It's too hot in here. Way, way too hot… and I love the heat. I mean, come on now- I'm Spitfire. Heat is what I'm all about. The blazing sun, wearing skimpy bikinis on beaches of crystalline sand, saucy posing to tease the press and my fans, sweaty and alcohol-fueled flings that I can barely remember, and of course, my smokin' bod. But lately… I've been feeling a different kind of heat. A heat I'm not sure I like. A heat that I don't think others can really understand. Pressure.
Really, it's always been there. Pressure to be number one, pressure to live up to everypony's expectations as the new leader of the Wonderbolts, pressure not to screw up too badly in a place that the paparazzi would see. Usually, it's nothing. Usually, I can get through the day with a broad smile, sarcastic remarks, terrible decisions, and a little good cheer with my wingmates. Recently, though… things have changed. Ever since I took up the mantle to finally lead the team as of two weeks ago, it just hasn't been the same.
…yeah. Definitely too hot in here. Even leaving the door open isn't helping. You'd think that a five star hotel would have better A/C. Then again, you'd think that the leader of the Wonderbolts doesn't have much to bitch about. Wrong in both cases. Down to the floor the blanket goes, joining its brothers in a crumpled heap on the plush carpet below. Not like it fuckin' matters. I'm sure somepony will be along to clean up the mess tomorrow, and then tuck the sheets right back under the mattress at the ends, smooth enough to look machine-pressed. I do feel kinda bad about leaving shit for others to deal with. I know what it feels like to have things dropped on top of you with the 'it's your job to deal with it' excuse. Doesn't make it right.
But it's hot, I'm tired, and I just don't care. Everypony has days- or in this case, nights- like this. Let me have mine.
…or at least, I hope they do…
Gotta love loaded sighs that carry more weight than an earth pony on steroids. I need a new song. Listening to sad music when you're sad is one of the absolute dumbest ideas I've ever heard of, and yet I do it every single time this happens. Just laying atop whatever random bed is mine for the night while listening to slow melodies and thinking is something I need to cut out of my life. It doesn't help. I don't know why it happens. I hope nopony ever sees me moping like this. It just… isn't me. I'm supposed to be the energetic one, the outgoing and playful one. The one that has everypony's back, and the one that doesn't need anypony else.
Probably should have closed the door. Eh, fuck it. It's almost four in the morning, unless the clock on the bedside table is broken. Honestly, I wouldn't know. Point is- I can barely see two feet in front of me, and I'm always the last one to bed on the team. Even Fleetfoot goes unconscious before 2, and earlier on nights before a show or practice. Thank Celestia we have neither tomorrow. I'm definitely not getting sleep.
There we go. My air show theme. Rockin'-ass guitars, a bit of keyboard on the intro… heavy on bass, because come on. Bass is sexy as hell. Every time I hear this, it gets my blood pumping. This song means it's show time, and I get to do what I do best. What I love. What I've spent my whole life practicing for, from the moment I saw my first 'bolts show. This shit never gets old.
Well… it never did get old. Until now. Fuck.
Why am I not feeling it? Why now? I just got the promotion I've always dreamed of. Ember Blitz retired and hoof-picked me to be his successor. I've got the best job in the world and a lot of great, real friends on the team who always have my back the few times I need it. My life is awesome and exciting. The kind of thing most pegasi can only dream of. Everything I've ever wanted, and I've got it all.
So why do I feel like crying?
Enough of this stupid music. It'll be exciting again tomorrow. I just need sleep, or something. I'm overthinking things. I'm not really known for thinking at all, and with good reason. When I start thinking, this kind of shit happens. This isn't what anypony needs, least of all, me. Out come the ear buds… but I've learned my lesson. Wrapping them around my iTrot before I put it down. Otherwise, the wire gods tangle the shit out of them and I spend ten minutes untangling the damned things. There we go. Back to silence. Long, uncomfortable silence, which will probably be spent staring at that damned light. Tempted to smash it… but I don't think I can find enough fucks to give to even get up.
Still too hot. I mean, damn. I'm nearly sweating just laying here. Correction- definitely sweating. Cold, wet sensations don't just randomly trail down your back like that. Or down your cheeks.
…it's just sweat. That's what all of this is. Just… heat-induced… whatever. I'll be fine in the morning. Give it a few hours, I'll pass out, and then wake up as the pony everypony knows me to be.
Then again, that's what I told myself the last time this happened.
Fuck that light. Even rolling over barely fixes things. It's darker now, yeah, but I'm blanketless, sweaty, and… yeah, just sweaty. Knowing that the light is still there, like some expectant fucking eye boring a hole into my back, is enough to bring me to rage. And yet, unlike in one of my famous moments of anger that the whole team fears… I don't even want to move. I just want to lay here, pissed off and mumbling, and hope the whole world just implodes on itself. I didn't ask to have an introspective night. I'm sure lots of ponies are sleeping comfortably right now, dreaming about whatever the hell they've got that makes them happy. Not me.
Pounding a hoof into the mattress does nothing. Staying still does nothing. I'm out of ideas save for screaming, and not only do I think that wouldn't do shit, everypony else is asleep, and I don't want attention drawn to me. I wish everypony would just leave me the fuck alone for once. I don't have all the answers. Usually, I can wing it, but can't you all understand I need some fucking space sometimes?
Again, hitting the mattress. Does this qualify as a tantrum? Where are all of these thoughts coming from, and why do I feel so bitter and… betrayed? This sucks. What I wouldn't give to just stomp a hoof and magically fall asleep. Until then, I guess it's just punching my pillow and trying to stop the t-
"…Captain? Are… you alright in there?"
Oh. Fuck. Should have closed the door. Definitely should have closed the door. I probably look like a demented freak right now.
"Captain Spitfire?"
Shut up, newbie. I'm pretending to be asleep.
"I'm not that dumb, you know. I saw you, and you looked upset…"
Not that dumb? Sometimes, I really wonder, Soarin.
Oh shit. Looks like I'm about to pay for my mental venom. Heavy hooffalls on the carpet. That means…
"Spitfire? Please, say s-"
A hoof against my back. Not a sensation I wanted. Nor is the spinning in my head as I whip around and channel all of my fury into the dirtiest glare I can muster.
"Leave me the fuck alone, Soarin. Go back to bed, a-and just… just get out of my room."
Great. Voice cracked, hitched a little, and I finished with a sniffle. Behold the great captain of the Wonderbolts. I might as well just jump out the window and not even open my wings on the way down. I'm sure this is gonna make a great story over a round of drinks with the boys. At least he looks surprised… I guess…
"S-sorry, Captain. I just… I shouldn't have come in. I'll just go."
And true to his word, there he goes. Back across the carpet and directly to the door, leaving me with one last look at those worried, hot, emerald eyes of his. I'll admit, though, even in this fucked-up mental state… I like his ass more.
"…wait."
What the fuck, mouth. Why aren't you lining up with my mind? I did not just tell him to stay. And yet… I totally did.
"…Captain?"
"…why the hell are you awake?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
Whoa there, cowboy. Was there a little bite in that answer? About time this one grew some balls. He's a doormat, from what I've seen. I'm surprised he even worked up the courage to come in here. Wonder where else this little chat could go…
"Misery loves company. Get your flank in here, and close the door. It's not making it any cooler, and that damned light is driving me nuts."
Fillies and gentlecolts, Soarin the welcome rug. Finally, that light is gone, and now I literally can't see two feet in front of me. That should make this more… fun.
Who am I kidding. Not only do I feel like shit, but this is Soarin. He may be good, damned good, even, in the air, but I'm not interested in him, especially right now. And I don't sleep with wingmates.
Usually.
To be honest, the only reason he's even in here is so that I don't go mad just stewing in my thoughts. Maybe having somepony to talk to would be better than nothing…
"Woke up, couldn't get back to sleep. I woke up about an hour ago and just started wandering the halls."
"Huh?"
"You asked why I was awake."
Touché. Guess I'm more off my game than I thought tonight. I don't get outflown by rookies. In speech, or on the wing. Let's just hope he didn't see the… yeah.
"Well, that sucks. What exactly was your master plan coming in here? Swoop in and comfort the mare in distress with your oh-so-suave conversational skills? I'm not a filly, you know. I can take care of myself."
It's hard to make out, but… pretty sure he's staring at the floor now. Definitely heard him sit. Yeah… and here comes the shuffling. Now I feel like a total heel. Which… I kinda did just turn into. Shit. Better soften my tone. Just because I'm miserable doesn't give me an excuse to talk down to him. I know integrating into the team hasn't really been smooth for him…
"…hey, listen… I'm sorry. That was… really, really bitchy of me."
"No, no… you're right. I don't really think things through sometimes."
"Sounds familiar."
Cue uncomfortable silence. No, fuck that. I need to talk. Get my mind off things. I really should get to know him, anyway. He did join at a weird time, but he's certainly qualif-
"I guess… well, I always heard the Wonderbolts were all close. More like a brotherhood than a flight team. I saw you were crying a-"
"Eye sweat."
"What?"
"My face was hot."
"…right. Eye… sweating… and I figured I'd try to help. You've already done your part for me, what with getting the others to stop the hazing."
Kinda my job. I was pretty pissed at Rapid Fire, to be honest. Nopony should have to deal with that… even if his voice is a little weird. That's not what being a Wonderbolt is about. In fact…
"That's a pretty accurate description, usually. They'll warm up to you. I got teased when I first joined, too. 'Spittie' wasn't a name I chose, you know. I just… got used to it, and now I even like it."
"Somehow, I don't think that's going to happen with 'Dumbass' for me…"
"Yeah… but you've gotta stand up for yourself. There's only so much I can do."
Maybe a little harsh, but true. You're a stallion, Soarin. Not a colt. Start acting like oHOLY SHIT HOOF ON SIDE.
"You're right. I don't know why I've just been taking it. But back to why I'm here- what's wrong? I make a good set of ears."
"Unfortunately, I don't make a good mouth. Don't you dare say a word. That's not what I meant."
"Wouldn't dream it."
"I make a fantastic mouth."
"I'm sure you do."
"I just meant… I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me. I can't put it into words."
I've never been one to tell lies. Fortunately… he doesn't seem like the type to press for more info. I really don't know what else I could say. I was right, though- somepony is definitely better than nopony. Maybe I was just feeling alone? No, it's more than that. Unappreciated? I… can't put my hoof on it.
"I know that feeling. I think I know exactly what you're going through right now."
"Oh yeah? Because I don't."
"I said I knew. Not that I understood."
And once again, somepony proves to me that the simplest statements are often the ones that hold the most meaning. Still waters run deep, and all that. I like this one already.
"And what do you do when this kind of thing happens? When you feel like shit, and you just don't know why? When the reasons are right in front of you, but none of them match up?"
"Well… whenever this would happen, back when I still had somepony, we would do… this."
…good thing the door's closed now. Man, stallions weigh a lot. The bed just sank a good six inches with that little leap. If he tries to make a move, though, he's dead. I don't care how much lighter I am- they don't call me Spitfire for nothing.
"You're pretty bold. Hopping into bed with your boss, especially when you barely know me."
"You have to be bold to be a 'bolt. Or so the recruitment posters say."
Definitely like this one.
"Just keep your hooves to yourself, and we'll be alright."
"Believe me, if there was a blanket on the bed, I'd be staying atop it. When you aren't sure what to say, sometimes silence is the best thing. But it's a lot easier if you know somepony is there."
"Well spoken. Now take your own advice and shut up."
I don't know a lot of things about tonight. Just added another- why I can't keep this stupid grin off my face. I still feel a bit hollow, but… it's getting a little better. It is nice not to be alone…
"Yes ma'am. Goodnight, Spittie."
"Sleep well, Soar."
I can see his ears perk up from the corner of my vision. I like that name. Certainly better than 'Dumbass.' But that's something we'll get to in the morning. At least for now, I think I might be able to finally sleep. Maybe things aren't completely okay, but maybe some problems don't get solved overnight. Maybe they don't even get identified. There's really only one thing I'm sure of right now- as I close my eyes, his back pressed up against mine…
…this is a kind of heat I think I could get used to.