We Had Today

by Butterscotch Cream

Chapter 1

We Had Today

By Butterscotch Cream

Flintlock grunted softly as he tried to huff the must out of his nose. The sunlight streaming through the smeared attic windows looked solid with the amount of dust his hooves had kicked up. One of these days, he'd drag up the magi-vac and clean the place out for good. One of these days...

But, that would wait till later, whenever later ended up being, and whatever day it happened to be on. In the meantime, he gave his whitened mane another shake and tromped over the creaky floorboards to one of the more well-lit corners of the room. It was amazing the amount of light got in that did, considering the old cobwebs matting the windows were so thick they might've been draperies.

A pile of boxes sat stacked beneath the front window, the same golden sunlight pouring over them like those blessed altars you read about in story books, except this altar was made of sagging, sun-bleached cardboard. Several of the boxes were spotted with brown and other odd colors where they'd sacrificed their looks to spare the contents the effects of a spilled coffee or a foal's industrious markers. Yet, a few had managed to keep their original paneling, belying their repurposed nature through advertisements of shoe polish, saddlesoap and harness oil. Still, even of the ones that had survived the years of use, most were so faded they looked antique.

Well, "looked." They probably were antiques, and not the expensive kind. Flintlock rolled his eyes slightly and pushed through them with little ceremony, though still tenderly in his own gruff way. There were a bunch of them. Posters, old military awards, his first dress uniform (probably the feast of moths by now) and other paraphernalia of assorted hobbies and interests that collected over the years, much like the dust that layered them. The one he wanted was somewhere toward the middle... pale blue... that weird, whatever-they-call-it embossing on the sides... there.

"Grf— Lebbid teh me ka geffis sduk dngrmn—" He mumbled unintelligibly as he tugged it out of the pile, the other boxes immediately slumping in to fill the gap left behind. With his quarry now freed, he set it down on a nearby stool and sighed, waving his hoof to chase away the additional itchy clouds his efforts had disturbed, like so many unclean spirits he'd constantly sworn to exorcise by power of broom and dustpan. When his eyes caught the box again though, they lingered, and he stood there simply gazing at it for a time. The dust-filtered sunbeams softened the air and gave the blue box an unearthly, fluctuating glow as they caressed the surface. It seemed... fitting, somehow.

"Well, let's get you on. No use dawdling." Flintlock sighed, shaking his head at himself as he grabbed the box again and carefully backed down the attic stairs one squeaky step after another. He gave the swirling dust-demons one last warning glare that threatened a cleaning implement to strike them down one of these days just for good measure. One of these days, just as he had threatened them last year. And the year before that. And the year... well, he'd get to it... one of these days. Maybe he'd send one of his nephews "dust-bunny hunting." That'd take care of it.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the gray pony sighed and snorted again, just to clear any extra dust that might've tried hitchhiking on his blue box, and pushed the fold-away back up into the ceiling with a springy clang. The hallway went suddenly dark when the sunlight was cut off, and with his nose cleared of old wood and old papers, the scent of the house swept in. It was almost shocking. It smelt... empty.

The old stallion stood there quietly, surveying the hallway back and forth with silent indecision. There was a light at the end of the hall where the sun was coming in from the lower floor. The couch was down there waiting for him, comfortable and soft, along with a cup of tea he'd brewed not long ago. The tea would get cold if he let it sit...

Eventually though, the soft wrenching in his chest won out, and he slowly pulled the fold-away down again and climbed back into the attic. Stuffy as it was, the room was warm and just as clogged with fond memories as dust and old parcels. Besides, he could always carry the box back down later, if he wanted.

Over by another window was a wooden desk and chair, still sitting expectantly and, aside from being dingy like everything else, still very much in order. In days gone by when the attic was much less full and much more clean, he'd used it to keep his books. There was still a mug-ring on the left side where his tea or coffee had sat, dutifully refilled whenever it got low. A cup with pencils and erasers long-dried were set on the other side. Part of him wanted to use the room again, but climbing up the ladder had grown to be more of a task than it used to be. Today was a special occasion.

As it was, he already had a coat of dust from his first foray, and the air couldn't get any worse, so he turned around and gave the desk surface a few swipes with his tail to clean it off. It wasn't perfect — more simply a broad, arc-shaped smear of "cleaner" space across the top — but it was good enough for his purposes. Flintlock pulled back the chair and groaned as he sat down in it, letting several things pop into their respective places. With an old stallion sitting in an old chair, he wasn't sure which of the two was creaking more, but it was relieving all the same. After a while, you only realize how sore your joints are once they cease being sore.

When he had settled in comfortably enough, he plopped the box down on the desk and sighed again. Once more, his vision settled on it and his thoughts were drawn away from the attic, away from the friendly, smiling sunlight in the room, to a place very much like it, and very happy, but all the same very distant. A place inside the box.

It was one of those fancy boxes, aka "old-fashioned" by contemporary standards, fitted with a white faux-satin lining that was just slightly yellow from the years of its existence, or perhaps more yellow than he wanted to admit. In his eyes it was still white, despite others who hadn't known it before describing it as "cream" or some other needlessly specific shade of not-white. It was white.

Nestled inside were five items, each of which he lifted out of the box with delicate care: an old, dried corsage of white roses, a horn ring with a diamond setting, a picture of a much younger Flintlock with his foreleg lovingly hugged about a unicorn colt, both smiling, a newspaper clipping and finally a letter. The other items were set to the side, but the letter he placed in front of himself and pushed the box back against the wall. The sunbeams seemed to shine a little brighter on the pages, as if to try and help with the stallion's habit. Though it was still folded, he knew every word, every letter, every tiny wiggle in the writing, and even as he pulled it open the first lines already echoed through his mind in a soft, familiar voice.

"Flint,

You're asleep right now, after an absolutely wonderful Hearts and Hooves day. The roses, the ring, the dinner, just... everything was perfect! I still have to think of some way to out-do you next year, but I'll leave that for another time. We've already said 'thank you' in just about every way we know how, but aside from affection and love making, my mind is going forward. I ought to be asleep I suppose, but there are some things I wanted to say, and since the words are in my head I figured now was as good a time as any to do it, rather than putting it off.

As I write this, I'm looking over at you sleeping, and I smile. We've been together years now, and I have never regretted a single day. I wanted to write this to you, so that you know now and always how grateful I am. Life is not easy. Living never is. But life is always worth it when you have someone to share it with. I've had the blessing of spending my life with you, and the joy of spending the rest of it with you.

When I was younger, though I was enthralled, I don't think I fully understood love like I do now, and with any good fortune there will be more I have yet to discover. Be that as it may, I think one of the greatest things I've come to realize is that true love isn't something one becomes bored with, nor something driven by passion, nor something which burns out or grows old. That sounds terribly sappy, and I know you haven't always been the "romantic" type, but regardless, it's true.

I love you, Flint, in a way I'm not sure I could ever describe with words. In some ways, it's only something I can show you by living with you every day, to be the one who smiles at you when you wake up, kisses you despite your morning breath, and goes to bed with you every night. You fill my heart in every way. Our lives have not been wholly happy as few ever are, but having you with me has been everything to me to make it through. There has not been a day I haven't wanted to be with you. While there have been times we've disagreed, I've known in all of those instances that at the end of the day, we loved each other, and you would be as happy to hold me as I would be to hold you.

I'm proud of you in so many ways. When people see me with you, sometimes I hope that they realize what you're like, so they know just how fortunate I am. You've always cared for me, and tried to do what was best. More than once you've sacrificed, thinking I didn't know when you had done things to make me happy.

You didn't put me on a pedestal though, or treat me like a sacred object, and you didn't have to. You treated me with love, and I've never felt so much like a part of someone as you. All my thoughts revolve around what you think, and all my feelings revolve around what you feel. When you smile, I feel like I've achieved the world, and when life is hard, I want nothing more than to hold you up and remind you that the world can be beautiful.

When each day comes to a close, I think about how I don't know what's in store for us. The world isn't perfect, and bad things happen. Tomorrow we could be in debt, or sick, or hurt. I know that 'tomorrow' is unknown. But I hold close to you, and I listen to your heartbeat, and I say to myself, 'We had today.' Then, I think about your love, I think about how I could possibly make you happy. I think about all of the wonderful things I've thought about you during the day, and I can sleep soundly knowing tomorrow is coming.

I guess that's what I want to really give you, here. No matter what happens, at the end of each day I want you to know that I'm thinking about you. I want you to know I love you, and not a moment passes where the thought of you doesn't make me a little happier. I want you to know that I trust you, regardless of whatever mistakes either of us make and I will follow you, and I will help you in every way I can.

The most beautiful thing about you is the fact you don't have to send me flowers each day or write me little notes, or do things for me, or even say the words for me to know you love me. You could forget our anniversary (and you have), you could forget my birthday (you've done that too), and I would still know beyond a doubt that you love me.

I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your body when you hold me, I hear it in whatever you say to me. It doesn't matter if you're passionate or subtle and gentle. The love is always there. It's my hope that you see the same in me, and when all is said and done I want you to be able to say, 'We had today.'

With love, ever-always,
Willow

Flintlock's hooves shook slightly as he drew his hoof off the last page, as they always did. Slowly, he picked up the corsage and sniffed it. After all those years it somehow managed to keep its aroma. Perhaps it was his imagination, and he didn't really care if it was, but he could swear it still held a hint of Willow's scent along with it. He could feel his hooves pinning it to Willow's vest. When he touched the ring, he felt Willow's horn inside of it. When he stroked a hoof over the letter, he could feel a pen scratching against it in the echoes of time. Finally, he glanced over the newspaper clipping.

"A tragedy happened early this morning, the day after Hearts and Hooves—..."

No... that was one thing he didn't need to read again. Maybe... that was something he could stand to leave out of the box, this year. It wasn't important anymore.

Instead, he pushed it aside and gently picked up the photo, gazing into Willow's eyes a few moments before he pressed it to his nose and closed his own, setting the tears that had been collecting free. The sunlight felt warm against his face, and for a blissful moment it reminded him of Willow's muzzle pressed to his in the tender way he always had. He sucked in a few shallow breaths and kissed the picture as his tears trickled down onto the pages, joining the stains of previous years. Somewhere, he felt Willow kissing back, and he smiled softly.

"I had today..."

Author's Note:

For those who recognize it, yes, this story was named after the song "We Had Today" from the soundtrack of "One Day."

Comments

[Cloudhammer]

Must not cry, must not cry, must not... *reads the clipping segment*

All of my feels, Butterscotch. But I demand a happy ending akin to Silverware to repair my shattered feels! *pinkiehappy:
EDIT: To let you know, this is Cloudhammer, just a new username

[-Brutus]

This is beautiful Butterscotch, thanks for writing this!

[TomTheHunkyDiamond]

This was so sad... Oh god, not the feels! Ugh... Whenever I read stories like this they hit me like a ton of bricks

[Aldon]

I really wish for someone to love me that way....the feels

[NumberNine99]

Well, uh...

This story evoked great feeling in me. The letter was beautiful, and its writer's personality shone through with perfect clarity. Flintlock was an endearing character, too; I really felt his loss. As for the more technical end of the story... For a fun party game, take a shot every time the author uses the word "dust!"

To put it bluntly, you use way too many words, enough to severely muddle the imagery. For example:

"The columns of sunlight streaming through the smeared-up attic windows looked practically solid with the amount of dust his hooves had kicked up."

This could easily be shortened to...

"The sunlight streaming through the smeared-up attic windows looked solid from the dust his hooves had kicked up."

...and no meaning would be lost. I don't know if I'm missing some sort of linguistic message about how the clutter in your writing is supposed to reflect the clutter in the attic, but clutter is clutter, intentional or not. It's the only problem I had with this story, though, so keep up the good work!

[Butterscotch Cream]

Thank you to everyone who has replied so far, I really appreciate it. I say that here because as most who know me, know, I read all comments and I appreciate them all, but don't always reply for fear I'll always end up saying that same thing. Still though, whenever someone replies to my work, it excites me, and I'm glad to know what people think.

2054719
NumberNine: Actually, I know what you mean, I'll reply to you in note, though. Thank you for the feedback and the encouragement :)

[BillyColt]

I'd say something about feels, buuuut I got beaten to the bunch. Several times.

[Golden Tassel]

[disclaimer: drunk] The only part about this that bugged me was the letter. I had to skim it because it was just too much. You did a really good job setting the scene before and after but the letter was just kinda over the top I think. I get it: they loved each other a lot. I had the same kinda reaction with Love Letter. It's good that you wanna just pour your heart out in these things but you don't need to be so direct about it. The atmosphere and the trepidation that preceded the letter in this story more than conveyed your point. The letter itself I found to be overly sappy, somewhat unrealistic,. and, frankly, just plain trying too hard to simply tell me that these characters loved each other. Flintlock's behavior alone got the point across beautifully. Trust in your narration; don't tell me stuff you've already shown me.

That aside, I loved it. But I'm a sucker for feels.

[Butterscotch Cream]

2065100

Hey Golden :) I appreciate the feedback. I did want to respond to a few of your thoughts though, if that's alright. I debated putting this into spoilers for people who haven't read the story (or stories) yet. I guess I will - sorry for the black boxes.

I know that the letter parts were "direct" but then again, letters usually are. Remember that neither of the letters in the stories were written to the reader, but to the character doing the reading. The character doesn't see the beginning or the ending of the story. They are in essence, experiencing the story that the reader is being told about and experiencing along with them.

In We Had Today, Flintlock's actions are there for the reader's benefit, but Flintlock doesn't see himself. He's in the attic as a memorial of sorts for his partner, and likewise, Willow isn't trying to tell the reader he loved Flintlock, he's just telling Flintlock. I'd like you to consider two perspectives:

The first is Willow's, and I'll also say I don't believe that the love displayed in that letter is at all unrealistic. I've seen it played out in real life more than once, especially in my grandparents. When you feel that strongly, you typically want the object of those feelings to know you have them, and be aware of them. I don't imagine Willow's letter to contain things he said to Flintlock all the time, but to be a special effort on his part to make sure Flintlock understood exactly what he felt. As Willow said, Flintlock didn't have to say "I love you" for him to know it, but do you think Flintlock never did? If you don't believe Willow or don't take his feelings seriously, then yeah, it will seem sappy and unnecessary. But now consider it from Flintlock's perspective: he knew that Willow meant every word written, and to him it wasn't sappy at all, it was precious.

Again, I do appreciate the feedback. It isn't that I don't "trust" my narration; I just feel that the mechanisms in their current form have a legitimate place in conveying the message of the story, and offer a different perspective than that which assumes the reader knows everything. It gives you a glimpse into the character's mind, and the story itself is the result of that glimpse combined with the character reactions. I'm still glad you enjoyed the stories so far as you did, and here's hoping that any I write in the future will be ones you can enjoy also.

[Golden Tassel]

2066598
All fair points, I suppose. Perhaps my aversion to that sort of thing is just me being a heart-broken cynic. :P
But, just for the sake of argument, I'll counter with this: It's not Flintlock reading the story, as you said, it's us. So while there's certainly things that may make sense for your characters' perspectives because they're not necessarily privy to the narration as we see it, showing us those things can lead to repetitiveness in the narrative.
Just something I'd suggest keeping in mind. I probably would have only put parts of the letter into the story, inter-cut with narration so that the two work together, rather than dumping one inside the other like this.

But again, my complaints may all just be sour grapes. I'll look forward to reading more from you in the future!

Oh, and call me Tassel. Golden is far too pretentious. >_>;

[Butterscotch Cream]

2066903
Hehe, okay Tassel.

Well, since we're foregoing spoilers, I'll just trust people to skip over any spoiler-y parts they don't want to read. So, fair warning, my comments here will be spoil-ish.

While it is the reader reading, the point of a story is sometimes to observe and sometimes to empathize. In this story, and in A Love Letter, the purpose is more geared toward empathy. The introduction sets the mood for the reader and introduces him/her to the personality and emotions of the main character. A part of that will be showing that the character loves his partner, and the letter goes on to give a more defined view of the dynamic between them. I don't really see that as redundancy so much as just a more intimate perspective.

As for using the letter in the story as a single piece, part of my goal for the letter itself was to let the reader "read along" with Flintlock, as if the reader was actually in Flintlock's place, rather than someone reading over his shoulder, hence much of the narration itself was written through the eyes and thoughts of the character. The suggestions you made are great for where observation plays a main role, and the reader is "watching" the character through third party omniscience, so I'm not trying to downplay what you're saying. It's just that this story tries to focus on allowing the reader to "experience" the character and view the letter and the emotions through his eyes and his heart instead, and I feel breaking it up would interrupt the immersion more than help it in this instance, and thus lessen the overall impact. I wouldn't call what you're saying "sour grapes." I think it's just a difference in execution/style preference and perhaps story motive.

[Golden Tassel]

2067114
None of that is stuff I'd even call spoilers. And on a short piece like this I'd hardly think spoilers would ruin anything. But that's a separate rant.

More to the point, I can pretty much agree with you here and if you're deliberately constructing it that way, then your reasons for doing so sound valid. I can't speak for anyone else, just that I personally find the tone of letters like to be naively romanticized. But again, that's likely just a me-problem in the same way I don't typically care for romantic comedies (some exceptions apply).

Cheers.

[Aroth77]

i.imgur.com/vFdyv.png

[An Unimpressive]

This story, like so many of your other ones, proves that a story doesn't have to be some sweeping epic to evoke true emotion. Thank you. This was beautiful.

Pet peeve: those hyphens you're using to indicate long pauses or interrupted speech should really be em dashes.

[Butterscotch Cream]

2140870
Thank you very much Vimbert. And actually, I would gladly convert them to dashes, but I don't know how. I fail at authoring :(
Do I just use two hypens? *tests* - -- ---

[An Unimpressive]

2141895
If you use a standard word formatting program, like Office Word or OpenOffice, typing a letter, then two hyphens, then another letter should autocorrect them to a dash. If not, I think Alt +2014 should insert it.

No easy way to do straight from Fimfic, I'm afraid; you could just copy/paste it, then do a find/replace on the story.

[Jake The Army Guy]

Hey! Congratulations on the EqD feature, brother!

[Jake The Army Guy]

And just read. Damn, dude.
fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/051/5/0/cry_liquid_pride_by_potatoevomit-d5vorzg.jpg

[Candyheart]

This story is amazing. Even though it's one of the shorter fanfictions I've read, the words really did get to me. I was actually tearing up at the end, where he imagines kissing her. I can see that love is powerful. You may have lost the one who shared it with you, but it was what was shared, was what stayed in the heart of the other. It really was beautiful. Well done sir. <3

[Dusty Sage]

So sweet, this one.

[Caelus Storm]

*Manly Stallion-ly tears are being shed*
Well done, my fellow writer. This is a masterpiece, evoking such emotion in such a short story. This is beautiful. That's all I can say,and even that doesn't do it justice.

-C.Storm

[jz1]

Forgive me if I read anything into this, but is there any connection between the tragedy mentioned in the Newspaper clipping and the fact that tomorrow is 9/11?

[Toolbox]

3187385
The story itself was written and posted to FiMFiction a looong while ago. It just happened to be put up on Equestria Daily today. X)

[KuroiTsubasaTenshi]

Lovely read. The length of the letter was just barely starting to lose me toward its end. The power of the emotion at the end more than made up for such a minor gripe, though.

[PresentPerfect]

Wow, that letter was fantastic. I like how this was just out-and-out about the power of love.

[Ampathy-Engine]

I feel like throwing up from the amount of sweetness, love, and feels in this fic.
M/M or not, this is Absolutely beautiful. This is how love should be

Why is this not on eqd? Cause it should be.

Going to cry now, crying and wishing for Equestria. Lol

[PrinceCelestia]

*sobs uncontrollably* so beautiful... *still sobbing*

[Bad_Seed_72]

Wow... I was not expecting that.

Absolutely beautiful, especially the letter. I hope I have a love like this someday.

*adds to faves and continues to weep*

[Mixolydian Grey]

I kinda suspected that they had broken up or Willow had died or something. Except, I figured that since Flintlock was so old, they might've lived a life together before that happened. But... wow, the day after? The day after that same Hearts and Hooves day mentioned in the letter? :c Can I have a hug?

[ology]

Cant stop crying

That was such a good good story.

[fireflutterpony]

This hurt to read, but in the best possible way.