Both of them had met in the same café where they'd first had lunch, just another village well-off couple having their fight out in a public place where hopefully neither one would do anything rash, even if one was a bit too joyful in public. Ponies who snuck any glances, the few that did, thought many different things: what she was doing with somepony who was a jerk to her the previous two days. They both didn't seem like they would fit in any way. The contrasts of their personality is considerably more different. The initial assumption itself when put into more consideration, that the stallion and mare were a couple in some way, if at all, was in and of itself only an insignificant fraction of a variant of the truth. Close enough, the mare thought, as to make no difference. Besides, it probably made things easier to let the people around them go on thinking what they were really thinking. There was probably too much effort to change their minds. She tried to ignore that thought. He couldn't really care.
He had a dark black coat, with an unique mane and tail. His mane wasn't like any other pony's colour scheme, with one colour, and maybe a second. The pattern wasn't in the form of a rainbow. It was in the form of checkered pattern, four squares in four different colours. Red, yellow, green and blue. Simple, yet vibrant. If at all vibrant. His cutie mark was a flag, symbolising something he would rather not tell anypony. Why would he? She looked as normal as ever, in her mint-green coat, her pale-cyan mane and tail, golden eyes. Her musical instrument, which is also her first name. She was usually a little over-excited and joyful.
But on this day, her spirited and lively personality was reflected from the mood of her stallion she was walking with. It had been his actions and the way he looked, he reflected, so different from his compatriots colours and her interests, that had fooled him for so long. When she bothered to wear sunglasses occasionally, along with her close friend, they were usually pink, she would wear a flower or any other accessory occasionally, in the colours of a green or a pink, made of funny shapes... stars, hearts. He hadn't associated her with the rest of them; the dynamics of her were just too different. At least in his observations. They hadn't demonstrated any ability to change their colours before and nothing, at least that he didn't notice. With the possible exception of the highly annoying stallions, who he had talked with in the past, was different for them now. Why should he have suspected anything? So it wasn't until three months had passed... three months of coffee, walks in the park, three months of listen to her play music, conversations about anything and everything... a long time since he had ever since her since their school days. She used to be his. And the familiar hatred welled up inside him.
And now they were here, at the local small outdoor café where they had first agreed to meet after so long, back when he thought she somewhat used to be... what she used to be. And she knew exactly how he was. Perhaps that was what galled the most. She had seen right through him, and had known him all along. And she wanted to make up for it. He had been ignorant until a few days ago, when the spat occurred.
"Why?" he asked after a long silence, staring into her eyes.
"Because I could."
"Why me?"
"Because I wanted to apologize."
"It must have been more than that."
"Maybe it could be."
"What's the other reason?"
"Because you were just there."
"That was very dangerous of you to do that to me."
"Yes."
"And you did it anyway."
"I told you. I did it because I could."
"But you didn't know you could."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I had to try."
Silence. He never really understood most of her answers she had before he'd found out. He was discovering that knowing didn't really help him understand her, as much as he thought it would. Even back in their school days, she still was a mystery in some regards. He still couldn't figure out her, or mares for that matter. She looked away from his gaze, and he was surprised (and annoyed) to discover that having her intense, mismatched gaze off of him was a relief. That some pressure was off his mane. But he knew that wasn't the case.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"Why?"
"It has been over for a long time."
Even more silence. Voices clamoured in his head, each one telling him what to do. About what, when, and why. And it wasn't the... It wasn't them. It couldn't have been. No pony believed him, so it was useless if it was even him. And it couldn't have been his own mind. If it even was, how could of it been. Or it could... be her presence. Him seeing her after so long, hatred-filled prejudice against her seemed to die off over the years, and she wanted to repair the relationship they had. He couldn't believe her. Couldn't he? He was still finding out that he had been sorely mistaken over the past three weeks, with her. He was finding out that he had been mistaken about a lot of things with her.
"I know... I want to... I want to try again..."
"It will fail."
"You don't know that."
"It has to fail."
"What!? Why? Does it have to?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it is impossible."
"Some things are. Some things aren't. You... I'm really sorry for hurting you in the past. But you won't really give me another chance."
"I can provide you with another suitor, if you prefer." Did he really just say that? Neither could believe it. He noticed how she looked. Annoyed, and angry. Infuriated. She was obviously upset with what he said, he doesn't think things through sometimes. He just doesn't want to be with her. He... wasn't sure of what else to say. Other than, occasionally, something stupid.
"Um, Lyra... I..."
She laughed. She actually laughed and waved a hoof in a gesture that dismissed what he just said, that he could have done for her. Now he felt infuriated. It was at the same time both less and more anger-inducing than Rooney's stubborn aggression. "That is not important to me. I don't want to be with another suitor." She left out a few small giggles, looking happy. He still didn't feel the same way, in every way.
"Thousands to millions of ponies would disagree with you." Depending.
"They are wrong."
"Why?"
"Because." She moved her chair closer towards him. "The reason that makes them wrong is the force that drives us."
And he knew which 'us' she was talking about. It sickened him, and frightened him a little. "You are an aberration." Some of the disgust filtered into his voice and she sighed a little, disappointed. It hurt, like a fist through the chest, and he didn't understand.
"I am real."
"You are flawed."
"I am at least honest with myself." She said it sharply. That hurt, too. He was silent for a little while, trying to understand what was happening, trying not to feel as though he were drowning. It had never been this confusing with Rooney, with anypony else. She sighed again. "You never could understand us. Nor could you understand me."
"You never tried to explain." Hostility and again, sharpness. Now she was the one who drew back, hurt.
"You never wanted me to."
He froze. Pause. Didn't he ever? "You never wanted to..."
She froze. Pause. "I didn't. Maybe back then I didn't. I do now."
Pause. "You never tried to understand me." He didn't know why he said that, other than to turn her argument back on her.
"I didn't? I wanted to understand you. Did you want to understand me?"
Pause. "You never wanted to understand us."
She rolled her eyes, growled in annoyance and smacked her hoof on the table, making the other patrons of the café jump a little. "What did you think I was doing, man?"
He blinked. "What?"
"In the past three months. What did you think I was doing?"
"Annoying me."
"That isn't the right answer. And you know it."
"...why?"
"Because I wanted to."
So confused. "Why did you want to?" And, against his will, his voice was softer, calmer. More like hers. Only he felt a little hurt at this point. He didn't exactly know why, either.
She shrugged, gave no other response. There was a longer pause.
"You're not like anypony else that I've ever met," he said finally.
"The same with you. I don't want to hurt you. Not anymore. Not ever."
"I don't know that. Maybe you aren't different in some respects."
"Neither are you. You're more like us. Like all of us... Like me."
He frowned. Was that a good thing? "That's not a compliment." He felt depressed again.
"Are you so sure anymore?"
No. "...yes." I don't know is a better answer, thinking about it.
"No. You're not. And you know it. That's why you're different from everypony else that I know." She paused, amended. "One of the reasons."
Angry, frightened for no reason he could discern. "No. I am..."
"Yes you are. That's why I wanted to be with you."
"No."
"Back in our school days, I wanted to hang out with you. I wanted to be with you."
"No." Anger was slowly, yet surely rising within him.
"Then I said some stupid things. I regret them. Please... I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I want to be with you... like we used to be. I didn't speak about it for the past three months, because I was... scared." Scared? He seemed lost. Of all ponies he knew, she was scared? "Scared that you were going to leave me, and that I'll never see you again. I felt really bad. I missed you." She sighed, looking down and away to the side. "I would think about you most nights, about how I managed to screw up the... relationship we had. And I want to repair the bridge I burnt."
"...no." He couldn't try again. Couldn't he?
She sighed. Pushed her chair back and stood up from the table. She seemed sad. Very sad. "As you wish..." Her voice broke, like she was trembling. He began to feel guilty.
"Wait." But he didn't want her to leave.
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why should I wait?"
"Because...." He paused. "I..." He wanted to tell her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to bring himself to do so.
"No."
A little annoyed that she hadn't waited for his answer, "Because..." Should he say why? "Because I asked."
"No it's not. Is that all?" She wasn't amused by that answer. The pressure resurface.
"No..." He rubbed his head. "Because... I like your presence." Did he really say that as well? It wasn't stupid, as much as odd. At least to him.
Pause. And something that might have been a smile in her eyes. "All right." She sat back down?
"I don't understand."
"I know." Pity in her voice. Why did she pity him? Wasn't it she and her kind who should have been the objects of pity? Or something... he was probably reading too much.
"Why?"
"You keep asking that. Do you even know what you're saying?"
"..." He wish he knew.
Sigh. "Never mind."
"You are strange." It was hardly adequate, but it was all he could think of to say. Well, that and something that could be considered an insult.
"The situation is strange, or had that not occurred to you?"
"I try and ignore it."
Another sigh. Pause. "Yeah..." Was she looked at him.. in a different sort of way? He didn't consider it.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"You sighed. Well, are you going to do about it?"
...
...
...
...
...
...
She didn't know. Now that he had asked the question, she hadn't the faintest idea what to do about it. If to do anything at all. But she knew she had to do something. She knew him. How he acts the way he does, how he is different from everypony else. Not because he is unique in his certain tastes, because he is special. Special to her. And he locked himself out, from the rest of the world, when she screwed everything up. Back in school, she wished certain things that did not happen that day, that led... to his change in his characteristics. He used to have loads of personality...
Now... now he... isn't what he used to be. When she first saw him again, years after they last saw (which wasn't a good day for either). Her heart skipped a beat seeing him again. She felt sorrow from seeing him, and how his heart broke in all the wrong ways... scared, in a way. Frightened. She wasn't sure of how he felt, but she could sense... something resembling fear inside of him. Followed by anger. She was lucky her fellow friend Bon Bon was there to stop any hostility that was there. But seeing him again... she wondered why he didn't break out in absolute rage against her. To herself, she felt like she deserved it, to a degree. But I guess it must be due to the fact that he is still nice inside, and would never resort to violence. Or at least towards her. No, everypony on Earth. Mustn't it be? Who else would he harm? None came to mind...
He followed her around for the rest of that day, remaining awfully quiet, that just seemed awkward. He didn't say anything at all, didn't attempt to make any conversations with anypony, and eventually walked to his new home. She would often spot him sitting alone in the park, deep in thought. Looking depressed... and rather lonely. Some ponies attempted to make friends with him, by coming up and talking to him, but he wouldn't really go through with what they said, she observed. Even Pinkie Pie couldn't make him go to any sort of party, which really surprised everypony. She felt even worse than she had ever before.
So she approached him, and sat next to him on that day. He didn't response at all, not acknowledging her in the slightest. She just started to play her Lyra, and he would listen. She noticed something different out of him... he felt... calm in a way. Maybe happiness, but the way she experiences happiness differs from his... new state. And that's how it was for most of the three months. They would do different things occasionally, he would agree on it. Then, a few days ago... he snapped. But she forgave him, which surprised him. And... he may have forgived her. But she didn't know if he was nervous, scared, angry, happy, or making any sudden emotions at all. He was... emotionless.
Thoughts kept whirling in her head as she formulated her plan. Her plan to have him back. The thought that there was no way to rape a willing partner. That was sickening, even considering it. The thought that it was much easier to hate when the pony you were hating hated you back. The thought that it took two to have a fight... at the very least, one to hit and one to allow herself to be hit. So she had lurked, and watched, and the first time the stallion she considered handsome, had made his appearance from nowhere, she decided to extend her first hooful of breadcrumbs... or perhaps more accurately, her first handful of meat to the wary hawk. And he accepted it. At least sub-consciously. Judging by his actions, he may have even enjoyed her company. There wasn't any sign of hostility. Was there? She wanted to understand this new... him...
For three months she had waited, patiently, insinuating herself in to the stallion's consciousness. She hadn't realized how deep she was getting, though. If she could tell at all... He had broken slightly when she was bugging him over questions that she didn't want to answer, and Rainbow Dash being assertive didn't help things. She figures that neither likes each other. At the very least, Rainbow hating him. She had arranged to meet him one last time with what she thought was an accurate idea of how things were going to go. If anything was going to go, if this relationship can occur once more. But this wasn't at all what she had expected. He had learned more from her than she had ever wanted him to. And now she didn't understand him anymore, and she was a little afraid.
"...wha...?"
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" he repeated.
"I've... made my decisions." She hoped her voice wasn't trembling as much as she thought it was.
"Have you?"
"Y-yes..." He noticed that she was shaken up by something, but decided not to say anything.
"And what are they?"
"I can't tell you... exactly. But it seems like it's over... at this point." He noticed something off about the way she said
"Then why are you still here?" She could hear the sadness in his voice. And she felt a little sad as well.
"Because you asked me." Pause. "And... I don't want to leave."
He was silent for a little while. He then sighed, and looked down at the table. He realised what would happen is she left, and he didn't want it to happen. Being all alone again. "I don't understand," he said dejectedly.
Pause. "Neither do I."
Longer pause. He looked around. Some ponies were conversing with one another, walking with one another, foals playing with one another, all together and being happy. "What is going on?"
"I don't know anymore."
"And that is why it has to end?"
He was too damned perceptive for his own damn good. "No." It was a lie and they both knew it. She didn't know what she was doing anymore, worried she had lost control.
"You don't know." He was also too smart in some respects. Maybe too smart. "Why are you lying?"
"I don't know..." She did know, but was too scared to say anything. He couldn't see her emotions.
"Yes it is. You fear change. You require security. You don't really adapt well." Pause, as she raised an eyebrow. "Your kind doesn't really adapt
He was throwing it in her face, and despite the fact that she had been thinking of him as some sort of... program... It hurt that he was drawing distinctions. Hypocritical, she knew, and irrational. But... "MY kind? What do you mean by my kind?
"..." He didn't really think this through.
"What do you mean, my kind?" She repeated, sounding more irritated.
He couldn't help but smirk a little, clearly pleased at having nettled her into a response, a loss of control. "Your kind is weak. Fragile."
"My kind is stronger than you will ever be."
"Maybe so..." He looked sad for a split moment, hurt, before returning some sort of smirk. "If your kind is so strong, why are you hiding."
"You could never understand my kind, nor can you really understand me, of all ponies, and that is what will destroy you."
"You cannot destroy us. You never will. You cannot beat me."
"Watch me." she snarled, and stood back from the table. In that moment she could have killed him with the sheer force of her rage, and they both knew it. He has pushed too far, and for that matter she had nearly done the same to him. Things that happened in the past, only more violent, and heartbreaking to a certain degree. There was a long, tense silence. He watched her warily, suddenly realizing how much danger he had gotten himself into. She watched him, equally wary and once again cognizant of how dangerous he was. Both of them more aware of their differences than they had been in a long time. Since a long time ago. Memories came to his mind, and he felt scared again. He began to shudder lightly, rage and confidence evaporating from his body. He felt pain again. He couldn't keep his gaze on her eyes. She noticed this, and she lost her anger as well.
"I'm sorry," he said finally. He sounded tired.
It was also the first time she had ever heard anything connected with him, since he had ever been here. "Me too." Granted, even if this was the first time he had ever done something wrong to her in this village.
He looked around for a second, anywhere but at her. They were both acutely uncomfortable, and she realized she didn't have the slightest idea what he would do now. She had to get out of there. It was enough now. She knew that he probably wouldn't consider it today. Perhaps tomorrow... "Why?" It took her a second to realize he'd spoken, and she pushed her chair back into to stall for time.
"Because I shouldn't have done this. Said what I did. Did what I said. I shouldn't have..." How could she apologize to him by all rights, by everything that has happened, seemed to have lost all of his feelings? At least the happiness and enthusiasm that he used to have, like she has. Yes, she had walked up and down streets with him for the last three months, listen and playing music together in the local park peacefully. She knew it wasn't him. It mustn't have been him. At least not of him. "I'm sorry..."
How did one apologize to something that by all rights, by everything she'd been taught, shouldn't have feelings? Hell. She'd read enough science fiction to know that maybe that wasn't true. And she'd walked up and down the streets with him for the last three months. She knew it wasn't true. Not of him. "I'm sorry."
He looked upset, and a little guilty. "For what?"
"For everything."
"Why?"
Damn. Here came the hard questions again. "Because I shouldn't have done this."
Why not, he wanted to say. "Why shouldn't you have?"
Dammit! "Because it was wrong." It hadn't felt wrong. It had felt right, oh so right. It was the only good thing that she could think of, that would have healed everything right up. She wasn't sure where it was going at this point.
"Why?"
She shifted from one hoof to the other, frustrated. "Because it was wrong to do something that I knew would end in..." He thought of several conclusions. Conflict? Anger? Bad... feelings, or something? "...pain."
Pause. "I thought you did not believe in pain."
She looked away for a moment, feeling sad as well. "I didn't... at first..."
He felt kinda bad at how things were turning out, while simultaneously not expecting this sort of outcome. "You're not supposed to feel this bad. To feel hurt." That's how I would feel, he thought. "You're not supposed to be sad." He sounded remorseful.
She sniffed. "Yes."
"But you do."
"...no." Uncertainly rang all through her voice, and they both knew it. He felt that roles have reverse in some way. "Don't you?" He froze, not excepting this either.
"..." He couldn't think of anything.
"You're not supposed to feel sad either. You do. Yes ,you do. You said as much to... him. You hate us. You hate me."
He felt offended by that remark. "No..." But he still was uncertain. She didn't know why he was denying it anymore... to protect himself? Or... was it even to reassure her? She just didn't know. Was either bad in any way?
"You said..."
"I know what I said." Did he?
"I don't think you remember exactly. Whisper. "You're not supposed to be sad."
"I know."
"But if you can..." She looked away for a moment, before moving her chair even closer towards him, exactly right next to him. He felt uneasy, and comfortable at the same time. But if he was honest with himself, he felt afraid. If he could show it, some things would be different. He was good at hiding his emotions... most of the time.
"If I can what?"
"You're not different from me. You're no different from us," she whispered finally.
"No." He looked determined, in a way. "No, no, no." She didn't want him to deny it. Why was he denying it? "I am different from you, from all of you. It was a vicious expression that made her taken aback. Contempt and loathing was the emotions she could see. Things she didn't want to see.
"You aren't different from me. You aren't..." Discovery and fear in her voice. Fear for herself, that he would harm her brutally, or that she...
"No!"
Pause. That outburst had drawn stares, and the conversation was at an end. They both knew it. And they both hated the fact that it was.
"Yes. There is no difference. Not for you. Not anymore." There wasn't a response. Everything was dead silent for a few moments, for them. After what seemed like hours, she whispered to him. "Please... please give me another chance. I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I have to say it... for it too mean something..."
He felt bad. Really bad. Guilty. He wasn't honest with himself. But... he came to a conclusion. "I have to go..." It wasn't worth the hassle of doing it again. Not worth it. Too much... caused by too many factors. All deadly in a way. Too harmful.
"No." She felt determined now.
Fury overtook her, at herself, at him, at his denials, at her curiosity, at the whole impossible situation. She threw back his words in his face, as close as she could remember to what... he had told her that day, so long ago, mimicking him savagely. " 'I'm slowly starting to hate this place. Everypony will never like me for who I am. Maybe its the smell... I feel somewhat saturated by all the magic that is here... infected almost...' A virus? Is that what we are? Then what does that make you?"
He pushed his chair and stood up, looking actually alarmed. "Lyra... please..."
She glanced at him, wide-eyed, at the use of her name. They stood there for a moment, all eyes in the café on them, frozen in time. "I have to go." He said, before leaving the café in a run. She could only watch and stare, with some other passers-by, wondering what had happened, and what may happen in the future. She should never, ever, ever have gotten in this deep. She should have known better. But if she couldn't cross that line, then who would have? And would have they ever? She soon followed suit, walking gloomily back towards her home, trying hard to keep back the tears, flowing from her eyes. How did she buck this up? She tried to reassure herself that it would be better tomorrow... or next week... sometime in the future... She had always been watching him, and he still didn't understand. Tears were trickling down her face. For some reason they disappeared last of all.
When he made his painful way back to his home, frustrated and in pain, another emotion overtook him. Still as alien to his thinking as his unreasoning hatred for... his kind had been, it took a little while for him to identify the new feeling as regret. A long time ago... since he was happy. He must be reading the situation correctly. Because he was still alone as ever.
