1. Afternoon
Monte Cristo said he would buy the flowers himself. Over Easy had been closing up the cafe that day and it only made sense with his free time that he would go out and fetch the last thing they needed to be ready for the dance. He was trying something new this year, this was the first time he was going with Over Easy, and therefore wanted to make it special. not that he was one for the affinity of splendour or grand gestures.
Monte Cristo was more than content to sit on the couch curled around his favourite pony in the whole world. Of course, this was becoming an increasingly difficult situation to find time to do nowadays, with the cafe really picking up steam. Over Easy had nearly thrown in the towel back before Twilight had been a resident in Ponyville, and now they had too many bits and not enough time to spend them. One Sunday morning, Over Easy had just sat there with him, opposite ends of the table, unsure on what to do with each other, feeling as if there was some chore that needed doing, some help that was needed in the cafe below their house, maybe some sort of house keeping that needed doing. But there was none, so they both sat there, looking at their breakfasts like stunned mullets, until finally it took Monte’s strength to dare suggest they go out together. He remembered it vividly, the sun shining, the sweet air filling the day with a tender chill, but it was uneasy, like something lingered left to do. The birds were chirping that day, they always chirped when the weather was warm. It stuck out more, it just seemed fitting on a Sunday for birds to chirp, the peaceful nature of it all, the getting ready for a busy week ahead.
Monte looked ahead, it was not however a Sunday, yet the birds were still chirping, right next to Big Mac’s apple cart. He remembered his crush on Big Mac back when they were colts, but then, everyone had a crush on Big Mac, anyone with any sensibility. It was queer really, how absent his mind had been whilst half the child population lusted after him. He never really seemed to notice. Big Mac was his first crush, and everyone as far as he could tell remembers who that is. Over Easy could never forget his first crush. The poor colt had fallen for some son of a baker in Canterlot. They had bonded over the cafe world and become best friends, he couldn’t entirely remember the story, but he knew that Over Easy certainly had a disdain for the story. His affection for the baker's son ended quite badly. Yet, the world moved on, and Over Easy had found Monte, and Big Mac had found some mare in a northern town.
“Good Afternoon, Big Mac! How is the apple stall going?” Monte had called out, coming over and standing at the cart eagerly.
“Eeyup!” He smiled back, offering a fresh one out to Monte. The apple was large. round, and looking very juicy. The apples had always made the best of the bunch. Ponies came far and wide for them, so why not utilise that? Apple danishes, apple muffins, apple cinnamon milkshake, apple inspired tea blends. The cafe was stocked to the brim with local produce, a passion of Easy. He had always loved Ponyville, right from stepping into the town square as a young stallion. The produce had always been a root of that, it really was the perfect place to set up a cafe, and Monte had always been so blessed that he got to do that with someone like Over Easy.
“I might need to buy another twenty kilos of your apples by the way, with the dance coming up we’ve been receiving bulk orders for apple goods.”
Big Mac smiled, reached down and gave him a purchase order sheet. He hardly spoke, but his actions spoke volumes, yet this said nothing of how much he saw. Over Easy and Monte would sometimes ask if they could borrow a hill every now and again, after the cafe had closed. Big Mac would smile and nod, they didn’t really even need to tell him what it was for, the two would just love to spend time out there and have picnics as the sun set over the hills. Oh the sublimity! It painted a smile on his face every time. With nothing but each other to make the evening go by, the softness of the fur, the gentle kissing and that feeling of warmth and indescribable happiness. It didn’t matter what had been happening that week, with the birds chirping turning slowly to owls hooting, it seemed as if time would sit still just for them. Big Mac would just do what he always did and pick around that spot, get to it in the morning. Sometimes they would take blankets and even fall asleep under the apple trees in the peak of summer. It certainly beat sweating in a bed above a muggy cafe every night. Big Mac would sometimes catch them together the next morning, asleep or awake, he always held a certain longing in his eyes for what the two stallions under the apple trees had, almost like the faintest traces of jealousy. Yet those days hadn’t come around for a long while, and if he had shown it before, he either didn’t feel jealous anymore, or got far better at hiding it.
With Big Mac’s departing waves, Monte spun around on the spot and peered across the courtyard at the flower shop nearby.
Distractions. Throughout Over Easy’s career, there have been a plethora of distractions, keeping him looking both ways at once. At one point it was his love life, the next being his financial struggles for his business, then to the business itself, but now the distraction was on a date, a time, a moment of unknown that could not be fathomed in the present, but always mused in the past. Annoying as it may be, a breath of new distractions to pull at Easy’s attention that afternoon was a welcoming intrusion that he was behooved to allow. The whispers of missed orders, forgotten refills, inexact change, and so forth jargon of the business were set aside on the back-burner of his mind to leave room for what to wear, if anything, what to do before, during, and after the dance took place, how to comb his hair, what the weather will be like, and what the new name of the traditional dance all meant.
These distractions did not hinder Over Easy’s performance at his tasks of closing up shop, though after doing it for so many moons on end, he could close with his eyes closed. The last of the customers trickled out, regulars, newcomers, eclectics, all leaving the inviting and cosy cafe out of courtesy to the owner with a hope to return once again to get coffee and companionship. With the curtains already lowered to shield from Celestia’s piercing sun, Over Easy had to only offer a final wave goodbye to the old gentlecolt, who had to be reminded once again that it was closing time, and turn off the lights, which had become almost redundant with how much the light weakly reflected in from the minerals and rocks of the cobbled roads that lead to the cafe. The locks were locked, and the second home was prepared to be preserved for another night, primed for the next morning’s rush of faces, familiar and foreign.
Over Easy let in a deep breath, earning a popping in his chest, indicating that he hadn’t been breathing normally again, rather he had been taking short breaths, enough to keep him working, but not enough for comfort. The comfort was to come later as he walked up the stairs and turned the lock to his first home, opening the door to smell the still, stale air that wafted past him into the open terrain behind him, letting fresh air circulate around the abode. The contents of the home were all just so, in their places for Celestia knows how long, only to be moved after much deliberation and pleading on the subject, be it by necessity or aesthetic purposes, whatever Monte Cristo decided the reason to be at the time.
Over Easy creaked and cracked as he got ready to melt into his couch as the gramophone played whatever it desired into the hours it deemed fit to quit. Silence wasn’t suitable for Over Easy anymore, the noise of conversations and confessions being the new silence to him, an absence of sound being an indicator of something going wrong. Music was the closest and most healthy substitute to having a group of ponies conversing next to him while he slept.
What is with the name change of the dance? It had been the Fetlock Fete since Over Easy could remember, though his memory wasn’t much to pride over when it came to Ponyville traditions; only the culture was taken interest by him, since there were too many distractions and not enough time to dig in and understand the secret unspoken nomenclature of Ponyville, even if he had been living here- for how many years now?-The exact number was lost upon Over Easy.
Outside, the school-bell in the distance signalled another change of the hour, clashing tones with the gramophone, though not enough to dampen the music coming from it. The outside bustle was lulling down, though still audible even up above the streets of Ponyville, carriages bouncing, ponies laughing, and in the home above it all, Over Easy snoring.
…
4 bits for a couple of geraniums? It was ludicrous, Monte could have gone and picked them himself. In a distant life he would have, had he continued with the hobby, but running a cafe had been far from forgiving, and the garden had quickly turned from a plethora of flowers to a dull soil patch surrounded by lawn. He was planning on making a beautiful lucky pot filled with geraniums and at the centre, a small nestle of fresh danishes that Over Easy was preparing.
The last time they had been out like this had been years ago, just before the cafe got to the pace it had stayed all the time. They had dated every night, even if that was near bit-less. They had taken scarves and gone in the autumn down to where the leaves fell. It was simply breathtaking, and it didn’t cost a single bit. Not that that was any matter now, they had all the bits in the world to invest in a good night tonight. He supposed they should go out to dinner after the ball, there was always nice eateries near that part of town. The ones that high-rollers tend to go to,the ones that serve good honest food for the worthy pocket. Once upon a time, Over Easy would have cooked better, but his talent is put to use during the day in the cafe, then in the quiet hours in the morning baking the fresh goods ready for the morning. There was a pretty slim chance he had any drive to cook dinner after all that. Monte remembered one night where Over Easy had spent about an hour converting leftovers in the cafe into a beautiful stew. It had been one of the most amazing stews that Monte had ever eaten, and they had sat there with their bowls in hoof under a blanket listening to the midnight broadcast of ghost stories. Perhaps he should make a recipe book, getting Over Easy to recite the recipes to him and publishing it.
A testament to their love for cooking, and their love for each other. As little as they had been showing it. He walked past the rows of shops beginning to litter with the small colts and fillies in the school, some going to their little casual jobs, some going with friends to eat and play after a hard day at school. One of them looked familiar, Rarity’s sister, someone had told him she was looking for work. Monte had had his first relationship at a job. A colt slightly older than him had come in every day to order off of him. Little had he known at the time that the colt had been crushing on him. It was just one of those spring romances and didn’t survive past school or anything, but he still remembered how right he had felt.
He hadn’t even realised he was into colts until he had felt the warm tender lips of that colt on his cheek. It was like a jigsaw piece slotting into place, like everything had fit perfectly in the gap between their hooves grasps and interlocked lips. He hadn’t even been in love with the colt, just the idea of being in love with him. Him, it had been so hard to say, he had to say it out loud at least a dozen times. “I love… h-him,” He must have done that for ages. The name was irrelevant, it wasn’t the name he was in love with, but stallions? The word him? That was what was important. It was very uncomfortable, knowing such things and keeping them secret from ponies you so desperately want to tell mere meters away. All the cold mattresses after sleepovers and locked doors had not given their true nature away, until he was true and ready.
Mum had seen the cafe a couple of times, even helped out on busy days. But she preferred the sensibilities of retirement from the luxury of her house in a small town north of Ponyville. She had always preferred the pace of small town life, even small Ponyville was a bit small for her. She had been fragile ever since father had passed away. Her lifestyle had remained just as independent before and after dad’s passing, but she had grown emotionally vulnerable. She was slowly getting happier and happier with the way things were working, and she might’ve even moved to Ponyville had she gotten grand-kids.
Who knows, maybe it wasn’t too late? They had never ruled it out, but the cafe had taken that thought out of their heads many many moons ago at this point. Over Easy would have made a great father, he had always had that special way with kids. There went that school bell for the final time today, those large chimes. Shortly before the kids had invaded the town square. The site of them running amok and chattering away excitedly had brought a very rare smile these days, one only Over Easy had the power to pull from him. Yes, kids were certainly a discussion; maybe one day, when the cafe wasn’t running them.
Maybe.
…
Maybe some flowers. Those would be nice, right? Some perennials to light up the cafe would be nice. Though why get flowers today? They wouldn't be as fresh tomorrow if picked today.
"Flowers for today, yeah? I will get them"
Monte always had a green horn. There were a select few environments where his passions would thrive and the garden was one of them. Over Easy dreamt of the garden, smelling all the plants in them, though the dream was hazy, as if the memory of the garden was fading.
Today, today ...The dance was today! Over Easy jolted up from the couch, disoriented and heart pounding, moving frantically to the kitchen to check the time, only to see it as 4:43. There are so many things to do, the hair, the wardrobe, the bucket.
Over Easy turned on the oven, the recipe for his danishes flashing into his mind real quick before he got to work. The panic, the rush, the nerves all brought him back to the first day the cafe picked up. Under prepared was a gross understatement, considering they almost considered roasting some of the acorns from the tree in the park close to the cafe for coffee. The wave after wave of hungry customers came pouring in, one after another. It never ended from when they opened at 6 AM to close at 3 PM. Over Easy never found out what caused such a consistent increase in business, but he wasn't about to complain. The night of the big rush was filled with exhausted laughter and bewildered looks at how many bits they had acquired in that day alone. It was enough to pay for the bills AND buy the supplies and ingredients that had been siphoned earlier that day. It was tiring, but rewarding, and the bags that were under their eyes from that day forward was a testament to their commitment.
The danishes were almost ready to put in, though time was crucial. Over Easy set them in the oven and sighed, going through his mental checklist of what to still do. Shower! He probably smelled like sweat, grease, and coffee grinds, though he wouldn't object to still smell like coffee. It reminded him of what kept him sane during his bouts of insomnia and tedious days that yielded nothing from the cafe, the slow days that drove him mad as the clock slowly ticked away. Each day that he wasted serving a rare regular and kept washing the same front tables in hope and desperation that someone might come in and give the place a chance was another drip from his patience running dry, his dream getting crushed right in front of him and all that he sacrificed being for nothing. Easy shuttered at the memory and the warm water hitting his body, everything adjusting as the days grime washed away. That hollow feeling of dread being only a distant memory now that his business had picked up so much recently.
He had to time this perfectly. Celestia knew when Monte would be back to see Easy frantically getting everything together. He didn't have time to fix his hair up in the way he liked it, let alone pick out any fancy formal wear for the dance, the music in the background accenting his hysterical running back and forward to his dresser and the oven, checking on his hair and danishes. Both were looking sloppy and it was concerning him even more. The clock that he wished would tick faster all those years ago was being pleaded to slow down for just a couple of minutes. There wasn't enough time for anything these days.
….
Monte clutched his scarf tightly. It had been given to him as a gift by Over Easy. In-fact, now that he thought about it, it was his first anniversary gift. He clutched it tighter, feeling the warmth from his own body and still remembering the feeling of Over Easy putting it over his neck. It was just like how he felt from the day they first starting dating. His first real and proper coltfriend, it felt… strange to him. All the anxiety, all of the fear had left his body, but it was still scary. He felt scared to tell his parents, and he felt a rock whenever ponies could see them together, but just a touch, or a hold, or the warmth of Easy, and the fear was gone, and they were the only two ponies in the universe. The first kiss was outside of Monte’s place, and had terrified him to no end, the anticipation, the lead up, it was all very childish, looking back, but he felt like nothing else mattered as their lips slowly connected. This is what he had dreamt about, this is what he had waited for, what he had cried over so many sleepless nights. This one moment, there was no going back, he was gay. He had been saying it for years, the words “I am gay” never got easier, but manageable. But there he stood, feeling just like the first time he had whispered the words under his bed-sheets.
And there Over Easy was, right in front of him smiling, he could only have felt the exact same way. It was almost visceral, to see someone right in front of you, feeling the same things you are. But Monte had given him that, and felt it himself. These days the kisses felt natural and hardly to the same effect, yet still meant the same thing. ‘I love you, I always have, I always will, and everything we have done hasn’t changed that.’ He had always expected something to go wrong, and whilst it was the last thing he wanted, it still didn’t stop, preparing for the worst.
Danishes… Over Easy had remembered, and as Monte whipped his hooves on the welcome mat and flew open the door, the misty fresh smell of baked goods billowed forth. Time felt slow, the flowers in hoof, the danishes baking. It felt like he had centuries before the dance. There was nothing Monte liked more than living in the moment and here he was soaking every second. Monte put the flowers on the table and waltzed into the bedroom to get ready for the dance.
…
“Oh, hi there.” Over Easy looked up from the mirror, his hair still untamed and various accessories strewn across the bed, his heart rate spiking momentarily at the sudden arrival of Monte. He looked at the flowers in Monte’s hoof, smiling at the subvert reassurance that at least Monte is on top of everything. “Glad to see you back, dear.”
“Hair giving you trouble again, love?” Monte asked, a small smirk creeping onto his face as he watched Over Easy fiddle with the stray cow licks that would not stay in place.
“Oh, just a bit.” Easy set the comb down as his mane was finally in a position he would accept, then turned his head to look better at Monte, immediately feeling the strands shift and move back down into an uncontrolled mess once again. Easy closed his eyes and hit his hoof onto the dresser, rattling the things inside and on it, “I might as well not wash my mane if it’s going to get this uncontrollable each time.” Easy sighed, turning back to the mirror to attempt one more time to tame his mane.
Monte chuckled, “I think that is your safest idea for your hair yet.”
Over Easy rolled his eyes, though his ideas weren’t the most cautious, they worked for a time, at one point being so fed up with his mane that he gave himself an impulsive buzz cut, being the target of a lot of what Monte would consider ‘needed’ ridicule and teasing. Patrons of the cafe would ask if he were his own brother or a cousin, always making a blush form on his face as he proceeded to explain what happened for the umpteenth time that day. Another instance of one of his hair maintenance plans that came to mind was right before going on a date with Monte. He wanted to have a slicked back mane, but it wouldn’t even stay in a semi-kept style, and with all his brilliance and forethought, he decided to use glue to keep it back, since no other mane product would help. The glue helped, so much so that it kept it got painfully stuck to the back of his neck and he had to sit through the rest of the date not moving his head in any way.
Monte sat the flowers in a vacant vase, turning towards the strewn accessories, “You know the dance is a pretty casual thing, right? It doesn’t have any real dress code.”
Over Easy rose an eyebrow, “Well yeah, that’s why I’m only going with a tie. Though I haven’t been able to pick one that I think fits for tonight,” Easy finished brushing his mane one last time before it returned to its original mess. He sighed and smiled at Monte, shrugging as he finally gave up on the inevitability that is his messy mane.
“Honey, casual means we don’t need to wear anything. Not even a tie.”
“Oh,” It was that Canterlot that was still in him, born into a literal birthday suit and raised by caretakers that he considered more his parents than his actual biological mother and father. Even the most casual dances and balls that socialites put together required at least some distinguishing accessory like a tie or a button up shirt. Though the last dance in Canterlot he attended was during the night he broke up with the baker’s boy. Easy had gone all out that night, putting on the fanciest suit his caretaker had picked out for him, trying for more than an hour to get his mane back, only to once again give up in defeat, smelling of one of the finest colognes that money could buy. The event was a soiree at a mutual friend’s house, a lovely estate that would be a perfect date for the inseparable pair. They had danced late into the night, twirling around one another until they became dizzy and even then, they still danced. Rumours had spread around the whole night, whispers making their way around the couple as the whole party had come to an end. The baker’s boy was such a charming young stallion, new to the craft, yet still bridging on success, a hope for anypony who was equally passionate if not more to strive for success in the business world. Word had gotten to Over Easy, and though incredulous at first, things began to line up and fall into place, inconsistencies and gaps in judgement began to fill in, and it all made sense. The baker’s boy took Easy on one last dance, the two sweating and lightly fatigued by this point. Easy was only seeing red by that point, but kept a guise up for just a bit longer; he had been tricked for years at this point, who was to say he couldn’t have a few minutes for himself to conspire. Moonlight beamed down on the pair as they sat in the courtyard, a brief moment of privacy for the two. It had really only boiled down to one thing; business, though a risky business that left all involved never the same, a business that required an agreement, a set up for a favour, the baker wanting his boy to marry into Easy’s family, in exchange for a buy-out of the baker’s business from Easy’s father. The relationship between the two was built on a false premise of love, feinting the true intentions of a trade agreement. The baker’s boy never had any intention of loving Over Easy, and once the secret of the agreement was out, the baker’s boy snapped at Easy like the whole thing was his fault. Teary lenses always covered that memory, as their relationship crumbled, Easy walking away entirely to start over again, to get away from all the formalities, to get away from his backstabbing family, to get away from him. The baker’s boy had called out after him, regretting his decisions only then, calling , “Easy, honey? Easy!”
“Easy!”
Over Easy snapped out of his daze and smiled at Monte, “I’m sorry. Something from work had caught my mind. What were you saying?”
“Nothing, just that the danishes are smelling really nice this time around” Monte took another sniff of the air, his smile getting wider the more he inhaled.
“Right, the danishes. Thank you,” Over Easy shifted for a moment, “I’m going to go check on them. Once they’re ready, we should be good to go!” Easy smiled, the excitement catching in his voice. This night would be better. Hopefully.
….
It was cold, maybe he should have worn something after all. But, as sure as the danishes were delicious, the cool air whizzed about, sending a shiver down Monte’s spine. Between idle conversation there would be a chill here and there, but Over Easy didn’t seem to feel it. He had always been warm. It must be a hereditary thing, because his parents had the same affliction against the cold, but based on the vague and far-between stories that Monte got of his parents, it seemed like they were cold dwellers with all their trips to the snow covered north.
Monte’s parents were far from that level of wealth and sophistication, being the runner of a small bookshop in Manehattan is certainly not the most wealthiest of roles in society, but it had certainly bred a bookworm out of him. Many warm evenings spent curled up in a blanket whilst his parents read the most amazing of stories to him, and sometimes, even his friends from school would join in on the fun. So there they would sit, with hot chocolate or tea, wrapped in a blanket and using each other for warmth as Mum or Dad belted out passages of this book or that. They really had been great parents, but now there was no hot chocolate, or blankets. It was getting colder, good thing he had Easy to cuddle up to.
“Huh, you’re feeling affectionate tonight,” Over Easy cooed between the basket betwixt his teeth.
“I’m feeling cold, but yes, that too I guess,” Monte replied.
“Is everything alright Monte?”
Was everything alright? He simply couldn’t tell. But that, he supposed, was telling enough. If this was an argument to be having with oneself.
…
That look, that gaze that showed his soul through his eyes, that look was only saved for moments of pondering prolong confusion and sudden surprises. It was the look that Monte gave Easy after they had their first kiss, a swirling concoction of revelation and elation, indescribable by either still to this day, though today was not something that would prompt reminiscence of it, was it? Are there signs I am missing? Am I looking too deep into it? The window to Monte’s soul was open, but Easy had a hard time seeing through it clearly.
Easy was a pony who planned for the long term, he was good at that, good at planning things out when he had the time to be comfortable with everything he did, but random acts, short term impromptu actions always made him anxious, since he had little time to understand what might happen before it already happens, had I forgotten something, or was it something that I should have reminded him to bring. Their fur shifted apart from each other when Over Easy had to walk around a pothole, a hollow cool nothingness briefly taking its place between the two.
His jacket! It must be his jacket, that’s what I forgot to remind him of, he must be freezing right now. So he really wasn’t being all that affectionate then, was he?--Easy smiled as best as he could with the wicker in his mouth, and moved back closer to Monte, sharing his love and body heat with his companion. Were it any other night, or any more time for that matter, Easy would slow down to a pace where he could enjoy the world that was right next to him, his world. Though things have been so rushed for so long, quick kisses en passing from customer table to kitchen, no time to enjoy cuddling with one another before one of them drifts off to sleep from how exhausted they both were, no dates, little love, little romance, the fire was still going, but no one had the time to stoke it. Was the fire still going? Were there flames licking at the two or was there a smouldering bed of coals, clinging to life in spite of the neglect from Easy, was Monte wanting more? Could I give him more?
The more he thought about it all, the more his smile faded into the basket handle, his expression still staring at Monte’s eyes, but as a mirror to look into his own soul, to understand what his situation could be. Was everything ok?