Lovesick
Love stared hard into his reflection, carefully going over every inch of his face with great focus. His eyes were brilliant blue pools, sharp and intense. His mane, freshly cut, lay smoothly over his neck and brow. He held his hooves before him. “Perfect,” he said with pride. “This Hearts and Hooves day will be the one. This year I'll have my special somepony.”
The stallion strode from his washroom, his chin held high as his hope. Love had been building up to this year's Hearts and Hooves all week, and wanted everything to be perfect. He had a colourful bouquet of daisies made ready for him that he planned to deliver first thing in the morning. They were a brilliant mix of whites, yellows and lots of pink. Nestled among the stems was a poem he had written from the bottom of his heart, professing all the things he dare not speak aloud... not yet anyway. Love blushed deeply at the memory of what he had scribed. That bashful mirth took a sudden spill into doubt, and the stallion's knees began to tremble.
“What if she doesn't like the gifts?” Love wondered as a cold sweat began to form on his white coat. “What if I'm being too forward with this?” He looked over to the bouquet resting in a shallow vase of water. The poem was neatly folded beside the flowers on the tables, sealed with a pretty red ribbon. Love dashed to the gift, second guessing himself all the while. “No, it'll be fine. You've put this off long enough,” he told himself trying to rebuild his confidence. “There isn't anything that can stop you but yourself, and like hay you're going to let yourself do that again!”
Love looked to his calender, and marked the date with another 'X'. He had been counting down the days in anticipation since the winter was wrapped up. Love thought back to that chilly day as he got ready for bed. He was on the animal team helping the hibernating critters prepare for the coming spring. She was there too, trotting about tending to her duties. Love wished so much to speak with her, but he only managed to mumble the songs everypony was singing as they worked. He was afraid that she may hear him and then, with her attention, would approach him. Love squirmed at the thought of the missed opportunity, but he would only allow the embarrassment to further steel his resolve. He grabbed his nightcap and donned it with conviction. “Tomorrow,” Love said with a determined glint in his eye, “I make Cheerilee my very special somepony!”
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Love lay in his bed, wide eyes glued to the ceiling. He dared a glance at his bedside clock. It was four in the morning. “What the buck!?” Love growled. “I need to be up in a couple of hours if I'm going to take the gift to the school. I can't go see Cheerilee if I'm exhausted!” Love rolled over and pulled his sheets tightly around him trying to shut out all distractions, but the tumbling thoughts in his mind would not be shut out so easily. The fabric cage seemed only to amplify the stallion's troubled thoughts. His attention was not on sleep, but on all the mistakes he made in his pursuit of love and all the mistakes he had yet to make. Visions of rejection came in crystal clear before his eyes. “That's so sweet of you,” the phantom Cheerilee said, “but I'm not looking for a relationship now.” Another scene came into view accompanied by mocking laughter. Cheerilee was laughing at Love's pathetic attempts to woo her. Then came a Cheerilee who confessed, “Oh, but I don't like stallions...”
Love threw off his sheets and leaped from the bed. He was fed up with his fears getting the better of him. “I'll just go now,” he said with a snort, “and sleep while she's at work. That's plenty of time to get some rest.” Love snatched up his gift and poem, and ran into the dark twilight.
The air was sharp with the chill damp of the early spring. The moisture was beginning to make Love's nose run, and he was constantly sniffing to keep from it running over Cheerilee's presents. As he entered into town, the cold air overtook his senses and Love felt a strong tingling in his nose. “Ah...” he began through clenched teeth. “No,” Love thought. “Not now.” He took another involuntary gasp. “Hold it in...” Love told himself. He stood there in the middle of the empty street, the pale moon giving a soft glow to the stallion. The sun was just beginning to rise behind him, casting a long shadow of Love's great form over the stretches of cobblestone. The dew on his hooves glistened under the golden rays. Love was still as a statue; tense as a wire. He felt the assaulting sensation pass, and he let out a sigh of relief. Then he coughed.
The flowers fell from his mouth and the poem took off, gliding through the thick morning air. Panicked at the loss, Love raced after the flitting paper. His hooves tapped a fevered staccato on the stones that echoed sharply off the houses around him. The poem danced before Love, teasing him by dancing away every time he thought he had it. The gently breeze carried Love's feelings to a short bridge in the middle of town where it landed ever so gently, ever so precariously on the edge of the railing. Love stopped suddenly, not wanting to disturb even the air in such a delicate situation. Gingerly, he crept up to the letter. His movements were steady and deliberate as he circled around the far side of the bridge to bloke any incoming wind. He paused only for a moment when the paper shifted lazily. When things were settled again, Love returned to his rescue mission. The poem was only a few feet away. Love slowly reached out a hoof to pull the precious paper to safety. His eyes were wide, his hoof shaking. “Just another few inches...”
With an errant twitch, Love bumped the corner off the paper and it made to slip over the side of the rail into the stream below. Love dove for his poem as it disappeared over the edge. With a great splash, both poem and stallion broke through the water's surface. Love burst from the frigid water, and paddled glumly to the shore. When he pulled himself back onto dry land, Love noticed something was stuck to the top of his head. He peeled the thing away, hoping it was not what he thought it could be. Love let out a sad sigh as he looked upon the soggy mess that was once his professions of deep longing. The ink was bleeding through the fibres of the paper and beginning to stain the ribbon he had gotten just for this gift. “Okay, this isn't the end of the world,” Love told himself. “You can just rewrite it and give it to her later. Heck, you could even just tell her your-” Love was interrupted by a sudden and violent sneeze. “A-CHOO! Ugh, I must have gotten water up my nose,” he thought as he gave another sneeze. Abandoning his words of affection to the stream they seemed to long for, Love shook himself dry and went in search of the flowers he had dropped.
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The sun was over the horizon as Love approached the elementary school. It would still be a couple of hours until anypony would be showing up, so Love took a moment to rest among the playground equipment. Love sat down on the merry-go-round with his bouquet beside him and let the morning sun's warmth soak through his wet coat. Love looked around the little playground, thinking back to when he was a little colt. Miss Hackney used to teach here until Cheerilee moved in from Canterlot as the new teacher. She was a nice teacher who looked out for her students, always ready to give advice to her students whenever asked. Love was sad to see her go, but understood that all things eventually change.
Love returned his attention to the playground. The merry-go-round was is favourite thing to play on when he was a colt. He was bigger than most of the other children, so he would use that to make the merry-go-round spin faster than anypony else could. Love liked being able to make so many others happy. The happy memories of his youth swam through his mind, and soon he found himself kicking off at the dirt. The wheel he was one was turning and rapidly gaining momentum. Love let a a cry of joy as the world turned into a blur around him. He breathed deeply of the sweet scent of morning dew, flowers and grass. “The day is still just beginning,” Love reminded himself. “Things will turn out alright.”
Love planted a leg into the dirt to brake his ride. “Now, where did I put that bouquet?” Love looked about for a moment, then remembered that he had placed the flowers on the merry-go-round when he sat down. Love searched the ground nearby thinking it fell off when the ride started spinning. Round and round he went scanning for what remained of his gifts, but the search yielded nothing. Confused, Love returned to the merry-go-round to inspect it closer, hoping for some clue as to what happened to his daisies. When the top of the ride did not give any help, Love crouched low to peek underneath. There, on the far side of the wheel, was a limp, crumpled mass. Love went to retrieve his bouquet, fallen and trampled in his fun. Only a couple of the had flowers survived his carelessness. Love's lip quivered, but he held firm to his composure. “I said things will turn out alright,” he reminded himself, “and I meant it!” Carefully, Love placed the flowers on the front step of the school. He brushed off the tag that read 'To: Cheerilee' and tucked it between the stems. Love knew he would have to confront Cheerilee himself now since there was only room on the tag for one name; the poem that had his signature was illegible. “A-CHOO!” sneezed Love again. All of his goofing around had gotten his head swimming. Now dealing with a runny nose and little rest, Love knew he needed some sleep. He turned for home, comforted by the thought that he at least got some of his flowers delivered.
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Love awoke tangled in a soggy blanket. He started to shove the offending sheets from himself, but his head was not having any of that. Love's brain ached like a kick to the skull, and all he managed to do in the end was moan pathetically. It felt as though his body was on fire and laying on a block of ice. “What happened to me?” the stallion sulked. Love painfully blinked his eyes open, each feeling like a lead pin cushion. He had to know what time it was; he had plans for today. Love slowly turned his head to look at his clock. “Two-fifty...” he murmured. “Two-fifty!?” School would be out soon, and Love would miss his chance to confront Cheerilee in private. The stallion rolled out of bed with a thump and scrambled for the door.
Bleary-eyed, drenched hair, and red-nosed, Love ran as far as he could. He did not get very far when his headache got the better of him. The pain forced him to a slow crawl, but still the stallion pressed on. Every step caused him pain, yet all Love could think about was how much time he had wasted in fear of rejection. He was proud of what he finally set out to do, and refused to let anything stop him now. Onward he pressed, unaware of the mare that spied his struggle; a mare who could see what Love refused to acknowledge.
Love made it to the centre of town. He had no idea what time it was now at his snail's pace. Love called out to a passing stallion and, with slurred words asked, “Exthuse me, but do you haf the time?” The brown hair pony leaned away from the sickly stallion. “Er, it's about three-twenty,” the pony answered. Love let out a moan as the other stallion backed away. “Well, that didn't go as planned,” Love thought to himself. “Maybe I can still catch her if I hurry.” Love began once more for the school house, when he felt somepony rest a hoof on his shoulder.
Love turned to see who wanted to speak with him. His eyes eventually brought into focus a young white mare with her pink mane pulled back into a large bun. “Excuse me,” she said, “but what are you doing up and about?” Love tried to explain, but in his fever only managed a stammer. “I... goin' t' see... Cheeri...Cheeri...” The mare shook her head. “Listen,” she said, “whoever your going to go visit, I'm sure they'll understand if you postpone your date, but you need to see a doctor. Come with me. I saw you walking by earlier and fetched an ambulance for you.” The mare led the dazed Love to a nearby ambulance. She gave Love an ice pack and a thermometer, and went to the front to speak with the driver. Love sat there, feeling miserable through and through. He tried to come up with an excuse for the mare to let him go, and wondered how the day could get any worse.
Love heard a young voice singing nearby. He perked up his ears immediately when he realized what the song was about. “Cheerilee is sweet and kind,” the song began. A unicorn filly and a couple of her friends were skipping about the town, singing a bouncy tune about his Cheerilee. “She's the best teacher we could hope for. The perfect stallion you and I must find. One to really make her heart soar.” Love was confused. He wondered why these children were looking for stallion's for Cheerilee. The song continued as the fillies flitted about the townsfolk, “But... This one's too young. This one's too old.” The unicorn then skipped over to Love and sweetly sang, “He clearly has a terrible cold.” Love sneezed in surprise as the foal scampered off.
Love sat there, stunned by what had happened. All of his planning and work, thwarted by illness, and it took a child to bluntly point it out to him. Love had tried all day to persevere through whatever came his way, but he now had to accept that today was not going to be his day after all. Again.
The white mare returned and helped Love into the back of the ambulance. She sat in the back with him, taking notes of his condition. “Now, I'm quite sure that this is just a nasty bout of flu, but I just wanted to make sure you are going to be okay.” She scribbled some more notes onto a clipboard, and returned her gaze to Love. He noticed that she had soft blue eyes, yet they burned with an intense yet caring passion. “My name is Nurse Redheart. What's yours?” she asked. “Love...” “Love?” Redheart pressed, sensing there was more to the stallion's name. Love smiled, feeling that somehow, his day still had room to improve. “...Sick.”