• Published 25th Aug 2018
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Sensation - Appleloosa - Vivid Syntax



It's been an eventful year since the accident took Soarin's career from him, and Braeburn remembers every moment. He may say he's content, but there's something desperate behind those bright, green eyes.

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Chapter 11 - The Echo of Your Voice

Author's Note:

Content warning: some very dark themes ahead.

Thanks to Bright Sight for helping me with pre-reading on this chapter.

I was happy with Bronze. He’d convinced me that he'd never hurt me again. And, well…

Hearth's Warming felt whole and complete in a brand new way. We walked into my parents' place, all bundled up and with a few small packages, and Ma and Pa welcomed us both with big hugs. Ma gave Bronze an extra long squeeze. "Oh, we’re so glad you could make it, Bronze. Thanks for coming."

Bronze was graceful as always. "It's my pleasure, ma'am."

Ma pulled back and gave Bronze a faux-stern look. "None of that, now. It's Gal and Cort in this house." She tapped his chin. "Maybe Ma and Pa before long."

Bronze smiled. "If you say so, Gal."

That little moment brought the spirit of the season to my family's home, and it never left.

We stayed in Haulahay for three nights. It was full of games, tours of the farm, gifts, and more. My parents were so touched by Bronze's carving of me. They actually still have it on their bedside table, despite everything, and they wish me goodnight before they fall asleep, every single time.

We didn't drink too much, and I was craving it something fierce by the second night. I suppose that should have been a sign.

I met my Pa out on the porch while Bronze helped Ma with the dinner dishes. It was cold out, and dark besides, but we had some heavy wool blankets to warm up under. Pa had his cigar lit and was enjoying the magical deep blue color that only comes out in winter.

I slipped onto a chair and under a blanket. "Got your flask out here, Pa?"

He tossed it to me and laughed. "You think I'd be without the berry brandy this time of year?"

I took a deep pull. It tasted like blackberry jam that had gone just a little off. It had a chew to it, like you could feel the berries on your tongue, and it didn’t so much burn as punch its way down to your stomach. Basically, it was the cheap shit, but it was tradition.

With a laugh, I said, “Every damn year I tell myself it’ll taste better.” I tossed the flask back to him. "Now, I ain't gonna belabor it, but we gotta have a chat. Promised you I would."

Pa sighed. His breath made a big, white cloud that quickly dissipated. "Yeah. You did." He shifted in his chair. "I'll be honest, I still got no idea where to start."

"That's okay, Pa. It's how I felt most of the time, too.” I took a deep breath. It was rare that I found myself in control of a conversation with him, and that control felt as fragile as a glass spider web. “So, let's start with acknowledgement. Your son brought his coltfriend of four months home for Hearth's Warming."

Pa was stoic. "Eeyup, that's right."

I flicked a hoof at him. "Think you can bring yourself to say it?"

Pa sighed again and stared out at the fields. "My son…" He trailed off. His head shook, and I worried that the ice would grip his heart. Instead, he looked at me, and he found his smile. "My son Braeburn, who I love more than anything, is home for Hearth's Warming, and he brought his coltfriend who makes him happy."

I felt light-headed and giddy, and it wasn't the brandy. "Thanks, Pa."

Pa chuckled to himself. "Don't thank me. Seems like the bare minimum." He puffed his cigar. "And it was still harder than it should have been."

"It'll take time. I'll keep botherin’ you about it.” He tossed the brandy back when he saw me eying it, and I took another pull. Still awful. “So, what do you think about Bronze?"

Pa took another puff and blew out the smoke, long and slow. He shrugged. "He's a good stallion. Polite, pulls his weight, helpful, maybe a little stiff, but that's probably our fault."

"Ha! Maybe, but hell, how relaxed were you the second time you met Grandma Gown?"

"Heh. Fair. As far as Bronze, he's a gentlestallion. If you…” Scratching at his chin, Pa glanced my way. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but if you'd been a mare, he's the kind of stallion I'd want for you." His jaw tightened. "Is that bad to say?"

"Not at all, Pa, not as long as you don't get hung up on it." I shook my head and tossed back the flask.

He drank from it and asked, "How about you, though? Do you like him? He makes you happy?"

I nodded. "He does. Life's better with him in it. I've started to love him."

Pa saw right through me. "Started?"

I shrugged and acted all coy. "Well, okay, I'm head over hooves for him."

His next words were sterner. "And does he treat you right?"

I froze. That night flashed back in my mind. The feeling of falling. But I didn't want that to be my answer. I thought of all the time we'd spent since then, how Bronze had been so kind and taken care of me. He was better now, I told myself. "He does."

Pa shook his head. "Okay. Good. Guys like him, wandering workers, I always get suspicious. They tend to have a mean streak, at least in my experience. Hard for them to hold a job, even if they seem polite on the surface, and I’ve had to fire more than a few.” He looked back at me after another puff. “Just don't rush into anything."

My brain locked out any of those thoughts. After all, Bronze had managed the orchard while I was recovering, right? "He's been in Appleloosa for four months, Pa. He's adapting."

Pa grunted and looked out to the land. "Okay, son. I don't know much about…” He waved in front of him. “...all this, and that makes me worry. Just be careful, okay?" He started to inhale his cigar.

I felt like being a smart alec. "What, afraid one of us is gonna get pregnant?"

Ha! Pa gasped and sucked down half his cigar, then flew into a coughing fit. Meanwhile, I laughed my ass off. We didn’t approach the subject again, and I still feel warm when I remember that conversation.

All too quickly, the weekend ended. No big fights, no weird moments, just a nice holiday, which I couldn’t be more grateful for. With that, it was time for the second leg of the trip to Ponyville.

Bronze saw us off at the station. He was taking a train to Chattahoofa to spend a few days with his sister's family, and he was real excited to see his niece and nephew again.

Around the corner of the platform, we found some privacy. The station was a major hub for the whole southwest, so being anonymous was easy enough, especially amidst the holiday travelers. We shared a big, big hug that went on forever. I rubbed his face with mine. "I don't wanna be away from you that long, Wings."

Bronze held me close. "Neither do I, Applebutt, but it'll be okay. Maybe next year."

"Yeah, maybe.” I looked down at the ground. “I've got half a mind to come out to everypony the moment we get there."

Bronze grabbed my chin and tilted it up. "Naw, that'd rub your folks the wrong way. They'd feel trapped, and then they'd get desperate." He thought for a moment. "Be proactive. Tell your parents you want to work things out with them before telling the family. It'll put them at ease so nopony asks questions."

"Heh. And what about AJ?"

He waved a dismissive hoof. "Eh, keep her focused on the rodeo stories and town management, and you'll be fine. And if you wanna talk to Mac, make damn sure Bloom ain't listening." He hugged me again. "You'll be okay, and I'll be home soon."

We finally parted at last call, and Bronze waited on the platform, waving his stark, black hat as we pulled away. I watched until I couldn't crane my neck any further, and all I was left with was the view of farmland and the smell of salty, stale train food.

I sat alone, but it didn't take long for Ma to move next to me as I looked out the window. She spoke gently. "You miss him already, don't you?"

I nodded. "I do." Ma put a hoof on my shoulder, but she didn't say anything. I looked and saw her smiling. "What? What's wrong?"

She paused, and she sighed. "Nothing’s wrong, Braeby." She looked into my eyes. "I was just thinking about this weekend. It was good to see you so happy again."

We shared a little smile, and nothing more needed to be said. The train rolled on.

Mac, AJ, and Little Bloom welcomed us at the train station, and it felt like a party from the moment we walked in the front door. I could go on and on about our conversations, the walls teeming with decorations, the delicious food that never stopped coming, and the stallions-only poker game that Granny Smith always wormed her way into (and always won). But like in Haulihay, it just felt normal. That’s all I wanted for Hearth’s Warming, and I got it.

Well, there was one other thing I wanted. That night, Mac and I were settling into bed in his room. I insisted on taking the rollaway, since it was too small for Mac. I had no intention of sleeping, though. I wanted to finally talk to him about Bronze.

But Big Mac is full of surprises. About twenty minutes after we laid down, pretending to sleep so nopony would bother us, he was on his back staring at the ceiling and tapping his hooves together. He whispered, "Uh… You up, Braeburn?"

I was waiting for the right moment, too, and there's no chance I was going to sleep. I whispered back. "Course. I ain't so tired I'll just flop into bed like an old casserole. What's on your mind?"

"I've, uh…" He whistled a little tune of all things.

Snickering, I said, “Mac, how often do we get to have conversations like this? Out with it.”

A dopey smile crawled across his face. "I've met somepony."

I leapt out of bed to his bedside, smiling broader than a psycho killer.

"Gah!" Mac shouted, nearly rolling off the bed. "Braeburn, c'mon! You scared me!"

"Sorry!" I whispered, and I thought back to Bronze’s advice. "But be quiet. Bloom might still be awake."

We both listened, and I snuck to the door to check the hallway. No movement or sound, just a creaky floor. We were safe.

I pulled my bed right next to Mac's so we could whisper more easily. I rolled into it on my side, and said, "Okay, we're clear. Tell me about 'em, cousin! That's so exciting!"

Big Mac blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it ain't much yet."

"Oh, fiddle faddle. Mac, you never talk about yourself, especially unprompted." I scooted closer. "So this must be somepony real special. What's their name? What are they like?"

That goofy smile rolled over his face again. "Her name's Sugar Belle. She's a sweetheart, and she’s a baker out in OT."

"OT?"

"Eeyup. Stands for Our Town. I call it OT so folks don't get confused." Mac always was a wise one. "But she's kind, Braeburn, and she's a real hard worker. She's doing her best for her community. And her treats are the best I've ever tasted."

I smirked. "Ah, so you've tasted her treats already?"

Big Mac went ghostly white. "N-n-no! Not what I meant. She, uh, she's such a nice mare, and I, uh, I wouldn't want to, uh…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to have impure thoughts."

I nudged his shoulder. "Hey, now, none of that."

Mac cocked an eyebrow. "None of what?"

"Nothing impure about it, Mac. You're a stallion. She's a mare. Heh, if ponies were so obsessed with keepin' 'pure,' then there wouldn't be any foals at all." I smiled inwardly when I realized Bronze would agree with me. Sometimes we gotta educate the straights.

Mac tapped his hooves together. "Still feels embarrassin’ to think about."

"That ain't embarrassment, Mac. That's excitement." I touched my chest. "It's a feeling that what you're doin' is right. That she's worth pursuing. It feels different and risky and strange, but trust me, it's a good thing, cousin."

Mac smiled at me shyly. "I appreciate your wisdom, Braeburn."

I snickered. "What's the world coming to where I'm the one giving you advice."

"Aw, heck, don't sell yourself short." He rolled up onto his side. "Though I'm sorry if this is a painful subject. You've said how hard it is for you to date out there. I don't wanna bring you down."

I smiled broadly. "Well, as a matter of fact…"

We stayed up late that night, two grown stallions having giddy conversation about their crushes, like a couple of teenagers. I think, honestly, that it was the first time for both of us. Mac hadn't dated much, on account of having to help raise his sisters, and I'd never had many ponies to talk about it with, either. He didn't know much about Sugar Belle, but he'd practically memorized every detail of each time they'd interacted. It was a joy to hear him recount it all. And I told him about Bronze and all our adventures and how happy he was making me after all my years of colt trouble. Mac was scandalized but very curious when he found out we weren't exactly chaste. He had a few questions, too, and we both spoke without judgment. It was a huge load off my mind. We finally knocked out at around 2 a.m. for a very, very satisfying sleep.

What followed was two days of relaxation. There was no tension. I was with my family, and even though I missed Bronze terribly, the time passed by quickly. We had plenty more meals and even exchanged a few gifts. My cousins got me the rest of my favorite book series and a few of the side adventure books. If you’ve never read the “Free to Fly” series, you’re missing out.

But eventually, it was time to say goodbye. I timed it this time around. From the first “Well, we should get going” to the final hug, it took four hours, nine minutes, and about twenty seconds. Just don’t tell Soarin’ he’s right about earth ponies. That meant that I nearly missed my train, though, so my goodbye to my parents was truncated. For the first time in years, though, it didn’t sting, because I knew there would be many more.

I slept most of the way back – family’s great, but they can really take it out of you – and I dragged myself to my home. My house was a welcome sight after a week away. Things were well, and I spent the afternoon with some bourbon-spiked tea and my new copy of “Whitewing's Big Score.” Just ask Soarin', it's a real page-turner.

The house felt bigger, and not in a great way. As much as I held onto the warmth of the season, it wasn't the same without Bronze. So, I decided to ease back into life and be lazy one more day, and I swung by the Salt Block for dinner.

Pridesong was out visiting home, but the whole place was still full of music and ponies. Mostly it was younger folks and the elderly that had settled, but with how big Appleloosa had already gotten, there was a fine mix of others, too.

I sat down by Wheat Mane and Wood Chip, who was one of my regular laborers. "Evening, colts. This seat taken?"

Chip put on airs and tipped his hat. "Only by you, Mister Apple."

I laughed him off. "You know I hate that."

He chuckled with me. "Yeah, but it's fun to burn your biscuits sometimes." He took a big drink of his beer. Then he started to say something, then he drank again.

I cocked an eyebrow. "You alright, Chip?"

Chip swallowed. "Eh, I'll be fine. Is, uh… Is Bronze joining you tonight?"

"Naw, he's still visiting family. Won't be back for a few days." I saw his shoulders relax. "Why? What's wrong?"

Chip waved a hoof. "Aw, don't worry about it."

"Friend, that's exactly what you say if you do want somepony to worry about it."

He sighed and grasped his empty beer glass with two hooves. "Not tonight. It'll spoil the evening. Let's just get another round and sing ourselves hoarse, and we can chat during pruning tomorrow, yeah?"

I smirked. "Okay, but I'm buying. Part of your bonus, I reckon."

"Thanks, Mister Apple."

We caroled along with the bar, and after sunset, those songs got a lot more ribald. Handlebar was serving dinner for anypony that wanted to buy it. Tasty, not as good as home cooked, but it wasn't bad.

Towards the end of the evening, when folks were sloshed and conversation had gotten sparse in favor of digestion, I looked at all the wonderful ponies in my community. Maybe it was the alcohol – I was hammered by then – but the scene felt like something from a storybook. We were together as a big group, not to solve problems like at the meetings, but just to take a moment and appreciate the life we had. I looked around and thought, 'I've missed this.'

I surprised myself at that. Try as I might, I couldn't shake the thought that it had been a long, long time since I'd been out like this, just me. I turned back to Chip. "Hey, uh, weird question, but do y'all do this often?"

Chip blinked, bleary-eyed. "Yeah, most weekends since harvest. Me 'n Sunrise been wondering if we'd ever see you out again." He drained the last of his beer. "It's good to see you outside work, Braeburn."

"Well, good to be back, Chip." I thought back to the last few months. It was all with Bronze. Especially after our fight, I had stayed inside the house to avoid questions. But I realized, no, it had been before that, too. And even though I'd gotten Bronze out in the town a bit lately, I was far less involved than I would have ever wanted. I mumbled to myself, "I'm too drunk for this."

"What was that, Brae?"

Red-faced, I shook out my mane. "I'm gonna turn in, Chip. Thanks for the company. You have a good night."

"You, too. Juniper and I will swing by tomorrow after I shake the hangover."

"Right. Yeah. See you then." I tipped my hat and headed for home.

I slept alone in my bed for the first night in months. Well, "slept" is generous. Soarin' used to talk all the time about how he hated the quiet. I've usually been a fan of it myself, but the house felt… empty. I didn't have the breathing of my lover to lull me to sleep. Didn't have his warmth at my side.

And nighttime is when all the little demons come out. I tossed and turned, and the more I thought about how I wasn't sleeping, the more my pulse picked back up.

I thought about what Chip said. The fact that he’d left it vague gave me all kinds of anxiety, since it meant that there were problems in the orchard I didn't know about. Bronze had only run it for a few weeks, but apparently Chip and the others hadn't wanted to tell me what was wrong. That spiked my heart rate again. What was so bad they didn't want to say when Bronze was around?

I tried to narrate to myself. "It's okay. You can talk to Bronze. He'll–" I stopped dead cold. I knew what he'd say if he thought I was criticizing his efforts. He wanted to be invested in the orchard. It was the touchiest subject with him, and if he got heated again…

My left foreleg twitched with phantom pain. I hated where my thoughts were going, so I finally got up. As drunk as I already was, it took three shots of cinnamon whisky to knock me out for the night.

There's a certain kind of hangover that you can enjoy. It's when you can sleep in the next day after a night of living it up. Your head hurts like hell, sure, but you know you deserve it, and it's worth it.

I'd managed to sleep through the roosters crowing, and it was midmorning by the time I got up and started breakfast. Simple and fried, naturally. Settled my stomach good.

Chip hadn't set a time, so after breakfast, I headed out to the orchard. To my surprise, he and Juniper were already out there, pruning some of the withering branches. I trotted up to them. "Mornin', y'all. What are you doin' out here so early?"

Chip kept his eyes on his work. “Well, lots to do, and I figured it would get the booze outta my blood, right?”

I smirked and took another step towards them. “Yeah, feels like the only way sometimes. Got an extra shears out here?”

“We’ve got it, Braeburn.” He still wouldn’t look at me.

“Aw, I don’t mind helping.” I shrugged. “Not a lot going on. I ain’t gonna dock your pay or anything if that’s what you’re concerned about. I hope that’s not what it is.” I laughed, “Or I’m a hell of a lot worse an employer than I thought.”

Chip looked at Juniper, and Juniper gave Chip a little scowl. Chip looked at me, then back at her, and Juniper flicked her eyes between him and me. Chip sighed. "Bronze back yet?"

I shook my head. "No, and I'm mighty concerned that you've asked twice now. What happened?" Despite his protests, I grabbed a shears and started helping.

Chip cast a glance around. "Well, uh…"

Juniper huffed. "Aw, grow a pair, Chip." She removed her hat and scratched at her mane. "Braeburn, Bronze seems like a nice enough stallion, and I'm glad you get along, but he's a bad farmer and a worse boss."

I reeled. "I… What? Bronze ain't your boss. Hell, I ain't even your boss, not really."

Chip groaned. "That ain't how Bronze sees it." He sheared another small branch. "Remember when he took over for a few weeks after your accident?"

I tensed at that word. "Yeah, I do."

Juniper snipped one as well. "Fact you didn't notice means we did our job, I suppose." She snorted. "Bronze had all these ideas about how things should be done, but they were flat-out wrong. Trimming perfectly fine branches, bucking apples too early, all sorts of nonsense. We got by with just pretending to do what he wanted and fixing it when he wasn't looking."

"He didn't seem to notice, either," Chip said. "Which was good for us, but it doesn't speak to his farming skills too well."

My stomach churned. "I'm… I'm real sorry, you two. I didn't know."

Juniper snarled. "Well, why the hell not?"

Chip snapped, "June! Be fair. He was hurt." He wiped his forehead. "And I'll be honest, I could put up with that, but my word did he get heated. He lost his temper over every little thing."

I felt dizzy. "He what?"

Juniper sighed. "Okay, you need to communicate better with your coltfriend, clearly." She took another deep breath and looked at me. "Yeah, he yelled. A lot. Made it mighty unpleasant."

"Well why didn't you tell me?" I put a hoof to my temple to make my head stop spinning.

"Well, for one, we knew you had a lot on your plate, and we didn't want to complain. For the other, Bronze threatened to withhold our pay if we bothered you."

I flushed red. "He does not have the authority to do that."

Chip nodded. "That's what we thought, but we didn't want to risk it."

I covered my face for a moment. "I'm so sorry, you two. I hope I can make it up to you next season."

They grimaced at each other.

My ears turned down. "Oh dear."

Chip cleared his throat. "Mister Apple, we appreciate all the work you've given us the last couple years." He was all official. I hated it. "But we've been thinking about making our own farm for a while now, and, well…"

June's eyes softened. "After that whole experience, it felt like the right time to apply for a loan."

I faked a laugh and scratched at my cheek. "Heh. Haha. Wow, uh… Ha! Can’t blame you, I guess. I suppose it's too late to talk you out of it?"

Chip shook his head. "Sorry, Braeburn. Papers are signed."

Inside, my heart was breaking. Outside, I had to remain professional. "Well, I'm sad to see you go, but I'm happy you're taking such a big step together. I wish you two nothing but success."

Juniper held Chip's hoof. "Well, we appreciate you taking this so well, Braeburn."

I tipped my hat and smiled. "Absolutely! No problem at all."

I was panicking. My insides were swirling so much that I thought my ribs would tear themselves out of me. I was down two of my workers for the next season, likely half of what I needed for the expansion I had planned. With the way Appleloosa was growing, laborers would be ever harder to come by, and even if we had a good year, I had nowhere near the money to get into a bidding war for whoever was left. And I couldn’t talk to Bronze about it. He’d been the one to drive them away, and he hadn’t told me, so he assumed I didn’t know. But he was pushing for more responsibilities around the orchard, and if he’d made those two leave, that meant he might do it again with anypony new that I got, which would exacerbate his anger and my panic, which would cycle over and over until–

I nearly blacked out on my hooves, and I excused myself when Chip and Juniper said they’d finish up, no charge, as a thank-you. My brain was fried, and, well, maybe I shouldn't be surprised I found myself at the Salt Block again before even noon.

Handlebar cocked an eye as I sat down. "Hair of the dog, Mister Braeburn?"

"Double old fashioned," I mumbled.

He paused. "You expecting somepony–"

I shot him a look that could kill.

He twitched his mustache and cheerily said, "Coming right up."

I…

I… drank. So damn much.

In those forty-eight hours, I drank more than I ever had before. And unfortunately, I've had more in less time since then.

I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. Everything in my head was spiraling, spiraling out of control, because as complicated as things had been with Bronze, now they were a thousand times worse. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t learned about the trees. No, his actions were actively hurting them. That meant his actions were hurting me. I teared up when I had that thought. He’d promised he wouldn’t do that again, and it had taken him less than a week to break that promise in secret. I dug and dug through my thoughts for a way to resolve it all, but nothing came.

Until something did. A terrible chasm opened up in my chest when I realized it. The way things stood, I couldn’t have them both. No, I had to choose between my coltfriend and my orchard. One would poison the other. Sure, maybe I could reconcile it, maybe with time it would be okay, but it was so, so much worse than I imagined. My workers, gone. Bronze aggressively making decisions that could hurt whole lines of trees. But he needed support, and if I didn't let him try and grow himself, it would hurt him.

And… he would take it out on me.

What would I give up for Bronze? What would I give up to feel safe for a few more months? But what would happen when it was through? Would I watch what I'd built slowly die so that I wouldn't drive my coltfriend away?

It was questions. Nothing but damn questions.

There's… not a specific moment when I became an alcoholic, I don't think. It was a process. It was cultivated. In a twisted way, it's like my orchard. But those couple days… I can't deny that I was sick by then, and it had its hooks in me deep. Because I dove into it, head first, and I couldn't stop myself.

I acted sober enough to buy some bottles of cheap whisky from the general store, and I drained one of 'em that day. Was sick as hell overnight, which at least kept me from taking in more. I don't remember the following day. Or the next.

Bronze came back on the third day of my bender. I hadn't met him at the train station, and instead, he walked in the front door with a confused, gentle shout of, "Braeburn? Y' okay? …hello?"

I roused myself from the bed upstairs. Hoarse and with my mouth tasting like vomit, I shouted down, "Hey there, Wings!"

I rubbed my eyes and didn't hear him walk up the stairs, so I figured I had a moment to collect myself. But, you know, wings. He hovered in and landed. "Mornin', sunshine. I– Hoo!" He sniffed at the air a couple times, then quickly covered his nose. "Holy hell, Applebutt. You got the flu?" He walked up to my side and felt my forehead.

"Naw, just got a little crazy the last couple days," I mumbled.

"Damn, sorry I missed the party." He chuckled. "Hell of a rager from the look of it." He set his bag down and crawled into bed with me, and his warmth gave me a moment's comfort. "It'll be okay, Applebutt. Let your big stallion take your troubles away."

"Heh. Not sure how much I can take, Wings."

He laughed. "I admit, I figured we'd already be at it by now. Probably best if we hold off, though. Not to offend, but I don't think it'd be pleasant for either of us."

"Yeah, that's fair. Head is killin' me, too." That part was honest, at least, but not for the reason he might have expected.

Bronze held me close and gently wrapped me in a wing. "You wanna keep restin’?"

"Naw, I wanna catch up. How was–"

Bronze interrupted and hugged me tight. "How was Ponyville?"

"Uh, good!" I leaned into him. Something tickled my brain, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. "Great, even. Got to tell Mac all about you, and we stayed up late like a couple adolescent fillies. Wonderful seeing the family, again, too. Felt like home again."

Bronze got stiff. "Okay, so now I know there's something wrong."

My jaw tightened, and I looked up at him. "W… what do you mean?"

His golden eyes were soft, but with just a tiny trace of venom behind them. "Braeburn, nopony has a weekend full of joy and life-changing conversations, then comes home and gets blackout drunk for days."

I couldn’t move.

He squeezed me tighter. "And cutie, I know it's been days, because you clearly ain't showered. So, best fess up and tell me what's on your mind." He hugged again. "Then we can get to the pleasant stories."

He had me. There was no way around it, and his hug felt like a scorpion's claws right before the tail strike.

I sighed. "Chip and June ain't coming back to the orchard next year, and I'm worried Sunrise might leave, too." I quickly searched Bronze's face for a hint of violence.

He remained calm, but his forehead creased. "Huh. Mighty strange." Lowering his voice, he asked, "Did they say why?"

Like Bronze had taught me, I told the version of the truth that served me best. "They said they wanted their own plot of land to farm, and it felt like the right time."

He quickly cut in. "They didn't say anything else?" He was direct. Probing.

I prayed I could sneak just one lie past him. I shrugged. "That's what they told me. Did they mention anything to you when I was recovering?"

Bronze looked out at nothing, like he always did. "Nothing in specific."

Feeling just a tiny bit bold, I asked, "They weren't having problems, were they?"

And then, my lover lied to me. "Nope, they were good.” He stuck his lower lip out, like he was thinking hard. “Needed some direction, of course, but it was a pleasant few weeks. Good folks, no big issues."

Bronze didn't have a tell. There was no easy way to see that he was lying to my face. If I hadn't spoken to Chip, I would have completely believed him. And that's what scared me most of all.

What scared me second most was that I was now keeping a secret from him, and I couldn't let him find out. "Huh. Weird. Well, maybe they're just eager."

I held my breath. There was a beat. It passed.

Bronze groaned and cuddled up to me. "Well, fuck 'em. We'll find better help." He kissed my cheek. "And you've got me now. We'll take care of the orchard, no matter what."

My heart wasn't in it. "Sure. We will, Wings. You and me."

Those lies would eat me hollow.

We spent the better part of the day catching up. I told him about the Ponyville trip, and he had all sorts of stories about playing with his niece and nephew. He'd taken out some of his mine money to get them both dolls and compasses, since they both wanted them, and Bronze would fight like hell to make sure they never felt ashamed of liking "colt" or "filly" toys. And even as scared as I was, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of father he'd be.

But he'd lied to me, and the comfort I'd built up with him over the last few months vanished, bit by bit.

It was little things at first. I’d catch a glimpse of him talking to somepony in town, and then that pony would seem to avoid me for a while afterwards. Things of mine would be misplaced or moved. Not too noticeably, but enough that it couldn’t all be a coincidence. The worst was my letters: in some of my ongoing communications with Big Mac and Aunt Honeycrisp, I realized the letters had been opened, then re-sealed. It was expertly done, but suddenly, my private conversations weren’t so private, and I felt trapped. I couldn’t reach out to the ponies I loved for help, or Bronze would know. And through it all, I felt more and more alone.

The time of year didn’t help. See, between Hearth's Warming and the first days of spring, there's this ennui that can grip a farm pony. You can fix stuff around the house, but it's too cold, and there ain't much sunlight, so that means very little time anyway. You check the trees, but it's not like they're doing much. They don't need much care beyond simple checks and pruning, and Chip and Juniper were already finishing that out. The festivals are over, and nopony really wants to go through with another round of planning big gatherings. You can do paperwork, and I had some, but I'd already included most of what Appleloosa needed to report in the aftermath of the locusts.

So, you just kind of wait it out.

At the start, I tore through most of the “Free to Fly” books I'd gotten for Hearth's Warming, and I especially loved “Whitewing’s Big Score.” We didn’t have a library back then, so folks mostly just borrowed books from each other. As compelling as they are, though, you can only read so much before you go stir crazy.

Bronze got bored real quick. He isn't much of a reader, and when I tried to show him about farm loans and planning out space and resources, he just said, "That's what I've got you for, Applebutt. I'm more of a hooves-on leader type."

My father's warning played back in my mind.

I cocked my head to the side. "It might not look like much fun, but it's important. I find it kind of enjoyable, like a puzzle."

"Well, all the more reason for you to keep doing it, then, cutie," he said with a smirk.

Eventually, Bronze got wanderlust and spent his days exploring the mountains. I would have loved to join him, but he needed his space, and, obviously, I can't fly. I would do some amount of paperwork, fret about what would happen at the orchard, and then spend time trying to find replacement workers.

But it's a small town, and word spreads. Nopony wanted to work with Bronze once they found out Chip, June, and Sunrise were out. Oh, I found out about Sunrise at the Salt Block one afternoon, and I was mighty pissed he hadn't told me himself.

I despaired, and Bronze would find me at the Salt Block. And he’d ask questions like, "Thinking about moving back to Chattahoofa yet?"

I’d groan, "I ain't leaving, Wings."

And he’d shrug and reply, "If you say so."

The mountains got lonesome for Bronze after a couple weeks, and his flights got shorter until he didn't even bother. That left us with a bunch of time we wanted to make disappear, him from boredom, and me from fear. You can guess how we did it.

Honestly, most of February and March are a blur. There were good moments, of course. I started trying to teach Bronze about trees, and he seemed at least partly interested, but we were both drunk through half the lessons. I managed to sober up enough in the mornings to get my paperwork done for the town and for my orchard, but by noon, I was already deep in the bottle. Bronze would spend his time sleeping in or asking around about workers when he was sober enough to, but he didn’t have any luck.

It was destructive, but the problem was that it was so damn comfortable. Everything was a haze, and I was numb to the pain. Any time I got bored, I had a big, strong stallion right there that would make love to me at the drop of a hat. We would be lost in each other’s bodies and in our whisky. With the money Bronze had brought back, we had plenty to drink all the time. We never needed to worry about running dry or coming back to reality. Slate tried to talk to me about it a couple times, said a lot of folks were worried about not seeing much of me and Bronze, but I just let it roll off my back.

We even took a trip to Coltifornia at one point, just to go see something new. It was a weekend trip, I think. I don’t remember hardly any of it. We ended up not leaving the hotel much. We did a winery tour – that part was fun, at least – but mostly we stayed at least buzzed and just fucked in the hotel room.

And the whole time, at the back of my mind, I kept thinking about the orchard. What would Bronze say when he found out I knew? How could I get him to shape up? What would I do if he couldn’t? What would he do?

Nothing that another shot of vodka couldn’t suppress for a few more hours.

It got… bad. We finally eased up come early April, when it was time to start planting, but by then, our bodies were so wrecked that we couldn’t go more than a few hours without at least a little something. Bronze had an uncle that had gone through detox, so he knew how to ease off, but damn. The shakes were the worst. I had all this nervous energy and nowhere to put it, and it got downright painful, to the point where I was trying to convince Bronze that I just needed to take the edge off. It was like my whole body had given up, like I needed alcohol to fuel everything, and it took a good two weeks before I was back to my regular drinking habits instead of the constant bender of the wintertime. But I did it. Planting season was approaching, and I loved my trees more than I loved being drunk. That's what I told myself, anyway.

But that meant it was finally time to face reality.

We got lucky, in a sense. One morning, Bronze and I were at the Salt Block, scoping projects. Hasty Haberdasher had given us a dirty look – she didn't approve of how much we’d drank over the winter – but she left us mostly alone. I was going over plans for reductions when a young couple approached us. Fruit Shine and Collard Green were new in town, and they were looking for any job they could get. They’d heard good things from Pridesong, and they were both interested in our apple varietals out west. And just like that, the sky seemed bluer, and I felt like I could actually see the rest of the planting season out in front of me.

That night, we had an easy dinner and celebrated with a bottle of the good whisky. Cuddling up on our favorite spot on the couch, Bronze took another pull. "Lookit that, Applebutt." His words were slurred. "It all worked out." He reached over and tickled my sides with his feathers. "Power of your positive thinkin', I'd say."

I was at least as drunk as he was. The room was tilting but not quite spinning. I laughed at the way his feathers touched me. "Aw, you – haha! Stop that – you helped a bunch, too, Wings. Like you said, fuck anypony that won't work with me."

"With us." His voice was dark and very focused.

"Right, sorry," I said. "With us."

"Braeburn." He wasn't tickling anymore.

I sighed. "Wings, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." The air changed. My mane felt like it was standing up. Stupidly, I pressed onward. "You seem tense. What's wrong?"

He snorted. "What's wrong is–" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That gave me hope. He knew he was getting heated and he didn't want to lose it again. He sighed and looked at me straight on. "I'm disappointed, Braeburn."

My heart sunk. "How so?"

"Disappointed in myself, in you…" His head listed left and right. "Braeburn, I know you've been fiddling with the plans for the orchard. You seemed to have it all figured out once we got the new hires."

I nodded. "Uh-huh. I needed to be ready once we offered them the job."

"So, then, where's my job offer?"

My gaze sunk. "Bronze…"

"Don't you 'Bronze' me." He pulled away and stood up. "Look at me." When I did, he held a hoof to his heart. "What am I doing so wrong that you won't let me help?"

"Nothin’, babe. I’ll give you more to do. But you still need to learn."

He stomped. "Then why ain't you teaching me?!"

I leaned forward at him. "I'm trying! But there's nothing hooves-on to do right now besides some pruning, and you didn't want to read anything I gave you."

He shook his head. "They're living creatures, Braeburn! There's no way it's that simple."

"Yeah, they're alive!" I stood up, too. "And they need rest! That's what the winter is for!"

He just kept shaking his head. "Naw, naw, I see. I see what you're doing. You're setting me up for failure!"

I gasped. "Dammit, Bronze! I would never do that. I don't want to hurt you, and I'd certainly never endanger my trees for some petty feud."

He grit his teeth. "It's always the damn trees! You care more about them than you do me!"

"No! But they need care, too, and… and so do I!" I stepped up to him. "It's my home, Bronze! Founding the town, dealing with all the bullshit… My orchard is the one place I can go and focus and not worry about anypony else. And I ain't givin' it up just because you're impatient!"

Deep down, I knew I was playing with fire.

"You really don't trust me at all, do you!?" His wings flared out, practically filling the room. "Braeburn, look at yourself! You're a damn lushed-up fool, and the whole town knows it!"

I took half a step back, but I tried to maintain my composure. "No, it's just the winter time. I'll be better come spring."

"Will ya' now?” Bronze stepped forward and got in my face. “Because spring is here, and you're drunk off your ass! And don't you start blabbin' about pressures. I've talked to the ponies in town. They all think you act like some kind of king. King Braeburn, gotta have everything his own way!"

I knew he was a liar that would say whatever he needed to get the upper hoof. And yet, it stung. I'm sure he knew it would.

I retorted, "I ain't a king, but I ain't a fool, neither! I don't see anypony else volunteering all their time for the public good! Hell, I worked hard to get where I am, to get this town where it is! So yeah, I have some opinions on how to keep it alive!"

"You think I don't work hard? Shit, I scoured every eligible worker in town, I brought in water, and I constantly scout for new sources. You think you're the only one that works hard!?"

"If that's what you think, then–"

"Dammit, Braeburn!" He raised a hoof and brought it down on my face.

"Fuck!" I shouted as I covered my face with a hoof. The injury felt hot, and I knew it would be bad.

There was a moment of deathly quiet.

I finally looked up at Bronze, who was gritting his teeth. "Dammit!" He stomped. "Shit! Fuckin'–" He stomped around the room, cursing up a storm.

I remained motionless. I was still angry as hell. The pain only made it worse, but unlike Bronze, I could control myself.

Bronze paced another few laps, then snorted as his wings drooped. He craned his neck to look me over, then turned towards the kitchen and mumbled, "Gonna be a black eye. I'll get you some ice."

I still stood, motionless except for heavy breathing as I felt my eye swell with a hot, pulsing pain.

Bronze quickly got a rag and some ice. While he tended my wound, he said to himself, soft enough that he thought I wouldn't hear, "Look what you fuckin’ made me do."

I was fuming mad, but my survival instincts kept me in line. Sure, he was helpful now, but if I didn’t want it to get worse, I would have to try again a different night. I didn’t say another word to him until bedtime, when I told him I loved him.

==X===X===X===X===X==

We walk across the plateau, away from the town. We're distant now, too far away to hear the activity. Braeburn hasn't looked back.

He sighs and stops. "About here. I think this is where we camped out for a few nights."

The sudden turn of the conversation startles me. "I'm surprised that's what's on your mind."

He sits in the dirt and shrugs. "Just avoiding it, like usual, I suppose.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “That black eye…I ain't gonna say it didn't hurt, because it did, but it felt… less so? Numb, I guess, maybe in self-defense. I wasn't feeling betrayed that time. More like, 'Yep, there it is again.' And it came with a measure of relief, because if it was like the first time, then Bronze was going to go back to being the perfect coltfriend."

I sit next to him, then ask a question I already know the answer to. "Was it like the first time?"

Braeburn purses his lips. He chokes up. "Not at all."

==X===X===X===X===X==

It was like the fight never stopped. Next morning, we woke up to Ol' Barnaby crowing, and Bronze rolled outta bed right away. He lifted the blinds before he'd said a word. He squinted at me. "Yeah, black eye. Better stay inside for a couple days."

Out of instinct, I rubbed my eye, then winced at the pain. "I gotta get out there and spray the trees for spring pests."

Bronze sneered. "And I s’pose that's too much responsibility for me, ain’t it?"

I glared at him. "Which bugs are we spraying for, and what mix do we need to keep them away without hurting the trees or the bugs that pollinate them?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head. "I'll make breakfast," he grumbled.

For what it’s worth, I followed through on my promise. I brought Bronze out to the orchard, and I showed him all the techniques I knew for preparing the trees for springtime, how to allocate water resources, what to spray for, and a whole mess of other things. I gave him a chance to try, I celebrated when he did something correctly, and I helped him gently when he messed up.

It wasn’t enough.

Mid-afternoon, Bronze snorted and jammed a pruning shears into his toolbelt. “Dammit, Braeburn, you’re treating me like I got no skills at all.”

With a deep breath, I faced him. “Bronze, you’ve got all sorts of skills. But the fact is, this is new to you. And that’s okay. But this is important, base-level stuff. You don’t need to master it all, Wings. You just gotta get some exposure and practice.”

He shook out his mane. “I should be working with Fruit Shine and Collard Green. Givin'... tours of the orchard and learning what their strengths are.” He waved a hoof. “I’m sick of spendin’ all my time on this petty laborer shit.”

I grit my teeth. “Bronze, it ain’t petty. It’s what needs to get done. I pitch in on this kind of work all the time. And yeah, I’ll be giving those two pointers, too. They ain’t any different from you.”

“Like hell they ain’t!” His wings hitched up. “Braeburn, one of us loves you and lives with you and is tryin’ to make a life here, but you’re treating me like I just waltzed up to you lookin’ for a job. Treating me like I’m disposable! Applebutt, I don’t want to spend my whole life dangled by bosses that get rid of me the moment they get sick of me or find out I’m gay or not perfect or–” He wrinkled his nose. “Or whatever! I had enough of that shit back in Chattahoofa. I don’t want it here, too.”

My mane stood on end. I thought back to everything that Chip and Juniper had told me. I thought about what it would mean for my trees and my livelihood if I turned Bronze loose on our hired help. I gulped and focused again. There was still a way to make it all work. “Wings, I promise I wouldn’t do that. But to be a good overseer, you need to know all this. It’s basic stuff, and if you don’t know what you’re doin’, then you won’t notice if they’re screwin’ up.”

He waved me off. “I’ll learn on the job. It can’t be that hard.”

“It is! And if you screw up, that’s a whole season’s worth of apples we could lose, and then I’d go bankrupt! Not to mention what would happen to Appleloosa.”

Bronze bared his teeth. “But I ain’t cut out for this, Braeburn! I’m a social pony. I’ve got social skills. You’ve seen ‘em, or did you forget who fuckin’ kept your parents from disowning you?”

I gasped at that.

He blinked a few times. He breathed heavily. “I know I can help you, Applebutt. You know how much help I can be. But you’re treating me like you–” His voice caught in his throat, and he stood stiff. “Like… y–”

His golden eyes had the same intensity as always, but they had a depth that I’d rarely seen, a cold, lonely depth that stretched on further than I could make out. Bronze’s ears drooped, and his wings sagged at his sides. His lips were parted. He took four breaths. And he looked as small as I’ve ever seen him. “You don’t think I can do it.”

My eyes flicked down and back to him. I felt something uncoil in my chest. Yeah, he was right. Terrible as I felt about it, I realized that that is what it came down to. But he’d said it. Not me. And I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else.

“You…” He shook his head. “You really don’t think I can do it, do you?”

“Bronze–”

“Why?” he whispered. Tears were already welling up in his eyes. “Why don’t…” He reached up and covered his face with his hat, then stared down at the dirt. His shoulders flexed, and I saw his chest and neck quiver. But when he looked up a moment later, he had that look again, the look of calculation and control, and his eyes burned hotter than the sun. Steady and intense, he asked, “Why don’t you think I can do it, Braeburn?”

That look of his washed over me. In an instant, I accepted that he was going to beat me again. And at that point, the floodgates had been breached, so there was no point holding back. “Chip and Juniper told me what happened.” I tried to relax my muscles so it wouldn’t hurt as much.

But his strike never came. I watched as he snorted and breathed heavily. He stomped on the ground. “Those mother-fuckers!” He shook his head all around and grit his teeth and screamed. “Fuck! Dammit, stupid, son of a bitch and his skank-ass wife just– Fuck!” He whipped towards me. “And you fuckin’ knew this whole time? I oughta beat your ass for lyin’ to me for so long!”

“Bronze–”

“And you trusted their word over mine? What the hell is wrong with you, Braeburn?”

“You just said that it was the truth, with your own words!”

He sucked in a breath, stunned. “No, I–” He shook his head some more. “I didn’t…” All at once, he undid his belt of tools and let it slough off him onto the ground. He turned and spread his wings. “Fuck this shit.”

He took off, and he was out of sight before I could orient myself. I dashed home to find he’d already left.

Bronze had taken his camping gear and a pile of rations, plus enough booze to kill a pony a few times over. I was worried sick, but there was so damn much to accomplish, and what the hell could I do? I asked Slate, privately and without too many details, if we should send out a search party, but he said it was probably Bronze just blowing off steam. Spring fever and all that.

I managed to not drink myself stupid, on account of having to show Fruit Shine and Collard Green all about the orchard. They asked a couple times about my black eye, but I just waved it off as another accident. I made a big meal that night and every night, hoping that he’d come back. I ate a lot of leftovers that week.

He finally showed up after dark four days later. Dinner was already put away, but I rushed to the door to greet him, and I threw my forelegs around him. “Wings! Thank Celestia you’re okay! Where were you? Gall, I’ve been worried sick about–”

He kissed me as hard as he ever had, and he held me tight. His breaths were ragged, like he was trying not to sob. Or maybe he was trying to control his rage. His wings wrapped us in a cocoon, and he pulled away to rub his face into mine. “Missed you, Applebutt. I need some comfort real, real bad.”

With a gentle touch to his face, just to make sure he was real, I said, “Wings, I’d like nothing more.”

We went upstairs right away and made love.

…Well, no. We had sex. It was drawn out and passionless.

We flopped onto the bed afterwards with space between us. Bronze massaged between his eyes like he had a migraine. And I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, mind blank. After we both caught our breath, Bronze turned, kissed my cheek, then turned back over and fell asleep. And I just… gave up and passed out, too. I never did find out what he’d done for those four days.

The whole world felt broken. It was like a crystal vase full of molten gold, but there was a crack at the base, caused by the heat, and all that beauty was leaking out and dropping into darkness. And I was just watching it, because I had no idea how to make it stop. I saw everything unraveling, but the choice I had to make – to save the gold or to save the vase – it felt too painful to go through with.

From then on, Bronze and I slept in the same building, but we didn't really live together. We didn't talk much at all. I kept up token efforts to teach him about the orchard, but my heart wasn't in it and neither was his. He stopped coming to the lessons entirely after a couple days, and with the spring thaw in the mountains, he spent sunup to sundown gathering clouds and making a hefty bag of bits. And like magic, everypony in town loved him again.

He came in late one night. He'd eaten at the Salt Block again. His shoulders were slumped, and I was making some cookies for him to take along the next day. It felt like the only way I could support him. He looked dead tired, and as he trudged towards the stairs, I called out, "Chip and June said they got some clouds from you this week. I'm real proud of you for not holding a grudge, Wings. Takes a big pony."

He just kept walking up the stairs. "Feh. 's just business."

The bedroom door slammed. Those were the only words he said to me that day.

But I finished those cookies and wrote him a note, and he took them the next day. I… I still had hope, foolish as it was.

Fruit Shine and Collard Green took to their new tasks well. They were eager to learn, happy to do some extra reading, and willing to listen to feedback. They were great, and it pained my heart how different it felt from teaching Bronze.

So, I kept ignoring the problems. I kept ignoring the choices I had to make. Now instead of booze, though, I threw myself into my work and told myself that Bronze and I would figure it out.

The time flew by, and more of that gold leaked out into darkness.

I came home on a Thursday night after a town meeting. As tired as I was, I was pleasantly surprised to find Bronze back already, sitting in the kitchen. I hadn’t spoken to him in two days. "Wings!” I shouted. “Good to see you."

He gulped a glass of whisky. He'd broken out the ice, and I wondered what the occasion was. "Welcome home, Braeburn," he said, his words very slurred.

My stomach dropped.

He set his glass down on the table, harder than he likely intended. "What, you scared?"

My jaw quivered. I thought about running, maybe finding an excuse to leave, but I was in no mood to lie to him again. "Yeah. I am."

His lip quivered, too. He turned to look out a window. "Well, no point beatin’ around the bush. One of us has to stallion up about this." He looked at me. "Braeburn, do I got a home here or not?"

That stabbed me right through the heart. My eyes softened. "Of course you do, Wings. I want this to be our house, our home."

He glared. "But you won't trust me with anything you really care about."

My body went slack. "Bronze, we've been over this. You need more time." I walked up to the table and put a hoof on it. "You need cultivating, just like the trees do."

He slapped my hoof away. "You're just fuckin’ toying with me, like everypony else!"

I rubbed my hoof. "I'm sorry! Bronze, I really am, but what would you do in my position, hm?"

"What, you mean like if I found a mine, and my so-called 'family' snatched nearly all the value from under my nose!?" He snorted. "Well, I suppose I would get burned! Because I trusted somepony I loved, but I guess I'm the only damned stallion in this country who thinks that way! You were supposed to be better than them, Braeburn!"

I froze. Fair or not, it reminded me what he'd been through and what this orchard probably meant to him. "Wings, please forgive me. I-I… I know this is hard, and I want you to succeed, but–"

"But I ain't worth the risk, huh!?" He picked up his glass and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I get it, Applebutt. Let there be no confusion there." He drained his whisky, and the ice struck his teeth. "I just moved out to the middle of nowhere, spent eight months giving my heart to somepony who can't–" He was crying. "...who can't decide whether I'm too much of a fuck-up wanderer to be worth keeping around, but you – you – you're the one taking all the risk." He threw his forelegs up. "Oh yeah! That sure as shit makes sense to me! Can't believe I was too dumb to see it before." He slumped in his chair and crossed his forelegs.

The tears welled up for me, too. "Wings, don't say that. I wanna make this work."

He looked up and whispered, "Do you?" His jaw tightened. "Or have you been learning a lot more than you let on about playing other ponies?"

Hoof to my heart, I told him, "I would never."

There was a beat, and his gleaming, golden eyes filled with tears. "I wanna believe you." He shook his head. "But you're just like everypony else."

He stood up and walked past me. I reached for him, but he recoiled and dodged my touch.

As he climbed the stairs, he shouted back, "You've got one more chance, Braeburn." He marched upstairs, and the bedroom door slammed so hard it shook the house.

I was utterly paralyzed. I bet I stood in my kitchen for twenty minutes, still as a statue, until my legs got stiff and I flopped down in the living room. My mind had burned down to ashes, and as I tried one more time to weigh the needs of my orchard, my town, and myself against the needs of Bronze and our relationship, I cursed all the time I’d wasted. I’d spent months drinking away the time with the pony I loved, because making decisions was just too damn hard for me, and now, it felt like I was trying to catch the last few grains of sand in an hourglass. But I had nothing left. No creativity, barely any patience, nothing left to say. I didn’t want to give up my orchard, but Bronze didn’t want to be patient. I didn’t want to give up my coltfriend, but I had a whole town to think about. It all swirled together. I couldn’t even cry. The emotions were all too riled up, too mixed to even get out. I was just… paralyzed. I still couldn’t make a choice.

And that’s how the exhaustion took me. I slept on the couch that night. Our couch. The one we always cuddled on. I slept on it cold and alone, and I didn’t dare move.

And midmorning, I woke up to stomping hooves coming down the stairs. I snapped up and dashed to the kitchen. Even then, I thought I could just get back to normal and not have to decide.

Bronze didn't acknowledge me as he came down the stairs, but I could feel the heat coming off him from halfway across the house. He walked towards the entryway, and when I turned, I saw his wings up, his head low, and both his travel bags at his sides.

The realization seized me, and I dashed to him. "Wings, don't go!"

He half-turned his head with a snort that stopped me in my tracks. He paused once he knew I wouldn’t come closer. "I'm so…" He wouldn't look at me. I heard him grit his teeth. "...fucking disappointed in you, Braeburn."

My blood ran cold. “You… what?”

Bronze hung his head. “I believed in you, Applebutt. I thought you would–” He wiped at his face with a fetlock. “–believed you’d come up and apologize last night. I opened the door and everything. I wanted to… believe it could work.”

“Wings,” I whispered. “It can. You matter to me.” I sighed. “It’s hard, because the orchard–”

“You still think this is about some fuckin’ trees?” he spat as he scowled at me. His eyes were on fire. “Braeburn, I just want you to apologize.”

I was stunned. I knew it wasn’t just about the trees, but… it already all seemed so broken.

His face twisted in a snarl. “But you can’t even fuckin’ do that!” As he shouted, he flapped his wings and spun faster than I’ve ever seen anypony move, and his right foreleg met my jaw.

I stumbled to the side and tasted blood. “Gah!” My eyes wrenched shut, and I threw a foreleg up to cover my face.

“Why!? Why ain’t I good enough, Braeburn!?” There was a blow to my stomach. “After everything I’ve done for you, w-w-why–” He was trying so hard not to cry.

There was… screaming. There were… more blows. I honestly…

I don’t remember it. Not those moments. Everything was cold. I was tired, exhausted. All the desire to help in the world didn’t mean anything if I couldn’t get the words out. I was in pain. I was numb. It was the last few moments I would spend with Bronze in our house, and they… they slipped away.

My body ached. It was a dull pain. I knew it would hurt more later. One of my ribs felt a little like my leg had. But the only thing I could feel was myself reaching out to him.

I picked myself up off the floor. I must have fallen at some point. “Wings…”

He turned and bucked me, right on my cutie mark. Another bruise. Another souvenir. I didn’t even scream that time.

Bronze faced the door. His voice was quiet. “I still love you, Applebutt. But you’ve failed me.” He shook his head. “And I can’t stand to live with somepony who don’t trust me.”

It’s downright unbelievable, ain’t it? A stallion losing his temper and beating you senseless, then saying he loves you and going on about trust. I get it now. It’s how he maintained control. It’s how he comforted himself at my expense, how he made me the bad guy. But it is so, so damn hard to see it when the pony you love is leaving you.

Bronze picked up his bags, still facing away. “I’ll come back when you apologize.” He opened the door without looking back. “I–” He paused. “I love you, Applebutt.”

And despite everything, I told him the truth. “I love you, too, Wings.”

His head hung, and he walked out the door and took flight. He never looked back.

The door closed with a gentle click. My whole house was silent.

And yet, I’d swear that I could still hear him. All his words of rage and pain, his coaching, the times he comforted me, the compliments, the stories, the complaining about the work, the little growls in my ear, the sound of him laughing at an absurd story or panting while we made love… I could have sworn that I heard it all, but it was just bouncing around in my head.

Because he was gone. My coltfriend of eight months, a mender of families, a drinker, a gentlestallion, an abuser, a cloudbringer, fighter, town hero, somepony who filled my life with light and fear and adventure, a pony that I had thought I would grow old with…

Gone.

All because when the time had come, I didn’t make a choice. I hadn’t been honest. I had let fate play its hand, always trying to be blameless of the outcome and avoiding what I feared most. But in making no choice, I had made the worse choice of them all.

So, I paid the price for it. I slumped down on my floor, and I cried with nothing but memories, injuries, and the ghost of his last words to remember him by.