Phantom Love

Awake. Skin crawling as my eyes glaze over the sleeping form of a mattress reforming. You're gone, probably downstairs to work on those dresses you make. I cannot keep myself from staring a bit more the mold you form, the mattress hugging those curves you have. I smile, slightly, before she enters again. A shiver adds to the already disgusting self I am, crawling what seems like an endless loop of myself attempting to breathe with this uncomfortable mind of mine.

I take a deep breath and sigh. I must join you too. You must think of me as a dozer, someone who stays in bed all day and never gets up, surfing in and out of sleep without any end in sight. I do not doze but rather sleep to keep myself from waking up like this. But I do, I do every time, because my heart aches instead of letting myself hide behind the shame that you never see.

Slowly, I pick myself up. The mattress leaves an imprint behind. An imprint of me, and an imprint of you. We merge together from what it looks like, but I don't know. I see an outline sometimes of you, separate pieces combined to look right. Maybe I'm wrong in seeing that. Maybe I'm wrong in being this way. But, trudging toward that mirror, looking into the soul of a man whose eyes are downtrodden and shifting each second in a rather unstable manner, I see that my life has made me numb to the new reality I live. I remember that time, when I used to be alive, feeling my heart beat every second, feel that arm that used to wrap around me to tell me that I'm okay, that I'm not someone whose mind is so cemented in place. Yet, I'm here, walking through that door, without a second to think otherwise. I do not wish to stay here bottled up in this room where my new lover once was.

Each step down these stairs keeps me alert. I hear you humming in the kitchen, your mind probably tuned to making breakfast. You've been a one-track mind in terms of content, but everything around you is in motion: dishes clacking against cold metal, a spoon stirring contents in a bowl, and as I approach, your magic encases a glass cup filled nearly to the brim with cold milk. You turn and place it on the table, nearly hitting me in the process. You lightly gasp, and slowly gaze up at me with a tired smile encompassing that muzzle of yours.

"Good morning, darling," you say groggily. "I have made breakfast for us."

I smile and take a seat at the table. The chair screeches against the floor, causing you to slightly jolt to the sound. Your body subsides though, but a twitch lingers in your neck. I ignore that little twitch, knowing that it's a force of habit. Maybe I should stop that, though. I know it makes you mad.

I settle in my seat, and look at the scrumptious meal. Eggs, and—

"Babe?"

"Hmm?"

I stare at my plate. "Sausage?"

You nod and takes your rightful seat at the table. "I made them because I remember what you used to eat on Earth. You told me that you had scrambled eggs and sausage, so I decided to ask Twilight about it. According to her, the Griffon Kingdoms has a trade route that comes into Equestria with meat of all kinds. They usually deliver cold cuts of fish, but, thanks to Twilight, she asked if they would arrange a small cart to bring sausage into the area for… you. So I caved in and bought a bit so I could indulge you a bit. Maybe bring back something from your home on Earth!"

"Really?" Your voice retires its groggy haze, now electric with glee. It creates friction in me, echoing your happiness that I cannot seem to reach.

"That's amazing!" It's only a good thing, not amazing.

You keep that friction going, smile greater than before. "I'm glad you enjoy it, love."

The friction dives deep in me. Pure happiness, but it does not heal me. It only stays there temporarily. I dig into the food, chewing on the tasty scrambled eggs and sausage patties. The taste allies with the happiness to battle my thoughts, suppressing any despair lurking within me.

"So, dear…"

I look up at you, hopefully not wearing any of my food. "Yeah?"

"What are you going to be doing today?"

Silence. Another day on the farm? Chat with Dash? Your day is full of nothing, admit it, you're no—

"I think I'm going to stop by Big Mac's today, see if he needs some help with harvesting," I reply as calmly as I can, the aching stem of descent surging within me, an adrenaline rush shaking my core and sending ripples that once pleasurable electric friction down my spine. I grimace, slightly, causing you to gasp.

"Darling, are you alright?"

Through a grimace, I reply, "Yes, Rares, I am fine." You're not fine, you're not. Do not fool yourself.

The hint of concern rises through that smile of yours. I see it. A bit of  distance mixed in that wonderful, natural beauty. She sighs. "Be careful, dear. I do not want to have visit the hospital again because some human couldn't take a moment to breathe." You say through a delighted smirk. You send your plate and cup into the sink with your magic. "Leave your dishes in the sink, darling. I'll clean them later," you add.

"Okay," I say through the final bite of my last piece of sausage. "What are you going to be doing today?"

You put a hoof to your muzzle and gently rub it. "I do not know," you begin, before noticing my mouth about to open in response. "I know, I know dear, you know that I know what I'm doing. I just need my brain to catch up with the rest of me. Let's see…" You pull out your calendar from the nearby drawer and flip to the current month. "Ah… Today is filling in the order for Mrs. Upper Crust. She wants a couple of new outfits for the upcoming Canterlot Spring Festival. Then, after working on the order, I will be meeting with the girls at the Sugarcube Corner to chat for the night." You shove the calendar back into the drawer and look at me. "You know, you could always join us later tonight if you're bored at Big Macintosh's."

I shake my head. "No, no, it's a girls night, I won't impede on you. I'll find something else to do, trust me."

For a second, I thought I saw you frown, but it might just be me. If you did, you're still smiling like a trooper would, although rather weakly, I suppose. Your lips never quake like that unless you're upset or something.

Maybe I should go—

"Okay, whatever you want to do is fine with me," you murmur, your lips holding strong. The quaking disappears. All that's left is a surefire smile. "I will see you later on tonight?"

"Of course," I say with a smirk. "Wouldn't want it any other way." You're lying to Rarity. You want her from Earth more. You want *her** more.*

You flip your hair and give me a sultry glance through those half-lidded eyes. "The same for you, darling. The same goes for you." With that, you turn, rather slowly, and leave the room, your hooves clip-clopping to your station without any hesitation.

Meanwhile, as I lay my plate in the sink, I wonder of what you will do if I do come to your get-together. Would you be happy? Overjoyed? Astonished?

Or would you think I am a liar?

Dancing, dancing my thoughts lead the journey to a land filled of make-believe. A place where ponies fly and behave like humans. And here I am, breaking the mojo that they have created for themselves, loving some pony because I could never go back to the way things were before coming here.

I could never go back.

I leave those thoughts behind closed doors and breathe in the near Spring air, hoping that my friend from the apple orchard will keep my mind at ease.

Away from her.

Away from you.