Caramel wrestles with his feelings for another stallion. Sequel to The State That I'm In.
Five years ago, something happened to Caramel that has been bothering him since. But he's felt pressured to keep it a secret. Now, he struggles to find ways to deal with his bottled up emotions. (Warning: coltcuddling ahead!)
A/N: This story was written as a sequel to a story I wrote called The State That I'm In. It's probably a good idea to read that first. This story is written in the same style, but from Caramel's perspective. Note that this features the Dark and Teen tags, so it's a little more serious, sort of.
For the sake of consistency and symmetry, here's the song that this half of the story was originally based on: Springfield
And lastly, as always, what you're about to read would look like a pile of manure if it weren't for the incredible WhatTheMoo, editor extraordinaire!
Caramel shut the door of his house and locked it. Most would say he was too young to be living on his own, but Caramel disagreed. Besides, he didn't really live alone, at least not technically speaking. The modest bungalow in one of Ponyville's nicer areas belonged to his father. His father just happened to be around... well, almost never.
It was just after dark as Caramel strode down the path from his house to the street. He then made a left, heading towards downtown Ponyville. As he walked, his thoughts turned to his father, as they did all too often lately.
Silver Shield was the only family that Caramel had ever really known. He had once had a mother, of course, but she had left his father when Caramel had been a newborn colt. Silver was on the Royal Guard, a high-ranking security officer in Canterlot. He oversaw the protection of experimental magical prototypes somewhere underneath Canterlot.
And that was all Caramel really knew about his dad’s work. Caramel’s grandfather - Silver’s father - had been in the Royal Guard, and his grandfather’s father, and so on. As such, Caramel had been raised with what his father referred to as ‘traditional values’. His father was always going on about how young stallions should be obedient, respect their elders, and so on and so on. Caramel understood his father’s sentiment, and for the most part, he did as he was told. After all, Caramel loved his father.
But over the past year, as Silver’s work afforded him less and less time at home, Caramel’s thoughts had wandered, strayed from the path his father had set. They traveled back to a certain experience he had with a pony at summer camp. A romantic experience.
This normally wouldn’t have been any problem at all. The only issue was, the ‘experience’ was with another colt.
That was something his father definitely didn’t approve of, and Caramel knew it good and well. His father often spoke ill of same-sex relationships, how they did no good for ponies as a species. How ponies just entered them for the thrill, for the experiment of it. And so on, and so on. At the time of his ill-fated trip to summer camp, Caramel had been too young to fully understand what his father meant. He just knew that if Silver said it, it had to be true. Right?
Well, now he wasn’t so sure. Caramel was almost a mature stallion. He should have been jumping at every pretty mare he saw, like the other colts his age.
Right?
Except that he wasn’t. In the past five years, he’d never seen a filly that really excited him in any way. No, Caramel wasn’t too sure at all if what his father said was true or not.
His thoughts kept going back to Big Mac.
And every time they did, he mentally gave himself a backhoofed slap.
It had been several months since his father’s last visit to Ponyville. The rumour was that researchers in Canterlot were approaching a magical breakthrough, the likes of which would change Equestria forever. Caramel didn’t know if that was true or not. What he did know was that without Silver around, he became lax when chastising himself for involuntarily staring at other colts. Every time he tried to tell himself it was wrong, it sounded weaker and more half-hearted than the last time.
Caramel’s thoughts were interrupted by loud noises. He had turned onto a seedy back alleyway behind the Ponyville marketplace. Up ahead he saw a door open, light from within flooding the dark street. Shouts filled the night, and a single pony was thrown out into the street. The door slammed shut again, leaving the alleyway mostly dark.
Caramel smiled as he approached the pony. It was an ancient and grizzled old stallion by the name of Bottoms Up.
“You alright there, Uppey?” he asked cheerfully, knowing full well that the old one would have no idea who he was. Not only was Bottoms’ eyesight awful on account of his age, but if he was drunk enough that the Drunken Dragon kicked him out... Well, Bottoms likely wouldn’t recognise his own mother in that state.
Caramel paid little mind to the incomprehensible noises that came from the dirty brown stallion, and instead trotted over to the door from whence the inebriated mess of a pony had been thrown. He knocked twice rapidly, then twice more slowly and deliberately.
A small panel set in the door slid aside, revealing dark green eyes.
“Who goes?”
“Just on my way to slay a dragon, is all.”
The pony on the other side of the door grunted appreciatively, and Caramel heard a deadbolt or two slide away. The door opened, revealing a mountain of a stallion by the name of Bruiser. He was the bouncer for The Drunken Dragon, one of Ponyville’s “less than licensed” establishments.
“Evenin, Caramel!” he exclaimed happily, “‘aven’t seen ye in a while. We wuz worried you ‘ad reevaluated yer morals!”
“Well, I tried. Can’t handle being on my own, it seems,” Caramel replied, and then in an undertone, “Misery always did love company...”
Bruiser held the door for Caramel as he entered the pub. Caramel was technically underage, but only by a year or so. Besides, the management at joints like The Dragon didn’t pay too much mind to silly things like age restrictions.
The Drunken Dragon wasn’t an especially large bar. Caramel trotted in, examining the occupants. There were the usual blue-collar workers from around the town, drinking healthy amounts of ale at the bar. A group of young mares giggled over fruity cocktails at some high tables, faces flushed. Other rag-tag groups crowded around greasy food on the restaurant floor. Caramel quickly found what he was looking for. He proceeded to make his way over to a green velvet table where a few fine gentlecolts were playing hold ‘em poker.
Gambling was one of Caramel’s few loves, and one of the pleasures in life that his father had never prohibited him from partaking in. He was a decent poker player by most standards, but really he didn’t play to win money. He just wanted to enjoy himself. It was a Friday night, and Caramel had brought fifty bits, a good chunk of the weekly paycheck he received from working retail at Mr. Featherstone’s Quill Emporium. It was a dreadfully boring job, selling nothing but quills. But the majority of businesses in Ponyville were family-owned and family-run, so there were few places for him to find work.
Caramel sat down at the table with a nod to the other players, and a smile to the dealer, Jack O’Spades. The other, older players regarded him curiously, each hazarding their own guesses at his age, no doubt.
But they soon forgot about how young he was when they saw the coin he brought to the table. Caramel was used to this process. First they were skeptical, then they simply viewed him as an easy way to make some bits. Now it was time for the third step in the cycle: proving them wrong.
Around a dozen hands later, Caramel was up sixty bits from where he started. The four older stallions sat around simmering. Another hand was dealt. Caramel looked at his cards - an ace and a king, both hearts! This hand was sure to make him some money. Himself and one other stallion called the blind, and one other was already in the hand from having paid the big blind.
Jack O’Spades burnt one card and turned the flop. A queen of hearts, a five of spades... Caramel’s heart jumped as he saw the last card - an eight of hearts! Caramel couldn’t believe his luck. There were 9 cards out of the remaining 40 in the deck that would make him a flush - and there were still two cards to be placed on the table! This meant he had almost a one in two chance of making one of the best possible hands. However his jubilation was cut short by the menacing grin of a grey stallion across from him.
Caramel decided to check and see what this pony would do.
“To you, mister Slate,” declared Jack, speaking to the grey stallion.
Caramel noticed that “Mister Slate” had accumulated the second largest amount of chips in the game - close to fifty bits - and had also started with more money than Caramel. The two combatants stared each other down. Caramel suspected that Slate had two hearts of his own. Either that or he was just bluffing. Either way, Caramel’s hearts were the ace and king, there was literally no way that slate could beat him if they both achieved a flush.
Slate didn’t take his eyes off of Caramel for one moment, as he slid forward a dubious amount of money. Jack quickly counted it up.
“Bet: ninety bits,” he declared. The other pony who had sat in on the round threw his hooves up in frustration. He folded, unable to match the bet without placing all his money on the line.
Caramel was still staring at Slate’s dark, unwavering eyes, a hint of a smirk on his lips. He had one-hundred and ten bits at his disposal. Calling and losing would put him in the red for the night.
But the numbers didn’t lie. Slate had to be bluffing, or running with a flush. His highest possible card was a jack, and he would still lose to Caramel.
Grimacing, Caramel counted out ninety bits, and shoved them into the middle of the table.
“Call,” Jack announced. He then burned another card and showed the turn - another five, this one of diamonds. Caramel’s faced showed no indication whatsoever of the discomfort he felt that he didn’t make the flush on the first card. He checked, as did Slate.
Then came the river. Caramel didn’t hesitate to show the triumph on his face - it was the seven of hearts.
He checked. Then, to Caramel’s complete astonishment, Slate bet another twenty bits.
“Wha-?” Caramel’s confusion was obvious. But nothing had changed, he had still won... Hadn’t he? Without a second thought, he shoved the remainder of his chips into the pot.
“Gentlemen, if you’d be so kind as to show your hands?” Jack O’Spades said with an air of elegance, for the benefit of the many ponies that had now crowded around the table.
Caramel went first. He threw down his cards and looked defiantly at Slate, who’s expression was neutral.
“An ace-high flush,” Jack announced. The crowd clapped appreciatively, rooting for the young stallion.
Mister Slate put down his cards.
A pair of fives.
Caramel blanched as the crowd gasped. Slate had a four of a kind, one of the three hands that could beat a flush.
Caramel, shocked by his defeat, rose from the table shakily. He stepped away from the table, ashamed that he hadn’t seen it. By not hiding his excitement on the last card, he had basically straight-up told Slate that he had a flush.
Lost, he looked around the room. Sympathetic looks followed him as the gathered ponies began to disperse. Not knowing what else to do, Caramel trotted over to the bar and seated himself. The bartender, who had witnessed Caramel’s defeat - along with everyone else in the room - poured him a tall glass of whiskey, saying that it was on the house.
Caramel mumbled his thanks, and then he sat, dejected, sipping the foul liquid and doing his best not to break down. He knew that the ponies around the room were still watching. He could feel their sideways glances; hear their whispers. And one thing his father had made sure Caramel knew was that real stallions don’t cry when they lose.
Before long he heard snickering coming from the group of mares he had noticed earlier, sitting at a couple of high tables not too far to his left. He sighed. Surely they were laughing at him, a cocky young gambler who had just lost all his money. What better source of amusement? Caramel’s expression became bitter, and he took a more aggressive gulp of his whiskey.
Then a mare walked over and cautiously sat down beside him. Caramel was not pleased. He looked the other way, wishing she would just leave...
“Hey,” she began, in a voice softer than Caramel was expecting. “I’m awfully sorry about my friends... They’re being real bitches.”
This wasn’t what Caramel had been expecting at all. Somewhat surprised, but mostly just relieved, he turned to face the mare.
She was a pale purple pegasus with a blonde mane and tail. He had seen her around Ponyville, but didn’t really know her.
“Uh... Thanks,” he told her with a weak smile, “But it’s not that big of a deal.”
“No really, I mean it. You don’t deserve to have ponies laughing at you after busting out like that. I’m not a big fan of ponies adding insult to injury.”
“Oh. Well, thanks!” This time when he said it, it was like a whole new word. He was glad at least one person in the joint actually cared about him beyond just a mere source of entertainment.
“I’m Caramel” he told her.
“Cloud Kicker,” she replied happily, “Hey, do you want to go somewhere... Not shitty?”
The harsh words about his favourite pub were about to offend Caramel, but then he realised what she actually meant by the question. She wants to... Go on a date? After thinking it over, he decided that a little female attention couldn’t possibly do him harm. Besides, he could always just stand her up if things went south.
Caramel laughed as he and Cloud Kicker tumbled out the door of Ponyville’s bowling alley. It was after closing time, and they had just been kicked out. Ten-Pin, the friendly owner, had made some scandalous allegations about what they were going to do after leaving his establishment, and the two were still giggling like fillies about it.
Caramel didn’t mind admitting it, he was having a great time. It had been a while since he had gone out with a friend like this. Cloud Kicker was happy, energetic, and funny. Her chatty attitude was infectious, and before long it had brought Caramel out of his drab state of mind completely. It reminded Caramel of the days when he was one of the most talkative ponies around. He missed those days. He figured that maybe, just maybe, having a little fling with Cloud Kicker could bring those days back.
Turning down the street, the two ponies started walking, with no particular destination in mind. It was late fall, and the nights were growing colder each day. Cloud Kicker shivered, then, doing her best to seem inconspicuous, sidled up to Caramel.
“Tonight was a lot of fun,” she sighed happily, leaning into Caramel a little.
Caramel considered protesting, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Cloud Kicker was certainly a pretty mare by most standards, Caramel could see that. But he just didn’t know... Besides, there was always the possibility that she was just genuinely cold.
Caramel laughed at himself. Of course that wasn’t the case, even he knew that.
The periwinkle mare beside him, however, took his laugh for a sign of affection. She stopped and placed a hoof on his shoulder, spinning him around to face her.
Caramel looked at her quizzically. She looked back at him expectantly, waiting. Then realisation, tainted slightly by the onset of panic, dawned on him.
Oh no, he thought, I can’t kiss her! Well, I could, but I just don’t want to!
Caramel didn’t dislike Cloud Kicker, in fact he thought she was awesome! But it was friendly, not romantic!
Caramel didn't know what to do. Cloud Kicker did, apparently. She placed both hooves on Caramel's shoulders, and drew him close, closing her eyes dreamily.
"Oh sweet Celestia!" Caramel stammered as he took a fumbling step away from Cloud.
"Wha-?" Cloud Kicker opened her eyes, confusion spreading across her face. Just moments ago she had been certain she was about to enjoy a nice kiss on a first date.
"Um... I mean, oh goddess, would you look at that!"
"Look at what?"
"Is that really the time?" Caramel asked, making a show of peering at the Ponyville clock tower, visible over the rooftops. "It's nearly one o'clock, my uh, favourite show starts in a few minutes!"
"What kind of show only airs at one in the morning?!" Cloud Kicker exclaimed, befuddled and slightly offended.
"It's er... This really obscure show, made by some indie producer... You've probably never heard of it. Look, I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna have to leave you. I had fun tonight, I really did!"
With that, Caramel turned and started galloping headlong away from the awkward situation, leaving behind one extremely perplexed and disconcerted young mare.
"You know, if my breath smelled bad, you could have just said so!" she yelled as he disappeared. Cloud Kicker was confused to no end. But a night as amazing as this one easily excused a single awkward moment. She would call him again sometime.
Caramel sat on his bed, thoroughly annoyed with himself.
Come on. The first girl to really reach out to me in years, and I blew it. Why?
Of course, the part of his mind which he had spurned for so long had a ready explanation. But just like all the times before, Caramel rejected that explanation.
It’s all in my head! I could choose to like Cloud Kicker, if only I had the willpower...
With a sigh of resignation, Caramel let his head fall heavily to his pillow, and fell into a restless sleep shortly thereafter.
The next morning, Caramel dragged himself from his bed, made breakfast, and then made his way to work.
He arrived at the quill emporium, and unlocked the entrance with his key. The very old and very sleepy pony who owned the shop, Mr. Featherstone, was likely still asleep in his apartment above the store. The old stallion had instructed Caramel that the shop was to be open at 8 o’clock every morning, though Featherstone was almost never was up that early.
Caramel grumbled as he entered to find the shop dark and empty. Mr. Featherstone was, as usual, not awake yet. Caramel set about making the store ready for shoppers, then settled in behind the counter with a copy of the latest Daring Do novel.
Caramel didn’t need to pay too much attention while he was on the job, because - surprisingly enough - hardly anyone ever visited the quill store. That was the main reason that Caramel never complained about Mr. Featherstone’s sleeping habits. It would be fairly simple for a pony to run the store by themselves, even one as old as Featherstone - that is, if Featherstone were to suddenly start getting up at a reasonable time of day.
Caramel was engrossed in his book, when the bell hanging from the front entrance rang. He mumbled a greeting, reckoning the pony who had just entered would be able to find what they were looking for. A pony not being able to find quills in a quill store sounded like some sort of bad joke.
But then he heard a feminine ‘ah-hem’ from right in front of him. He glanced up, his heart giving a jump. His body did the same, and he crashed out of the chair he had reclined in, collapsing on the floor.
“Oh boy. Are you alright?” asked Cloud Kicker, peering over the counter at him.
Caramel quickly leapt to his feet again.
“Oh, yeah, hey Cloud. Of course - no worries. Just didn’t expect to see you again so soon... Last night, I really...”
“...Yes?” Cloud eagerly asked, hoping for some sort of explanation.
Come on Caramel, just tell her! shouted the ever-troublesome section of his mind.
“I have no idea what came over me!” he said, a little louder than he meant to.
Just then, the blue-grey form of Mr Featherstone descended from the stairs at the back of the store.
“Caramel! I hope you’re not treating this fine customer indecently!”
“Oh no,” Cloud Kicker quickly jumped in, “Everything’s fine. In fact, I was just about to ask Caramel if he would like to accompany me to a concert tonight!”
“I will never understand young people...” he sighed. Then, more cheerfully, “Well, that’s just great then! What do you say, Caramel?”
Caramel just stood there, dumbstruck.
“I... What?”
“Come now, Caramel,” Featherstone said with a wink, “The customer is always right!”
Oh Celestia. Mr. Featherstone might have looked like he was joking, but Caramel knew he was dead serious - to him, the customer was always right.
“Well, I uh...” Caramel looked between the two ponies in the room. A relationship he wasn’t really comfortable with on one side, freedom (along with a potential loss of his job) on the other. “You know what, that sounds just great. When should we meet?”
Cloud Kicker smiled broadly. Featherstone seemed equally satisfied, and he retreated back up the stairs to his apartment.
The tremendous drone of synthesisers flooded Caramel's ears the instant he stepped into the club. He looked around, bedazzled by the busyness of it. Compared to the Drunken Dragon, this place was a beehive. Strangely twisted panes of glass formed abstract sculptures surrounding the dance floor, which was filled with local ponies dancing their cares away. Bright red and blue lights reflected off of the many reflective surfaces. It was a lot to take in at once.
Oh Celestia.
He followed Cloud Kicker to a small table in the bar area of the club, slightly further away from the source of the blaring music.
"When you said a concert, I didn't think you meant a rave!" Caramel shouted at Cloud Kicker.
"Oh relax, what's the difference?"
"What!?" Caramel asked, unable to hear her. He leant over the table so he could hear his date better.
"I said, you're going to have a great time!" With that, Cloud Kicker waved her hoof for a waitpony to come to their table.
From their slightly elevated position, Caramel had a clear view of the dance floor, where ponies moved their hoofs and bounced their heads in rhythm with the thunderous bass. Caramel could see a mare with a brilliant two-tone blue mane standing on a raised platform across the room, adjusting knobs and sliders and hoof pumping to the crowd.
He turned back to find his partner chatting with an attractive pegasus waitress, presumably ordering drinks. When the waitress left the table, Cloud turned back to Caramel with an enthusiastic grin on her face.
“Look, Cloud, I said I would come to a concert... I don’t even... I really can’t dance...”
“Hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret, but you have to promise not tell anypony, alright?”
Caramel rolled his eyes and promised not to.
“Neither can I. Neither can any of those ponies out there,” she said, gesturing to the crowd, “they just go out there and move their bodies, and we all pretend that they’re doing a good job.”
Caramel looked back at the crowd with a distinctly unconvinced look on his features. He truly had no experience with things like this. His father would surely think it was unbecoming of a gentlecolt.
“That’s it? I don’t believe you, it sounds too easy.”
“Oh, well, there is one other thing they do.” Cloud Kicker grinned at him as the waitress fluttered over to their table with two shots of a suspicious clear liquid.
“And that is...?” Caramel pressed.
“They drink!”
Cloud Kicker slid a glass across the table to Caramel, giggling at his unamused expression. She paid the serveuse a few bits, then directed her attention back to Caramel.
“Are you serious, Cloud?” he asked, with a discernible measure of protest in his voice.
“Deadly, I’m afraid,” she replied in a flutey and formal Canterlot accent.
“Your accent is awful... Bottoms up, I think.” If there was one thing that Caramel could do as well as the next stallion, it was drinking.
“Mmm, yes, quite,” agreed Cloud Kicker in her fancy voice, barely able to contain a fit of laughter.
The two raised their small glasses and simultaneously poured the contents down their throats. Caramel coughed and sputtered, his throat angrily protesting whatever it was he had just put back.
“Celestia, was that straight vodka?” he choked.
“Stalliongrad, one hundred proof!” she replied with an amiable smile, as if she had just told him what sort of tea she served at her house.
“Sweet Celestia...” he said again, “I think we both need another one.”
“That’s the spirit, old chap!”
“And would you stop that?! Goddess... To think that you only got me to go on this date by putting me on the spot in front of my boss.”
Cloud Kicker wasn’t paying attention, she had once again summoned their pegasus barmaid and was ordering another round.
After downing another three drinks in quick succession, Caramel was feeling a huge buzz coming on. Cloud giggled at him.
“I think you’re ready, big boy.” Cloud Kicker pulled him out of his seat, and he followed her over to the dance floor with newfound confidence.
Alright... Dancing! Let’s DO this...
The pair parted a sea of sweaty, swaying stallions and mares who had probably had as much drink as Caramel and Cloud. You could smell the sex in the air.
Caramel looked up in fascination at the system of floodlights and lasers that hung from the ceiling; flashing, blinking, peppering the clubgoers with bright red and purple lights.
“Aw come on, what are you, some kind of sleepy drunk? Don’t go spacing out on me here!”
“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry Cloud. Let’s... DO IT!”
Caramel looked up to the platform where the DJ pony was putting on a new record.
“ALRIGHT, Ponyville!” her voice boomed through the room, and the crowd cheered and whooped and stomped.
“I’m really excited, I know you’re excited, we’re all pretty pumped ‘cause this night is just getting started!”
The clubbers seemed to agree with her. They gave up a thunderous cheer as another thumping beat filled the room. Caramel and Cloud turned to each other and shrugged. Cloud Kicker began stepping in an embarrassing disco move, and Caramel laughed.
“Come on, you gonna let me look like an idiot all by myself?” she said, beckoning him over.
Caramel obligingly assumed a position facing her, and cautiously began to try and imitate her movements.
“Look, the most important part is that you just put OOMPH into it!” she explained, accentuating her expletive with a kick of her hind leg.
“Alright, alright,” Caramel acknowledged, starting to get into the groove, “I was just warming up.”
Then he started to shuffle.
Ponies around him gasped and dropped everything to watch. Caramel saw this and felt extremely empowered, alcohol flowing through his veins and filling him with confidence. He doubled his pace and shot a grin at Cloud Kicker, who gave him a thumbs up... Albeit in with a suspiciously large grin on her face...
Wait a minute.
Caramel looked back at the ponies around him, and saw that they weren’t holding back astonishment, but amusement! Caramel’s concentration broke and he slipped on the glossy floor, falling flat on his face.
Ah, buck it. I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this yet.
Several hours and innumerous drinks later, Caramel found himself bursting through the door of Cloud Kicker’s house. Cloud stumbled in after him and slammed the door shut. Caramel examined his surroundings - a small but modestly furnished home in an average part of Ponyville.
“Uhhh... Cloud?” he began, confused.
“Yeaaa?” she replied, smiling as she walked over to him and took him by the hoof.
“Wha... Why don’t you live in a... shky house?” he slurred as he was led over to the stairs leading, presumably, to her sleeping quarters.
“Be-cause, you silly pony, those are * hic * eck-shpensive! I’ve only been a weatherpony fooor... Uhm, a year. I think... Aaaanyways, not long enough to be able to afford a fancy cloudhome.”
“Ohhh... Right.”
Cloud Kicker giggled to herself as she pulled Caramel up the stairs and into her bedroom.
“Hey, nice room you got here, yeah?” Caramel said, looking around at Cloud Kicker’s bedroom. Actually, it could hardly be described as nice - it looked as if Cloud probably hadn’t cleaned her room since she had bought the house - but the still partially inebriated stallion failed to notice.
“Sure is!” she said with a giggle, shutting the door behind them.
While Caramel absentmindedly examined his surroundings, Cloud led him over to her bed and shoved him onto it. Caramel found himself staring at the wall, upside down. Awkwardly enough, it was the exact same colour as Cloud Kicker’s coat. She clearly either had terrible interior decorating taste, or just couldn’t be bothered to actually spend time thinking about what colour her room should be.
“I like the, uh... Colour... You... pick it out... Yourself...?” Caramel’s speech stuttered to a halt as he looked back at Cloud to find her on top of him, straddling him with a gleam of amusement in her eye. She giggled again.
“Eeyupp,” she admitted casually. She had other things on her mind besides the paint on her walls.
“Wait,” Caramel said in a suddenly very serious voice, sounding almost panicked. “Oh Celestia... Mac...”
“What?”
Caramel never knew a buzz could disappear so quickly. He looked up at Cloud Kicker, whose face was showing confusion as well as annoyance.
“Cloud...” he began - a little groggily, as if just waking up. “Cloud, I need you to get off me... We need to talk.”
"Alright Caramel. What's it gonna be this time? You're late for an important board meeting at the quill shop? You've got to go feed your pet guinea pig?"
Cloud Kicker's voice was sarcastic, but lying underneath, Caramel could tell, she was genuinely hurt. After all, this was the second time he rejected her at the last minute.
"No, Cloud, I-"
"The buzz wore off, now you realise that I'm not as pretty as I looked through your bucking beer goggles?"
"What? How could you even-"
"Or is it that you've got to leave to go blow some more money on card games?"
"Cloud," Caramel said firmly, "that really hurts."
Cloud stumbled, her anger fading for a moment.
"Well, what is it then?" she asked in an accusatory tone.
Let's think about this. Obviously, the best way to fix all this is to tell her the truth.
But... What would she think of then him then? Would she view him as a liar for not telling her earlier?
The longer I wait, the more flustered and angry she’ll be when I tell her.
If he was going to try and maintain a standing with Cloud somewhere above the level of “complete idiot”, there would be no better time to start than now.
"Cloud, this is completely explainable. But you need to be patient, and hear me out.”
Cloud said nothing, and instead just eyed him suspiciously.
“There’s a reason I’ve been trying to dodge your... advances. But... It’s a bit of a long story, alright?”
“About five years ago...”
Caramel outlined, for the first time to another pony, the events that took place at Camp Horseshoe Lake.
Cloud sat back on her bed, leaning against the lavender wall and staring at some faraway object that only she could see. Her expression was a piecework mosaic of astonishment, sadness, comprehension, and vague amusement.
“Wow. Well, that does explain a lot. Is... Is it all true?”
“Every word. And every time I’ve seen Mac since then, I’ve wanted to say something... But I’ve been afraid of what could happen between us, and...”
At this, Caramel gave a hopeless sigh.
“Well, I’m afraid of what my father would think.”
“Your dad? Why?”
“Well, he’s not exactly approving of that sort of thing.”
“Seriously?”
Caramel gave her his most sarcastic “are-you-kidding-me?” face.
“Okay, okay. Of course you’re serious. But that’s just... I don’t understand how he could be prejudiced against someone based on something so irrelevant... If you’re gay, it has nothing to do with who you are as a pony, or as a son.”
Caramel was surprised by how liberating it felt to have somepony call him gay.
“Thanks,” he said with a weak smile, “but I don’t know... I just feel like that sort of logic wouldn’t have much of an effect on my father. I mean, he’s been taught that all his life. He tried to teach me that. If I wasn’t... Well, if I wasn’t gay myself, I might even have the same mindset as him...” Caramel gulped at the thought.
“I doubt it. I don’t think you buy into those macho-stallion stereotypes.”
“Thanks.”
“But what do you plan to do? Just keep it a secret from everypony forever?”
“Cloud, I don’t know. When you found me, that night in the Dragon, what did you think I was doing? I tried to stop gambling, tried to stop drinking... But without those things, I’m just a deadbeat, with a deadbeat job and a deadbeat life.”
Cloud leaned back against the wall again, taking in the truth of his words.
“You know, Caramel, you can’t go on this way. Keeping feelings pent up inside you just isn’t healthy!”
“But I have to go on this way. For the sake of family, I ca-”
“Whoa whoa whoa, stop there,” Cloud cut him off, “what you’re doing isn’t for his sake at all!”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re not doing it for him. You’re doing it for YOU. Because you’re afraid.”
“Excuse me,” Caramel said again, anger rising in him.
“You need to get over your fear, and realise that if you just confessed and came out, your life would be a whole lot easier. Regardless of what happens with your father.”
“I’m leaving. I didn’t agree to go on dates with you so that you could insult me.”
“You’re right, you did it to try and convince yourself that you aren’t gay. And that’s another thing, what in Tautarus made you think that was a good idea?”
Caramel ignored her and made for the door.
“Alright, that’s fine. What do I care if you keep living a lie? You’ll see that I’m right, whether it’s in a week or on your deathbed.”
“Goodbye, Cloud,” Caramel said politely through gritted teeth.
“Goodbye, Caramel.”
Caramel didn’t go straight home after leaving Cloud Kicker’s house. Instead, he strayed through the streets of Ponyville, his mind a warzone.
On one side, the forces of conservatism, maintaining the stance that taking Cloud’s advice could only lead to harm. Their weapon was fear - Cloud was undeniably right in that regard. But who was to say that this fear was unjustified? Silver Shield was not one to be trifled with. Caramel couldn’t know what the consequences would be if he came out to his father. Maybe, maybe, Silver would accept him. But it was far too slim a chance to bet on, when on the opposite of the spectrum was disappointment, rejection, a broken bond between the only pony he truly knew loved him.
But the opposing forces were determined. They fought the fear with promises of happiness and freedom, and their words were tempting. As Caramel walked the empty roads and alleyways, the two sides battled back and forth constantly.
There were other factions, too, intervening in the fight. Caramel’s pride, for one, wouldn’t let him entertain the idea that someone who had just called him a selfish coward was actually right.
Caramel considered paying a visit to the Drunken Dragon. But that, he decided, wouldn’t help matters at all.
The lone golden stallion looked up at the sky, wondering why his life had turned out this way. His thoughts turned to Mac, and that one brilliant kiss that had sent his life into a miserable downwards spiral. That stupid, stupid insect, Caramel mused.
By the time Caramel turned to make his way back home, the sun was nearly rising. Caramel was dead tired, and still hadn’t been able to reach a conclusion. In a way, he supposed, that was more or less a victory for Team Keep-Your-Feelings-Locked-Away. Caramel resented that.
As Caramel approached his residence, he saw Ponyville’s mailmare, Ditzy, leaving something in the mail for him.
Great. Bills, no doubt. Just what I need right now.
Caramel opened up his mailbox and took out a sheaf of letters and a newspaper in his teeth. Taking them into his house, he dropped the load on his kitchen table and began to sort through it.
Junk mail. Bills. More junk. Caramel sighed, and looked at the newspaper.
MAGICAL EXPLOSION IN CANTERLOT
SEVERAL PONIES INJURED, ONE DEAD
Can nothing go right in the world?
Caramel began the tedious process of examining his letters and determining which were ones that he actually had to open. He had just thrown out a few ludicrous sales offers, when he noticed that there were actually two letters in the pile which were addressed in hoofwriting. One was amusingly simple - it had just one word on the envelope, “Caramel”. The other was important-looking, with bold writing that gave his full name and address. Caramel decided that the latter seemed more prudent to open first.
He tore the envelope with his mouth, and unfolded the paper inside. Neat and tidy letters marched across the page, spelling out,
Dear Mr. Caramel,
We regretfully inform you that your father, Chief Security Officer Silver Shield, is deceased as of this October the 17th.
The currently listed cause of death is the misfire of an experimental magical weapon prototype. Your father was CSO of the experimental project, and was overseeing its protection on-site when the weapon was accidentally detonated, causing severe damage to the facility and killing your father.
The Royal Guard extends its very deepest regrets and condolences at this untimely passing. In recognition of his consistency and dedication to his work, the Royal Guard has posthumously bestowed...
Had Caramel kept reading, a long list of accolades and medals would have followed. At this point, however, Caramel had let the letter fall from his shaking hooves to flutter gently to the ground.
Is this... Is this real?
Of course it was. Caramel urgently reexamined the newspaper article he had skimmed over earlier. The magical explosion, it seemed, had taken place in a research facility below the streets of Canterlot. The article said little about his father besides noting that he was military personnel, and the sole death in the incident.
The news was... Well, to call it shocking would be a severe understatement. Caramel sat down on the chair facing the table. The other letters lay forgotten on the tabletop. They seemed pitifully insignificant now. Minutes ago he had been worrying about how many bits he would have to pay to keep water running to his house - how could that have possibly mattered?
