Ten Things I Hate About You
It was a gorgeous sunny morning in Canterlot. Sunburst sat at the edge of a stone step looking up at the clear blue skies, not a single cloud in sight. Held delicately between his hooves was a thin white piece of paper, words scrawled across it in his near illegible hoof writing.
Sunscratch, he used to call it.
The area was quiet, but that wasn't unusual in the place Sunburst found himself in. No one was near him, and even the few specks of ponies he saw in the distance were more concerned with their own affairs than the yellow unicorn sitting by himself.
He was thinking, and that was bad. He dwelled on thoughts he didn’t want to, things better left alone.
Looking to his right, a faint scowl on his face, he stared intently at the target of his ire.
“I wrote a list, Spearhead,” Sunburst said, “ten things I hate about you.”
No reply came.
“Fine, don’t answer. I always do the talking for us anyways.” He coughed into a hoof to clear his throat, an abrupt sound within the silence of the area.
“Firstly, I hate how you perch everywhere.” Sunburst snorted. “You always seem to need to be higher than me at every opportunity and it's annoying. I always have to look up when I want to talk to you outside. Whenever I asked you to come down, you’d always just give me that damned smile and tell me you preferred being there. It was easier to watch out for me.”
He glanced further down the page finding difficulty in voicing the words despite the underlying frustrations buried between the lines.
“Secondly, I hate how quiet you are. You would always drone on and on and on about my research and you never said a word in response besides the occasional nod or affirmation that you were listening. Always that same look on your face.” He recalled the look easily, perked ears and a massive grin that always reached his eyes. “It’s so embarrassing being the only speaker and everyone always judging our relationship as one-sided because I was the only one that talked. But it wasn’t my fault! You never talked about anything!”
Crumpling the paper slightly in his hooves, Sunburst’s scowl became more prominent as he did so.
“That actually segues into my third point! You never talked about your problems with me! I never even knew you were injured until I would accidentally hold you in the wrong way, because of course I screwed up hugs.” Another angry snort followed as Sunburst recalled the pained expression Spearhead would have whenever he answered that he was fine. Always fine. “Ugh, even worse I had to hear from Flash Sentry that you had been seeing a psychologist for a possible depression diagnosis because of your work. Why would you tell your friends, but not me?!”
He slammed his hoof on the stone step. “Also, you snore louder than an Ursa Major. And sleep like one too! Nothing short of an apocalypse could wake you up and even then I think you wouldn’t wake up until the meteor had already hit you.”
Sunburst clenched his jaw as he recalled how peacefully he always slept. How comforting it was to hear the steady sound of his breathing as they cuddled together.
“And don’t get me started on your cooking!” Sunburst rolled his eyes as he recalled the smell of burnt pancakes and maple syrup bottles every Sunday morning. “Why did you even think to cook the bottle? Honestly, my own mother couldn’t get me to learn to cook, but your terrible cooking made me pick up the skill really fast.”
A strange hobby he still kept up with as he’d learned to love cooking his own food.
“So, fifthly… wait, what number are we on?” He quickly scanned the page. “Sorry, sixthly, the paint. Oh, sweet sunspots, the PAINT! It. Got. Everywhere. I don’t think I went a day without finding some new splatter on my cloak or research papers or even my glasses.”
It had mostly been his fault of course with how frequently he liked to work near Spearhead as he painted his latest art piece. Each one never failed to set Sunburst’s heart a flutter.
“Then, of course, there’s the codependency. You clung to me everywhere!”
Mainly due to Sunburst’s anxiety and panic attacks. He had seen it once and never wished to be absent if it happened again. He cared too much.
“Plus there was also all the romantic sappiness. Silly pick up lines, flowers, and all of these thoughtful gifts. I hated it. Even with Princess Cadance’s help I could never get you anything better than books, books, and more books!”
Which Spearhead always enjoyed because he loved to learn new things.
Sunburst’s hooves hook as tears welled in the corners of his eyes.
“Ninthly,” he continued, pushing through the emotions welling in his throat, “I hated that you were a guard. Always galloping headfirst into danger. I never knew if our goodbyes were going to be the last and even when you did come home there were always new injuries, new scars, until…”
He choked, the welling in his throat finally having caught up to him. The tears flowed freely down his face as he cried out in pain. A sound of wordless agony. It took everything to regain control, to read the final words on his tear stained parchment.
“And finally, and most importantly, I hate that you made me love you.”
Placing a hoof on Spearhead’s gravestone, he admired the crystal work. Beautifully carved quartz made in honour of the hero that fought back the wendigos that had threatened the Empire.
Patting the tombstone lovingly with a bittersweet smile on his face, Sunburst got up on his hooves. He nearly fell, weak from the outburst he had just had, but he managed to stand tall.
“Goodbye, Spear. Love you. I’ll see you next month.”
Then Sunburst left.
Alone.