Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax

Chapter 40 - Faraway Thunder

The show that night was clean. Smooth. It wasn't perfect – no performance ever is – but there weren't any missed cues or late entrances, and the flow between the main acts and the transitions team, my transitions team, was easy like a summer day with a tailwind.

After the show, the team gathered backstage for a quick meet-and-greet with a few fans who'd won some contest. It was in a small meeting room with the tables pushed to the sides, but at least somepony had set up a backdrop with the Wonderbolts' name and insignia so we could take pictures. Braeburn's backstage pass got him into that room, too, but he hung in the back while we answered questions and posed for pictures with a group of foals. When I wasn't hamming it up for the cameras, I glanced at Braeburn, who leaned against the wall with his eyes on me. His shoulders were relaxed, and his smile was slight but warm. Even with all the activity around him, he'd found a quiet space, and I could practically read his thoughts.

I knew that look. It was the same one I'd had back in Appleloosa while I watched him perform his mayoral duties. My chest had felt full, and my body had felt light. He was feeling the same, because he was seeing me at my best. He was seeing me in my element, doing what I was meant to do and kicking ass at it.

I frowned when I remembered how far he was from his element, but I shook that thought away.

The other VIPs left, and Braeburn walked up to the cluster of Wonderbolts I'd been sucked into. He nodded at everypony in our little circle: me, Wave Chill, Fleetfoot, and Stormfeather, the grey pony we'd brought from the Reserves to work transitions. "Nice show, y'all! Especially you, Stormfeather. Can't wait to see more."

Stormfeather barely kept the smile from tearing his face in half. "Thanks, Mr. Apple! I-I'm surprised you, uh… I mean, I was just following the program that Soarin' put together."

Braeburn rocked his head to the side and smiled. "True, but you are the one that pulled it off." Braeburn: master of encouragement.

I whacked Stormfeather with my wing. "Yeah. If you can learn to take a compliment, you might find yourself on Main Squad before long." Stormfeather stuttered something incomprehensible but happy, and we all shared a laugh.

Wave Chill spoke up. "Main Squad or not, you've earned yourself an invite. After party at my place!" Stormfeather babbled something, but Chill talked over him. "Fleet, Soarin', you down? Hey, I know Braeburn's ready."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and cast a glance at Braeburn. 'There's no way Chill will let him go home sober. Should I cover for him?'

Braeburn shifted. "I-I think I'm a bit tired tonight, Wave Chill, but some other time, maybe."

Wave Chill blew a raspberry. "C'mon, Brae! You owe me a rematch, at least. Don't country ponies like socializing?"

Braeburn bit his lip. "I… That's probably not…" He sighed and looked at me. "I don't wanna be rude. M-maybe we could swing by for just a little–"

'Nnnnnnope!'

I cut in. "Sorry, Chill. We've got our own little celebration planned." I theatrically licked my lips and winked at Braeburn.

Fleetfoot flared her wings and walked between all of us. "Oooookay. I'm leaving before you two lame-o's stain the carpet." She nodded at Chill. "I'll see you at your place in an hour. Let's go, Stormy."

Stormfeather was grimacing and sweating and giving me a strained but happy look. "Uh… yeah. Thanks for giving me a chance, captain!"

"No problem. Good work tonight, both of you," I said. I gave them a quick wing salute as they walked away. Actually, Fleetfoot walked. Stormfeather bounced.

Chill turned to Braeburn, who quickly snapped to attention. Chill chuckled and said, "Some other time, then. And speaking of, uh…" He looked between us. "…you know. That stuff. Thanks for that advice, Braeburn."

Braeburn heaved a sigh. "Heh heh. Didja take my advice?"

Wave Chill grimaced and looked down, trying to hide his blushing. Quietly, he mumbled, "…Yeah."

Braeburn smirked and narrowed his eyes, his voice lower. "And didja like it?"

Chill ran a hoof through his mane and let out a big breath. "Yeah. It was pretty… Ha! Pretty intense but…" He giggled like a delirious colt at three in the morning. "Yeah. I liked it."

Braeburn laughed. "Told ya'. Now you see why I talked about it so much. Lemme know if you want any more tips. 'Til then…" He cuddled up next to me. "I'd better get around to thankin' my coltfriend here for such a great show."

I wrapped a wing around him and kissed his forehead. "Anything for a fan."

Chill snorted. "You mean with a fan." He hoof-bumped me. "I'll catch you guys later. See you Monday, Soarin'."

We said goodbye to a few more teammates, and then we left out the back exit into our sky cab. Once we were in the air, Braeburn hugged me tightly. "Thanks for the save back there, Big Blue. I think I might've gone with him if you hadn't stepped in."

I kissed him again and hugged back. "No problem, Applebutt."

I got an extra serving of pie that night. Frozen pie, actually. Heh heh.

On Sunday morning, Braeburn taught me how to make oatmeal from scratch. It was straightforward enough that I could memorize all the steps, but there was a ton of nuance to it. It came out okay, though. Maybe a little overdone.

I got my pie, we showered, and we cleaned up the kitchen. And then we cleaned up the parlor, the bedroom, and the bathroom. None of them really needed it.

A couple hours later, with the laundry hanging outside to dry, we sat on the couch in the parlor, staring at the walls. I asked, "So… what do you wanna do today?"

Braeburn shrugged and looked around. "Need anything done around here? I ain't all that experienced with cloud masonry, but I could try."

Everything was already spotless. "Uh… not really. The landlords take care of anything like that."

"So… everythin's runnin' smooth?"

I shrugged back. "Guess so." I smiled and nudged his shoulder. "So you can relax."

"Heh." Braeburn stared at the wall again. "Seems like that's about all I do."

I chuckled and batted at him. "Life of luxury wearing you down?"

He smiled. "I guess." He turned back to the wall.

It was quiet.

It stayed quiet.

We were just sitting there, blinking at the walls, waiting for the other pony to talk. Every time I thought of something, it caught in my throat. Nothing felt right, and all our usual conversation topics seemed… off somehow.

Braeburn sighed.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What are you thinking about?"

He paused. "Aw, nothin'."

I frowned. "Bullshit."

Braeburn grunted. "I, uh…" He scratched his chin and didn't look at me. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

My voice flattened. "Applebutt, you can read something if you want to. I won't freak out."

"It's not that." He shook his head. "It can wait until tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes and spoke flatly. "Braeburn, tell me."

"Do I–"

"Tell me." I glared.

He hung his head. "Fine. I need to write my monthly report for Minister Long Reign back in Canterlot. Ya' know, the one where I tell him how Appleloosa's doin' and report on any big developments."

"Oh…" I realized I'd shrunk, so I forced myself to sit up straighter. "When's it due?"

"Friday. I've still got some time, but I need to get in touch with Slate and a few others back home." I winced at the word "home," but he didn't notice. "I usually have 'em done by now, a week or so early, in case somethin' comes up like it did last month." He narrowed his eyes at me and cracked a smile, just briefly. "Plus, gotta leave a buffer for the mail, though admittedly I tend to slack on that. The town's growin' so fast, and so much can change in a week. I'm always so proud of what we've accomplished." His eyes unfocused, and he smiled. "Just wanna tell Long Reign about all the details, ya' know?"

I remembered an interview I'd had after the stallion squad had gotten some major award. I couldn't shut up about how great they were at their job. "Yeah. Totally."

But Braeburn's face grew dark. "And I wish I was there to see it myself. I don't like havin' to rely on second-hoof information."

My voice leapt to my throat, and I bristled. "Bronze is still there, Applebutt. It isn't safe for you."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Hell, with what Slate's been sayin', I don't know if I could even get in my house." I turned my head to the side and opened my mouth, but Braeburn kept talking. "Maybe we could visit the next time you tour out that way?" He frowned at me, and I could hear the deflated resignation in his voice.

My response was automatic. "We're sticking in Manehattan for a few weeks, and our next tour is along the east coast." I realized what how I was reacting. "Uh, but yeah! Maybe. We can try to get out there soon." I was lying.

And Braeburn knew that I was lying.

And he knew that I knew that he knew that I was lying.

But he didn't fight. "Yeah, maybe," he sighed, standing up. "I should get down to it, then. Thanks for understandin', Big Blue."

As he started walking away, I said, "What did you mean about not getting into your house?"

"Hm? Oh." Braeburn turned back around to face me. "Don't worry about it. It was just somethin' Slate said in one of his letters. I mean, you were right, Bronze is still lookin' for me, but it ain't a problem." He turned his head slightly. "You're still okay with Slate sendin' letters here, right?"

My voice caught in my throat for a second. 'But… what did he say? What's Bronze doing?' I cleared my throat. "Nah, it's fine." I waved a hoof. "You can go. I need to preen myself anyway."

"Aw, now you're just tryin' to distract me." He stepped closer and kissed my nose. "We'll go for a walk before supper. I'll be in the office upstairs if you need me." He walked away.

"You could set up in the kitch–"

"I'll be okay." He didn't turn to look. "Just need some peace and quiet for a while."

What he wanted was privacy, and what I wanted was to avoid a fight. "…Okay."

Braeburn walked upstairs, and I sat on the couch, alone. With a groan and a shrug, I lay down on the couch and unfurled my left wing. Craning my neck back, I began cleaning myself, focusing on the feathers near the joint and trying not to think about what Braeburn had said.

It didn't last long. 'Braeburn's probably read those letters a hundred times.' I wrapped my lips around a smaller feather and raked across it, getting a few bits of dust off. 'And he's probably just making himself miserable.'

My neck didn't feel comfortable. I shifted on the couch and tried again. 'Luna, he's probably going over it again now.'

I was uncomfortable again. I shifted and grunted, switching to my right wing. 'He shouldn't be so focused on Appleloosa. This is his home now. He wants that, right? He's got everything he needs here. And he's supposed to tell me if he's not happy. He promised. But, like, why not just tell me? What's he hiding?'

"Ugh…" I growled, stretching my neck and going back to my left wing. My mouth already felt gritty. 'And I mean, why wouldn't he show me his letter?' My pulse was picking up. 'Dammit, I bet Slate's trying to get him to come back. The town's probably falling apart without him. He could totally be telling him to come back.'

I shook out my wings and snorted, then rubbed at my face. "Shit." I took a breath and tried to clean the tips of my wings. I didn't feel like I was getting any cleaner. 'No. Slate wouldn't do that. He knows Braeburn loves me, right? Braeburn would have written to him that he did. He loves me. Does Slate care, though? He could write anything in those letters. Does he know I… that I can't read very well?'

My neck felt hot. I was biting harder on my wings. 'Braeburn wouldn't let it slip, would he? Slate was basically the only person he trusted, though, right? Dammit! Why wouldn't he let me see it? I need to–'

I winced. "Ow!" A shudder ran up my spine. I'd pulled a feather too hard. Not enough to pull it out, but enough to really, really sting. "Fuck," I grumbled, taking a couple deep breaths. I shook my head and thought of Dad. "Cool it, Stormcloud." After a deep breath, I promised myself I'd stop thinking about it.

Obviously, I failed. At least I managed to finish preening without hurting myself again. By the time I stood up, though, I was sweating, so I went for a short flight to at least work off some of the adrenaline and stretch my wings. It didn't help, and my thoughts kept cycling as I walked back into the house and tried to nap on the couch. No success there, either.

Braeburn came downstairs an hour or so later. "Hoo! My fetlock's tired. Been a while since I've written so many questions. You ready for that–" He stopped, looked at me, and frowned, then he shook his head. "Sorry. Ready for that walk?"

I looked up, half asleep and half burned out from my spinning thoughts.

We walked. I didn't bring up the letter, but he knew I knew he knew that I was thinking about it the rest of the night.

Things were a little better in the morning, and Braeburn woke me up by softly petting my mane. He worked his hooves through my dark blue hair, and while the first touch was just a little startling, he gently pulled me out of my sleep and into consciousness. My scalp tingled. The first breath of the morning felt invigorating instead of like a chore, and I slowly opened my eyes with a smile. "Morning, Applebutt."

He was smiling back at me, the golden light filtering through his golden mane. "Mornin', Big Blue. Time to get up. You've got your first visit with Doctor Soul today."

I pressed my forehead into his chest. "Can I just stay with you?"

Braeburn kissed my forehead. "When you get fixed up, you can do whatever you want."

A smile curled across my face. "…Anything?"

"Well, within rea–"

"Foursome on the roof with Big Mac and Rarity!" I bolted upright. "Deal!" I quickly kissed his nose and dashed out of the room, shouting, "Okay sounds great love you bye!" From downstairs, I heard Braeburn roaring with laughter.

As much as I wanted to totally commit to the bit and dash out the front door for the day, nothing could keep me from breakfast with Braeburn. It was just leftover oatmeal, but it was still good, and having coffee and talking about nothing brought me peace. And I didn't even remember the letter until I was out the door and flying towards Doctor Soul's office with Eagle Eye.

Doctor Soul's office was only a few blocks away from Hope's. It was much less imposing: the outside had been painted a soft yellow with Magi-mist, and the front of the building had a giant window that let you see inside. As I walked in, I got a better view of the lobby: soft, plush chairs sat in an irregular pattern in the wide reception area. A couple foals played with big, colorful toys in one corner, and one whole wall was covered in framed pictures of different landscapes from all around Equestria: orange deserts in the west, breathtaking views of Cloudsdale, the green plains of the northeast, and plenty that I'd never seen before. The whole room was awash in bright colors, but somehow, it all tied together really well.

A powder-blue pegasus with a minty-green mane was leaning against the counter when I walked in, wearing a loose, green sweater and talking to a pink mare. As soon as I walked in, he turned his head and trotted over to me. "Ah, Soarin'! Welcome! I'm Gentle Soul. Absolutely lovely to meet you." His voice was bouncy but not grating, energetic but not overbearing. Basically, he sounded fabulous.

I shook his hoof. "Likewise."

"Yay!" He perked up, and his wings flared out for a second. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?"

I chuckled and said, "Nah, I'm g–"

He rocked on his hooves. "Because it's very important to stay hydrated, Soarin', especially when you're recovering."

I smiled. "Okay, fine, I'll have some water."

"We've got a smart one!" he said to the secretary as he trotted to the water cooler. As he filled a large paper cup, he said to me in a low tone, "You wouldn't believe how long it takes some ponies to figure it out, especially when, you know, they've forgotten to take their medication a few times already."

I cocked my head to the side. "But… I haven't. My coltfriend Braeburn wouldn't let me skip a dose."

"Perfect! Then you're off to a great start." He passed me the water and jerked his head towards a door. "Step inside, and we'll get started."

Soul's office was larger than Hope's had been, and where Hope had had the professional academic setting with dark woods and lots of books, Soul's office had a big table in the center, and the room was full of bright colors without being too foalish – a little more put-together than the lobby, but no less welcoming. A large window gave a view of a fenced-in yard, complete with an actual, living tree that looked hoof-trimmed and perfectly spherical at the top. The room was all stylish and clean looking, still with a few books, but everything was crisp and round and bright. Gay design sensibilities, I guess.

I stared out the window. "Nice tree."

Gentle Soul paused from moving a few materials from his desk to his saddlebag, then turned and looked outside with a smile. "Thank you. It's a nice side project between patients. Having something tactile to do really stretches out the brain and clears out the crud. I suppose stunt flying is the same for you, isn't it?"

"Totally." I sighed. "Most of the time, anyway."

"I can understand that. There are some problems that even fantastic topiary can't solve. But that's why we're here today. Won't you have a seat?" He gestured to two chairs at the large table. One of them perfectly matched his fur, and the other nearly matched mine. We sat down, and I looked around, trying to figure out if he had a stockpile of colored chairs somewhere.

Gentle Soul pulled out a piece of paper, then overlaid another one on top of it. The top piece had a little window cut out, so it showed some of the page beneath. Gentle Soul said, "Alright, Soarin'. To start, I want to get a baseline of your reading level. I'm going to show you one word at a time, and I want you to read it out loud. Sound good?"

"Sure." I nodded. "Seems easier than what Hope made me do, though."

Soul shrugged and coyly smiled. "We'll work up to the harder stuff. Now, please read." He shifted the paper to reveal a word.

I looked down at it. "Doctor."

"Very good. Next?" He slid the window down again.

I laughed. "Gentle."

"Good." He grimaced. "Keep going."

I read word by word as he slid the window. "Soul… is… my… new… therapy. Therapist! Sorry."

He smiled. "You're doing great. Keep going."

I sneered. "I'm not doing great. I screwed up."

Gentle Soul shrugged. "But you read everything else correctly so far. Keep going?"

"Okay." I looked back at the paper. "He… is… the… world's… best…" He slid the paper one more time. "…bottom. Hey!" I snapped up, glaring and smiling.

"Why, thank you!" Soul wore a giant grin. "Not to brag, but I can really make a stallion scream, and Radiant Hope will be very happy you've come around." He swiped up the papers and stuffed them into his bag. "Hopefully your coltfriend isn't too jealous."

I chuckled. "Prick."

"Only if you're good." He grinned again, then waved a hoof. "I'm kidding, of course. It's a major breach of the law to have sexual relations with a current patient." He adjusted the collar of his sweater, scanned me up and down, and mumbled, "Just one more reason to cure you as fast as possible. Damn."

I kept snickering and leaned forward, one hoof on the table. "How have you not gotten arrested yet?"

He winked at me. "The trick is knowing how often I can pull something like that before you'll report me." He smirked and theatrically rubbed his chin. "I wonder if you'll catch me next time…"

I shook my head. "Are you, like, a story book villain or something?"

"Wanted to be, but I could never grow the twirly mustache." He reached into his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper with a bunch of random letters on it. "So, do you remember elementary school? Because it's time to put those skills to use!"

He slid the paper to me along with a pencil. Recognizing the structure, I lifted an eyebrow and said, "A word find?"

Gentle Soul nodded. "Uh-huh. There are ten words hidden in here. They're listed at the bottom. Plus, there's a secret phrase that isn't listed."

I snorted. "What, am I in kindergarten?"

He adjusted his sweater again. "Certainly not. If a kindergartener found that secret phrase, I'd lose my license."

My eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He winked again. "You'll have to find it to know for sure."

We worked through the word find. Yeah, it took me longer than it would have back in elementary school, but I didn't care. I was focused like a laser, not just during that exercise, but in the evaluations that followed and the different beginner exercises and techniques he taught me during our two-hour session. I didn't realize it at the time, but Radiant Hope had been right: Gentle Soul really was good at his job. In just a few minutes, he'd tapped into something in me, and reading didn't feel like a chore. It felt like a game, where I was always trying to figure out what trick he would pull next. And it felt like I was learning again, making progress, even if it was slow and hard to track. Any time I made a mistake or got frustrated, he helped me laugh it off with a dirty joke or a story about another patient. The last twenty minutes weren't even work – we just talked about the Wonderbolts, our relationships, and whatever else came to mind, and the end of the session caught me by complete surprise. I left with a bunch of worksheets stuffed into my saddlebag, knowing Braeburn would help me if I needed it. In some ways, everything felt normal. I'd been given a challenge and had taken the first steps to conquering it. I felt proud of my work, proud of myself, and ready to take on the world.

The secret phrase, by the way, was "pretty titties."

I got to the Academy about an hour before lunch. The weather was gray and damp, so everypony was training in the weight room. The maintenance team would have the clouds above the training plateau cleared by the afternoon. Until then, Fleetfoot was racing everypony on the treadmills (and winning), Wave Chill was leading a group in a wing-up regimen, and Spitfire and Fire Streak were spotting each other on squats. Metal clanged against metal all over the room, interrupted by rhythmic grunts and strained counting, and the place reeked of all-purpose cleaner and pegasus sweat.

Spitfire finished her set and wiped her forehead with a towel, which she hung around her neck. She nodded to Fire Streak and quietly said, "Eyes on the prize, captain, not on my flank."

Fire Streak's eyes widened, and he chewed his tongue.

As I trotted up to them, I said, "I thought your flank was his prize?"

Streak jabbed a hoof at me and blurted out, "He said it! Not me!"

"Well, you're not getting it if you weird out all my flyers." She wiped her face with the towel again and turned to me. "How'd it go, captain?"

I saluted with a hoof. "Spectacular, captain. Diiiiid you have any doubts?"

Spitfire smiled. "Nah." She looked behind me and called out, "Sightseer! I'm done on this if you still want to use it."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sightseer huffed as he stopped the treadmill and trotted over. "Welcome back, Soarin'! Are you… feeling alright? We didn't see you this morning."

I nodded. "Yeah, I was taking care of something. What's the rumor?"

Sightseer shrugged. "I… don't really want to be a snitch."

I smiled. "I'll make it easy: tell me the rumor, and that's an order." I said it loudly enough to reverberate through the room. Fleetfoot, Misty Fly, and Silver Lining snapped to attention especially quickly. 'Yeah, it figures they would be the first ones talking.'

Sightseer stood up taller. "We're wondering if you're retiring, captain, sir. Some of the 'Bolts think you're moving to something more… relaxed."

I threw my head back with a "HA!" and cocked an eyebrow as I looked around the room. "Seriously? Me? A desk job?"

A few of the 'Bolts laughed along. Fire Streak cast a glance at Spitfire, who was her usual unflappable self. She took a step towards the center of the room. "Soarin's not going anywhere. He does however owe us a presentation about the importance of maintaining an acceptable public image."

I read between the lines, so to speak. I wouldn't just be talking about handling the media.

She kept going. "There's a big storm scheduled a week from Tuesday, so we'll move our usual performance review until then, and Soarin' will talk to us in the afternoon. Is that clear?"

The room resounded, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Now finish your regimens as outlined by the trainers – I'm looking at you, Blaze – and hit the mess hall. We've got a lot to cover this afternoon with this week's new routine." There was another round of agreement, and the 'Bolts resumed their exercises.

Sightseer piped up, "May I… do my squats now, captain?"

"Hm? Oh, of course. Captain Fire Streak: spot him."

Streak saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

Spitfire jerked her head towards the locker room. "Soarin', come with me."

I followed her and tried to figure out what I would say. 'Not really much to say at all, I guess. She's going to ask me to talk about my… injury, and if I refuse, she'll order me to do it.'

As soon as the door closed in the unisex locker room, she sat on a bench and sighed. "You know what I'm about to say, right, Soarin'?"

I sat down opposite her and swished my tail. "Yeah…"

She looked at me sternly. "We can't keep it from them. It could happen to anypony, and I don't want to set a precedent of hiding injuries. Fire Streak and Bottom Line agree."

I hung my head and thought hard, and my brain still tingled from the morning's medicine. It reminded me of walking into Hope's office the first time and how scared I'd been. I shuddered. "Yeah. I don't want anypony to have to go through all this. If…" I looked up and met her eyes. "If they can learn how to take care of themselves better because of me, I'll do it."

She smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Soarin'."

I frowned. "We have to be careful, though. One of them might leak it. The media would go nuts over something like this."

Spitfire shook her head. "Oh, they will not be blabbing to the media again. Whoever told them the first time will be too scared to try it again."

"If you say so. Anything else?"

"Nah." She smirked. "…but I am going to enjoy watching you fumble your way through public speaking for three hours."

My wings popped out. "Three HOURS?"

I managed to talk her down to two hours with a break in the middle, and the rest of the day went pretty normally, though I did get a few more questions from the other 'Bolts. I shrugged it all off, though, because I had something to look forward to at the end of the day.

And I wasn't disappointed.

"Hey there, Big Blue!" Braeburn threw himself on me as soon as I walked in through the door. "How did it go today? Was he nice? Did he tell you how long it'd take to get you better?" He kissed me all over my face when he wasn't asking questions, and he locked lips with me before I'd even closed the door, his hot breath pushing away all the fatigue from the afternoon's practice.

We finally pulled away when I started laughing in his mouth. "You know, I can't answer you with a mouthful of tongue."

"Aw, like that'd stop you." He tugged on me. "C'mon, I wanna hear all about your day. Celestia knows I don't have much to report."

I suddenly remembered what he'd likely been doing all day, and I felt a lump in my throat. "C'mon, Applebutt. You probably spent all day writing letters. It's not like you didn't do anything."

He chuckled. "Heh. Well, yeah, I suppose. Took two envelopes to fit everything in, and I still need to figure out what I'm gonna tell Slate about Las Pegasus."

I tried to be subtle. "Did you… get any other mail from him?"

He sighed. "Well, no. Was hopin' to get another update, but I might have to just wait."

We sat down in the kitchen. "You've always got those other letters he sent."

"Aw, I've already read those to death," he said with a hoof wave. I'd been right. "Nothin' interestin'. Really."

The silence lasted a little too long.

"I'm serious. Don't worry about it, Big Blue. Just a bunch of borin' stuff, mostly, and yeah, a little about Bronze, but everythin' is okay, I promise. Slate and Silverstar and all them have it under control, and the town's doin' decent, too!" He was talking fast again. "They said it was because I run such a tight ship, and Slate was very complimentary of things, and the apple trees are doin' well. Heh, never know if you can trust the laborers when your back is turned, and…" He frowned. "Aw, don't l-look at me like that."

I hadn't realized I'd been making a face.

His lip quivered. "S-sorry! I-I didn't mean…"

The air changed, and whatever I'd been feeling or making faces at mellowed out. "Hey, it's okay, Applebutt," I said gently as I put a hoof on his. "Don't worry about it."

He dropped his gaze and said, "Sorry… Just…" He looked up. "How did it go with Gentle Soul?"

And just as quickly, I felt the air change back. 'He's changing the subject. He doesn't want to talk about it. Why doesn't he–' I shook my head. 'No. I trust him. He'd tell me if something was wrong. He's not leaving.' I blew some air out of my lips. "Yeah, it was…" I smiled. "It was good, especially his pretty titties."

Braeburn made a noise somewhere between a gasp, a squeal, and a betrayed whinny. It's the sound that every gay pony makes when he finds out his coltfriend likes mares. I freaking loved it.

I told him all about the appointment and showed him the homework I had to do before the next week. He said he'd help out any way he could, but he promised to let me do it on my own if that was for the best. He was always gentle about stuff like that. Supportive but not overbearing. Maybe it came from tending trees for so long, and I think he wanted to see me grow, too.

The letters didn't come up again that night, but they were on my mind at practice the next day. More than once, Streak had to shout, "Stay sharp, Soarin'! You're wobbling!"

At that point, I'd remember where I was and quickly correct myself. 'Focus, Soarin'. All eyes are on you. He'll notice if you slip.'

I wasn't wrong. Streak cornered me after practice when everypony else had left the locker room. "You were a little off today, bro. You feeling okay?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm fine, bro."

He turned his head towards me and leaned in. "You're sure? Because if you're not one-hundred percent–"

"I'm fine, captain," I spat out. I sighed and rubbed my temple. "Sorry. It's not my head. It's just something on my mind."

Streak pursed his lips. "Something at home? Is Braeburn okay?"

"He's fine," I said way too quickly. "It'll be okay. I don't want to talk about it. It's fine. Later." I left before he could interrupt again.

And that night, the letters came up again as Braeburn was serving dinner. It was… something hot. I don't remember what it was. He was talking, acting as bouncy as ever. "…and Holli is gonna come by on Friday after her shift. I can't tell you how welcome it'll be to have somepony in the house. Heh. Might be able to get her to tell me that curry recipe, finally. Of course, it wouldn't hurt if I had an extra ticket to pass her way. Grease the wheels a bit. Heh. Right, Soarin'? …Soarin'?"

"Hm?" I looked up and blinked. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure, whatever."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Were you even listenin' at all?" His voice sounded muted, hurt.

And the hair on the back of my neck stood up. "Yeah! Totally. I'll get Holli a ticket by Friday. No problem."

With a deep breath, Braeburn set out our meal and sat down. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

The kitchen felt a lot bigger, like everything was suddenly a little further apart. I kept trying to look at Braeburn, but every time I did, I noticed some other small thing: a mote of dust on the floor, a light left on in the next room, a small divot in the table…

I looked down at my food and said, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you it's nothing, right?"

"Not a chance." He scooted closer to me and said, "Best tell the truth."

I groaned. I didn't want to go down that road, but we were already there. "Applebutt, it's those letters. They make you homesick, and I don't know what Slate's telling you, but I just… don't like it."

Braeburn stuck out his lower lip. "You still feelin'… worried I might up and leave? Really?"

I tapped at the table. "I guess."

"You guess?" His voice was sterner. "Soarin', I've told you: I love you and I'm not–"

"So did my parents." I looked up at him, and he looked away. "Sorry, Applebutt. It's… I'm not totally over it, I guess."

Braeburn blew air out of his lips. "I'll try keep that in mind." He furrowed his eyebrows. "But Soarin', you said Slate could send me those letters. It's important to me to stay on top of what's happening out there. It's a young town, and it needs care, and I can do whatever else to make you feel better about it, but some things I just need to take care of myself."

"Yeah, I get it… but it's hard," I said, letting my wings slump. "And it would be a lot easier if I could, you know, take a look at them first."

He jumped back, eyes wide. "You wanna fuckin' screen my letters? What th–" He shrunk. "S-sorry. I-I didn't mean to yell." He was breathing quickly. "Soarin', that's… that's mighty personal."

A dark gear turned in the back of my brain. 'Why the hell did he react so much. Unless he's…'

Braeburn shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. Please, Soarin'."

I couldn't stop myself. I growled, "You're not hiding anything, are you?"

"What? No!" He gently set his hoof on the table and whimpered. "I'm… I just don't want you to be upset. This ain't…" He looked away. "You're just gonna get upset. You saw what happened when you read Bronze's letter back at my parents' place. I don't want you to worry. I can handle this."

I kept staring intensely and stood up. "Braeburn, this isn't just about me, and you know it. What are you hiding?"

Braeburn whipped his head back to me. "Nothing!"

I stepped closer, glowering. "Then why can't I see it?"

"Because… UGH!" He set his forehead on the table and covered his head with his forehooves. He said something, then shook his head.

I snorted. "Braeburn, you said I needed to be honest. Double standard much?"

He peeked out from under his hooves.

'If he won't listen to me…' Calmly, I set a hoof on the table, narrowed my eyebrows, and stared directly at him. "Do you think Jonah would be proud of you for hiding like that?"

Braeburn gasped and sat up straight. His lip quivered, and his eyes unfocused. "N… No. He wouldn't." He let out a long breath and deflated, his shoulders sagging. "Sorry, Soarin'. I'm not… I promise I'm not trying to hide anything from you, but… but this is important to me. Sorry."

I grit my teeth and closed my eyes. "I forgive you."

"…Thank you."

It was quiet.

And as the anger settled, I was left with the weight of what I'd just done to him. My lips parted slowly, my eyes widened, and I realized I had crossed a line. My hooves quivered, and I suddenly wanted to hide somewhere very, very dark. My breathing picked up, and I slapped my forehead. "Dammit!"

Braeburn jumped up. "What? What? I-I'm sorry!"

I shook my head and looked up. "It's not you, Brae. It's… I suck. I suck!" I took a deep breath and covered my face with a hoof. "I shouldn't have dragged your brother into this. Fuck!" I slammed my hoof onto the table. My head kept shaking.

After a sharp breath, Braeburn quietly said, "It's okay, Big Blue." He walked over and put a foreleg around me. It felt more like a tactic – a defensive play – than anything sincere. He said, "This is…"

…

I… didn't know if he was being sincere. I didn't trust him to be honest with me. Him. Braeburn. How… how completely messed up is that?

He said, "This is tough on you. It's my fault for not balancing things better." He pulled away. "But – please don't be mad – I-I still want to keep these just for me." He winced. "There's… there's a whole lot of reasons. It's complicated."

Sarcastic comments rose up in my throat like bile, but I forced them back down. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." I pulled him in for a hug. "I'm sorry. I love you, Braeburn."

"I love you, too."

We went for a walk after dinner. It was… tense.

But we didn't fight any more, and Braeburn told me all about how to mix spices and how you have to taste different combinations enough times to find the right balance. He started rattling off a bunch of foods and what spices to use them with, but none of it registered. It took all my willpower to stay even halfway attentive.

We made it home, I got my pie, and we went to bed after we took showers. Separate showers.

And I couldn't sleep. As soon as the lights were out, my body started twitching and my mind started spinning. 'The hell is wrong with me? He told me he had his reasons. That should have been enough. Why couldn't he have just told me, though?' I remembered our date at Honeycrisp's farm, where he'd planned to tell me he was going back to Appleloosa, and I felt flat. 'He never really changed his mind, did he? He's just waiting to break it to me gently. He doesn't want to be here, not really.'

I fought that train of thought for at least an hour. When I looked over at Braeburn, his chest was rising and falling. It was rhythmic, the way it always was when he was sound asleep.

'But he loves me, and I love him, and that's enough, right? That's stronger than anything. It doesn't just go away. Two ponies don't just–'

A memory stopped me in my tracks: I was a colt all over again, at the top of the stairs, seeing Mom slam the door behind her. I relived the days shortly after, when Dad was frustrated and anxious and sad all the time. He'd put on a strong face, but I still heard him crying in his bedroom once late at night. That's when it hit me that Mom wasn't coming back, that all those times they'd said that the love our family shared was the strongest thing in the world, it hadn't meant anything. Love could break, just like everything else.

My teeth ground, and I struggled to keep myself from heaving. "D… Dammit," I sobbed quietly into my pillow. The bed vibrated slightly with my movements. Cold, gnarled dread crept from my stomach to my shoulders as I thought about having to explain to Braeburn again about why I couldn't just trust him. 'Please don't wake up, Braeburn. Please don't see me like this.'

I looked at him again, then turned away. 'I need air.' As slowly as I could, I crept out from under the blankets and snuck to the door. 'Braeburn's a heavy sleeper. He won't notice–'

A bleary voice mumbled, "Blue?"

I froze.

Braeburn lifted his head. "You okay, Blue?"

I cleared my throat, but I didn't turn around. "Can't sleep. Gonna go get some air."

The cloud bed floofed a little as he sat halfway up. "Want somepony to–"

"No," I said, still facing away. "Get some sleep. I-I just need to clear my head."

Braeburn didn't move any more. After a moment, he said, "If you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I opened the door. "Love you, Applebutt."

"Love you, too, Big Blue."

I left the door open just a crack so I could sneak back in later. He laid his head back down, and within moments, I was gone.

The cool air outside helped. There was a small, localized rainstorm to the east of the city, low enough to fly above. The raindrops and small thunderclaps kept the night from being too quiet, and the practice stunts I did at least gave me something to focus on. For a while, I was flying, and nothing felt wrong, but I knew that I'd have to go back to reality eventually. I… tried not to think about how familiar that feeling was, how common it had been before Braeburn.

'I'm being stupid,' I thought as I turned for home an hour later, covered in sweat and shivering from the moist air. 'Braeburn told me he's staying. That should be enough.' I snorted. "But it isn't," I said aloud. 'It isn't enough, because I can't get a grip, and it's not going to get better.' I imagined the next couple days unfolding, how Braeburn would know something was wrong, how we'd talk about it and we'd start fighting again.

And how I'd yell at him again. My stomach sank. My head hung. I frowned. "I can't do that to him. I'm better than Bronze."

But I wasn't sure. Actually, I knew I'd freak out at him again. Those same stupid thoughts kept swirling in my brain as I walked into our condo, closed the door, and stood in the hallway while the sweat evaporated. I felt soggy, even though I hadn't actually flown into the storm. 'It's only a matter of time, right? He's not going to show me his letters, and as long as he doesn't, I'm going to wonder about them, and I'll keep being hard on him, and he'll be miserable.' I looked up the staircase and sighed as I realized my other option. 'And I have to protect him from that. From me.'

I wish I could say it was some evil scheme, that I'd been taken over by some dark force and that I wasn't really acting like myself. But I knew exactly what I was doing, and I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen, hopped into the air, and fluttered silently up the stairs. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I knew my way around enough to not bump into any of the pictures on the walls. The bedroom door was still open a crack. When I peeked in, Braeburn was sound asleep, even snoring a little. I wondered why he'd woken up so easily the first time, but I didn't want to risk testing it.

I shut the door most of the way and hovered into the upstairs office. With an eighth-turn of the gem on the flashlight, I turned it on, as dim as starlight. The desk sat over in the corner of the room, perfectly organized, of course. There were a couple stacks of papers, but two envelopes with somepony else's hoofwriting sat in a pile. Squinting, I floated over and picked up the one with the later postal stamp, careful to memorize exactly how it had been sitting there. The whole operation took maybe twenty seconds, but by the time I'd left, it had felt like hours.

In the parlor downstairs, I turned on a small gem lamp, the one that sat on the table with the picture of Dad. The light was just barely enough to read by, but I didn't dare turn it brighter.

I stared at the envelope in my hooves. Everything I was doing seemed so logical at the time. I wasn't stealing his letter. I was protecting him from my own anger. I wasn't going behind his back and doing something he explicitly asked me not to. I was doing what was best for both of us. I wasn't going to lie to him about what I knew. I was going to take some of the burden off of him, like any caring coltfriend would.

There was a dark, cold feeling in my gut, but I pushed it down, mumbled to myself, "Love you, Braeburn," and carefully slipped four pages from the envelope.

To Gentle Soul's credit, he really did know what his patients needed. I used a lot of the techniques he'd taught me on the first day of therapy, from reading words one letter at a time to taking a breath and skipping a sentence whenever I got frustrated. I don't know if it was good or bad that I'd already learned so much from him.

It was tough reading a long letter with subpar hoofwriting, almost as tough as it is to talk about now. And I need you to do something for me: don't go easy on me. Judge me, and be as harsh as you want. What I did is disgusting, a complete betrayal of everything I loved about Braeburn, but the sickest part of all was how heroic I felt every time I finished a paragraph. My heart felt fuller as I got a quarter, halfway through, and I told myself, 'I'll get through it all, Braeburn. I promise.' I had to have known how wrong it was, right? Either I was too stupid to know I was hurting my coltfriend, or I was too paranoid trust him. Even today, I don't know which is worse.

In any case, I kept my promise and read the whole letter.

Braeburn had told the truth, of course. Most of the letter was about business in Appleloosa, how the hat market was still booming, and how the orchard was doing fine, though Slate had a lot of questions about anomalies he'd seen and whether he should be worried. He'd written some town gossip, too, probably just to make Braeburn feel included.

The last section was about Bronze. It took me a long, long time to get through it, and I had to keep stopping so that I wouldn't get so frustrated that I couldn't read anymore. It read:

Sorry to say, Bronze is still pestering me about your house. He's making up stories about how he left some personal effects in there or how he's picking up something for you, but don't worry. I got your letter in time, and I know better than to fall for that.

And again, Braeburn, I am sincerely sorry I didn't ask more about your wellbeing. It's all I can do not to go kick his ass right now. I know I already wrote a novel's worth, so I won't draw it out, but please take me up on that dinner sometime so we can talk face-to-face. When do you think you'll be back? We could really use your opinion on a few smaller matters, but it ain't worth fretting about. We'll manage.

I don't think Bronze would be stupid enough to break in, at least, especially since he seems like he's trying to live there again. Silverstar's keeping an eye out, but until Bronze does something illegal, we can't very well arrest him. I'm letting him water the trees and pick apples, and even if his temper flares up at times, at least he's busy, and there haven't been any major fights yet. And you got nothing to worry about: I didn't tell him you'd asked me to give him the job. I wouldn't want him to get ideas.

Say hi to Soarin' for me. Hope he's treating you right, and you'd better tell me if he ain't. Seems nice enough, but I'll bust his skull open if he's as bad as Bronze was. I'm still surprised you decided to move in with him, but I was a young buck once, too, so I can't much judge.

Let me know what you need for that report. I'll get it to you as quick as I can. Of course, Desert Bloom comes first. She's hardly showing yet, but I ain't letting her strain herself none. Husband of the year, right here. To answer your question: we're hoping for a colt this time, but we'll be happy with anything healthy.

Take care, and I hope we get to see you soon,

Slate

…

Have you ever felt relieved and like a complete maggot at the same time? On the one hoof, Slate wasn't begging him to visit. There wasn't a conspiracy to trick Braeburn into going back, and even if he did, Slate wouldn't let him throw himself at Bronze at the train stop. Even better, Braeburn had told Slate he'd picked me over Appleloosa. Braeburn really was planning on staying with me. He'd told me the truth.

And I hadn't trusted him. Shakily, I folded the paper and stuck it back into the envelope, which felt heavy. The crinkling paper echoed in the glass-like quiet, and what I was doing finally sunk in. This hadn't been a quick glance at something private. No, I'd worked hard to invade Braeburn's privacy for utterly baseless reasons, and now I had to pretend like I didn't know anything at all. I'd put myself in a position to lie to him even more. I wanted to puke.

Sitting on the couch and looking around at the dim room in the innermost part of the condo, seeing all the pieces of furniture that Braeburn had fixed, every little part of my life he'd touched and healed, I came to an immediate realization. 'I have to come clean.'

I wish I could give myself credit for realizing it so quickly. I really, really wish I could.

I silently returned the envelope to its place on the desk upstairs, then came down and worked on one of Gentle Soul's word find worksheets to get my mind onto anything else. I couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds without my mind drifting to what Braeburn would say. The pencil felt incredibly heavy, and it kept slipping out of my hoof. I gave up half an hour later after only finding two words.

At that point, Braeburn came downstairs and found me in the kitchen. "Still up, Blue?"

I sighed and pushed the paper away. "Yeah."

Braeburn walked up to me and nuzzled my face. "I'm not gonna make you talk about it now, but please come to bed, love." His warm breath across my frigid cheek… I didn't deserve it. "You need your sleep." He stuck his face against my left wing and took a deep breath. "It'll be okay. Our troubles can wait."

Dueling feelings of comfort and regret swirled in my head, but they both lost to curiosity. "Since when do you stick your face in my wing?"

Braeburn rubbed into me some more, applying plenty of pressure. He said through my feathers, "Oh, like you don't do this to my mane all the time. It's nearly two in the morning, I'm tired, and your wings are nice."

I paused and narrowed my eyes. "This is turning you on, isn't it?"

"…Little bit," he mumbled.

There's nothing Braeburn can't fix about me. We went upstairs, and miraculously, despite the guilt I was feeling, I fell asleep after some quiet hugging.

Those feelings came right back in the morning, though. The morning was quiet. Breakfast was quiet. The flight to the Academy was broken only by the sound of a faraway thunderstorm, rolling closer.

And practice was no better. Spitfire picked up on my lackluster practice. I was able to focus just enough to get through the day, but the thoughts weighed on me the whole time. 'He wasn't planning on leaving. He let Slate give Bronze a job just to keep him out of the picture. He's doing so much work from so far away, and I'm practically sabotaging it, and if he finds out, we're done.' My head drooped in the middle of a spiral, but I quickly snapped back. 'He'll leave, just like everypony else. But I have to tell him.'

I might as well not have practiced that day. Nothing about the new routines stuck. Aside from a pretty normal workout, the flying didn't do anything for me, and the whole day felt like it was tinged with grey.

The flight home was saturated with the same dreariness, like my wings were soaked through and I had sandbags tied to my hooves. 'He's going to hate me. He wasn't going to leave me before, but now he is.' My mind raced with images of me sitting alone on my couch, years in the future. All the furniture was broken again. My jaw quivered, and my thoughts were too scattered to remember.

There wasn't a warm smell when I opened the door. All I heard was Braeburn slowly chopping something from the kitchen. "Oh, you're home!" he said. "Just a second." I set my saddle bag down in the hallway and peeked into the kitchen, but as soon as Braeburn turned my way, my eyes fell to the floor. Braeburn trotted up to me. "Hope you don't mind a simple salad tonight."

I smiled. "Heh. 'Simple' meaning only about ten ingredients, right?" I looked up.

"Well, not counting the spice mix, yeah." Braeburn smiled back and kissed my cheek. "But I wanted to set some time aside, and I didn't know how long." He looked down, then back up at my eyes. "There's somethin' we need to talk about."

I stiffened and nearly swallowed my tongue.

Braeburn laughed and batted at my chest. "Haha! Relax, Big Blue. It's a good thing."

I think I was frowning. "It's… about the letters, isn't it?"

His smile wavered, and he nodded. "That obvious, am I?" He grabbed me by the hoof. "No point in fussin'. Let's get this over with."

I let out a choked, "Yeah."

Braeburn led me to the parlor. There, on the table next to the picture of me and Dad, sat two letters, the ones from Slate. Braeburn dragged me to the couch. "Lie down. I wanna rub your wings."

I looked down. "I don't know if I deserve–"

He stuck a hoof to my lips. "Heh. I need it, too, ya' sexy dumbass."

I curled up on the couch, and Braeburn sat next to me, one hoof stroking my mane and then working its way down to my wings. I shuddered when he touched me near the joints, and despite myself, my body unwound like a rope.

Braeburn spoke softly. "I know that me keepin' secrets is tough on you, Big Blue. I kinda raised my hackles last night, and I'm sorry."

My eyes refused to open. "You… don't have to be sorry, Brae. I'm the one that should apologize."

"Well, apology accepted, but still…" He twisted a bit and started massaging my back with both hooves. "I wanna be able to talk to you about anything, Soarin', and that means some of the more uncomfortable parts, too. And, well, these letters are a piece of that."

I squeezed my eyes shut. 'I'm so sorry, Braeburn.'

"Appleloosa's important to me. You know that, and I know that you just want me to be safe and away from Bronze. I don't always know it at the time, but you're watchin' out for me, just like you did when Wave Chill tried to invite me to that party last week. Bronze would never have done somethin' like that for me."

I opened my eyes, and tilted my head to look at him.

Braeburn's face was warm and soft, and he spoke slowly. "You're a much better coltfriend than he ever was. I want you to remember that." He lowered himself to me and hugged tightly. "Just… keep that in mind, please."

I hesitated. "Why?"

Braeburn sighed, squeezing me. "Well, this next part is gonna make you upset, and I need you to know how much happier I am with my Big Blue at my side."

For a second, I found my voice. "What… what happened?"

Braeburn kissed my back. "Blue, please don't be hard on yourself. The thing is… Well, I feel pretty private about my letters. It's tough for me, and I reacted poorly when you said you wanted to see what Slate was writing to me." He held on tight. "I'd never accuse you of anythin', Big Blue, but I've had some bad experiences, and they left a mark."

I stiffened, and my eyes opened, staring at nothing. I knew what he was about to say. 'No. No way. No no no no no!'

Pressing his face into my wings, Braeburn said, incredibly casually, "See, Bronze used to steal my mail and read my letters."

I lost it. With a scream, I buried my face in the couch and wedged my nose into the couch cushions. My eyes wrenched shut as they filled with tears. 'No! No no NO!!!' My hooves flew on top of my head, and I tried to hide. I tried to not exist. Braeburn's kind, caring warmth felt like acid on my back, acid that burned through to my core.

And Braeburn didn't have a clue. "It's okay, it's okay!" He sobbed once, too, kissing me all over. "Aw, Celestia, I-I'm sorry, Blue! I know you wouldn't do that to me. I'm not accusin' you! It's okay! It's okay."

My bones ached. My head spun. I couldn't breathe.

But Braeburn wouldn't leave me alone. He stuffed a hoof into the couch cushions and forced me to look into his glistening eyes. "Listen here, you. I love you." He kissed away a tear from my face. "I'm right here for you, and we'll work through this together." He kissed another one.

I sat there, paralyzed.

Braeburn was ready, though. He stroked me and cooed at me that everything would be alright, and after I finally started breathing normally again, he said. "And… I want you to know that I trust you, Blue." He sat up and grabbed the letters from the table. "And I want you to see what I've been talking to Slate about."

My mouth hung open, and I half-sobbed.

"And I'm not doin' this outta guilt," Braeburn continued. "This is my choice. I know you worry about me leavin', and if this puts your mind at ease, it's worth it. I'm just sorry I didn't see it sooner." He hugged me again. "So before dinner, I want us to read them. Together. You can start, and I can help you if you get stuck. It'll be good practice. Though, heh, you'll have to pardon Slate's hoofwritin'."

My voice refused to come out, and I merely squeaked.

"What was that, Blue?"

I looked down at the floor again, then leaned into Braeburn. My head shook just slightly, and my voice was dull. "Could… could you just read them to me? I…" My lip quivered again. "I don't think I can right now." That part was true, at least.

Softly, Braeburn said, "That's just fine. Heh heh. I guess that means you'll just have to trust that I'm readin' what's really there. You trust me, Big Blue?"

My heart felt like it had long ago withered. I mumbled, "Yeah."

Braeburn squeezed me and kissed my mane. "I knew ya' would. Let me know if you want to give it a try." He opened the first envelope, and for the first time in our relationship, it hurt to hear his voice. It settled into a low, smooth drone in the background as I sat there, pretending to be upset for the wrong reasons and pretending like I was hearing the letters for the first time. For almost twenty minutes, I hardly said anything as I listened to Braeburn narrate a story I already knew.

When he was finished, I half-heartedly asked enough questions that he wouldn't be suspicious. I pretended to not know anything. I strung enough words together that he believed me. Through it all, I still told myself I was protecting him from something, but now, it was something even more hurtful than a few words. And for all his skill at detecting my lies, he believed me. To this day, he has no idea that I read his mail, that I betrayed him the same way Bronze had, that his new coltfriend was no better than his old one. He doesn't know.

Because he trusted me.