Sensation - Appleloosa

by Vivid Syntax

Chapter 16 - The Art of Conversation

“I love you, Soarin’.”

Those were the first words I spoke when he woke up. As he joined me by the window, I held onto that feeling for dear life. We went back and forth on how silly it all was, how we both knew what was happening, but Soarin’ had been right. I had to say it. I had to make it real, for the both of us.

“I love your sense of humor. I love how much you care about me, even if it means you don't get what you want. I love how handsome you are and how you show me so many things I don't know about." I trembled. "I l-love how you make me feel when I'm around you. I love you." I felt myself shaking. "But I'm leavin' you."

…

I got the clean break that I wanted. If you remember nothing else about Soarin’ Windsong, remember this: there is nothing he can’t do. When it came time, he let me go. There were tears, of course. Laughs, too. I even gave him my hat to remember me by, since that dang fool still hadn’t gotten one for himself.

In the midst of it all, he was still looking out for me. Half slumped over, he told me, "You don’t have to face Bronze on your own. You have a team, Braeburn. They're all on your side, and… and I'm never going to stop rooting for you."

There is not a spiteful bone in his body. There I was, bringing him face to face with loneliness, and all he could think was to remind me that I would be okay, that I had good ponies on my side. Even if it felt like I was leaving my heart in that hotel room, he made sure I knew I could carry on.

That’s love right there. And that’s what gave me the strength to walk out the door for what I thought would be forever.

The world felt quieter as I stood on the hotel’s threshold. The city noise was muted. The vibrant smells and colorful buildings had gone dull. And me? I felt numb. The only spark in me was the thought, 'Soarin' loves me enough to let me go. I won't let him down.' I took a deep breath, said to myself, "Eyes forward," and took my first steps into the light.

The trip to the train station was painfully uneventful. It felt like something more was supposed to happen, like I should get mugged or nearly get hit by a cab, but it was just… nothing. It was over.

I kept feeling for my hat, thinking I'd forgotten it, but I laughed at myself each time when I realized that it wasn't mine anymore. Being hatless helped me blend in, honestly. The train station was already packed with folks trying to get home before the real rush on Monday. I hesitated at the ticketing window, and Soarin’s words rang in my head. He was right. If nothing else, our Equestrian tour together showed me that. For what I was facing, I knew I’d need my whole team on my side. I told the cashier, “One for Hoofenburgh, please.”

From wandering the platforms to getting a quick breakfast at an overpriced, greasy, diner at the station, nopony asked me who I was or where Soarin' was hiding (and it would stay that way, thanks to some quick thinking from Big Blue and a favor from a kindly ex-marefriend of his). I sat on the bench next to a young couple reading their magazines. They didn’t even look up. I waited for the train alone. I was back to being a nopony.

It gave me time to think clearly, something I'd had precious little of the past couple months. And yet, nothing came. My head and chest were empty. I idly spun my ticket in my hooves. "Back to Appleloosa," I mumbled. "Home." Everything still felt dull. I'd left my heart in Baltimare.

The train was stuffed with ponies. Everyone was tired from a full weekend, so they didn't have time to notice me. It was just as well. I didn’t notice any of them, either, and I barely noticed when the train pulled into Hoofenburgh.

It felt wrong dragging myself to Auntie Crisps’ again unannounced – and to be clear, “dragging” is the operative word there – but she spotted me on the road, so I didn't have time to turn and run. She galloped up to me with a big smile.

I waved when she got close. "Hey there, Auntie Crisp. Sorry to–"

"Oh, shush. Hugs first." She threw her forelegs around me. She was covered in dirt and smelled like the orchard, just like farmer should be. "I'm always happy to see you."

I was shocked how hard I squeezed her back, and even more so that I couldn't bring myself to let go. I remembered Soarin's voice. 'It's okay.'

I breathed.

It was like she could sense when I was finally ready. Auntie Crisp spoke evenly and quietly, like she was worried her voice could shatter a room full of crystal. Like usual, she could read me like a book. "Did it happen again?"

"No,” I whispered. I cast my eyes to the dirt. “It was different this time. It was better.” My whole barrel suddenly ached. “But it hurts much worse."

She gave me a little laugh, the kind you give a foal when they injure themselves on the playground so that they know it'll be okay. "That's always the way, ain't it?"

I insisted on not keeping her from her work, and she insisted on keeping me company. Apples are stubborn, so after some negotiation, we agreed that I'd help her all afternoon, then we'd knock off early to make a nice dinner. "Since you're helping, it'll go twice as fast." It wouldn't, and we both knew it, but that was as much of a concession as I could get from her.

We spent the afternoon taking core samples from a few trees to test their health. The Springsweets still needed extra care, and even if a lot of the specifics went over my head, I loved learning about the science of it all.

That night, I gave her the rest of the story in the parlor. I don’t hardly remember talking about it. It felt like I was a piano player, hitting every note with perfect precision but somehow missing the life behind the music. She listened, and she gave me more hugs than I can count. I needed every single one.

When I'd finished, she set a hoof on my shoulder. "That pegasus really left a mark on you, didn't he?"

I laughed. "I could probably do with a few less marks. Seems like I'm getting quite a few these days."

"Aren't some of them good, though?"

My foreleg itched, but it was quickly replaced with the memory of Soarin’ holding me the previous night. One last time. "I suppose, but I'm doubting myself on just about everything these days."

She chuckled. "And yet you're still wearing that stud, I see."

I hadn’t felt the weight of it until she mentioned it. I reached up and touched it, and my memories fluttered to the day I’d gotten it. I looked back at Auntie Crisp, and she nodded in return. She was holding back and waiting for me to get to the right conclusion. I swallowed. “You’re gonna say he’s still with me. You want me to know he’s still thinkin’ of me. That he’s still wearin’ his stud, too.” I held a hoof to my heart. “You want me to know that he’s going to be with me forever.”

Her smile turned into a smug little smirk. “Did you ever doubt it?”

I flicked my ear and felt it again. “Never.”

She leaned in and pulled my head close, so that she could give me a kiss on the forehead, like she had ever since I was a foal. “Keep it in your heart.”

I stayed overnight. Didn’t sleep, of course, but at least I was someplace familiar. I didn’t cry that night. I think it was because it didn’t feel real yet, even after talking about it. Everything felt like the few moments when you wake up from a dream, where you’re still getting acclimated to reality. It was a floaty feeling, like a beach ball in the water. Auntie Crisp brought me some herbal tea at around midnight when she realized I was awake (or maybe it was intuition), and she kept me company far longer than I felt I had the right to. And once she was gone, I lay back down, and I traced my stud with my hoof. “Keep it in my heart,” I repeated. “I will, Big Blue.”

I packed up the next morning, much to Auntie Crisp’s protests, but she relented when I told her that I needed to keep moving. After sending a quick letter to Slate about my eventual return, I took the early train to Ponyville. I half-slept in my seat from sheer exhaustion and only woke up as the announcement was made that we were pulling up to the station. For old time’s sake (and because I’d learned not to trust Little Bloom), I hopped off the train about a mile outside the town as it slowed down. The attendant saw me, and she was spittin’ mad, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Like usual, I found Big Mac out in the fields. He was weeding the carrots under an oppressive summer sun, and the air was perfumed with the smell of fresh hay. I hid behind a tree and hissed, “Psst. Cousin!”

“Bah!” He jumped with a fright, then looked all around. “Uh… Hello?”

I snickered. “Here, dummy.” I stepped from behind the tree.

“Braeburn!” He trotted over to me and gave me a big hug. “Aw, and here I am flat-hoofed. Didn’t know you were comin’.” He paused, and went stoic. “You on the run again?”

“Not quite.” I let my bags slump off my shoulders. “I’ve, uh… Soarin’ and I…”

He snorted. “He didn’t mistreat you, did he?”

I shook my head. “Just the opposite. He treated me with nothin’ but respect. He made sure I’m gettin’ what I need, but that means, well…” I flicked my ear to feel the stud. My eyes fell.

Mac shifted onto his right side. “Means what?”

Folks had always said it was supposed to get easier with time and retelling. Whenever I’ve grieved, that’s been the advice. And yet, here I was, and the weight of it was heavier than it had been with Auntie Crisp. I had to push it out of my mouth. “Well, we ain’t together no more.”

Mac straightened up. “Oh, my. You, uh… you okay?”

“Hasn’t really hit me yet, I don’t think.” I shrugged. “Well, it has, maybe a bit, but it’s windin’ up for another blow.” I met his eyes. “Soarin’ gave me some advice, and I think it’s good. That’s why I’m here.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “So why you hidin’ out in the trees?”

“I’d like to talk to my whole family, minus Bloom.” I gasped and waved a hoof. “N-n-not that I don’t like her! It’s just, uh… She’s…”

“Haha!” He threw his head back in laughter. “Naw, you ain’t wrong. I get it. Hm…” He tapped his chin. “I bet I can get her to go to a sleepover tonight. Do you mind waitin’ out here for a while?”

Getting a filly to go see her friends is like bucking an apple off a stick. AJ helped out this time and took Bloom and her friends on a campout, and they didn’t suspect a thing.

That night, around the kitchen table and some peach cobbler, I told the story again to Granny and Big Mac. I’d still expected it to hurt less this time. I was wrong. I shook and rattled my silverware as I neared the end. “And he let me go. It hurt him. I know it damn near killed him. But he did it.”

Granny shook her head. “Aw, he didn’t ‘let you’ do nothin’, Braeburn.”

My hoof slammed on the table, harder than I would have liked. “He did, though, Granny!” I had never shouted at Granny before. “You don’t know how hard that was for him!”

I think she would have scolded any other member of the family for acting out like that, but that night, she just waved it off. “Pfft, I don’t give a sack of applesauce about some flighty bird-kisser.” Please forgive the slur. She’s from a different time. “Braeburn, you chose to leave. You gotta stand by that decision, ‘stead of heapin’ it all on Soarin’.”

Big Mac sat with his forelegs folded. “She’s right, Braeburn.”

“Durn tootin’! I knew you were the smart one.”

I fiddled with a cup of cocoa. "I'm still worried about him."

Big Mac raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Mac, don't be cruel." I looked up and saw Mac had that soft little smile of his. He was waiting for me to understand something, too. I wondered if he’d learned it from Auntie Crisp. "I don't want him to suffer."

Mac just nodded. "Is he the most important pony to you?"

I looked back at my mug. "Yeah. I think he is."

"More important than yourself?"

My voice caught in my throat.

Mac continued. "And think about what Soarin' would say."

I sighed. He had me there. I hadn’t stopped thinking about what Soarin’ would say since I’d left. It was his words that rang in my head and kept me going. Too bad for me, I don’t think I’d really listened. I’d clung to the sound of his voice, sure, and I’d taken his advice. But that wasn’t what was really at the heart of it.

I relaxed my jaw and mumbled, "He'd want me to take care of myself."

"Don't mumble," Granny chided.

"Sorry.” I unpacked my thoughts one at a time. “He'd want me to take care of myself first. He knows I need it. He… He wants me to be okay before I ever worry about him." I ran a hoof through my mane. "I ain't so good about putting myself first, though."

"Ain’t that the truth. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get you a Hearth's Warming present?" She sat up and waved her hoof around. "Every year it’s some nonsense about 'Oh, just come fer a visit' or 'Your hospitality is enough.' Braeburn, I'm old! I don't wanna travel, I just wanna send ya' a nice broom or somethin'! Now what was I sayin'?" She scratched at her neck. "Oh, right. The true meaning of Hearth's Warming is family. Or… somethin'."

I laughed. "Thanks, Granny. I'll try to pick better gifts." I turned to Mac. "And I'll try to take care of my needs. If I can figure out what those are."

Mac leaned onto the table. "So what comes first?"

I had a long, hard think about it. "I gotta tell Ma and Pa about us. About how we–" The sadness welled up again, but I pushed it back down. "...how Soarin' and I aren't together. They deserve to hear it from me. I ain’t makin’ that mistake again."

Mac smiled. “Eeyup.”

I spent all of Wednesday with Big Mac. He told Bloom that he was making another trip out to Our Town, and the two of us spent the night camping out in the wilderness. We didn’t say much, and we didn’t need to. Any time I started worrying about Soarin’, Mac would ask again: was I going to stand by what I knew was right? I would think of Soarin’ and what he was sacrificing for me, and I always replied, “Yes.”

We returned the next morning in time for the train out to Haulahay. Bloom was with her friends, AJ gave me all kinds of hugs, and Mac gave me a solid pat on the shoulder that helped me stand up a little straighter. Granny offered to introduce me to a friend of hers from her bridge club that was still a “dynamo in the sack, despite his age.” I politely declined, and I took special care in not asking how she knew something like that.

And back on the train I went, another day with myself and my thoughts. They weren’t silent this time. I didn’t openly weep on the train, mostly out of fear of drawing attention from the dozen or so other passengers, but more and more, it felt like the sadness was an army, and I had nothing but a toothpick to fight them off.

Outside of Haulahay, I stayed in the same motel that Soarin’ and I had stayed at before. I asked for the same room, in fact, but it wasn’t available, and I collapsed into bed and didn’t rise until the next morning. My dreams that night were beautiful and cruel.

I got to my parents’ front door in the late morning after a whole lot of dawdling. As fate would have it, half a continent away, my lover was meeting his mother, too, not twenty minutes earlier than me. I like to think our hearts were still intertwined like that, even if we didn’t know it.

The knocking came slowly this time, but Ma answered quick, like always. “Braeby! You–” She saw I was alone.

It all washed over me again. My tear ducts filled. My shoulders were tight. My mind raced with images of what she’d have to tell her friends now about the gay son who couldn’t hold a relationship to save his life. I had flashbacks to my previous visits, and I told myself that they’d worked out in the end. But unlike when I’d had Bronze and Soarin’, I thought I was completely alone.

But I wasn’t. Ma’s eyes drooped at the sides, but she forced a smile and held a hoof to her heart. She knew right away. “Come on inside, son. You’re home.”

I hugged her right in the doorway for Celestia knows how long. I wrenched my eyes shut, keeping the emotions in check, even as my throat tightened and my legs shook. I didn’t even hear Pa wander up and hug me, too, but I sure as hell felt him.

I told myself I still had to be the adult, because my parents weren’t ready for me to explain away another breakup. At the back of my mind, wicked thoughts stirred about them scolding me, their whore son, for sleeping and splitting on another stallion, but it didn’t come to pass.

Instead, we went inside, settled in the family room with some herbal tea, and Ma and Pa sat and listened to the story. It was the third time in four days, and this time, it felt like somepony was pulling my muscles out of my body like a long strand of spaghetti. I kept myself from sobbing – kept telling myself I had to stay strong – but the tears still flowed. Pa offered me a drink, but I declined, and he didn’t offer again.

At the end of it, I wiped some snot on my fetlock and finally looked up. “So that’s it. We’re done.” My neck ached from how much I’d been hunched over. I looked up at them, holding hooves opposite me on the couch. “Granny says that he didn’t let me go, that I was the one who decided, but I feel like, well, like it was a team effort, I guess.”

The silence was thick in the air, like curdled butter.

Pa grunted. “Proud of you, Braeburn. That’s a tough loss.” His jaw moved, but I don’t think he had anything else to offer.

He was trying his best, and I had to give him credit for that. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He squeezed Ma’s hoof. “I know it hurts, son, but…” He sucked on the inside of his lips. He wanted a cigar, badly, but he was holding off on it for my sake. “But you’ll be okay. You’ve got a lot goin’ for you back in Appleloosa. You’ve got friends there. Good ponies.”

The thought of Appleloosa tumbled through my brain. It all felt torn to pieces and floating around in chaos, like a snow globe made from memories. The only solid thing, the only detail I could be sure of, stood like a statue in the middle of my thoughts. “Well, and Bronze, too.”

“Then I’m goin’ back with you.”

I sat right up. Ma’s head pulled way back as she stared at Pa. She looked him up and down, but then she set her jaw and her eyes, and turned back to me. “Double for me, Braeby.”

There hadn’t been any hesitation this time. That’s what finally made the dam burst. “Thank you,” I choked out before it flooded out of me.

I swear, I got more hugs that week than any other time of my life. Every single one felt genuine. They never lost their warmth. Of course Soarin’ was right. I did have a team, one that had been right in front of me the whole time, if only I’d put in the work to trust them. I can never thank him enough for helping me see that.

Ma and Pa offered to drop everything and accompany me. I declined, saying that I needed to have this conversation with Bronze on my own, but that their support meant the world to me. They were no less stubborn than Auntie Crisp, though. They said they weren’t going to leave me high and dry, not this time, and they insisted on finally visiting Appleloosa the following weekend. They wanted the whole tour and everything. I don’t know what it is about my coltfriends and fixing things with my parents, but I’m a damn lucky stallion.

I spent two days in Haulahay. We talked about Soarin'. We talked about Appleloosa. They offered over and over to be with me when I faced Bronze. I told them the truth: knowing they were willing to fight for me was enough.

I lay in bed on Monday night. I was home, someplace familiar, but something didn’t quite sit right. "I got two homes now, I suppose." My chest got all heavy. "Maybe three."

My foreleg draped across my stomach, the other one behind my head. The ceiling was dark. At one time, my Pa had painted little stars with glow-in-the-dark paint, but when I’d gotten to be a teenager, I’d wanted them painted over. Too cool for beautiful stars and all that. I regretted it almost immediately. Sometimes, though, if I squint hard, I think I can still see a little of that glow coming through.

“Miss you, Big Blue.” I wondered about him going for a flight at night, among those beautiful stars. It was a danger for sure, with no way to keep from running into other pegasi. “That wouldn’t scare you one bit, would it?” I laughed. “Naw, you’d dive-bomb and twirl and spin and… whatever else you’d do. Deep in the dark. Never afraid.” My eyes closed. “You’re not alone, either, Soarin’. You’ve got a team, just like I’ve got mine.”

I lifted my head and looked at my door. My whole life, I always closed it when I went to bed. This was only the second time I’d left it open, just a crack. Subconsciously, I think. But this time, Soarin’ didn’t come in.

My head hit the pillow again. “You take care, Blue. Heck, maybe I can ask Jonah to tell Skywise to tell you how much I’ve been thinking about you for…” I blinked at the moonlight. “Has it been a week already?” My head rocked against the pillow. “Guess it has. I ain’t seen you for eight days.” I chuckled. “Still on my mind as much as ever.”

But he wasn’t the only one I was thinking about. I swallowed. “I’m seein’ Bronze tomorrow, Soarin’. I’m…” I didn’t know what I was. I hadn’t had time to focus on it. The whole week, I’d been with the ponies that loved me. I’d been thinking about the one who’d let me go. There hadn’t been room in my head for fear of an ex-coltfriend, a relationship that felt like a sand-encrusted relic.

“I ain’t afraid, Big Blue.” I scratched at myself. Ma wouldn’t have approved, but she wasn’t around. “I’ll admit, it’s a mighty uncomfortable thing to face. I suppose that’s why I haven’t. It’s been easier to relish our memories. Heh. Not sure I’ll ever get over you, Soarin’.”

The air buzzed. I could hear the crickets outside, the small creak of the house against the wind, and the stillness of my room. My muscles were relaxed. The taste of toothpaste and cream pie lingered on my tongue. I could smell his feathers, just a little, or maybe it was my imagination.

But I was at ease. “Or… maybe I will someday.” And as sad as it was, I let myself smile.

At that moment, I think I was over Bronze. Soarin’ wasn’t a rebound – I will never let him think it was – but he’d shown me a different way. I didn’t need Bronze in my life anymore. Soarin’ had released… No, we’d let each other go, and I was standing by my decision. And I could let Bronze go, too.

But I wasn’t quite ready to be done with my blue featherhead. “Mind if I dream about you tonight, Big Blue?”

I could practically hear him say, “Sure, but wet dreams only.”

I snorted, then turned and buried my head in the pillow to stifle the laughter. I marveled at how that pony had gotten into my head over the past months. I fell asleep to dream about him.

…

And dammit, I was so pent up from being with family all week that dream Soarin’ got his wish.

Despite Ma and Pa’s objections, I left on my own that Tuesday. I wasn’t alone, though. I kept Soarin’ in my heart, along with all my family, and I didn’t fear.

That train ride was the quietest I’ve ever been. I looked out the window and let the world pass me by. I noticed everything, from the whispered conversations of ponies nearby, to the difference in temperature between the car and the glass window, to the places where my vest touched my body. I felt at one with everything around me. I imagined it must have been how boulders felt. And I felt about as tough and unshakable as one that day.

As the scenery rolled by, it became more and more familiar. I started identifying rocks that I’d passed by dozens of times in my life. The closer I got to Appleloosa, the more I felt my heart bloom. Something about the familiarity, the need for hard work, the call of settling someplace other ponies couldn’t – it all called to me. This was where I belonged. It still is, no matter how often I need to go to Canterlot to help it grow.

I opened the window a crack and smelled the dusty air. It filled my lungs and swirled inside me and filled up my whole body, like the first breath I’d taken after spending months underwater.

I didn’t feel lonely, as weird as that was. I’d expected to. But I thought about Ma and Pa, Big Mac, Aunt Honeycrisp, and most of all, I thought about Soarin’. They believed in me. They’d all heard the truth, and they were still with me, right behind me, cheering all the way and giving me space to do what I needed to do. For them, and for myself, I could stand up to Bronze.

About halfway between Haulahay and Appleloosa, a blue earth pony stallion swaggered up and sat down next to me. “Vacation?” he asked.

I looked over at him. He was cute, for sure, but it felt different. “Goin’ home, actually.”

We chatted a bit, and I gave him the schtick about all the things he should do while he was there. He introduced himself as River Rush, and he finally asked what I knew was coming. “So, I’ve heard there’s this pony out there who’s famous for welcoming outsiders, if you catch my drift.”

I nodded. “You’re lookin’ at him.”

“Oh! Uh…” He blushed. “Lucky me, then! You still doing the traditional welcome?” He flashed a smile that I think he meant to be sexy.

I considered him. The thought ran through my mind that, once I’d talked with Bronze, I would be single again. I could do what I wanted. And yet… “Sorry to disappoint, stranger, but I’m not in the game right now.”

“Aw, shoot,” he said with friendly dramatics. “That Wonderbolt ruined you?”

I shook my head. “Not ruined, River. Just… gave me a lot to think about.” I saw another stallion, a buff-looking unicorn, glancing our way. He had this look of frustration on his face, the same look you get in a bar when somepony else hits up a handsome stallion before you work up the nerve. I jerked my head towards him. “But you ain’t struck out just yet.”

River looked over his shoulder, and the unicorn looked away. They exchanged near-misses for a while, until they finally met eyes and smiled at each other. River looked back at me. “Well, thanks for your honesty. Looking forward to the weekend.” He stood up to go chat with his new prospect.

I chuckled. “You have fun, now, River.”

And I wanna be clear: there’s nothing wrong with casual sex, at least not in my book. My fellow townsfolk may disagree, but we all need comfort sometimes, right? Love blossoms in different ways. Sometimes you court a pony like folks have done for generations, and you get your fairytale. Sometimes your cart gets overturned by a big blue idiot, and you have the adventure of a lifetime, full of twists and turns and heartache. And sometimes, you bond with a stranger on a train over getting some ass out west.

That buff unicorn’s name was Halo, by the way. He and River got married this past June. Probably the strangest thank-you card I’ve ever gotten, but I cherish it all the same.

I didn’t hardly think for the rest of the train ride. I’d start to go down the road of what to say or how to act, but unlike every other moment in my life, I wasn’t worried about what somepony else would think. I didn’t feel like I needed to prepare. I felt solid, like I was made of diamond, and everything came back to one thought, which I said out loud as the train rolled to a stop. “I’m ready.”

Bronze was waiting for me, of course, right on the train platform. He had a sparkly orange bag with gold tissue paper next to him, and he wore this smile that… Well, it reminded me of games of cards. It was the smile you wore when you knew you’d win the pot, and now the game was just getting your opponent to bet more.

Soarin’ once told me that he was worried about the train station, how he thought I’d throw myself at Bronze as soon as I stepped off. I laughed to myself at that. I understood his concern, but standing on the precipice, it felt ridiculous.

I grabbed my luggage and exited the train. Bronze breathed in deeply and said, “Sight for sore eyes. Good to see you again, Applebutt.”

I raised a hoof. “‘Braeburn’ is fine.”

It’s rare to see Bronze shaken up. He’s gotten real good at hiding it. “Aw, well… Okay, Mr. Braeburn,” he said with a wink.

I took a few more steps onto the platform so other folks could get off, and Pridesong was there to welcome everypony. He started his whole tourism speech before he saw me. “Braeburn! Welcome back!” His face went pale when he realized I was talking to Bronze. His ears folded down. “Do you, uh, want to take over the tour?”

I smiled. “I’m good, Pride. And thank you, I’m happy to be back.” I turned back to Bronze. “I hear you’ve left some things in my house. Wanna grab ‘em quick?”

Bronze took a half-step back. “Sure, App– Braeburn.” His hoof knocked the bag. “Oh, I got you a gift.”

“Let’s save it for back at my place, Bronze.” I grabbed my luggage, even though he made a move to help, and we walked towards my house.

I could feel him next to me. It was like a giant machine, tailor-made to calculate and manipulate, to find just the right buttons to push to get what he wanted. There was a danger to him, an unpredictability, thrilling in its own way, yet one I’d found terrifying in the past, like he’d been a sword hanging above my head that could drop at any moment. Now, walking towards the house I hadn’t seen in two months, he didn’t feel any less dangerous, but I’d realized something: as long as I kept my wits about me, I could step out from under the sword.

Bronze carried the sparkly bag. “Slate told me you were comin’ home.”

“Or you stole his letters,” I responded casually without looking at him.

He paused, then laughed. “Can ya’ blame me? I was so excited to see you again.”

‘Wish I could say the same.’ I could have said it out loud. I could have turned his cruelty back on him, and I bet a lot of folks would tell me I should have. But I’m not that kind of pony. “I’m glad you’re doin’ okay, Bronze.” That much was true.

We arrived at my house, and I unlocked the door. Walking in, I could feel it. The air was stale. Nopony had been inside. That was a comfort. “Come on in. We should probably talk.”

I felt an intense, needy energy swell behind me, and it made my spine tingle. Bronze stepped in after me, set the bag down, and immediately pressed my back up against the wall, his chest against mine. I dropped my luggage to the floor as I took him all in. He was the same, muscular stallion with the more gorgeous wings in Equestria and eyes that were made of magic. His breath was hot, rough, and dripping with lust. “Been waitin’ a long time, Applebutt.” He closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

And like I was waving away a butterfly, I held a hoof to his lips. “No.”

Bronze froze.

And I kept going, even and calm as a stream in springtime. “You ain’t my coltfriend, Bronze. We need to talk.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t back off. “The hell did that Wonderbolt do to you, Braeburn? You ain’t a cruel pony.”

It’s amazing what a little experience can do for you. I stared him down. “You’re right. I ain’t. That’s why you deserve the truth.” My voice gained a slight edge. “Now, let me go.”

Bronze held himself against me, then sneered and backed off. He mumbled, “The thanks I get…” He picked up the bag and walked towards the couch. Our couch, the one we’d always cuddled on.

Bronze had taught me too well for his own good, or maybe my time with Soarin’ had taught me to face things as they are, full of beauty and pain at the same time. In either case, I knew what that couch signified. He wanted to be comfortable, to relive the good times, and to put me at ease. But this wasn’t supposed to be an easy conversation. “Let’s chat at the kitchen table, Bronze.”

He looked back at me. The bag hung from his teeth. He shrugged. “Probably better that way. Might wanna grab a few shot glasses.”

‘Not a bad idea,’ I thought, and then I tensed so hard that a blood vessel popped in the back of my head. I felt pain, immediate and warm, and I took a deep breath. ‘No. None of that shit today. You don’t need it.’

“You okay?”

I sighed and walked into the kitchen. “I’ll be honest: not really, but we’re here, and I ain’t gonna run from it.” The chairs squeaked as we pulled them out and sat opposite each other. He set the bag on the table in front of me, but I said, “I can’t accept that, Bronze.”

He nudged it with his nose. “At least open it, Braeburn. I promise it ain’t anything nefarious.”

Maybe he believed that. Regardless, I reached in and pulled out a bottle. Cinnamon whisky, the same as he’d given me at our first Hearth’s Warming together. My mouth watered, but I repeated, “I can’t accept this. I’m sorry, Bronze, but I’m trying to quit.”

He sneered. “Why?”

I drew into myself like a turtle. It was the first crack in my confidence. “I don’t wanna say.”

Bronze raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were gonna be honest.”

“Yeah, I–”

“So be honest.” I looked up at him. He was attentive. Focused. He took his hat off and set it on the table, and I saw that beautiful mane bounce on his head, clumped a little from the desert dust. His gaze settled back on me. “Go on. It’s just you and me. You’re safe here.”

I unclenched my jaw. “I’ve made some bad decisions w–”

“I’ll say,” he spoke over me, and I flinched.

“–when I’m drunk, Bronze. When I’m drinkin’ at all. When it’s a habit. It’s never a good sign.”

“So you’re gonna fight it all alone? Braeburn, you really think you can do that?” He leaned forward on the table. “I’ve seen what happens when you get bored. I admit, I should have done more to stop you from bein’ so reckless.” He held a hoof to his heart. “That’s on me. But you lost your damn mind on that stuff. If you’re serious about this, I don’t want you to be without support.” Everything he said was so comforting. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. He knew that.

I shook my head. “I don’t want your help, Bronze. We drank a lot together, and–”

He snorted. “You blamin’ this on me?”

“Not at all! Bronze, I know you–”

“I just want the best for us, Braeburn.” He shook out his mane. “And I know you do, too. I know you don’t want either of us to hurt.”

I stumbled on my words. “That’s… true.”

My mind whirled. He saw everything, plain as day, and he was two steps ahead of me. He was defending himself against anything I could say by framing it as an attack against him, making me doubt my own feelings, because what kind of pony would I be if my true feelings ended up hurting somepony I cared about?

That’s why we practice, I guess. That’s why we gotta wreck a perfectly good relationship with a somepony we love, because it makes us ready for the next one. My wits came back to me, and I looked Bronze square in the eye. “But we can’t hide from the pain, Wings.”

He paused. He cast his eyes down. “You sound like you’re about to rip my heart out, Braeburn.”

"I want to tell you the truth, Bronze. I want you to know I’m speakin’ from the heart."

His voice dropped. "You keep sayin’ that. So tell me the truth: do you still love me?"

He'd set a trap for me. If I said yes, he'd have his hooks back in me and could blame everything in the past few months on my recklessness. If I said no, he'd call me out for lying and mistreating him. He said he wanted honesty, but I think the truth is the one thing he wasn't ready for. I nodded. "Just like I still love Soarin'."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His wings had been so tight and close to his body, but they dropped. His ears fell. Neither of us had expected the silence that followed.

I cleared my throat when I couldn’t take it anymore. "I know it's not the way you wanted. I–"

He grabbed the bottle of whisky and practically tore the top off, then shoved it in his mouth. He wasn't just taking a pull. He was chugging it.

My stomach turned with a phantom burning. "Bronze, stop that." He didn't. He drank a frightening amount of whisky as I stared at him, until I yelled, "Stop!"

"Why the hell should I!?" He slammed the bottle onto the table, hard enough to leave a mark. "Not like you wanted it! Not like you wanted me!" He wiped his mouth and threw his hoof around, swatting at the air. "This how you treat your coltfriends, Braeburn? Or am I just such garbage that it don’t matter? Would you treat Soarin' this way?"

I felt like wet paper. "Bronze, I wasn't trying to–"

"I don't give two shits what you're tryin', Applebutt, because look what you're doin'! Look what you're doin' to me!" He slapped his chest as he spoke. "I've been loyal to you, Braeburn! I could've left for good, but I knew it would hurt you. I waited for you for months. For months, I waited!" He jabbed a hoof at the window. "I went and worked the orchard – just like you said – and I learned! You think I liked it!? I did it for you, Applebutt. And you won't even consider what I have to say! How much I love you! How I've changed!"

It all felt so familiar. I started to collapse. My brain was fuzzy and disorganizes. My voice was weak. "I'm sorry, Bronze. I really, truly am."

He reached out and grabbed my hoof. "Just give me another chance, Braeburn. Please. Don't you owe me that much? After everything we've been through?"

I looked down at his hoof in mine. I loved the way our coats shone together in the light. "I want you to be happy, Bronze."

His voice got soft. "I want us to be happy, Braeburn. I'm here for you, right here, right now, when nopony else is.” That stung, but my heart knew he was wrong. “Can't we just try again? We're all we've got, Braeburn."

His grip was so strong and reassuring. I remembered all the times he'd held me, shielded me with those feathers of his. I remembered our dates and all the good times, and I…

I thought of Soarin'. I remembered this same feeling just a week prior, standing on the edge of a major decision, but now, I knew I could do what needed to be done. Bronze wasn't ready like Soarin' had been. Deep down, I knew that the two of us weren't right for each other.

And I remembered Honeycrisp, how she made sure I knew I would always be loved, Bronze or no. I thought about Granny and Big Mac, and how I needed to stand by my decisions and not be swayed. I thought of my parents, ready to accept me and welcome me back, ready to come visit when I needed them.

And again, I thought of Soarin'.

My eyes met Bronze’s. His eyes shimmered with a shifting uneasiness that I’d never seen. He was scared, just like Big Blue had been. But he was scared for himself. Bronze saw what he wanted, and he was willing to take it by whatever means he needed to use.

I finally realized: he’d convinced me to step under the sword again. He had me in his sights, and he’d been in control of the conversation since we’d sat down. But this time, I knew what he was doing, and I could stop it. “You’re doing it again.”

And just like that, I wasn’t under his spell anymore.

He coiled up like a viper. “Yeah, I’m trying to help you, Braeburn.”

I shook my head. My body tingled, down to my bones. My stomach felt like it had split in two, just to give me two different gut feelings. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to send him away. I wanted to give in and to stand up to him at the same time. And since my gut was no help at all, I followed my heart. “No. You’re tryin’ to control me.”

His wings began to fan out, the way they always do when a pegasus feels threatened. “It’s not control to be lookin’ out for your best interest, Applebutt. I’m just trying to help you see the truth.”

It had taken a lot out of me to bring that thought to the surface, more than I’d been ready for. My nerves felt frayed, and I said, louder than I intended, “I know the truth already!”

Bronze was as unshakeable as I’d tried to be. “Calm down,” he scolded. I didn’t even realize how riled up he was getting me. Even if I was resisting, he could still steer the conversation better than any Canterlot politician.

“No!” I nickered. My head felt hot, but with him on the defensive, all my feelings rushed to the surface, and my diamond facade shattered. “I’m right to be angry, Bronze. Hell, I’m pissed. You fuckin’ hurt me, Bronze!”

He stuck out his lower lip and shrugged. “You hurt me, too.”

I snarled, “I never swung at you! Never broke your damn leg.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He uncorked the whisky. “It was a fracture.” He took a short drink.

“Dra–” I was so hot I was choking on my words. “Dramatic!? Bronze, I’m scared of heights now! You gave me a black eye and a bruise! I’m still not comfortable in my own home, and I’ve been worried sick for months that you were gonna pull something while I was away, because how the hell do I know you wouldn’t, and then where would we be?”

With the slightest smirk and a cold stare from those sparkly eyes, Bronze casually slid the bottle of whisky towards me.

Still hot-headed, I snorted and grabbed it, then lifted it to my mouth without thinking. “You don’t know th–”

I stopped just before I tasted it. I could smell the fumes from the bottle. Almost cloyingly sweet, like candy, with spice that warmed my whole face. More than that, it brought me back in time. I remembered lying on the rug with him, laughing about how we’d made it through such a hell of a harvest season. I remembered making love in front of the fire. Exchanging gifts. Taking him home for Hearth’s Warming with Ma and Pa. I remembered loving him.

It was wonderful. It was a glimpse of paradise. And yet, I didn’t want it.

Gently, I set the bottle down. Slowly, I reached for the cork and resealed the alcohol inside.

Bronze’s eyes flickered between me and the bottle a few times. “You’re not just gonna let it go to waste, are ya’?”

My heart felt heavy. It was the same feeling I’d had with Soarin’, just days before. It was the feeling that told me it was time. It hurt. I knew I’d hurt him, too, and for all the things he’d done to me, I didn’t want to do it to him. But he had to hear it, just like I had to say it. And if I denied it any longer, he would get the better of me sooner or later. I had to do this for me.

I swallowed hard and sat up. “It wasn’t a waste, Bronze. None of it.”

He looked up and didn’t respond.

My body relaxed into my seat, and I forced myself to speak clearly. “I learned so much from you, Wings. Folks would probably call me a loon, but I’m grateful for what we had. You…” I glanced out the window, out to my orchard. “You’re a part of my life now. You showed me how to stand up for myself. How to have tough conversations. What real love felt like.” My head shook. “And you hurt me. Bad. And I wish you hadn’t, but here we are, and I grew from all that, too.”

I thought about telling him about my bruise: how, if he hadn’t given it to me, I would have never met Soarin’, the pony I loved even more than him. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to be cruel.

Bronze’s ears were down. “You’re talkin’ like it’s over.” He shook his head. “This conversation ain’t over. I ain’t done yet.”

“No, the conversation ain’t. But we are.”

He teared up, but he didn’t blink. Quietly, he asked, “Don’t you still love me, Braeburn?”

“I do. There’s a part of me that’ll always love you, Bronze.”

“I’m hopin’ it’s your whole heart.” He looked so small, then, like a colt who’d lost his mother, with two hooves in front of him on the table. Bronze had had it rough, and ultimately, I think he needed some comfort.

But I reminded myself that it couldn’t come from me. “I’m sorry, but it ain’t.”

…

And again, I’m grateful for the practice that Soarin’ had given me, because when the going gets tough, we always fall back on what we’ve done before.

That injured colt disappeared into a flash of anger. He grit his teeth. “So that’s it? Easy as that, kick me to the curb?”

I had to laugh bitterly at that. “This is anything but easy, Bronze.”

The air changed again. I was back to the times before Soarin’, when Bronze would storm in and threaten to tear down everything. My spine tingled. My shoulders drew in. I reminded myself that I’d been through this already, though I questioned the wisdom of telling my parents to stay home.

Bronze’s wings flared out, and he slammed the table. “Why!? Why can’t you just love me, Braeburn? This ain’t how it’s supposed to be!”

My eyes watered. I whispered, “I think it is.”

His eyes watered, too. He had raised a hoof to slam the table again, but as he leaned over it, he set his hoof down. “The hell does that mean?”

He loomed large over me. Throughout so much of our relationship, I relished his size and strength. It’s how he’d protected me. He was daring, confident, and stubborn enough to hold back a whole town’s fears and anger, so I wouldn’t have to face it myself. That’s not how we grow, though. Trees didn’t get to be big and hearty by being kept safe from the world. They take cultivation, and so do we.

I swallowed and looked up at him. His posture, his face, everything about him tried to project anger and pain. It all did, everything except his eyes. I still love those eyes. I think they must be magic. No matter how dark it gets, they have a light inside them. I hope it never gets extinguished.

…no matter how anypony might hurt him. “You learned, didn’t you?”

His wings drooped. “I don’t want to learn, Braeburn. I wanna be with you.”

“But you did learn, didn’t you?” I felt larger than him, like I was handling a newborn chick.

His jaw quivered, and he blinked. “I learned about the orchard, Braeburn, just like you said.”

“And what about ponies?”

He stared at me, and he sobbed. He collapsed into his chair with his forehooves on his temples.

I reached across the table and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bronze.”

He knocked my hoof away. “Another fuckin’ step on the journey, right?” He didn’t look up. “Another little episode, and I keep wanderin’. That how it’s supposed to be?”

I spoke as gently as I could. “Wings, Appleloosa can be your home. You’re still welcome here. The folks around here care about you.”

He snapped up. “But you don’t!”

Just as softly, I said, “You know that ain’t true, Bronze.”

Bronze deflated, because he did know. He knew that I cared deeply about him, and even despite that, I had decided to break it off. “Y–” He huffed. Words piled up on his tongue but died on his lips. He was looking for more anger, but he couldn’t find it.

I stroked his hoof. “We both learned from it, Bronze. You’ve got something to think about, but like you said: you’ve changed.” I didn’t fully believe it, but he needed to hear it. “You can keep changing. Keep growing. Don’t let this be the end.”

“No.” His head shook, faster and faster. “No, this ain’t the end. I ain’t givin’ up on you, Applebutt.” He stood and violently grabbed the whisky. “I’ve heard that damn story about growth so many times. No more.” He turned and walked.

I sighed and stayed at the table. “Don’t do this to yourself, Bronze.”

He continued walking. I didn’t follow. For a moment, I thought that would be the last I’d ever see of him, and my soul ached for it.

He rounded the corner towards the front door, and all I could see were the flicks of his tail and a few feathers. “I ain’t givin’ up on you, Braeburn. Not on us.”

Every bone in my body told me to call after him, to go comfort him, to keep the conversation alive. My heart knew what we needed, though. Soarin’ had taught me to let go.

His voice quivered, and he yelled. “I don’t care what it takes, Applebutt. I’m gonna prove to you that I’m worthy of you. And I’m leavin’ this damn whisky here, whether you like it or not.” He stood there, right on the threshold, for an awfully long time, grunting and shaking around, like he couldn’t bring himself to leave. “I-I want you to think of me when you drink it. Just promise me you’ll think of me sometimes, okay, Applebutt? Please?”

I had to remain silent, for both of us, as cruel as it felt.

The air felt like glass, and Bronze finally broke. “I said I ain’t givin’ up!” I heard the glass bottle knock hard on the floor. He threw open the door, and it slammed behind him.

…

I’ve told you before: I can’t hate him. I think he learned from what we had, whether he wanted to or not. But that learning and growth is uncomfortable. It’s never what we want at the time, to be shaken out of our beliefs, no matter how destructive they might be.

But on the other side, it’s glorious. The house felt brighter. Freer. I sucked in the air of my home – my home, and nopony else’s – and for the rest of the day, it felt like it had when I’d first moved in. Despite my loneliness, despite my worries about what was to come, I felt that little spark again. It was a comfort, the idea that my future was my own, to shape how I wanted. I had hope again. I felt my heart, and I flicked my ear to feel the weight of my stud earring. And after about ten minutes of catching my breath, I smiled and whispered, “I did it, Blue.”

I breathed easier that day. Everything felt like it had ended, like I’d turned the last page of a book, and I had given myself room to contemplate the story. For years, maybe for most of my life, there had been this buildup of something that I’d known I’d have to face. It’d been present in my thoughts ever since I’d known I’m gay, and I could never, ever see past it. What a relief to find that I had survived and that there was so much more of my life to live.

Of course, if I’d been paying attention, I’d have remembered: the Wonderbolts backstage passes were in the side pocket of my luggage, which had been sitting right by the door.

Comments

[dertoxbraid]

the guy learnt so much, he went out of his way to kick soarin’s shit in. how lovely of him!

that aside, loved reading this chapter. masterful writing—as always. the confrontation with bronze was very tense. and despite his animosity… he’s hard to hate. his pleas were just… what a pitiful display!

[Vivid Syntax]

11628032
Thanks for the kind words! And I'm glad that Bronze is coming across as complex. That's something I've always wanted for him.

[jxj]

Yep, pacing is back on track. Great job as always. Man, I forgot how much I like bronze. That was a great scene.

[Vivid Syntax]

11630745
Glad to hear it! And yeah, Bronze is great to write for.

[Boxpone]

Sorry for the late comment - but that was a great scene, Vivid.