There's a sickening feeling in your stomach, and you know it isn't from the apple pie. You're dizzy and nervous and want to throw up, but on the outside you look just fine. You're smiling at your Granny's proposal and cast your gaze to Caramel who looks not even half as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind deceives you - she knows, why else would she be doing this - and the feeling twists deeper. Fillyfooler. The word haunts you. You remember it from school when the word tomcolt couldn't spark any reaction from you. You were so quick to break, a coping mechanism. Not only were you incapable of stomaching the word then, you still find it incredibly rotten to this day.
Granny pushes you out the door, and you aren't secure enough in yourself to protest - no, Granny, I really can't - so you're moved, obeying her every word, no matter how miserable you feel. Caramel, why Caramel? They're practically the same person, Granny mustn't know then. You don't like ponies like you, they're much too indifferent. You're made to fit a mold, but something went wrong with you, and all the parts work just fine. You just don't fit. Caramel tilts his head. "You don't have to go with me if you don't wanna." Go with go with. It wasn't a question of wanting to, you really do want to go with him, you just can't. He takes your silence as rejection and leaves you alone, and you sigh because you don't know what you'd do if he hadn't. You don't realize that it's easier to move now, but you feel much better just with his absence. "I want to…" you whisper, a 'but' omnipresent, dangling off your snout.
You walk away from the barn and the apples and everything you love, because you don't want them to see what happens when you can go with somepony. "AppleJack, darling?" She's worried. You say nothing and collapse at her hooves, tears streaming down your face. "I can't," you repeat like a broken record and you feel her tense at these words. She helps you in and sets you up in her room, and you want to leave, you really don't want to be in this position right now. Fillyfooler, you spit and she tenses again. She turns to you, and you cringe at her face. She's crying and upset, but all you can think about is how beautiful she looks and you spit the word out again to remind yourself how bad you are. Fillyfooler. She brings you warm cider and a spoonful of ice cream. She doesn't give you anymore because she wants you to be hungry for more. And you don't want that because you know that means you'll want her. You really really really don't want to want her. You squirm under her loving gaze - Fillyfooler fillyfooler fillyfooler!
She slaps you now; you're shouting spastically and out of control. She is glaring viciously at you now. "You have no right to come to my home and judge me for being exactly like you." You're scared and amazed and want to pull her close and push her away. "I love you, darling, I do. You mustn't keep treating yourself like this. It isn't bad."
You grab her hoof. "I can't be a fillyfooler." Even as you speak you're lost in her silky coat and azure eyes and you hate her and you hate you. You remember what Granny said - they ain't natural, they ain't right.
She looks at you with that same pity as usual, and you know you've said it aloud now. "How can you say that? You try so hard to resist, but you can't, have you noticed, darling? You can't. If you could make it go away, you would, but it doesn't. It's got to be programmed that way if you can't change it." You wince because you know she's right. "You're a fillyfooler. A filly-fucking-fooler! And you prove that every single time. And you're just as normal as anyone else, and you're just as lovely had you been normal, and no matter how stupid you're being you'll never be able to say it out loud." You're both crying now, and this part is new. She's usually not so cruel. "You're a fillyfooler. Fillyfooler! Fillyfooler! Fillyfooler!"
You scream and grow restless, but she keeps shouting it as if you hadn't heard it the first time. "I know!" You shout, and she grows silent. "I know," you admit feebly, and you don't stop crying for hours. She gives you a kiss every so often which you love and hate, but even with her comfort she ripped you into pieces. When you awake she's atop you, arms wrapped around you tightly as if you'll disappear, and you want to. You can't though, because you can't help but notice how cute her mane looks tangled and how nice it feels to have her arms around you or how her breathing is tickling your neck. "I love you," you whisper, betraying yourself.
"Thank you," she whispers back, and her grip loosens because she knows you won't leave now. "You're just right." And you want to laugh, and you want to cry. But you used all your tears yesterday, and you can't think yourself worthy of a compliment.
"You're perfect." It's true. She's successful and hardworking and true to herself, just as you are. But she's not ashamed; she can actually sleep at night and smile at her family. You still wish you could run away, go with Caramel, make Granny happy, but you're in her embrace. You're not very happy, but your insides are content for the very first time, and you were able to sleep soundly.
—
You're better now that you've admitted it. Granny hasn't found any stallions to set you up with. You work and work and work until you can't work anymore and your bones ache. You still go to her boutique and cry and cuddle and tell her you love her. Nopony knows, and you feel like the biggest liar, and she deserves so much more. "Leave me," you command, "I can't be proud of you, and you deserve more."
"I don't want more." She kisses you, and you want to tell her that she's perfect - you need to be paraded, you need someone to want you, you don't need to settle for me. Instead you just kiss her until her eyes flutter shut, and you cuddle until morning. She wakes and leaves you feeling more guilty than before. When you betrayed your entire family with your confession it didn't feel as bad as having her be so perfect and be with you. You know any other mare could treat her far better, yet she keeps you like a keepsake, and you can't help but feel awful.
—
AppleBloom is crying when she hears, and your eyes widen with fear and relief and sadness and worry. You're left to tend the farm with your brother, and Granny Smith is gone. You try not to cry as you hold your weeping sister close and whisper, "She's happy now." And AppleBloom stares at you with such confusion and sadness - Granny was always happy, Granny would still be happy - that you recognize yourself in her.
You hold her tighter and give her a kiss on the head, and she just keeps crying. You and Big Macintosh bury her by the zap apple orchards, and AppleBloom brings flowers. "Ah'll miss you Granny," she's still crying, and you're still holding her. You think of Rarity and are so grateful Granny died before you had to tell her you were a disgusting Fillyfooler. You spend an awful lot of time at the boutique because the apples aren't ready for harvest yet and you feel like you're damaging your granny's memory by being there. Suddenly you're the little sister crying and being held close because you don't have to be strong and you're really going to miss Granny.
"Thank God she never knew," you admit with a quiet sniffle. You see the hurt in her eyes, but it wasn't about that. "She wouldn't have been so happy." She looks at you admiringly and you don't want her to keep doing that. "I wish I were that happy, happy enough to be with you and with them and not have to keep hiding in one or the other." She gives you a nudge with her nuzzle and walks you into her work room. It's messy and cluttered, and you think of the contrast between it and her and then yourself. She's content having these two halves and lets them both be free. You haven't found that courage.
She levitates a red checkered bandanna towards you with a diamond attached at each corner. She ties it around your neck and smiles. "I wanted to make you a hat, but I know how much that ratty old thing means to you. So I made you another little accessory, so you can think of me when you're working too." She winks at you suggestively. You look at yourself in her mirror and blush at her gesture. The bandanna is the colour of your cutie mark and her fur coat. The diamonds sparkle like her eyes, and you can't believe the gift is so perfect.
You want to wear it home, tell your remaining family that your good friend Rarity made it for you. You can imagine it now. AppleBloom would blink at the gift then head out to the treehouse where her friends were. Big Macintosh would stare at you quizzically, and as soon as AppleBloom left he would bombard you with questions. He would know, but would he hate you? Would he hate her for making you fall in love with her? Would he make you take it off and throw it away? Would he make you never see her again?
She gives you a gentle kiss on the snout, and you touch her gift gingerly, as if it were as soft as she seemed, as fragile as you treated her. "I love it," you say, and you know that she knows that 'it' is her. It's the closest you can come to saying it right now. "I think I'll tell him," you mutter, and she looks startled.
She puts a hoof on your cheek. "Don't do this for me, darling. I know your family means the world to you. I just want you to be happy."
You put a hoof on her own face and give a sad smile. "I think this will." You hope, you pray. You don't know. You're just wishing really hard, and she embraces you in a way that tells you she understands.
—
You debate whether or not to go through with it, to wear the gift that means the world to you or to continue hiding it, living this double life. "Hey, Applejack!" You hear a young filly's voice. Running towards you are AppleBloom and Sweetie Belle, younger versions of you and her. Your hoof goes to the bandanna, and the young fillies skid to a stop.
"Hey, did my sister make that?" Sweetie Belle asks.
AppleBloom furrows her lower lip. "I didn't know you and Miss Rarity were friends."
Sweetie Belle looks shocked. "Are you kidding me? Applejack and my sister hang out all the time."
AppleBloom looks confused, and you're suddenly very nervous. This wasn't going as planned. "Well why don't you bring me with you, sis? Sweetie Belle's mah friend, too, ya know."
You gulp and start to stutter. "I never thought of that, Bloom. Maybe, uh, next time." As soon as you finish that sentence, your brother walks out and tells the fillies to go out and play. The way he eyes the bandanna around your neck makes you think he knows. A slur you haven't heard in a while fills your head. Fillyfooler, fillyfooler, fillyfooler! You look away from him in shame. He knows; he knows you're a fillyfooler. You almost take the bandanna off, as if then the evidence would go away, but he already knows.
"So ya go to her, then? Ya can't trust yer own family anymore?" You're shocked at his confrontation. He thinks you don't trust him, that you'd betray your honesty for anything, anyone, even her. She'd never ask that of you, and you know that. He doesn't know that; he only sees her as a distraction, petty, impractical. What would you possibly gain from being with her?
You walk into the house and put the soup on the stove. Someone's got to make dinner when Granny's not around, you think bitterly. You don't know why you're suddenly scared of this farm. Your brother walks in behind you. "I asked you a question, sis." At least he's still calling you sis.
"I wasn't trying ta betray y'all. I didn't know what to do," you focus on the soup bubbling in the pot, doing your darnedest to ignore his pressing stare. "I thought y'all wouldn't like it."
Big Mac heaves a heavy sigh that seems to even wear him down. "Ah don't like that you lied to me."
"You don't like what Ah'm doin' either," you say lowly, hoping he wouldn't pick it up. If he didn't hear, he couldn't scold you further.
Your brother moves to stand beside you. "Now, I didn't say nothing about that. There ya go all assuming things, and that's why ya wouldn't tell us before, right?"
You have to look at him now, and as soon as you do your eyes begin to water. "Eeyup," you manage to whisper, "but how could you like it when it ain't right." You're a fillyfooler, you shout inside your head until even she seems to be yelling at you.
Big Macintosh touches the bandanna around your neck and you look at it fearful that he might steal it from you. "I'm just mad that that city mare thinks she can get away with markin' you if she hasn't even met the family proper-like." You look at him to make sure you're hearing him right. He still looks serious and upset, but his words indicate the opposite. "Now get on up to bed. Y'all look like you's about to pass out."
You stumble up the stairs just barely. He's not mad at you? You collapse on your bed and cover yourself in the quilt. Granny had made that quilt, and it only started bothering you after you visited her that first night. When Granny had set you up with Clover almost a year ago, and she let you cry because you didn't understand what was happening but you just wanted to stay with her. She let you, and she kissed your tears away. You felt so safe, but you felt sick too. Granny wouldn't like it, and therefore you shouldn't like it. Now Big Mac knows, and you don't know what to do.
AppleBloom walks into your room quietly and whispers, "AJ? You awake?" You look at your little sister and try to hide your shameful face. "Big Mac says you's goin to see Miss Rarity tomorrow. Can I come wit' you? Sweetie Belle and I were gonna do some more Crusaders work."
You smile at your younger sister and nodded. "Sure thing, AppleBloom." You watch as she skips out of your room and smile at her naïvety. You'd always be on good terms with AppleBloom, you think as you drift to a restless sleep.
—
"So what're you and Miss Rarity gonna talk about, sis, seeing as ya already went and saw her yesterday?" AppleBloom is skipping a stone ahead of you as she says this.
You keep watching the bow in her hair bounce and smile at her childlike behavior, even if she wants to be treated like a big girl. "Ah don't know, AppleBloom. We'll find something. You and Sweetie Belle just have fun Crusadin'."
AppleBloom smiles at you then loses her step and trips over the stone. "Dag-nabbit! I really thought I'd get mah cutie mark in rock skipping." You roll your eyes as the two of you reach Carousel Boutique. Sweetie Belle answers and grabs AppleBloom by the hoof without even glancing at you. You force a smile as you walk into the boutique, bracing yourself for her cheery disposition and excitement at your news. You couldn't be more terrified.
"AppleJack, darling!" she exclaims as she throws her hooves around your neck and nuzzles your snout with her own. "How did it go?" Her smile makes you want to lie to her, tell her everything she wants to hear. It just isn't in your nature.
Instead, you push her down and try to look her in the face. "He wants to meet you. Proper-like." Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes are no longer shining as brightly as they should. You wish you could take back what you said because she deserved to have that glow in her eyes. You just took it away.
"That's wonderful. What does that require of me?"
You almost smile because the question seems mighty normal to be asking of your loved one. "Miss Rarity, will you come to dinner with me?" You can see from her eyes that she thought the same of your question, and she bobs her head slowly. You put a hoof on her cheek and swipe through her luxurious mane. "I think I'm beginning to like this fillyfoolin' business."
"Ah-ha! I knew it!" You are taken aback at the sound of a younger squeakier voice. You look around to see that AppleBloom and Sweetie Belle were playing Cutie Mark Crusaders Super Spies.
Rarity looks at her sister in shock then back to you. "Sweetie, what did I tell you about spying on people!" She scolds before even allowing the accusation to affect her.
Sweetie Belle looks down nervously and is about one second away from restating her accusation when your sister looks at you in confusion. "Uh, sis, what's a fillyfoolin'?" She and you are struck with surprise. This confession was not to happen so suddenly.
Sweetie Belle looks at her fellow Crusader in disbelief. "You don't know? It means that-"
"Sweetie Belle, may I please see you in the kitchen?" You're saved by her once again and you're left alone with your younger sister.
AppleBloom looks at you expectantly as if you have all the answers in the world. "Well, sis, spill it."
You look at her closely and see so much innocence. You see nothing that was in Granny and nothing that made you hate yourself. "AppleBloom, I didn't want to tell you this just yet, but I guess it don't matter when I tell ya." You move closer to her and sling a hoof around her. "A fillyfooler is a filly or a mare that loves other mares. When I said that to Rarity it was cuz we are fillyfoolers together." The word didn't sound as sour as it had before.
AppleBloom sat to process this information. "So're you and Miss Rarity gonna get married?"
You have to smile at this reaction because you can barely imagine a world where it was possible for the two of you to get married. It was rarely acceptable to see a couple like you and her in a public setting. You think really hard about AppleBloom's question and instinctively raise your hoof to the bandanna around your neck. "Maybe one day, sis."
Your sister looks absolutely thrilled at your answer. "That means Sweetie Belle and I could be sisters!" You hug your sister because you've never felt so good telling someone about her, about you. About how perfect she is and how lucky you are to have her.
—
You make a big fuss about setting the table. It's your first major sit down with her, and you want it to be perfect. You try your darnedest to remember what your ma had said about the silverware. You can feel Big Mac's eyes boring at you. "If she really loved ya she wouldn't care 'bout the table."
You match his testy stare. "And if I really loved her, I'd at least make an effort." You're surprised at how easily that rolls off your tongue, and suddenly there's air in your lungs that had not previously been available to you. A part of you has been set free, but Big Mac doesn't look too pleased about it. "Come on, Mac, give her a chance. It's not cuz she's a mare is it?"
"Nnnope," he states plainly. You wait for your older brother to further explain what his problem was. "She's taking my little sister from me."
Dinner is pleasant, and she doesn't say a word about the silverware or the house or anything. You knew she wouldn't make a fuss, but Big Mac thinks this is a huge ordeal for her. "So Big Mac, Applejack tells me all about her work in the field what about you? I understand you've taken to the sales since Granny Smith's passing?"
Big Mac once again looks surprised at her choice in conversation. "Eeyup. Finances and profits."
She smiles at him. "You know, the other day I was filing my taxes and found out that my old calculator was in the wrong mode the whole time."
He cracks a grin of his own. "Bet you thought you were raking it in."
"It crossed my mind to buy a beach house." They're laughing. Together. You laugh with them and listen and chat. There's playful banter and nice conversation until he pauses just before dessert. Conveniently you're in the kitchen fixing plates, but you can hear the interrogation.
"So how long have you been with mah sister?" You can just imagine the stern look in his eye and the fierce eyebrow. You hear her clear her throat and assume she was just drinking her water.
"Officially or unofficially?" She doesn't sound alarmed, you think, as if she was expecting this. Had she done this before?
"And what's that s'posed to mean?" Her answer did not please Big Mac. It was vague, and you wanted to shout at her telepathically that he was such a straight forward stallion.
There's a silence before her answer. "There was a time when she accepted that there was an us and a time when she did not accept that. If you wonder how long she's been visiting Carousel Boutique then it's been about ten months now." You're absolutely stunned by her answer. She takes what he gives her and throws it right back.
You can almost sense the impression that radiates from your big brother, but his next question makes you cringe. "Have you had sex with mah sister?"
"That's certainly not your business," she responds quickly, not missing a beat.
You walk in to her rescue just before Big Macintosh rises from his place. "Who wants apple pie?" Your brother stands from his spot and exits the dining room without a word. You move in as quickly as he moves out and kiss her as much as you can manage.
She falls to her back underneath you and smiles when you finally pull away. "How was I?"
"Perfect," you say without thinking, and you feel perfect with her around you and around your home.
She giggles at your response. "He didn't seem to happy with my last answer."
"I thought it was perfect." This time you let her kiss you. When she pulls away you move in towards her and whisper sincerely, "I think you're perfect."
She nuzzles your snout before muttering, "I love you so much." You know that it means so much more than that. It means she loves you, but it's public. It was a declaration to the world that she never got to say before.
You kiss her again and keep kissing her until you hear a loud cough. Big Macintosh looks at you sternly then looks at her. "You better take care o' my sister now." She smiles at him and nods without a thought, and you're so happy to see her mane bob and her eyes sparkle and her smile shine. You love everything that's happening. You love her, and that's okay. You've only ever wanted that for you and for her, and it's okay. For now she was happy and safe in your arms, and you loved her. That was more than enough.
