Expressing Feelings
A teenage colt by the name Buffing Wheel was sitting at the workbench, a big piece of paper lay on the table as the colt hunched over it, a pencil in his magical grasp, its tip in his mouth. His latest project was a fence design — something simple and yet elegant was commissioned. His ear flicked as he chewed on the pencil, trying to come up with an idea, a half of an eraser floating nearby as he thought. The lamp that was illuminating the table buzzed quietly as he thought, his eyes going over the sketch again and again, trying to think of a way to improve it whilst staying within the boundaries of the budget.
Deciding to take a small break, Buffing Wheel stood up and opened the window to let some fresh autumn air in. The wind rushed in, rustling his dark mane, sending pleasurable shivers through his body. Sighing, he stretched his limbs, a small smile of satisfaction appearing on his face as he heard a few relaxing pops. He rolled up the unfinished blueprint and put it in a box under the table, making sure it was neatly packed.
He looked at his largest work: a sheet of metal with an engraved scenery. Every line, every dent, everything about it was perfect, done just right to make the scenery seem lively even while it was on a piece of gray and cold metal. Its mirror-like polish reflected the green of its maker's eyes, making him pop a wide and proud grin. The metal was still free of any corrosion ever since it got into Buffing Wheel's hooves. He glanced at his special mark — a beautifully curved metallic ornament — before turning his gaze to the window and looking outside.
To his surprise, the sun was already setting, gradually disappearing below the horizon, marking the end of the day. The colt glanced at the clock and finally noticed that it was evening. He sighed, knowing that he would have to work on the project the next day. However, he smiled, enjoying the scenery, many new ideas appearing in his head as his eyes rolled over the buildings, grass, clouds, the sky, trees...
His eyes stopped as he looked at the base of one of the trees, noticing someone very familiar among the roots. A small blush appeared on his face but his eyes didn't turn away.
Under that tree, a teenage pegasus filly lay, a book placed on one of the roots. Buffing Wheel knew her, she was there almost every single day. She would come alone or with friends to this grove at the edge of the town, pull out a book and read, nesting herself in-between the roots of the same tree, and that was how she usually spent the most of her day.
The colt could even count the days she wasn't there. He knew it was wrong to be so obsessive, he knew it wasn't right to spy on anyone, and he was deeply ashamed of it. However, he could do nothing about it. He would sit there in his workshop, gazing at the filly, wondering about what she was reading. However, he had never approached her in any way, not even while he was at the school, studying with her every day.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. Startled, Buffing Wheel shuddered, jumping in place slightly. He shook his head, letting out a light chuckle at his jumpiness, and went towards the door. After looking into the peeping hole and figuring out who came to him, he opened the door slightly, peeking outside.
"Uhm, hello?" he said, greeted with the sight of an elderly stallion.
"Good evening, young stallion." the sudden guest nodded politely. "I presume you've done the job?"
"W-what?" for a second, Buffing Wheel was confused as the gears in his mind turned, trying to connect a vague memory of the stallion with something else. In a few moments, his eyes widened in realization and a bright blush of embarrassment appeared on his face. "Oh, of c-course! Um, wait here, please..."
Closing the door, the colt hurried to one of the many boxes lying around the workshop and pulled out a small metallic figurine: a unicorn knight with an unsheathed sword that was seemingly floating in the air with magic. However, there was no magic trick — it was connected to the main body with a thin, barely visible wire.
Cursing himself for being distracted and forgetful, Buffing Wheel returned to the door and opened it once again, this time with the result of his work.
"It looks lovely! I'm sure my granddaughter will love it, thank you!" the stallion smiled and nodded politely, taking the figurine and handing a bag of bits to the colt.
"Um, you've already paid..." Buffing Wheel said with uncertainty, eyeing the money carefully.
"It is extra, you deserve it for your fine work." the stallion waited for a few moments as the colt nervously shifted in place, not knowing what to do. "Don't worry, take it. Maybe you'll buy some flowers for that fine filly you've been watching."
Blushing even brighter, the colt grabbed the bag and closed the door. He sighed shakily, his heart racing. His secret mustn't be found. What would others think? He would certainly not see the end of teasing if anyone found out about his fascination with the filly. His eyes darted to the window, the old stallion passing by and giving him a smile.
Buffing Wheel blushed yet again, his ears drooping. He backed deeper into the workshop, hiding in the shadows. He looked at the bag of bits in his magical grasp and remembered that he needed to put them somewhere. Finding a place for the bag soon, he returned to the window after making sure no one was watching. Before doing anything, he turned off the lights, dimming everything significantly, casting darkness over him, hiding him. Let others think he was sleeping, not staring at a filly like some creep.
For a second, a thought of buying her flowers appeared passed in his head but it was short-lived. No way she would like him. He would be very awkward, he would mess everything up. He couldn't do it, and besides — he didn't have anything to offer outside of his talent. It wasn't like he was boring, he just didn't think it was that interesting. It helped him make a living and even save up quite a lot but that was it.
He sighed, gazing at the filly. She would come in the afternoon, read, and then leave at sunset. He knew it would stop soon — winter was coming. Instead, she would be reading at home or at the school, and the two wouldn't meet eye to eye often.
Buffing Wheel knew he was stalking her, he knew it was very wrong but he just wanted to see her. She had never seen him, never noticed him being around. He couldn't bear the thought of her discovering him, she would certainly be angered by him. She would hate him if she ever found out, he knew it.
He cut it down quite a lot, no longer following her everywhere, but the urge to see her still remained. An urge he couldn't fight. There was something about her, something very special that he couldn't quite place.
He turned the lights back on. He must work, it would distract him from the filly. He sat down at the table but hadn't pulled anything out yet. His eyes slowly turned to the window again.
In truth, he knew next to nothing about the filly. Just her name and her as of yet lack of talent. However, she was much more talented than him even without a mark.
Buffing Wheel remembered his first day in school. Scared, alone, small compared to others, he walked through the hall to the classroom, trying to stay out of sight and blend in with the surroundings. Unfortunately, he forgot where his first class took place. Was it the room 402 or 102? Before he was able to reach the class, the bell rang, almost making him panic. Sweat rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes and making him blink rapidly. Fighting the sudden fear, he quickened his pace and soon found the class he was looking for.
"You are late, mister." the teacher said as she noticed him. "What is your name?"
Stunned by such a harsh greeting, the colt averted his eyes and muttered something quietly, eliciting a few giggles from other students, making Buffing Wheel press his ears against his skull to stop hearing it. He knew he did wrong, he knew he was a laughing stock for it, but he didn't like it, he wanted to forget about it as soon as possible, even though he knew his embarrassment would stay with him for a very long time.
"Speak up, please." the teacher demanded, making him even more scared.
"B-Buffing Wheel..." he meekly replied, wishing he fell through the floor and appeared on the other side of the planet. He could feel all the eyes being on him, all those students, no, everyone looking at him. They were certainly judging him for being the worst, for being late when everyone else wasn't, and for not speaking clearly when spoken to by an adult.
After what seemed like an eternity, the teacher finally said: "You may take your place."
Slowly as not to provoke anything more, Buffing Wheel walked to the back of the class and took a seat at the furthest desk. He quickly unpacked the belongings he needed for the class and finally sighed quietly, his body still shaking.
He looked at other students and saw how colorful they all were. But he? He looked like someone from black-and-white films. His fur was gray, his mane was black with a few silvery lines hidden in it. The only truly colorful part of him was his bright, green eyes. And yet, it paled in comparison to other students in his class.
When the bell rang, ending the lesson, Buffing Wheel was frozen in place. What was he supposed to do? Just sit there silently or go somewhere? Should he even move?
"Hello." he heard someone speaking to him. He turned his head and saw a filly. "Wanna play some games with us?"
"Um..." the colt blushed, trying to come up with an answer, looking anywhere but not at the filly. He didn't even know if he wanted to play in the first place but she asked nicely. He glanced at her and saw her smiling at him, encouraging him to find the right answer. "Uh, yeah..."
"Alright!" the filly clapped her hooves together. "What's your name? Mine's Mayflower."
"I'm Buffing Wheel." the colt introduced himself and looked into the blue eyes of the filly, a smile appearing on his face. "N-nice to meet you."
He returned from his memories and back to the present. He looked at the filly once again. She had grown since they first met and soon she would be a mare. In fact, she was a bit older than Buffing Wheel, by a few months or so, he remembered.
"Mind showing me around?" he remembered her asking him. "I don't really know the town. My parents moved her just around a week ago."
"Uh, sure." he replied, not minding her company. Besides, he didn't really want to spend his time at home.
And so, the two walked around the town, mostly silently, and the colt regarded said silence as awkward. He wanted to make some small talk, a little char, but he simply didn't know what to talk about. His life wasn't interesting, he had nothing of value to talk about, and so all he could do was staying silent, answering Mayflower's questions from time to time.
His mind found another set of memories. He didn't really remember when he fell in love with her but he remembered the confusing feelings. He was always more shy and more awkward around her, and he sometimes could feel a sort of fluttering in his chest when he saw her. At the time, he had no idea what it was and he didn't talk about it to anyone, fearing that it would be weird. He found out that it was actually normal, that it was a feeling many other ponies experienced — love. And yet, he didn't know what to do with his feelings.
Buffing Wheel didn't know how to call the relationship between Mayflower and himself. They were friends, he thought. Well, not very close friends but... in fact, they hadn't really seen each other in the last few months. After discovering his talent, the colt finished school to pursue his dreams of becoming an artist, an unusual one. He did things with various metals, shaping them to his liking, and it indeed was something he loved doing.
Returning his mind back to work, he pulled out the recent blueprint, grabbed a pencil and started sketching again, an idea inside his head.
Consumed by his work, he didn't notice how the day was replaced by the evening and then turned into night. The moon shone into the workshop, blending with the yellowish light of the lamp.
Suddenly, someone softly knocked on the door. The colt stopped working and put down the pencil. Getting up from his sitting position, he glanced at the clock. It was near midnight and he had no idea who would come to him so late. He walked up to the door and opened it. He blushed when he saw who was standing in front of him.
"Hi!" Mayflower greeted him, a smile on her face. "Mind if I come in?"
Buffing Wheel just stared at her for a few moments before stepping aside awkwardly.
"N-not at all, come in!" he replied, his voice wavering slightly. The filly nodded and went past him, allowing him to close the door behind her.
"I hope it's okay that I came here so late." she said. "My parents went to some resort and I feel lonely at home."
"I, I can provide, um, company." the colt stuttered. "I d-don't mind at all!" he looked around, his blush intensifying. "Um, sorry for the mess..."
"That's fine." the filly replied, deciding to take a look around the workshop as well. "I mean, you're working here." she looked up and found his best work. "Oh, nice! That gave you the mark, right?"
"Yeah." Buffing Wheel nodded, awkwardly following her, not knowing what to say or do. But maybe... Maybe he could confess his feelings for her? Maybe he would no longer have to hide in his own shame? He wanted her to know how he felt, he wished to see her with him. Maybe it was his chance...
But how would he say it? Three blunt words or something else? Or maybe... he knew!
He went to one of the boxes scattered around the place. He opened it carefully, and there, among many pieces of metal, an iron rose lay. His perfection, the pinnacle of his talent. Made of metal but still alive, reflecting the light in a way that made it sparkle and shine in its own, beautiful way. He picked up the rose and turned to Mayflower.
"Um, Mayflower?" he called her. "L-look at what I made."
"Oh, that's beautiful!" she commented, looking at the rose in awe. "Who commissioned it? They're definitely lucky!"
"I m-made it for, for you." the colt said, extending the rose. He took a deep breath, knowing there was no turning back. He concentrated on his words, he needed to present them to the best of his abilities. "Mayflower... I love you."
The filly looked at him, something in her eyes that Buffing Wheel couldn't understand. It was a look no one had given him before. She walked up to him, almost muzzle to muzzle. She took the rose and looked at it. The colt was nervously shifting in place, waiting for her reaction, hoping that she liked what he made for her. The moments stretched like an eternity, and then the filly suddenly leaned in, kissing him on the lips.
His eyes widened as he took in what was happening. However, something puzzled him: the filly wasn't there. Something blue was, but it wasn't her eyes. In fact, it was paper.
Buffing Wheel gasped, raising his head. He fell asleep at work! Gladly, no saliva went on the blueprint, which was a huge relief for the colt. He quickly rolled the piece of paper up and placed it in the box underneath the table. He yawned, stretching his limbs.
He stood up and turned to go to his room. However, something stopped him mid-step. He looked at his boxes and wondered about the rose he saw in his dream. He didn't remember making it, but it was so detailed he could swear he made it.
An idea clicked in his head. He needed the rose! He would give it to Mayflower, confess his feelings, and then see what would happen next. There was no time to waste, he must do it! If it was there somewhere, he needed to find it and quickly. He almost jumped into the pile of boxes, cursing himself for the lack of organization, and started searching through it. He opened a box after box, hoping to see the rose in one of them. Unfortunately, his search bore no results as he went over his works again and again.
Buffing Wheel sat on the floor, catching his breath. He knew he needed to think clearly. It was a dream, a pleasant one but still a dream. Not real. The rose wasn't there, it couldn't be. Sighing in defeat, the colt stood up and turned to go to his room as he originally intended to do. However, he stopped once again as an important realization crashed against him like a tidal wave.
He could make the rose!
No time to lose, he galloped to the table, pulled out a fresh piece of paper and sat down, pencil already in his magical grasp. He sat there, looking at the paper. Moments passed. A few seconds. A minute. Letting out a long sigh, he put down the pencil. The design was clear in his head but he had no idea how to translate it to a schematic.
He closed his eyes, allowing another sigh to escape his lips. He couldn't do it.
Something made him stop and think again. The iron rose was still in his mind, an image that refused to go away. Then the face of Mayflower appeared, she smiled at him as she took the rose.
It's beautiful...
Buffing Wheel stood up from the table. He couldn't give up, he must persist. He knew it would be worth it in the end, he knew he could do it. He had the talent, the instruments, the resources. He had everything he needed to make his dream a reality.
He went to the boxes once again, opening the one with shapeless metal pieces. He moved them out of the box and let them hover in the air as his magic began to work, the glow of his horn intensifying and illuminating the surroundings. His eyes on the metal, a look of determination on his face as he used magic to melt the metal. Red-hot, it glowed in the dark as brightly as his horn did. Soon, his finest work began to take shape.
At first, it was a blob with a rod attached to it. The rod became a stem, leaves spurting from it. The blob formed into the petals of the rose, folding together to resemble the real flower.
The metal began to cool down, but the edges of the petals remained red. Another piece of metal appeared near the rose. It was bronze, and the colt used it to coat the stem and the leaves, and then he artificially aged the metal, turning it green. For the petals, he used copper, and soon the rose was done.
He noticed the sun shining outside the house. The whole process seemed to take just a few minutes but in truth, those were hours of work. Buffing Wheel smiling, looking at his work, proud of his biggest accomplishment so far. Like in the dream, the rose reflected the light in an intricate and beautiful way, making it seem even more alive.
The colt looked outside and noticed that the filly wasn't there yet. It didn't surprise him — she must've been at school at this time of day. However, he could wait, he knew he could.
Despite not having much sleep, Buffing Wheel was as energetic as ever, slightly bouncing in place. Carefully, he put the rose down, fearing as if it could shatter from the slightest touch. Then he looked around his workshop.
It was indeed a mess.
With a chuckle, he started working on fixing it. He put the boxes in one corner, sorting them by categories. Then he proceeded to grab the broom and open the door, letting fresh air in. He swiped the floor, removing the accumulated dust. He did it all methodically and thoughtfully, just as he did his works. He counted the swipes in his mind, making sure that every corner of his workshop was cleaned, especially the instruments. While he had magic, sometimes the instruments produced a more accurate result, which only added to his natural talent. And so, he kept them in perfect shape, ready for all and any kind of metalwork he did.
Reorganizing his whole workshop, he made sure every item was in its right place, easily accessible. When he was finally done, he grinned in satisfaction, looking over the whole area. It was as clean as when he first started using his talent. It was a new page in his life, a better page. There was just one big step yet to be made...
The bell rang, signaling the end of the classes to all colts and fillies in the local school. Mayflower was one of them, and she packed her belongings in a saddlebag. A smile was on her face as she looked outside. The day was beautiful, the birds were chirping, and the sky was clear. It was a perfect day for her usual after-school activity.
Humming a simple tune, she exited the school and headed towards her usual reading spot. At the quiet edge of the town, under the cool shade of the tree, between its strong roots. And of course, near the house-workshop of one of her friends, Buffing Wheel.
She knew the colt well. Shy, a bit awkward, and a shut-in. He rarely let anyone into his inner world, preferring to be alone, making things. It could be anything from stacking pencils to bending metal, the latter turning out to be his talent. He didn't mind socializing, however. Mayflower knew it and she could see how he enjoyed spending time with few friends that he had and especially her.
Mayflower wasn't totally oblivious to his feelings. She suspected he had something for her but she didn't know how to approach it. She wouldn't mind going out with him, getting to know him better and maybe eventually become his fillyfriend. However, the first step was the hardest to make. She was afraid she would just push him away, scare him, and so she had no idea how to do it. All she did was coming near his house, hoping to gather enough courage one day to ask him out — or for him to ask her out.
What she didn't know, however, was the fact that all of it would come very soon.
It wasn't uncommon for a mare to ask a stallion out. In fact, it was more common for a mare to make the first step. And yet, Mayflower was uncertain how to do it properly. Buffing Wheel was a unique case, an introvert in the world of extraverts. As far as she knew, no one tried to approach him yet because he seemed invisible, away from everyone else. Mostly silent, and when he spoke, quiet. He was very different from most other ponies, but not in a way that would attract attention.
Mayflower knew him for a long time, however. He was very loyal to his friends, and he was completely relaxed around them, even though he still preferred peace and quiet over almost everything else. He was a nice colt to be around with and she liked him a lot. She really wanted to know if two of them would make a nice couple.
She noticed that something was different in the grove she usually went to. Near her reading spot, she saw Buffing Wheel. Her heart skipped a beat — did she finally get a chance to ask him out? Or maybe he wanted to ask her out? Her heartbeat increased, blood rushing to her face as one of her ears flicked.
"Hi!" she greeted the colt.
"Hello." Buffing Wheel replied, blush evident on his face. "I... want to show you something." from behind him, a rose appeared. Mayflower’s eyes widened, her blush intensified. "I made it for you, Mayflower." he extended the rose to her.
The filly sat on her haunches and took the rose in her hooves. It was heavier than she expected, and then she understood — it was made of metal. She was astonished, struck with awe — it looked so real! She rolled it in her hooves, looking at it from different size. She brought it closer to her muzzle and took a deep whiff. It smelled like a real rose with a hint of metal.
"It's... beautiful!" she whispered, her eyes shifting from the rose to the colt. He was sitting right next to her, a wide smile on his face. Mayflower felt something in her heart, a deeper feeling she didn't know was there.
"Mayflower... I love you." Buffing Wheel said. It was quiet and yet very powerful. They were just three words and yet they held such a deep meaning, both the colt and the filly could feel it flowing through their hearts.
The two closed their eyes, leaned in, and nuzzled, their lips coming into contact for a very brief moment, making both of them shiver slightly
"Will you go out with me?" Mayflower asked, surprising the colt. Unexpected, but not unwelcome, and he knew what to say.
"Yes, I will." he nodded and nuzzled her again. "And... what've you been reading?"
"Just a collection of stories." the filly replied. "We can read them together if you want to."
"I'd love to!" the colt replied, excitement showing in his voice.
The two would spend the rest of the day together, lying under the tree and reading the same book, sharing nuzzles as a powerful emotion began to bloom. Young, full of energy, full of dreams, wishes, and desires, the two had many things ahead of them.
Most important of them was love.