Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax

Chapter 16 - Bruised Apples

I must have looked completely insane, but I didn't care. I barreled all over the wide open skies of Appleloosa, twisting and turning and rising on the hot thermals. Even with my saddlebag strapped to my back, I felt as light as ever. My joints moved fluidly, my wings pivoted naturally, and my body just... was. Flying felt like it was supposed to, and it felt very, very good.

'Hey! I should...' I didn't even let myself finish thinking before I shot upwards, racing towards the big blue nothingness. I closed my eyes and felt my wings beat harder and harder, pulling me further into the sky. All the anxiety that had built up in my veins turned into adrenaline, and I was letting it all out in one big push up into the atmosphere. The temperature slowly dropped, and the air got thinner and thinner.

And then, I let it all go. I folded my wings in to let momentum and gravity fight over my body. I had no control over where I flew or how I spun around, and right as I hit the top, right at that spot where you're about to fall and your stomach starts to feel like it's going to float away, I opened my eyes and saw nothing but blue. It was perfect. It was home. It was that place where you're completely invincible, and everything felt right again.

I barely noticed when I began falling. I was too high on life to let something like hitting the ground at terminal velocity scare me. Wind tore at my mane and drowned out all other sounds, and all I could think about was, 'Tomorrow morning, and we'll be okay.'

As the ground tried to sneak up on me, I righted myself and stretched out my wings. I hardly felt any wind resistance. My body leveled out, and I coasted on a warm breeze, spiraling downward to the town below and hitting a perfect four-point landing in the middle of the street. Everything worked just the way it was supposed to. It was indescribable.

I rode that high for the rest of the day. Through my haze, I made my way to the Resting Tumbleweed, the local hotel. Trotting through a few saloon-style doors, I found a small reception area decorated with all the horseshoes, native artwork, old-timey pictures, and homey stitch work you could stand. It felt a little... inauthentic, like it was trying way too hard to convince you that you were in the southwest. A few urban-looking unicorns drank from flasks and played cards at a gaming table in one corner of the room, and the dim light from the chandelier gave everything a warm, inviting glow.

The receptionist nodded me over, and after a few bits were exchanged, she passed me an oversized blue key on a small chain necklace. "Easier to keep track of 'em," she said with a wink. I slipped the necklace over my head and started up the stairs, but I stopped when I heard one of the unicorns mumble the word "Wonderbolt."

I was in a good mood, so I indulged them. They gave me the usual fan treatment, talking about how much they loved the shows and how great it was that they got to meet me. I dodged any questions about why I was in town, but of course I signed a few headshots for them. I even played a round of poker. I bought in, bet all my chips without looking at my cards, and, well, you can guess how that went.

With a quick wave, I headed upstairs to my room. It was rustic, like you'd expect. There were hardwood floors and a fancy dresser and a big, square bed, and it looked like everything was hoof-made. A few framed pictures hung on the wall along with some scrolls about the "rich and vibrant history of earth pony settlers."

I had something else to read, though. I plopped down on the bed, cracked open "Whitewing's Big Score," and, with only a stop to the kitchen to get a salty "country-style" dinner, read page after page until long after the sun had gone down.

* * * * *

"Two of the number three, please, plus a large coffee with every flavor you can fit in it. And... what did you want again?"

I tear my eyes away from Soarin's saddlebag. He's looking directly at me. "Uh, dirty chai. But I can pay for it."

I reach for my bag, but he holds up a hoof. "Nah. You traveled. I can buy." He turns back to a frumpy cashier that looks like she'd rather be reading depressing poetry. "And one of that thing he just said. Thanks."

* * * * *

You know how, on your first day of school or a new job or whatever, you can't sleep the night before? You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, waaaaaay too excited to drift off because you keep thinking about all the cool stuff you'll get to do in the morning? Well, it wasn't like that at all. I slept like a foal.

Don't judge me. I like sleep.

The next morning, I cracked open my eyes and realized my face was still wedged in the book, and my neck hurt like you wouldn't believe. The sunlight shone through the window, and I took in a deep breath of the slightly musty air. All the buildings in Appleloosa still smelled like fresh-cut wood. The town was only a few years old, after all, so it seemed dishonest that they put on the whole old-timey thing. Gotta give 'em credit, though. The beds were fluffy and comfortable, almost as good as a cloud.

My head started clearing, and all at once, the day's agenda came back to me. I leapt up out of bed and peeked out the sparkling-clean window. The sun wasn't too high up, so I told myself I didn't need to feel guilty about sleeping in.

I checked that my hotel key necklace was still around my neck – praise the moon I didn't choke overnight – and stumbled out of my room. I was only about half as awake as I'd thought, and I ended up knocking my rear leg into the doorframe before quickly locking my door. The Resting Tumbleweed was probably the biggest building in town, but the inside still felt cramped. I walked to the end of the hall, where there were two shared bathrooms – one for stallions and one for mares.

Rustic, same as the bedrooms. Clean, but, like, you wouldn't want your house to look like that. There were group showers, and I wasn't the only pony there. I ended up showering next to one of the stallions from the poker game, and we had a light "hey-how-you-liking-the-town" kind of conversation, but I kept catching him sneaking a look at my junk. Maybe it's just because I'm a celebrity, oooooooor maybe it's because I'm so impressive down there. Wouldn't you like to know?

After I'd dried off and tossed the towel in a bin, I dashed down the stairs, ignored the cheery receptionist, and galloped out the front door. One, two, three steps, and I was flying, stretching my wings and feeling the dry air brush through my coat while it evaporated away the rest of the water. Even early on a spring morning, Appleloosa was hot. Not unbearable, but I wasn't looking forward to spending another afternoon out in the sun. 'I wonder if they have those drinks with the little umbrellas?'

I flew a few wobbly laps above the town to wake myself up and take in the scenery. Appleloosa really was in the middle of nowhere. Besides the colorful buildings that made up the town and the orchard north of the tracks, salty badlands stretched as far as I could see. No other towns, just spires of rocks in the middle of the desert, the train tracks curling around them and disappearing.

Just as I was starting to sweat, Braeburn's house caught my eye, and I smiled despite the sudden feeling of tension in my jaw. I hesitated and kept telling myself, 'Just one more lap.' My head spun with all the different ways the morning could go, and I felt locked into a holding pattern while I tried to think of the best way to show up at the door, finally settling on 'not late.'

I glided over to his house and plopped down on his patio. My heart raced, and I had to laugh at myself when I realized it wasn't just from the exercise. I knocked. It helped to know he was actually going to answer this time, and of course he didn't disappoint. Braeburn never disappointed.

The door flew open. "Hey, there!" A grin spread across my face at the sound of his voice. He was already wearing his vest, but his mane was free to tumble down his neck and across his forehead. "Here I was worried you weren't gonna come. Had me about chewin' my leg off. Don't usually eat breakfast this late, but then again, I don't get many out-of-town visitors. Well, what are you standing out there for? Come on in!" Something about his oblivious rambling put me at ease. Damn, he was cute that day. I stepped inside, and he kept going without taking a breath. "You sleep okay? The Tumbleweed's been a great place since it was repurposed. Only about a year old, actually."

"Yeah. I slept great." I took another look around the house. The curtains were all open, and the whole room seemed brighter than it had the day before. The yellow walls looked cheerier, his knickknacks looked more welcoming, and even the big wood-burning stove didn't feel so imposing or dominating in the small house. Actually, it didn't feel small anymore. Cozy! It felt cozy.

There was a brown stain on the floor in the entryway where the bottle had broken. I tried to ignore it, and I was relieved that I didn't see any more liquor anywhere. It made me wonder, though, if he'd run out or hidden it. I didn't like either option.

I shook my head and looked back over at Braeburn. He hadn't said anything, which made me think he wanted to hear more about the hotel, which gave me an idea. "Got a little cold last night, though." I raised an eyebrow at him as he wandered deeper into the house. 'You gonna bite, Brae?'

Nnnnope. "Cold? Really? Well, I'm sure you could get an extra blanket form the front desk. Daisy Spring's awfully hospitable." He hadn't read between the lines. It was okay, though. Probably for the best, even. "Now, pardon my shortness, but my stomach's been roarin' all mornin'. Corn muffins and fried hay sound alright?"

"That... sounds great!" We turned the corner into the kitchen. It was well-stocked, with a wide counter, big jars for different kinds of flour and sugar, and more knives than I would know what to do with. A small table with two chairs sat next to the window, and a big ice box fit snuggly against the wall. I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the ground floor, then back at the kitchen. Whoever had built the house had clearly prioritized cooking space.

While I stood there looking dopey, Braeburn moved like lightning. He pulled pans and ingredients out of what seemed like dozens of drawers and cupboards, and he moved with a smoothness that reminded me of a professional flier. He kept smiling, too, and stealing glances my way, and his tail kept thrashing all around. Never near the food, though. He was a little yellow ball of energy, and... Ha! He was just as nervous as me, wasn't he? Dang. At the time, I'd just assumed he was super hungry.

Anyway, after he'd brought out way too many bags and bowls, he finally turned back to me. "Alright, then! You wanna prep the batter or saute the hay? I ain't got many herbs. Just the basics." The color drained from my face as he opened a cabinet that was absolutely stacked with spices and herbs and I have no idea what else. I felt an itch on my back as I slowly realized he expected me to make something.

Braeburn must have seen me looking petrified. He leaned against the kitchen table and smiled. "Lemme guess. You can't cook, can you?"

Déjà vu, right? I let my voice drop and gave him a big, bright, country, "Nnnnope!"

"Hahaha!" He laughed and slapped the table. It calmed my heart and relaxed my muscles. "Yeah, that sounds about right. So, Mac already tried to make a chef outta you? No worries. You can fry the hay. It's pretty hard to screw up."

Ok. Pro tip: if a sexy cowpony ever tells you that something's hard to screw up, he's a bucking liar! It is way, way too easy to screw up fried hay! Did you know that oil can catch on fire inside the pan!? He was so quick with the batter, I felt like I needed to catch up, so I cranked up the heat, and fwoosh!

I like to think I kept my cool, given the circumstances. "Oh sweet Celestia WHAT DO I DO!?" Fire was flaring up right in my face, and I only spun around in a circle, whimpering and gnawing on my lower lip, like, four times.

"Ya’ let me fix it!" Braeburn shouted as he pushed me aside. He reached over to the counter like nothing was wrong and grabbed a container, one of the ones with white stuff in it. With a little flourish, the air filled with powder, and the fire went out in seconds. Hardly any powder had landed outside the pan. I froze in place as he calmly grabbed another pan and started the process over again.

My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. "How did you do that?"

He looked over his shoulder at me."Hm? Oh. Earth pony magic."

I swear, my jaw almost hit the floor. "Seriously?" Hey, I didn't know any better!

Braeburn snorted out a laugh and gave me a wink. "Naw, just baking soda. None too bright, are ya'?"

I took a quick breath. "Why? Is that a deal-breaker?" Part of me panicked that it was, but I was trying to play it off cool. I didn't like my word choice, though. 'The buck does that mean?' I thought. 'I have no freaking clue where I even stand with him.'

Braeburn just smiled, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I'll take care of breakfast. You just stay outta trouble."

I didn't. Three minutes into making the batter, I was sticking my face into the bowl, trying to figure out how he'd made the yellow muck with all the lumps in it. He whapped me on the nose with a mixing spoon, leaving just a little batter on my face. I snuck a taste. Dude. Just... dude.

Braeburn finished making breakfast despite me being me, and we sat down to a hot meal with a big glass of orange juice. The smells took my breath away, and after getting a nod from Braeburn, I dug right in. My lips smacked as I gobbled muffin after muffin. The warm, buttery mash was sweet, but not too sweet. Dense, but not too filling. That fried hay, though! The recipe was so basic, but it absolutely redefined "comfort food" for me. Don't let stuck-up Canterlot unicorns convince you they've got the best food. Earth ponies know where it's at.

After my first plateful, I slowed down enough to look up and see Braeburn watching me, chewing slowly and casually. He swallowed – he never liked it when ponies talked with their mouth full – and finally said, "Ain't much for table manners, are ya'?"

I smirked. "And you're pretty loose with grammar, ain'tcha?"

He steamrolled over my comment and pointed a fork at my plate. "It's good, then? You like it?" His voice was higher-pitched, and he was talking quickly again.

"Braeburn." I narrowed my eyes at him, tapped on my empty plate, and said, "You tell me," before grabbing another mound of food.

He settled back into his chair, and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a slow breath. "I suppose so, then. The way you're eating, I'd think you flew all the way from Cloudsdale!"

"Ha!" A few flecks of cornbread muffin dropped from my face. "I mean, yeah, I could probably do it, but that would completely suck! Nah, train's better for long distances."

"What's it like?"

I pulled back a little. "You don't know? Wow, you really are a small-town colt." I buttered another muffin as I thought about life in Appleloosa before the train was built. "Did you come here by wagon or something?" It made sense, I guess.

Braeburn cocked his head and squinted. "What?" After I set down my knife, he rolled his eyes and cracked his neck. "Oh. No, I mean flying. What's it like? Is it like the books?"

"Oh!" I stuffed another bite of hay – I know I keep saying how good it was, but if you haven't tried it, you haven't lived – another bite into my mouth and swallowed it without hardly chewing. "Yeah, pretty much, I think. Honestly, I never really pay attention when the authors go on and on about it, you know?"

"Heh. No, I don't know. That's why I'm askin’." He took another bite of his muffin.

I swallowed again. "It's like..." I looked out the window at the outskirts of town. Nopony was in sight, and the wind brushed through a tree in his yard. "You're totally free, like nopony can hold you down. It makes you feel safe. Even if everything's terrible, you can just pick up and leave any time you want to and try again." All my morning flights came back to me. "The wind carries you a lot more than you'd think, and you can just... escape." I turned back to Braeburn, who was leaning forward and had his head propped up on one hoof. "Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm. I'm no stranger to that." His voice was soft, and his eyes looked past me. "Heh. When I was a colt, the cousins and I wanted a place to hide when we were sick of our chores. There was an old forest out behind Uncle Oak's house, and we'd sneak off to go play in the woods and climb trees." Braeburn wasn't talking the same way. He wasn't rambling or talking too fast like his usual self. It was more like he was watching something that I couldn't see and narrating it for me. "We wanted a treehouse, and, well, you don't put an idea in an Apple's head unless you want him to follow through. Heh heh. We ended up taking apart the henhouse for wood and pulling up nails from the floorboards. Just a few at first. We thought nopony would miss 'em."

I realized that I was leaning in, too. I closed my eyes, and I could see it. I could see everything he was saying. I imagined cute little colt Braeburn, sneaking around and raising hell, and I smiled at the thought of all those confused chickens.

That voice... So smooth and warm. I could listen to it forever.

"Took us the better part of a month to sneak everything out to the woods and get it all built up. We tried using rocks for hammers, and it worked for a while, but we ended up, hm... borrowing a few tools, too. Never did find that hammer again. We got it done, though. A ramshackle, off-kilter little flat with a ladder and not much else. Creaked whenever the breeze blew. We loved it.

"Course, Uncle Oak was pretty angry when he found us hiding there one day. Mac got the worst of it, since he was the oldest, but it didn't seem to ruffle his feathers none. Uncle Oak made us fix his henhouse, but he let us go play in the treehouse in the afternoons. He said, except for the thieving, he was proud of us for sticking with it and making something together."

When he let out a slow breath, my brain came back from wherever it had flown. "That sounds..." I paused. "...really boring. Why a treehouse?"

Braeburn shook his head the way Dad used to whenever I asked a stupid question. "Well, we can't all fly, ya’ know. Gotta find a way to keep ourselves busy." He picked up his glass and gulped down the last of his juice.

"Yeah, but seriously? You skipped out on your chores to do more chores. Building a treehouse sounds like a ton of work."

"Yeah, but see, it's different. When you're putting in the time and effort with somepony to build something great, it's not just the structure. You're building relationships, Soarin', and it makes the work bearable. It makes life bearable." He looked out the window. "Same with Appleloosa: there's always so much to get done, and working with Silverstar or Slate or anypony else makes it worthwhile. It..." He cleared his throat. "It gets me through the bad days." He looked back at me and, when he saw I was frowning, he smiled. "Teamwork! I'm sure you know all about that."

Of course he brought up teamwork. He just had to hit where it hurt. I thought about telling him I'd gotten cut, but I wanted to make a good impression, I guess? I don't know. I kept my mouth shut. I thought, "He doesn't need to know. Not now."

I really should have just told him.

"I... yeah. Yeah! I get it, but why work? When the 'Bolts have downtime, we hang out, we travel... Why not do something fun instead?"

"Well, there's something mighty..." He saw my mouth contort, I think, and his voice lowered. "You've heard this song before, haven't ya’?"

I nodded and blew air out of my lips. "You're going to say that you get a lot of satisfaction out of a hard day's work or something, right?"

His face scrunched up. "Well, I don't like to sound simple, but that's about right. Sounds like you don't believe it."

I smiled and winked at him. "Not for a second, cowpony. That's just what they tell you so you don't take more days off."

"Ha! Well, it's..." He rubbed his chin. "Know what? Why talk when I can show ya’? Let's head out to the orchard."

I agreed, and after we cleaned up breakfast, we got ready. Braeburn grabbed his hat, and we trotted out into the rising heat. The air was dry enough to make me cough, and a gust of wind brought some dust to my eyes, which I had trouble blinking out.

Braeburn was fine, of course. His hat, the one he always wore, kept the sun out of his eyes, and he ducked his head under the brim whenever dust blew his way. "We really gotta get you a hat at some point."

"Whatever." I spat some grit out of my mouth and hovered beside him, keeping with his slow pace. "So, not that I'm complaining – breakfast was awesome – but we didn't have any apples. What gives?"

"Noticed, did ya’?" He turned his head toward me. "Well, it's a staple food 'round here. You'll be full of apple before long."

My wings felt stiff, so I gave them a quick flap and used one to shield my face. "Don't you get sick of them?"

"N-naw. The, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Theyy change with the seasons. Nice part of being down south is that it's never too cold for the trees." He was talking fast again. I never figured out why. "We transplanted a few spring varietals last year, the same kind as at Aunt Honeycrisp's. Hope they survive the winter. They're comin’ in now on the west side of the orchard, which is where we're heading."

I felt like I was in school again and wondered if he was going to quiz me, but only until I realized he had a completely different kind of test in mind. "You're... going to make me pick apples, aren't you?"

Braeburn's voice perked up, as bouncy as ever. "You guessed it!"

The barrens of the desert gave way to some patches of grass, and the sweet smell of apples wafted to me just as I folded in my wings and looked out at the trees in front of us. These apples were different, though – the smell was sour and a little sharp on the nose. Wasn't bad, though, and seeing all that green was a nice break from the brown I'd gotten used to.

We weren't alone, though. As we approached the tree line, I spotted a few more ponies, all stallions. One of them shouted, "Mr. Braeburn!"

Braeburn turned to me. "Pardon me a tick. They're probably lookin’ to make a few quick bits." A wide-eyed look flashed across his face. "You just wait right here. I'll take care of everything."

I didn't think anything of it, really. I landed, sat on a small patch of grass and watched as Braeburn cantered over to the other group. My tail swished back and forth against the ground, reminding me what actual grassland felt like. My mind was pretty blank, and nothing seemed weird about what was going down.

He came back a few minutes later. "Sorry about that. I sent 'em over to the east side. Let's get started." He led me over to a nearby shed at the edge of the trees, a small, shoddy structure with barely enough room to turn around in. After some digging, he pulled out a couple baskets with harnesses and set them on the ground. "Now, we ain't really equipped for pegasi."

I looked closer at the harnesses. They're the kind that strap on over your back and keep your wings pinned down. "I'll say."

"But we've got a ladder if your buck's not strong enough."

I wasn't gonna stand for that. "Whoa there, cowpony! What are you implying?"

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. "I'm not ‘implying’ anything." I relaxed for a split-second. "I'm very clearly stating that you probably won't be strong enough to buck the apple trees."

He was being so casual! "Dude! I'm a freaking Wonderbolt!" I pointed to the nearest tree, a gangly one with yellow and green fruit. "They're trees! It can't be that bad."

Braeburn sat down, smirked, and jerked his head toward the same tree I was pointing at. "Then be my guest."

I snorted and marched over. I wasn't going to let myself get shown up by some country bumpkin, even if he was the hottest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. I'd seen ponies buck apples before, and it looked a lot like bracing yourself for a fast take-off. I turned my back to the tree, planted my forehooves, drew my hind legs back, and... it was exactly what you'd expect.

My hooves bucked out behind me, but even as they flew backwards, something didn't feel right. My left hind hoof skimmed the bark and slipped pitifully to the side, and my right leg twisted just as it connected. Pain shot up my leg, working its way deep into my bones. "Ow!" I collapsed to the ground, clutching my leg and shivering.

"Ha!" I looked up and saw Braeburn saunter my way, stand over me, and give me a satisfied grin. "Care to try again?"

I glowered up at him.

He smiled back. "You were off-target. You gotta hit the trunk squarely on each side of the center. Pay attention, now." Massaging my leg, I scooted away to give him room. Braeburn meandered around the tree with a swagger in his step, slowly looking up and down, appraising the trunk. He nodded a couple times and let out a long, exaggerated, "Hmm..." What a ham.

Honestly, though, I wish I'd had more time to admire him as he took his position. The way he stood, forelegs spread out and eyes furrowed in concentration made him look so confident. He was flexing his muscles without realizing it, and my eyes quickly scanned the length of his toned body, from the solid shoulders to those rippling back legs. The real beauty, though, was how quickly, how naturally he took his stance, like he'd done it a million times and like he knew he couldn't fail. I realized that if he'd had wings, he could have been a 'Bolt, and while I was taking him all in, I forgot to breathe. I wanted to see him let loose with all that power, to see him perfectly execute that one fluid motion that would show me once and for all what he really was meant to do in this life.

Then again, he had teased me. I sucked in a sudden, deep breath. He lifted his back legs to buck, and right as I saw his muscles twitch, I shouted as loudly as I could, "DON'T SCREW UP I'M JUDGING YOU!!!"

"What!?" His head whipped toward me, wide-eyed shock on his face, but it was way too late. His hooves rocketed back into the tree, and they missed their mark. Instead of delivering a solid blow to the trunk, he practically bounced off of it and landed face-down, ass-up in the dirt. I barely heard the muffled, "Dammit."

My leg suddenly felt much, much better. I stood up, puffed out my chest, and brushed myself off. "Oh, so thaaaaaat's how you do it."

Braeburn peeked up at me from under his hat, cheeks blushing a deep red. He muttered, "Asshole," but he said it with a smile.

"Eh, gotta get points where I can." I walked over, reached out a hoof, and helped him up. Braeburn stood, giving me a sideways glance. He lifted one back leg and gave the tree a small, swift kick, just a little more than a tap. I couldn't figure out what he was doing, but then it hit me. "Ow!" An apple bounced off my head and landed with a soft thud at the base of the tree.

"I'll do the bucking. You get the stragglers. Truce?"

"Truce." And that was that. Braeburn would buck a tree, most of the apples would fall out, and I'd fly around picking the rest. No way was I going to wear that stupid harness all day.

Flying around from tree to tree doing the same thing over and over again should have been boring, worse than endurance training, but... I didn't mind. I got to watch Braeburn work, that gorgeous body of his beading with sweat as he delivered perfect, solid kicks, one after another at each new tree, and I kept thinking about how good he looked with his legs up in the air. Honestly, I had to duck behind a tree a few times when I got too excited.

Can you blame me, though? Here was a stallion that had been on my mind for over a week. He was right there! I could hear him, I could smell him, and I was really, really excited.

As much as the dirty thoughts weighed on my mind, though, time passed pretty quickly. This calm aura hung around him, just like with Big Mac. I wondered if it ran in the family or if it was just an earth pony thing, but he looked at home. The sun crept up into the sky, then began falling again, and even though we only stopped for a few water breaks, his muscles always looked relaxed, like they weren't under any strain at all. His breathing never even got faster, just a little heavier.

My breathing matched his. I stayed in the air as much as I could – it's easier to stay airborne than to keep landing and taking off – but I was getting tired. Braeburn didn't ever show signs of slowing, though. He'd stop every dozen trees or so and ask if I was alright, and I'd just give him one-word answers, usually after a pause to appreciate his face.

We just kinda kept going like that. Deep into the afternoon, the group of stallions came back, sweaty and covered in dirt. Braeburn waved me over to the last few trees, so I just finished up while they talked. By the time I was done, the rest of the group was gone, and I fluttered down to where Braeburn was getting a drink from a water pump. He took one last gulp, and then nodded at me. "That's enough for today. How you feel?" he asked, walking over and sitting down in the shade of a nearby tree.

I took a quick drink, then trotted over and sat down next to him. I assumed he wanted to hear me say how satisfied I felt, but I already felt bad about not mentioning my... employment status earlier, so I told him the truth. "A little tired, but I don't really feel anything."

His cheerful reaction surprised me. "Great, ain't it?"

I stared down at the dirt, letting those words rattle around in my head. He was right: I didn't feel anything, but that meant I didn't feel anxiety or stress or fear or anger. It was gone. All of it. If I had to put a word to it, I felt liberated, like he'd turned some switch somewhere in my brain. I looked up at him and smiled. "It is. Thanks."

"Yeah, it's nice havin’ a project like this." He looked out over the orchard, and his smile melted just a little. "Helps you forget about what ails ya'. The rest of life can be knocking you down, but you can always come out here and get some work done." He had that thousand-mile stare to him. I didn't want to interrupt. "You have some control out here, ya’ know? You get to be the master of your own domain and, most of the time, things are peaceful and you feel free."

I knew I was only getting half the story, but I had a hunch. Part of me thought it was a terrible idea to even bring it up, but talking to Braeburn felt natural. Maybe I'm a hypocrite, but I didn't want him to hide anything. "So what makes you feel trapped?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't wanna bad-mouth anypony."

"I won't tell."

He sighed and didn't look my way. "It gets lonely, I guess. When you think you've found somepony special, you get all starry-eyed and love-struck and maybe you don't think straight. Even when the relationship starts to sour and you get that nagging feeling in your head, you ignore it until you're walking on eggshells all the time." He blinked a few times, and his voice shook slightly. "But they mean so much to you, and you're afraid of letting go, and you don't know when you'll get another chance, especially being gay around these parts and..." Braeburn paused, let out a small, nervous chuckle, and turned his head to me. "Oh, listen to me goin’ on and on! You're probably hungry." His game face was back on, and I felt a little pang in my heart when I realized he wasn't going to say any more. He reached over to one of the bushels that we'd left out and grabbed a couple apples. With a quick toss, I found one in my hooves.

Yeah, I was hungry. Starving, actually. I bit into the tight flesh of the green apple and sank my teeth into the soft interior. It was full of juice, and some of it ran down my chin. The sour flavor and astringent feeling weren't all that pleasant, but it was just sweet enough to keep me eating.

Braeburn swallowed a bit of his own apple and turned to me. "How is it?"

"Pretty good," I said as I wiped my chin.

His voice took on just a little slyness. "Even better when you don't have to steal it, right?"

It took a second for those words to register, but as soon as they did, I coughed, and apple juice went up my nose. My heart jumped to my throat, and my ears flattened against my head. When I finally looked up, Braeburn was giving me a narrow, sideways glance and a knowing smirk. I let out a weak, "Yeah..."

Braeburn just laughed. His laugh always made me feel better. "Aw, you're fine. Aunt Honeycrisp won't notice, and I figure your work today's payment enough." He tossed me another apple and grabbed a new one for himself.

We didn't speak. I was feeling too hot in my cheeks, and he seemed fine with casually nibbling the apple to the core. Birds chirped nearby, a hot breeze rolled through the trees, and eventually the sound of our crunching died down.

I relaxed. He hadn't chewed me out or even gotten angry about my attempted apple heist. The silence was still getting to me, though. "Were you less lonely?" It came out pretty awkward, I think. Braeburn was quiet and looked over at me. "With Bronze, I mean."

Braeburn's eyes darted around a couple times, and he gave a nervous little laugh. "Th-that's kind of a silly question, ain't it?" He hadn't said yes.

"No." I wasn't really sure of myself, but it felt okay to talk around Braeburn. "I mean, I've been with plenty of ponies, but it never feels..." I looked down at the half-eaten apple in my hooves. "...satisfying, I guess? You stay there because, hey, what else are you going to do? But it's not what you were hoping for."

With a deep breath, Braeburn lay back onto the ground, putting his forehooves behind his head and crossing his hind legs. He stared up into the leaves of the tree for a while before he responded. "You're smarter than you seem, Soarin'." I think it was a compliment. "Yeah, you're right, I think. It was nice having somepony that understood bein’ gay in Appleloosa, even if he wasn't really a country colt. And he doesn't take guff from anypony – whenever anypony tried to give us a hard time, he jumped right in and stood up for me. For us. He's a good stallion that way, but you're right. It's easy to get..." He trailed off.

"Trapped?" I lay down on my side next to him.

"Yeah. I shouldn't complain. Nopony's perfect. You gotta take the good with the bad, I guess, even if you'd like a few things to be different." He reached down and absentmindedly pawed at his cutie mark.

I enjoyed watching him trace his muscles like that. 'Those legs... I could stare at them forever, and it looks like that bruise has healed since la–'

My stomach lurched mid-thought, and I shuddered. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, and I almost didn't say anything. "Uh... Braeburn?"

He looked my way. I think he heard the weirdness in my voice. "Hm?"

"When I met you..." My heart felt knotted up, and my brain was screaming at me that I was about to cross a line, but that's never stopped me. "Well, when did you and Bronze break up?"

Braeburn shrunk away a little, but he didn't take his eyes off of me. "Uh... Just about two or three weeks ago." He hesitated. "W-why?"

"Last week, you had a bruise on your cutie mark." Braeburn's eyes shot wide open, and he quickly turned his head back towards the sky. His chest began rising and falling quickly, but I kept going. "Where did you get it?"

I already knew.

Braeburn's whole body stiffened up. "Ain't a big deal. Really. Don't mind it. Heh heh." He was talking so fast. "Things just happen, ya’ know? Heh. Nopony's fault, really. Heck, I'd kinda expect it. Two guys in a relationship? Things are just different. Lots of testosterone, right? Things get heated."

He kept rationalizing, and I felt my heart tear in half.

"And hey, we all lose our temper sometimes, every one of us. You get angry and things just happen." He started gesturing wildly in front of himself, like he was trying to shake away a memory. "Heck, I yelled, too. Bronze had every right to get mad. He was right. I wasn't supporting him enough, and it didn't hurt that much. I should have just let him go. My fault, really. I deserved it."

"Woah!" Those last few words fired off a million alarms in my head. I jumped into the air and hovered over Braeburn, who reached up to his hat and pulled it over his face. I don't know what I expected, but my brain was infull-on tailspin-levels of panic. "No! No. Nooooooo no no no." I flailed my forelegs in front of me and said it every way I could. "No!" I lifted a hoof to his hat and knocked it away, forcing him to look at me. "Dude, just... no. What the hell did he do to you?"

Braeburn turned his head and half-lidded his eyes, a deep frown crossing his face. His voice was small and weak. "It was just a kick."

"Just a..." My thoughts went in a million different directions. 'Just a kick? Does he think that isn't serious? How much worse did he go through? Was he just trying to dodge the question? How long has it been going on?' I landed next to Braeburn and gazed at nothing. "...Wow."

It was quiet. It was disgustingly quiet. It was like my whole thought process was on the fritz, and nothing came to me for a painfully long time. Braeburn didn't say anything, I didn't say anything, and it was quiet.

The silence ate away at me, and I eventually shook my head around, trying to dislodge something – anything – that would fix everything. I should have been gentle, but my breathing was heavy, and my blood was boiling at the thought of some abusive monster hurting him. I couldn't control myself. "No, Braeburn! Nopony deserves to get hit." I looked directly at him. "Don't you ever say that again!" I heard my voice bounce around the trees for a few seconds.

Braeburn took a few shaky breaths, looking everywhere but at me. "Okay," he whimpered.

And then I felt like an ass. Of course I would have phrased it the worst possible way: like a threat. Of course I let my anger get the best of me. I apologized as quickly as I could. "Sorry, sorry! Ugh, I didn't mean to yell." I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and rubbed my forehead, just to make sure I was in real life. "That's just, like, wow. That's super messed up, Braeburn."

"Sorry..."

I sighed. "You don't... have to apologize." I should have said more. I wish I could go back and reassure him, let him know that he deserved to feel safe and comfortable and loved. That he didn't have to put on the brave face, and even if everypony was talking, the most important thing was that he was okay. If I'd known how to say it all then... but the words didn't come to me. I hung my head. "Sorry."

Braeburn just kept staring up through the leaves.

I flopped down next to him, and for a while, we didn't say anything. Flickers of light danced above me through the leaves, hypnotic, almost, and I found myself trying to picture being in that kind of relationship. I couldn't do it. Sure, I'd had more than my share of crazy exes like Sapph, but things never got too physical. The worst had been that glass she'd thrown at me in her hotel room, but nopony had ever hit me more than a slap across the face.

I could totally picture Braeburn there, though. 'He's been so gentle, even when he knew I was trying to steal from him.' I chewed on my inside of my cheek as I looked over at him, still on his back, transfixed by something I couldn't see. 'It would be so easy to take advantage of him.' Of course, the whole scene back at Honeycrisp's farm played through my head again. 'Oh, yeah. Neeeever gonna get tired of thinking about that.'

What bothered me most, though, was how normal he'd tried to make it sound. Two guys in a relationship? Testosterone? Ugh. I thought about what must have happened, how somepony could have possibly convinced him that he'd been in a normal relationship. It made me quiver.

My whole body felt heavier the more I watched him. His head was shaking, back and forth, and he had a look on his face. I knew that look. It's the one you wear when you can't stop thinking about something over and over again. He was lost, and it made me feel lost, too. How the heck was I supposed to do anything? I was just a stupid athlete that never had to deal with any real problems.

His eyes looked tired, and for lack of anything better to say, I just casually told him, "You need a nap."

His head stopped shaking, and he paused for a second before rolling over to look at me with a pouty face and a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"A nap." For some reason, I was convinced it would solve all of his problems. I wanted him to be happy again. I wanted him to stop thinking about whatever he was thinking about, so I smiled at him. "C'moooooon. It'll make you feel better."

His voice was flat. "Soarin', it's the middle of the day."

"Easy fix." I reached over, grabbed his hat from the ground, and stuck it on his face so that the brim covered his eyes. "There you go. Good as night!"

Braeburn sat halfway up and put his hat back on top of his head. He wasn't frowning anymore. "I'm not gonna nap, Soarin'. I'm not tired." He was looking at me, so I held my hoof up to my mouth and pantomimed a yawn. "Besides, there's still plenty to dooooOOAAAaaahhh. Dammit!" He grinned just the slightest bit. Got him. "Cheater."

I waved a hoof back towards town. "Oh, c'mon. You already sent everypony home, and you said yourself we've done enough for the day. What's it matter?"

"Always work to do, Soarin'." He was grasping for excuses, I think. Excuses to stay mopey. Why do we always do that to ourselves?

I stretched out my forelegs and groaned. "You can work when you're dead."

He chuckled. "It's 'sleep when you're dead,' ya' idiot."

I scratched my chin. "Hmm... No, that doesn't make sense. You must be delusional. Probably sleep deprivation."

He shook his head, and I saw a smile. "You're crazy."

"Crazy, but well-rested." I patted the grass next to me, trying to signal that I was more than willing to sleep with him. Next to him. Well, both. "Or do you want me to leave?"

Braeburn snapped to attention. "What? No! I mean, it was a shock to see you here at first, but, ya’ know, I'd like to give it another..." His cheeks went pink, and his voice lowered again. "You meant leave for the day, didn't ya’?"

I smirked. "Eeeeeeyup."

He blushed harder and fell onto his back, pulling his hat over his face again.

I rolled onto my hooves. "I'll take that as a yes. Same time tomorrow morning?"

Braeburn kept a hoof on his hat, probably to make sure I couldn't take it off of him again. "Sure." It came out muffled, but it sounded happier, like the real Braeburn.

I leaned my head over him. "You gonna take a nap?"

"Not with you talkin' my ear off, I won't."

"Okay," I whispered in a baby voice. "Good niiiiight." I puckered my lips and blew him a kiss that I thought was inaudible.

Without looking, Braeburn brought a hoof up and tapped me on the nose. "I heard that. Mind your lips, lover colt." He crossed his forelegs and didn't say anything else.

I stood there for a few seconds, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked peaceful. My own chest still felt tight as I thought about somepony treating him badly, and I was still super worried about him. But I didn't want to press him. I didn't want to pick at fresh scars, and I knew I'd just say something stupid if I tried to help, so I turned and left.

As I walked out of the trees and back towards the town, my heart didn't feel so heavy anymore. I was surprised how low the sun was getting. A thought crossed my mind about leaving the 'Bolts behind to settle in Appleloosa, just so I could have more days like that one. And I thought about Braeburn.

I quietly laughed at myself. He was totally right. We'd put in time and effort that day, and it felt like we'd started building something great.