A Secret Well Kept

Your walk through the city is a bit uneventful, but still relaxing. Despite being a pegasus, Spitfire has no problem and is completely content walking side by side with you especially given the streets are still relatively empty. You look down at her to see she is smiling happily; her eyes closed as she nuzzles your arm a bit while she clings to you. She looks so cute and peaceful, but the image of what you found is still ever present in your mind. So many questions fill your mind, and you want to ask, but you don’t even know where to start?

So instead of fighting with yourself internally, you decide to ask whatever was on your mind. “Hey, Spitfire,” you call to her, nudging her slightly with the arm she was holding.

“Hm?” she responds, but doesn’t look at you. She only continues onward still smiling and holding your arm.

“Do you…like me?”

Your question seems to catch her a bit off guard; she looks up at you with concern and a bit of confusion. “Of course, I like you. Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just…” you trail on, trying to think of what to say next. Nothing seems to come to mind at first, and you can feel the mare’s eyes on you. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“Not really, not unless I had a good reason to.”

“Such as?”

“You know,” she said, looking up in thoughts, “something like a surprise on your birthday. Or tickets to a band you’ve been dying to see. You know, stuff like that.” she answers with a shrug before looking back at you.

“So…you wouldn’t keep secrets from me?” you ask, looking her in the eye.

The golden mare looked away; her ears pulled back as an almost disgraced look spread across her face, “Everypony has secrets.”

That answer left you both quiet; you weren’t sure how to respond, but she did. “What’s wrong? Why are you asking?”

Feeling you’ve done enough prodding for the moment you decided to try and balance the mood out. Chuckling to yourself and putting your best smile on as you said, “Nothing really. Sorry for sounding so moody before. It’s just, I was curious about some things, and you’re right. Everyone’s got secrets so I probably shouldn’t pry like that.”

“No, it’s okay. Just don’t scare me like that. I almost thought something was wrong,” she said before settling back into her arm.

You two continue onward for a while longer, the silence of your walk returning, but instead of the silence being peaceful, it’s filled with tension; tension neither of you wants to acknowledge.

Before long you two finally reach your destination, the Busted Wing, a local pub and favorite among the Wonderbolts. Spitfire has regaled you with many a tale of her prior visits with her comrades, but regarding her opinion, this was her favorite pub to visit in all of Cloudsdale. The instance you enter, your ears become assaulted by loud music and a few drunken pegasi patrons singing along. The room is practically filled to the brim, many a pony drinking, eating and chatting away; the ambient energy in the air already enough to lighten to mood between you two; Spitfire smiles as she instantly spots a booth in the corner and she pulls you in with her.

It’s kind of hard wading through the sea of ponies, but you make it, sighing in relief as you both take your seats, sitting across from each other. “Whew, we made it,” Spitfire sighs heavily.

“Barely, didn’t lose any limbs out there did we,” you ask sarcastically.

Just to humor you she pats herself down, looking herself over to see if she’s in one piece. “Nope, all here,” she answers.

You both get a bit of a laugh from it. ‘Okay, the mood is starting to pick up again. I managed to get some info, but not enough.’

As if fate were conspiring to assist you, a purple pegasus mare appears holding a notepad and quill. “Hi, Spitfire, welcome back,” the filly greets her.

“Hey, Nimbus.”

“Glad to see you brought your coltfriend back. After last time I thought you’d scared him off,” Nimbus giggles at the memory, causing Spitfire’s face to lightly blush.

“Okay, so I had a little too much to drink, shit happens,” she snaps, but Nimbus only starts laughing.

Spitfire groans as she practically face-palms herself and shakes her head. “Yeah, it’s cool. Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you tell the young mare.

“Oooh, yah hear that, Spits,” Nimbus said as she leaned in close, nudging the wonderbolt with her elbow. “This one’s a keeper. Better keep an eye on him or somepony might swoop in and grab him.”

Spitfire grabs the mare by the collar of her shirt and pulls her close so she’s face-to-face with her, her eyes almost blazing red. “Try anything funny, little filly, and you’ll see what kind of damage a mare like me can do sober.”

Realizing she took it a step too far, Nimbus nervously chuckles as Spitfire releases her, allowing her to back off and get back to work, “R-Right, my bad. So, what can I get you two?”

“You’re treating, you order,” Spitfire says as she looks at you, folding her legs and draping her left arm over the backboard behind her.

“Right, two hard ciders to start,” you tell the waitress.

“Spitfire’s usual,” she jotted it down before looking towards you. “And what’ll you be having?”

Spitfire glared at her then back at you. “What was that?”

“Kidding, just kidding,” Nimbus giggles before flittering off.

“What, nervous I might dump you for that little filly,” you inquire, a cheeky smile on your face.

“Please, a stallion like you would break a weak little thing like her in half,” she said, leaning forward, staring you in the eye as she spoke. “A stallion like you wants a mare, and you know it.”

“I don’t know,” you said, looking over a Nimbus from across the room. “You know what they say about forbidden fruit.”

A stinging pain fills your cheek as you look to see Spitfire pinching and tugging on it with a bemused look on her face. “Kidging, ah shwear,” you tell her before she lets go.

“You’d better be,” she smirks at you as you rub your cheek. Before you know it, Nimbus returns with your drinks in a couple of mugs. She places them down in front of you, “Here you go, enjoy. If you need anything else, just holler.”

You both nod and Nimbus flies off again, leaving you two alone. You pick up your glass and hold it up, “Cheers.”

“Cheers to what? We’re not celebrating anything,” Spitfire pointed out with a chuckle and raised a brow as she grabs her mug.

“Do you need a reason to cheer,” you ask with a shrug.

“Generally, yeah,”

“Then…to me being a weirdo,” you declare.

“To my weirdo,” she agrees, knocking her mug against yours before you two started to chug down your drinks and the evening begins to roll on.

Hours later

Time seems to fly by the two of you like a blur; both of you are thoroughly, especially Spitfire. As a human, their “Hard” cider isn’t all that hard to you, but it is to Spitfire. Though she’s only had five, she’s a bit buzzed. Naturally, you cut her off there, but that didn’t stop you from having fun. To your surprise, you had such a good time that you had almost forgotten about the whole reason for this little date. Her secret. You want to know. Still want to know, but spending time with her like this makes it seem…unimportant. Spitfire is the best thing ever to happen to you; she’s smart, confident, fun and sexy as hell, definitely hot as well too. So, what if she had a secret? It couldn’t be what you think it is. She made you happy, and you did your best to see she was too. That’s all that matters.

“Ah, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” Spitfire heavily sighs as she laid her arms on the table and then laid her head down on her arms.

“You feelin’ alright there.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m no lightweight,” she said, her voice sounding not slurred, but pretty close. “But a glass of water wouldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” you agree before looking for Nimbus. When you spot her, you wave her over, and she wastes no time beckoning to your call. “Could you get her some water?”

“No problem,” she smiled before she flew off.

You then slid out of your seat to stand up, but Spitfire lifts her head and catches you, “Where yah goin’?”

“Bathroom and I kinda need to stretch my legs,” you tell her while you stand up.

“Right, I’ll be here,” she says, waving you off, her head not leaving her makeshift pillow.

You dive into the crowd of your fellow patrons, wading through until you manage to make it to the other side in front of the bathroom door. You spend a few minutes relieving yourself; you had no idea you were holding it in for this long. When you finish up and wash your hands, you head back out into the populace. Once you’re out in the open, your eyes instantly catch sight of Spitfire, just the way you left her. Unfortunately, your eyes quickly catch sight of something else; a jet-black stallion with a red mohawk mane is sitting directly beside her. You want to move, but your body doesn’t seem to be responding at the moment, so your only option is to watch and so you do.

You stand and observe as the stallion wraps his arm around the yellow mare, though she doesn’t seem to be resisting all that much. He leans in close and you see her flinch and giggle before she playfully pushes him away, but all that seems to do is invite him to get even closer. You almost feel your eyes shrink to pins, giving you the most intense tunnel vision as your hands ball into fists, your grip becoming painfully tight. Spitfire turns her head to look at him, but the second she did, he leaned in planted his lips on hers.

That was it. You feel your nails dig into your skin as blood begins to seep through your fingers, but that doesn’t matter. Before you knew it, you’re already storming your way through the crowd, and after reaching the table you call out, “Spitfire!”

She hears you and opens her eyes to look up at you. Her face quickly contorts in confusion as she looks down at the stallion whose lips are locked to hers and then her eyes widened in shock as she quickly pushes her assailant away, shouting, “What the Tartarus! Who are you?”

“I don’t know; I was hoping you would tell me,” you snap, paying the confused stallion no mind.

“What? But I don’t-”

“Hey, dude, this’ my pussy,” the stallion said, stalking over to you, “Get your own.”

The second he finishes his sentence, you grab him by his throat, pressing your thumb firmly against his trachea. His eyes widen in surprise and fear as he begins to gasp for air. He grabs your hand, trying to get you to let go, but you don’t let up; you pull him face to face with you and tell him, “Piss. Off.”

You push him back, releasing his throat, watching him fall back to the floor coughing and gasping, holding his throat as he tries to breathe. You turn back to Spitfire who is just as surprised and scared as the stallion as she stares at you. You open your mouth to continue where you left off, but the pain in your chest is too much. “You know what, forget it,” you snap causing her to flinch back at your outburst. “I’m outta here.”

With that said you storm out of the bar and into the dark streets of Cloudsdale, alone. You don’t get more than maybe ten feet from the bar before Spitfire swoops down in front of you, blocking your path, a look of pain and fear all too present in her eyes. “Wait! Please wait, I can explain,” she pleads.

“Seriously, you can tell me why you were sucking face with that guy?”

“Yes, I can,” she tries to assure you, her voice laced in desperation with tears welling in the corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Please, you gotta believe me. I thought that guy was you! I was resting my head waiting for my water. My eyes were closed, and then suddenly somepony slides in beside me.”

You keep your eyes on her and what she’s saying makes sense. She was a bit out of it when you left her. You want to believe her, but even you couldn’t have predicted the next words that pass your lips. “And you expect me to believe that. Especially after what I found in your living room?”

Spitfire’s eyes nearly shrink to pins at your question. You’ve caught her. She knows you have and you already know what she’s going to say next. “W-W-What do y-y-you mean?” she stammers, her voice trembling in fear.

“The condom. I found the condom in the trashcan you tried to hide,” you clarify.

The complete look of shock and fear as she gasps is all the confirmation you need. She quickly covers her mouth, her legs trembling until they cave in and she drops to the floor sitting up on her knees, her ears pulled back, and her wings unfurl and drop to the ground as she starts to sob. “Admit it, Spitfire. You’re with somepony else. You barely let me touch you. You won’t even let me spend the night. Just admit it.”

“You’re wrong,” she yells at you as she meets your stern gaze, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. “I-It’s…It’s not that. I would never do that to you!”

“Then what else is it?” you ask, demanding an answer.

“I…,” she hesitates before looking down at the ground. She shuts her eyes tightly as tears steadily state to cascade down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“If I tell you you’ll leave me for sure,” she says as she wraps her arms around herself. “And I don’t want you to go. Please.”

You stare down at her, trying to access the situation; if she’s not cheating, then what else could it be? Where could a used condom possibly come from if not another guy? You wanted the answer, no matter what, but right now the answer seemed to be tearing Spitfire up inside. Despite how mad you are, that’s the last thing you want. You take a deep breath and exhale, and a reasonable option comes to mind. You kneel down in front of her and reach out to touch her tear stained cheek. She opens her eyes as you gently turn her head to meet your gaze.

“Listen, Spitfire, I don’t want to leave you either, but I’m done tiptoeing around this subject. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something important that I need to know, especially if you’re serious about us. So here are your options. You either tell me what is going on. Or we end it now, and I go home. What’s it gonna be?”

Spitfire’s eyes search yours, and she immediately knows that you’re serious. A look of horror becomes grows on her face before she looks away. You accept that as your answer. “Then I guess that’s it,” you solemnly say as you pull your hand away from her cheek and stand up.

You take a few steps passed her until you feel her hand grasp yours as she cries, “Wait.”

You turn around and see her looking up at you, the look of terror still present, but slightly lessened. “I’ll…I’ll tell you the truth, but not here,” she says while she pulls herself to her hooves. “Come home with me, and I’ll tell you.”

You look into her eyes and can see she’s telling the truth, reluctantly, but still. You nod, and Spitfire takes the lead, walking passed you while still holding onto your hand. “Your hand is bleeding,” she points out.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you repeat.