Seconds Late

by FerociousCreation

Misjudged Landing

“For what?” Alto grumbled. It was the confession Alto wanted to hear before Harp Hearts, but more needed to be said. “I forgave you. Now tell us everything.” Alto was planning on giving his sympathy to the hurt pony. But that was after High Brass confessed.

“For… for stealing Harp Hearts away from you…” High Brass admitted. Harp Hearts gasped a little, the truth now understood.

“And…?” Alto asked.

“For mocking you.”

“And?”

“For insulting you.”

“And!”

“Alto,” Harp Hearts said in a quiet, yet sharp voice. The mare’s amethyst eyes settled on her friend, bringing her hoof to his shoulder. Alto simmered down his frustrated mood before returning the focus to High Brass.

“For ruining your chances with her,” High Brass concluded. “You did say I ruined your chances with her last night when I was tied up, did you not?”

Alto closed his eyes to block out everypony looking at him. “Yes, I did,” he said. He was glad High Brass had fully apologized, even if the rich pony didn't mean a word of it. The words were said and High Brass was the one acknowledging his sins. That's what mattered.

But the reality of Alto’s tarnished chances with Harp Hearts still stung. And High Brass, intentionally or not, had to remind Alto was going to have nothing more than a close friendship with Harp Hearts.

“I'm sorry too, Alto,” Harp Hearts imputed.

The stallion opened his eyes and shook his head, “You are not the one at fault of anything.” His words gave no aid to Harp Hearts and her ears retreated into her pink and white curls.

“He is right,” High Brass agreed. Bastion stared down at him, looking like she wants to give him a supportive kiss. “You were only caught in the crossfire of this war I started.”

“And I was hit in the process,” said Harp Hearts, her brows creasing. “But you were the one who took every chance to hurt Alto as he stood by and kept quiet about everything.” Harp Hearts swallowed, then squeaked, “How could you?”

High Brass did nothing to hide the truth; a good sign of admitting defeat and humility. “I saw nothing redeeming about him.” The slightest adjustment to his head made him grunt in pain as High Brass faced Alto.

“D-don't move,” Bastion complained. “You'll hurt yourself.”

“I've been through worse,” he politely argued back and Alto could agree with High Brass. Alto saw the rich pony in pain the night before. However, Alto only saw the least of the beating. “Be honest with me, Alto. Were you aware of your angry ways before Harp Hearts came into your life?”

“This talk is not about him!” Harp Hearts argued. Alto couldn't argue that and saw no problem in answering the question.

“Relax, Harp Hearts,” Alto responded to his angered friend. “He just wants to know.” He then grinned, “Don't be such a hotheaded stallion. That's my job.”

A small smile wiggled its way on Harp Hearts’ lips as she rolled her eyes. High Brass on the other hoof let out a hysterical laugh, startling everypony. “Oh, Celestia! That was a good one!” Bastion was guilty of smiling as well, but she was only smiling at High Brass. It took High Brass a moment to collect himself before saying, “Now that's making light of yourself.”

“Sometimes you need to tease yourself in order to make somepony laugh,” Alto smiled. “Before we deviate too far from our discussion, I would like to answer your question.”

“Indeed,” High Brass agreed.

With all joy finally exhausted, Alto began to remember his past. The anger he held when somepony would perform below or even above average. He recalled making a mare cry one day, continuously saying her trumpeting was too average. The more he thought about the pony he once was, the more he began to hate himself. “I was…” Alto finally answered. “And I did give my apologies when I did lash out. Of course, I would then go home and give myself a good thrashing for being an ass.”

The moment a depressed sigh escaped his nostrils, Harp Hearts gave the stallion a supportive hug. “But you now are a better pony.”

Alto did nothing to hug Harp Hearts back, his feelings for her have not yet extinguished. Her affection only made him sadder. “Only because of you.”

“Why were you like that? High Brass asked, giving no time for grieving.

“My parents…” Alto answered. He didn't attempt to hide any emotions and frowned, remembering their strict rule of perfection. A picture of a young High Brass and most likely his mother rested across the room. Both ponies were looking at one another with smiles, as mothers and sons normally do. Alto looked at the picture, a pang of jealousy biting down on his heart.

“Do you believe your parents don't love you?” High Brass asked.

“Of course they love me,” Alto replied. “But it’s how they treated me that makes me dislike them.” Alto wanted to say more, but his voice was caught. The memories were starting to get to him, and yet, he wanted to make light of the situation again. “Funny how we were going to talk about you and your attitude, and now here we are talking about my past.”

“Whether or not how last night was going to turn out, I was very curious as to why you were the way you were,” High Brass said. “In other words, it was inevitable that I would ask you about your past.”

Alto faced his friend, “I'm surprised Miss Tell Everypony Everything didn't mention it to you.”

“I don't tell everypony everything!” Harp Hearts argued, playfully shoving the unicorn. “I just didn't want to make High Brass sad because of your sad story. The moment just never came up.”

“Perhaps High Brass avoided asking you about my past?” Alto wondered. Harp Hearts and he looked at High Brass, expecting him to answer their question.

“I honestly wanted to avoid knowing anything about you most of the time,” High Brass said. His words made Harp Hearts’ brows crease. “You wanted the truth, right?” he asked, but High Brass’ voice told Alto he didn't want to admit it to her. “Besides, you probably figured I didn't want to know much about Alto because I didn't like you talking about him almost every second.”

“But now I don't have to figure anything,” Harp Hearts said, still pinning her brows in a harsh bend. Even though Alto knew High Brass had no liking to him before, it still upset the unicorn to hear the details.

“I still wondered, though,” High Brass admitted. “I still pondered about your past, Alto. And now I want to know. That is if you wish to tell me.”

“I will tell you if you tell me why you hate stallions so much,” Alto said. High Brass’ eyes widened, stunned by the statement. “Is that too much to ask for?”

High Brass leaned his head into his pillow and stared at the blank white ceiling. “No stallion has ever asked me to do that before.”

“Do what?” Harp Hearts asked, glancing at Alto, then at High Brass. For once, High Brass was too much invested in focusing in on Alto, a stallion.

“This may come as a shock, Alto,” High Brass began, “but I have respect for you.” The compliment almost left Alto in shellshock, but it did stun him nonetheless. “First, you take the advice of your friend and change your unhealthy lifestyle. Then, after everything I did to you, you forgave me in that dark alley. It probably took a lot of strength to hold back on hurting me.”

Alto blinked at the beaten pony. “When I saw you on the ground, it was like I was looking in the mirror. I saw you suffering. You didn't deserve any rescuing but I wanted to give it anyways.” Alto faced Harp Hearts and smiled at her. The mare looked at him with confusion, wondering why attention was being brought to her. “I have Harp Hearts to thank for that. She saw me in pain and came to my rescue.”

Harp Hearts flushed, “I was doing what a good pony would do.” She then shoved Alto, “Keep the attention on yourself, please.” Everypony was amused with the pink pony’s modest and embarrassed mood, including Bastion.

Before the conversation could go onto another topic, Alto resumed, “Because of her, I decided to come to your aid; because it is what she would have wanted and because it was the right thing to do. But as I have said last night, this does not make us friends.”

“I don't blame you,” High Brass agreed. “But still, I respect you. The final reason why I do is that you have asked me why I hate stallions.”

“How is that important aside from how no other stallion asking you that?” Alto asked.

“It's as simple as asking 'why.'”

Alto just scratched his head, “I don't get it.” High Brass dared to sit up, pain trying to pin the pony down on the bed. He clenched his teeth through the misery he intentionally created. Bastion rebelled against his action, yet it didn't stop High Brass in the slightest. Even Harp Hearts was pained by High Brass’ expression of pain. Alto only watched as the rich pony sit upright to give respect. High Brass’ breaths were heavy as if he were carrying something heavy uphill.

“You want to know something about me, specifically something about my past with stallions,” High Brass said through his panting. “No stallion has ever asked me the question, ‘why do I hate stallions?’”

“And why would somepony ask you that question in the first place?” Harp Hearts asked. Alto could sense the full-hearted truth was about to show itself, and the rumor of High Brass will evolve.

High Brass showed now amount of shame in confessing, “Because the rumors about me are true. I do hate stallions and I protect mares by keeping them away from harmful relationships.” The way he looked at Harp Hearts told Alto High Brass still has some malicious gripe against stallions. High Brass blinked at Alto, “You, my brother, and my father are the only exception to my rule.”

Harp Hearts choked, “H-how could you!” She managed to blend anger and sadness to her face, a sign of disbelief and righteous fury. The moment Harp Hearts’ expression came to life, High Brass found within himself to frown.

“Your disliking to other stallions is part of the reason why you and I are not friends,” Alto said.

“I'm well aware,” said High Brass, upset that the truth had bothered Harp Hearts. “But I have my reasons.”

High Brass' statement further angered Harp Hearts. “And what gave you the right to hurt others? To hurt my friend?” Alto was grateful his friend was on his side. Her trust in him was stronger than Alto had realized. It was a good sign that nothing has changed in their friendship.

“I'll explain my story once Alto tells me about his.” High Brass and Alto locked their eyes on one another. “It will help me understand what you once were before I tell you and Harp Hearts about my unfortunate past.” The word “unfortunate” sank into Alto’s brain like a seed drowning in soggy soil, waiting for water to feed it. Alto was interested at how High Brass wanted to know more of his past. And it interested Alto even more that the rich pony was willing to talk about his hatred.

Harp Hearts blinked at Alto, her mix of emotions never faltering. “Tell him. Tell him your struggles.” It was more of a demand than a suggestion and Alto wondered if she was more eager to hear High Brass than her friend. Then again, she already knew the unicorn’s story.

“Very well,” Alto said, and then began his story.

***

“Again, Alto,” C Sharp ordered.

“It’s late, mother,” Alto whined, his eyes drooping from exhaustion.

“Again!” the parent shouted. “Complaining isn't welcomed in the entertainment industry! Nopony likes a snobby celebrity! Your father and I perform for hours and hours and we keep standing.” C Sharp defrosted her frustration and spoke more calmly, “You wish to be like your father and I, correct?” The colt looked at his father, Crescendo, observing how the adult sat with patience. Alto answered his mother’s question with a simple nod. “Then play,” C Sharp said in a motherly tone.

Her final words were enough to motivate the child to stand upright. Alto looked at the music stand, his song ready for him to perform. He grabbed his bow and violin with his magic and levitated them over to him. From the top, the unicorn began to play. The notes echoed in the hollow house, the crickets daring not to interrupt Alto’s performance. The child felt connected with his instrument, the two crying in unison as the sweet sound resumed. If there was one thing that Alto connected to, it was his violin. Alto wished his parents would give him the love he wanted from them, and his violin was the thing to scream at them. And Alto was hoping they would give it to him after he concluded.

The song continued for three minutes until it came to a sweet end. Alto gently lowered his bow and violin and glanced between his parents. Crescendo removed himself from his chair and approached his son. It was small, but Alto saw his father smile. “Well done, son.”

“Indeed,” C Sharp agreed. “It did take you several hours to play that piece perfectly, but you managed.” The criticism was not something Alto wanted to hear. A “good job” or “that’s my boy” would have helped much better than what C Sharp had said. The mother leaned her head down at her son and kissed Alto’s little horn. It crackled with joy and the colt blushed, fed by his mother’s affection. “You deserve rest, Alto. Pancakes will be your reward in the morning.”

“Y-yes, mother!” Alto beamed.

***

The colt stumbled into his room, nearly falling asleep during his endeavor. It was way past his bedtime, but Alto knew how his parents made sure he was performing to the grade they demanded. He was glad the practice was concluded, but he couldn't help but maintain his frustration on his constant mistakes.

“Why didn't you play those pieces with perfection?” Alto said to himself through clenched teeth, his eyes rolling in a frustrated manner. The room was thick with darkness, a fog created without light. But the colt knew the layout of his dwelling and placed his violin and bow on his desk. He then jumped toward his bed, but misjudged his lunge and overshot it. Alto fell to the ground with a hard thump, his body bouncing on the wooden floor.

The child clutched his hurt side, clenching his teeth from the pain. Trying to be the bigger stallion and not cry, Alto hissed at himself, “Good job, idiot! You missed! Just like how you couldn't hit those notes!” In cold grumble, Alto said, “You deserve this…”

A knock on his door jolted the colt off the floor. “Alto, I heard a thump,” his mother called. “Is everything alright?”

When Alto went to stand, his body ached and begged him to lie down and let his mother come in to aid him. But the colt needed to wade through the pain. “I'm okay, mother,” Alto called back as he pretended nothing was wrong.

***

The pancakes C Sharp made helped rejuvenate Alto’s spirit. The bruise he formed from the night before, however, was proving to be a distraction. Alto’s morning practice started immediately after breakfast and already was he creating false notes and out of tune errors.

“Alto,” C Sharp said, her hoofsteps echoing in the hollow family room like a timer ready to go off, “was my morning treat to you a sign that I was proud of you from last night’s practice?”

“It was, mother,” the child answered, frowning at C Sharp’s disappointment. Alto looked to his father for aid, but he knew Crescendo would only side with his wife.

“Then why has your skill suddenly faltered?” C Sharp asked, her voice trying not to raise. Alto wanted to blame his faults on his bruise but believed his mother would not allow that to be an excuse for mediocrity. She may repeat the story of how his father had a migraine and still managed to perform in the Canterlot Philharmonic. The pain was no excuse, neither to Alto, or his parents. “From the top,” C Sharp muttered in irritation. She turned her back to her son and walked toward her husband.

Neither parents looked at Alto, further upsetting the colt. And he knew they were not to blame. Stupid bruise. Alto butted his elbow against the wound. A surge of aching pain flared on the spot, the colt’s eyes widening from the hurt. As hard as he could, Alto refused to make a sound. Otherwise, his parents may take his grunt for a pouting child. You deserve this pain, Alto thought to himself. If you can't perform well, then you will always feel like this!

“Alto, from the top,” Crescendo spoke, repeating Alto’s mother’s orders. Crescendo words were not as sharp as the mother, but they still bore the same weight. Alto bit onto his lip, telling himself to work no matter the pain.

So he played. No matter how much pain surged through the colt’s side, he kept at his parent's perfect standard. An hour passed without a single flaw and his parents were very impressed. “I must say!” C Sharp beamed, an emotion very rarely seen from her, “that was the most wonderful practice we have ever done!”

The colt blushed and soaked in the compliment from his mother. Crescendo stood from his chair and ran a hoof through his son’s mane. “I think he finally figured it out.”

C Sharp rose he nose High with pride, “Alto, you will perform with perfection if your practices continue to be like this. Always aim for perfection. Never less.”

The praise Alto received sank into his brain. And if I cannot perform with perfection, Alto thought, I will force it out of me.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay. School has been a little rough over the last week.

Comments

[OConnerGT-R]

Your story is certainly delivering on the emotion parts!

This is really getting good. I usually don’t read through a chapter this large so fast, but this time I blazed right through it.

[FerociousCreation]

8507099 Glad to know you are still enjoying it :3