. Oh! The 'Free to Fly' sidekick! He got his own book? No way!"

Braeburn nodded emphatically. "Mm-hmm! After the main series ended, Tom Prancy decided he still had a few stories to tell. Most of 'em are limited runs."

"Dude, this is awesome! Thanks!" I looked back up, and he was leaning in toward me, smiling. "I'm gonna devour this thing!" I tucked the book into my saddle bag. "I'll probably be done by tomorrow morning. Oh, and what time should I come over?"

"Is sunrise too–"

"Yes."

"Well, just get here when you can. That okay?"

"That's great!"

"Great!"

"Great!"

We stood there, staring at each other for a few seconds, and I wanted to keep that buzz in my veins for as long as possible.

But his smile faltered. After some hesitation, I asked, "Wait, what's wrong?"

I could tell he was as excited as I was, but after a pause, he frowned and said, "It... it still hurts, Soarin'." There was honesty in his eyes, enough to bring me partway down from my high. "It's still a little raw."

He was right in more ways than one, but I wasn't going to let something as stupid as reality get me down. I wanted to kiss him on the forehead like a colt and tell him not to worry. Like, really, really wanted to kiss him right there. I settled on a wink. "Eh. It'll get better."

Braeburn tilted his head up toward me. "You think so?"

"...Yeah."

It was getting hot in there. I felt my wings start to unfurl on their own. It was time to go, and even as wired as I was, I knew I should get out of there before I screwed something up. "So, I'll... see you tomorrow." I slung my saddle bag on my back, opened the door, and was in the air after two steps.

I felt free again. From the first flap of my wings, my whole world felt lighter, like I couldn't be held down by anything.

As I sped away, out into the open sky, I heard a beautiful, mellow voice call out, "You forgot your goggles!"

With a quick corkscrew, I waved and shouted back, "No I didn't!" before speeding upwards towards the warm sun.