Phantom Love

After a quick checkup and chat with one of the nurses at Ponyville's clinic, I step out into the night air. The ascension of the moon keeps my heart at ease, but that mind I hold still races on. Each thought tries to register within me, but pieces only survive momentarily. Glimpses of what I should say, what I need to do, what I keep hold of; everything appears as if they were gasps of air, breaking into the thick smoke I breathe in.

Walking in the middle of the night. I am approaching that place called home. She must be there by now.

"You know, you could always join us later tonight if you're bored at Big Macintosh's."

I freeze in mid-step. She did offer me the chance, and she said she'll be happy either way with my decision.

My confliction is at stake: home or to the Corner of Disaster and Pastries? I know I said home, but maybe it would be easier to break the news if I get some coverage first, a break of nerves through natural conversation among friends.

Maybe that's the route I should take.

So I do, slowly, hesitating to just head home, but my body leads me elsewhere, taking me to Sugarcube Corner without any time to think. I stand at the door, thinking if I should knock or not, when the door begins to creak open. It squeaks as it hits the door frame, and in front of me is my darling, my love. I hear you gasp.

"Why, darling, you're here!" she lunges at my legs, grabbing them. I nearly break my stance, but I keep myself strong, knowing that I have to hide the bandages from her that are beneath my clothes. If I fall, I may wince if I hit my back.

I smile at her and pet her gently. "I am, glad you're happy to see me."

She chortles slightly. "You must be joking, of course I am happy to see you! Been missing you dearly, darling. Why, Rainbow Dash here spoke of your latest shenanigans with her and Pinkie." She jabs my right leg. "I say, don't stick any more caramel in other ponies' manes. That is ruthless of you!"

I keep a hold of my stance. I am afraid that these tired legs will collapse any second. I need to get to a chair.

Wobbling, I poke you in the side and say, "Rares, can you let go for a second?"

Her muzzle ruffles up slightly. "Why?"

"Oh, just need to take a seat, that's all."

She let's go. Suddenly, I feel weightless. My legs feel like jello. I slowly wobble to the seat and collapse in it. The girls, who were watching the event unfold, scurry over to my side, and you come in tow.

"What's wrong, Scottie?" Rainbow Dash asks.

The others nod, apparently wanting to ask the same question.

I sigh. "Worked hard today at the orchard. I—"

"You worked on the orchard?" Applejack asks. "Shoot, I told Big Mac we don't need more—"

"AJ, you do need help," I interrupt, making Applejack sputter in shock. "Your brother was thankful that I came over today. Besides, I am hoping that I can make this somewhat of a routine. Didn't know collecting apples kept my nerves at ease."

Applejack smiles. "Applebucking is the best thing to do when you're all stressed out and such! And if my brother said thanks, he must've became friends with you. Did he say a lot? It's not often that he pipes up."

I snicker. "I can agree with you there, the job helps clear the mind. It's nice to chat with someone like Big Mac once in a while, keeps the job fun."

I turn to see Rainbow Dash raising a brow. "I don't know, sleeping in those trees is a much better experience."

"Shut your trap, Dash. When you come over to try and help, you take one kick and then mosey on up the tree like a squirrel late to hibernation!"

"What can I say, AJ? Your trees are just landing zones for tired pegasi!"

Applejack smirks, and points her hoof at Fluttershy. "Then what about Flutters? Ain't she a pegasus too?"

Fluttershy simply squeaks before hiding behind her mane.

"Yeah, well…" Rainbow Dash responds, rubbing her hoof awkwardly behind her neck. "Not every pegasus needs to be in your trees, do they?"

AJ laughs. "That's true, but not every pegasus uses a tree when they're tired."

The rest of the girls laugh with her, leaving poor Rainbow Dash to her own misery. Of course, they're not laughing at her, more like the girls are laughing beyond her. You would know that well, Rares. Back when I goofed up similarly. You tried to hold it in your laughter, but the chuckles turned into a full-blown giggle-fest. You could not keep yourself contained when I tripped on air. What a goof, you said back then. Yes, but I'm your goof, so that's okay with me.

I watch as Rainbow Dash begins with her retort, her blush on those cheeks of hers. She hollers at AJ, before giving her a friendly jab. The conversation then flows elsewhere, leaving you and I alone to ourselves. We stand near them, but not with. Your laughter has died, and now you look at me inquisitively. It looks like you want to say something, your mouth slowly opening like a drawbridge that is slowly lowering itself for the common driver to get across. But that reality stays shut, your mouth snapping to a close.

I look on, between you and the ponies beside us. What is there to say? Should I just pipe up now and let you hear my thoughts? We have our privacy now.

Take the chance.

"Ra—"

"So, working on the orchard was fun?" you say rather mouse-like.

I smile. "Yeah, climbing trees was something I did when I was younger, so it wasn't much of a hassle."

I look down at my legs. The wobble remains.

You look at those legs too. "Something wrong, dear?"

I keep that smile on. "There's nothing wrong."

It's easy to lie.

"Are you sure?"

"How could I not be sure?"

The snap-reply keeps you from responding automatically. You stop, look up at me, and, with a tone similar to Big Mac's final line that made me rush away, run to that clinic to distract myself from reality; you say, "Sometimes, you look unsure of what you're saying, that's all."

My legs freeze. You gently bring your muzzle to them again and lightly, your cheek grazes my jeans. You sigh, and bring your gaze to me. We stare, somewhat, words being said unspoken between those irises of ours. Purple talking to brown, brown rebuts with a glare, an eyebrow raise: just elements of a topic that those around us never hear.

You nod and dash towards your friends. You say a quick goodbye to them all, and they give you all the love they can in return: a hug, a nuzzle on the cheek, and a glare at Dash (she said something akin to "don't hurt your stallion"). With a punctual ta-ta, you return to my side. "Care to leave with me, darling? Or do you need to catch yourself?"

My legs are no longer wobbling. My mind is no longer racing. My head is no longer conflicted. I am about to nod—

"You're not alone in this world."

I stop myself, and sigh. "Mind if I catch myself?"

You shake your head. "Take your time then, dear. I'll wait outside for you."

You turn and head towards the door. There was no hip sway in this walk, just an innocent stride as you make those hinges speak. They open and close within a span of seconds, and then you're gone behind those doors.

And here I am, wondering how I got someone like you: so kind, so gentle, and so understanding. I see you well, but I also see her too. And right now, I'm waiting for that nuzzle. All I feel is the warmth of friction, the warmth you caused.

The warmth you use to remind me I'm not alone.

Time flies. We walked rather quickly home. I'm now with you on the couch, petting you softly to the tune of your lungs. You breathe rather lightly, but the contrast of your heart makes me think otherwise. You would like to feel calm, but your heart knows there's something off. Either that, or your heart needs more practice—that walk wasn't that strenuous.

You look at me with all the love in the world. You purr softly when I gently graze your ear just right. You nuzzle into my hand when I come towards your cheek. You are nothing like her.

But yet you remind me of her so much. She liked it when I held her close. She liked it when I softly grazed her ear. She loved it when I cupped her cheek and whispered sweet nothings into those ears of hers, the hot breath tickling her to the point of her shaking in my grasp. Then it happened: the heat of the moment where we sat: me pinning her there and loving her to bits.

And we don’t do that. You don't want that. You want to take it slow. You know how it is. You want that ring first.

And yet I'm not ready to figure that out. Even after all this time, these two to three years of just living with you, cherishing what we have. We haven't even kissed for crying out loud!

My mind stops. We haven't even kissed.

"Darling…"

I stop to think.

Your lips puckered once or twice.

The candles were lit to a calming hue. Gentle orange covers the room. A serveur graces us with menus. You look a la carte, bracing it with the words it has. You look for the right dish, hum when you find it, gasp when you like it, and shut that carte quicker than I. The server drops off your drink, a glass of the finest of wines. I think I ordered mine, but he hasn't come back yet. Shoot, I'm still at step one while you're already sipping on your drink.

"Still looking?" you ask, your drink now sitting on the table.

What do you expect from me? "Yes, there's just so much to choose from."

You look at me oddly, but you nod anyway. "Take your time. The night is still young." You bring your drink to those lips once again.

So young, I know. But that does not mean that I'm drinking coffee, because you drink a vulgar wine that keeps you intoxicated for the rest of your days. It stains your lips. I see it now, as you nuzzle my hand once again.

The rest of the date flashes on by—ordering, eating, talking about our days—they are gone before I even react. I just see you, coming closer. You shut your eyes. You lean even closer. Your lips are now puckered. You wait for me to return it.

I come close, and I close my eyes.

And then, like that, you retract your move. You sit there, red-cheeked.

"Sorry about that, darling. The wine is speaking for me."

The wine has been speaking for you since the day you wanted a kiss from me. You deny yourself of it. Why haven't I asked you about it? Why am I sitting here okay with it? Are you conflicted too? I just watch you nuzzle, then take pause, then nuzzle again, like my form repulses you momentarily. Maybe the feeling of that ear graze keeps you from leaving my grasp.

We need to talk.

So I open my mouth. I open it now.

"Rares?"

You let out a throaty moan—my hand had grazed your ear in the most alluring of ways. "Y-Yes?" you say, recovering from the intoxicating touch. "What is it?"

I withhold a smile. I cannot pander to someone like you. You notice my gaze, how blank it must appear: those lips are not curled in a smile of love, those lips are shut and flat like the plains of Nebraska. You nearly lurch back at my gaze, but you keep yourself calm. You wait for my voice.

So I deliver in kind:

"We need to talk."

Your eyes widen. "Talk? About what, de—"

"Drop the pretense, Rarity. We need to chat about us."

"Us?" you breathe out. Your heart is racing again, but not of adrenaline or pleasure. I feel its nervousness peaking ever-so-slowly, despite the speed of which your heart beats. You are worried.

You spur out of my grasp. You slide yourself on the other edge of the couch. "What is it about us?"

I frown. There's a lot about us. And yet there's a lot about her. I don't think I ever told you about her. I left her omitted from my past, so you did not get jealous. After all, you felt deeply wronged by a stallion cheating on his wife. You felt repulsed by the sheer thought on being cheated on yourself. You told me that one night, after we went to go see a play with a similar plot line. And yet you are about to hear me tell you about her.

I hope you like stories.

"It's more about myself. I, need to be honest with you, because I feel like I haven't been honest enough."

You gasp. Water forms in your eyes. You are probably thinking of the possibilities: "Is he cheating on me?" "Is he breaking up with me?" "Am I not good enough?" You should realize by now that those are normal atrocities we commit when we feel in doubt, but we still do them because that doubt reigns superior over the soul of a conflicted individual.

So you ask the first, then the second, then the third.

"Are you cheating on me?"

"No, I—"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"No—"

"Am I not good enou—"

I snap. My patience no longer weighs in. I growl and pinch your hooves, causing you to writhe on this couch of ours. "Stop talking and let me speak!"

You gasp and painfully nod. Your heart still races on, despite hearing my responses. So I let you have it.

"I do not love you like I should."

And there, you sigh. You jump off the couch to open up another bottle of wine.

And I do not stop you. My mind filled with her and you, screaming out loud. She's crying for me to come back, and you are asking the wine to assist you in saying your distaste, your displeasure of my thoughts.

"W-Why?" you ask.

"It's a long story, I—"

You growl at me. "I don't care. J-Just tell me."

"Okay," I say softly. "Back on Earth, there was this girl named Veronica that I loved. We were in a relationship for a while, since high school, in fact. We dated for four years, kind of like us, except she and I did a lot more than what you and I have done." I look at your lips when I say this. "We kissed, we snuggled under the tree at her farm, and we did more than just rustle under the sheets."

Your face turns red. I admire that look: the way you blush when I say something. But it looks like a different tint: a cross between love and hatred. Jealousy? I shake my head and continue on, "But those things do not matter, the fact that I still think of her and feel that love regenerate within me every time we touch… I can't help but feel this love slowly pull me away from you. With the fact that you're afraid to kiss me already adds to that distance."

You gasp. "Darling, I'm not a-afraid to kiss you," you say with a slight slur. "I just…"

You turn silent. You gaze at my lips. You try to lean in, but something stops you. You look away, ashamed of that reaction. And then, you murmur four words.

"You're different than me."

And that sets me off. I stand up and turn to open the door.

"Where are you going?!" she says with alarm.

I open the door swiftly, the door slamming against the wall. I turn to face you once more, and with a growl, I say, "For a walk."

And before long, the door slams shut, leaving me to my thoughts, and for you, a chance to drown yourself in wine.