It wasn't so much that he was antisocial as the others were just too stupid to understand his jokes.
Frustratingly enough, the few who did understand his humour were reluctant to admit their affiliation with someone like him, so dismal were his social links. Having left with no choice, Jeiley could only recede sullenly into his corner and hate the world for failing to comprehend his evident geniusosity.
Was it his fault that they all avoided him like the plague, though? He wasn't a bad-looking pony, most certainly not. His thick mane fell over his colourless eyes, which bulged slightly to give him a constantly surprised look. But it couldn't have been his physical features that gave him so much grief, could it? Many a lonely rainy day, he had mulled this thought over, toying and prodding and gnashing the idea until it had all but mutated into a mass of intangible self-pity and lack of self-worth. His jokes certainly felt the full brunt of the pain – even the damn traitors' weak chuckles were soon reduced to the most pathetic of lip-quirks and stony stares. Here, the boy would punch a convenient wall or upset a perfect stick-structure to distract his mind. At the very least, he wouldn't have to deal with the likes of them after this year, he thought savagely to himself. At the very least, he wouldn't have to worry about those idiots.
And such was what he carefully considered to himself the fateful day, when sunset spilled through the milky treetop canopy. It was a warm day, a lazy day, when even the birds' songs were dropped half an octave, more heartfelt crooning than anything. Jeiley padded through the golden pathway, happily taking in the last of the receding light and appreciating the fact that there were none of those imbeciles marring his peace. He threw his head back, shaking his frizzy mane that actually cooperated as he did, smiling blearily into the air and doing his best to ignore the events of the day.
Then he turned the corner and bumped into the other.
With a cry, Jeiley fell backwards and onto his tush. The other pony did not respond as dramatically as he, instead rolling rather gracefully onto his side. A dank silence ensued shortly thereafter, effectively blotting out the golden glow that was ever so prevalent before. Jeiley lingered wordlessly in his less-than-capable position for a moment, gazing stupidly at the pony before him. The other pony was dark-skinned, dark-haired, with his mane cropped short. A set of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, slightly askew due to their most recent encounter, partially obscuring his smouldering eyes that were, at the present, trained upon Jeiley's...
“Who the hell are you?” he managed to sputter out indignantly, scrambling onto all fours. “The hell was that for?”
“Yes,” the other pony replied simply. Jeiley wrinkled his brow.
“You funny or some shit? You think you being funny?” demanded Jeiley, glaring daggers at the pony. “The hell you doing, running 'round here like that?”
With a contemplative air, the strange dark pony turned his gaze skywards for a mere moment. Then, slowly, as if he'd all the time in the world, he turned his attention back to Jeiley and said, mildly, “No, my name is Berel.” In one swift move, the so-called Berel hopped back onto all fours and milled forward, inclining his head to one side in mock-interest. “Berel. Got it memorised?” Here, a somewhat sardonic grin began to play at the corner of his lips as his gaze ran over Jeiley's visage in an almost vulgar fashion. “Pleased to meet you, too.”
For the first time, Jeiley found himself at a loss for words. The pony before him was volatile, dangerous, as far as he could tell. Anger roiled in his chest, threatening to boil over at any given time. He gaped wordlessly for a moment, then, with a derisive snort, turned on his heels and began to stalk away.
“Wait.”
But it wasn't Jeiley who had uttered that. Could it have been the enigmatic Berel character who had appeared out of nowhere? Quickly muttering a dark prayer to heavens above, he turned reproachfully towards the other pony to meet a pair of lips against his own.
Shock. Silence. Gradual warmth and lingering sentiment. Jeiley was too thunderstruck to even react, frozen on the spot even as Berel withdrew at last, playing his tongue tantalisingly against the corner of his lips. Jeiley's knees felt like water, and he nearly collapsed then out of pure humiliation.
“Th-the hell was that for?” he tried to sputter out, but Berel interrupted.
“You taste like chicken,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side in the quirk that Jeiley quickly grew to associate with mischief-making. Upon seeing the stricken look on Jeiley's face, however, he broke into peals of laughter. “Sorry,” he choked, lowering his head demurely to obscure an atypical grin that was spreading cross his expression, “sorry – you looked so cute with that stupid look on your face, I couldn't...”
Reeling from the veiled insult, Jeiley immediately whipped around and kicked his hind legs at the immediate threat, to which Berel deflected without skipping a beat, and, in a flash, he flipped over the dumbfounded Jeiley and effectively pinned his back to the ground.
Jeiley protested right away, bucking and turning and attempting to throw the other off. “Get the hell off!” he hissed furiously, his cheeks colouring significantly as he tried to quash the sour feeling in his throat. “The hell you think you're doing? Get the hell off! Off!”
“That sounds like something dirty,” Berel purred, and Jeiley shut up immediately, indignation flaring in his quarters. “Do keep talking – you are ever so fascinating, my beloved pony...”
“Sh-shut up – ” Jeiley tried to reply, but he was forcefully stopped by another kiss, this time so much more passionate and warm, and the other was pushing his mane back, out of their embrace, so that he could keep the entirety of the other to only himself, the passion by which their relationship was based off of, and Berel's tongue was searching and searching and his hooves were harsh against his shoulder, and his tail was lashing back and forth in indecent ecstasy –
And, once again, Berel pulled away before they were finished. Jeiley responded furiously, sputtering unintelligibly before Berel pressed his hoof against his lips. “You are hilarious,” Berel murmured, blinking so slowly that Jeiley could see his individual eyelashes flicker in the sunlight. “A barrel of monkeys. I simply adore you.”
Then, silently, Berel sidled off of Jeiley's body and disappeared into a shaft of shadow so suddenly that Jeiley could still feel the other pony's weight upon his body. He was still dazed, still helplessly lost by the sudden lack of another sentient being calling him funny.
How lonely Jeiley felt, and how he yearned for that mysterious pony named Berel.
