Red

Roseluck smiled as she handed over the bouquet to the old stallion in front of her.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, dropping a small pile of bits onto the stand. “She’ll love them.”

“I’m sure she will,” Roseluck replied, and watched him amble off down Ponyville’s twisting roads. Despite how long he’d been a customer of hers, it had been only recently she’d discovered that it wasn’t home he was going, but to the local graveyard. She’d tried not to let that cloud their interactions, but it was hard to act cheerful when she knew where those roses were going to end up. When he still referred to his wife in the present tense.

Roseluck sighed and slumped down against her stand, propping up her head with a hoof. It had been a very long night. Sleep had always been difficult for her, but last night it had been nothing short of impossible. Her mind raced, her regrets swallowed her up, and she’d stumbled out of bed this morning mostly just so she could stop trying.

It wasn’t as though the flower stall was worth opening. All two of her regular customers had been and gone already, and while it used to bring her some comfort to work here during the day, now it brought none. Now Roseluck couldn’t help but wonder if this was the mask all along, only there to make her feel better before she took it off and Red was there and waiting.

A shadow fell across her face, and Roseluck looked up, halfway through her usual greeting spiel before she realised who it was. “Hello, what can I-”

“Howdy,” said Mac, with a sheepish smile of his own.

Roseluck stared at him in stunned silence, and then pushed the memory of last night away. That was Red’s time, she reminded herself. Just be Roseluck.

“Hi Mac,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

He thought for a moment, looking down at the wide array of flowers strewn in front of her. “Well,” he said, “I was gonna ask for some flowers you’d think a mare would like, but I’m thinking you already got enough.”

Roseluck frowned. “Sorry?”

“That was bad, huh?” said Mac, a flush rising in his cheeks. “Sorry. I ain’t had much practice at this sort of thing.”

Roseluck’s confusion only worsened. “If you’d like, I can pick out a bouquet most mares would enjoy?” she asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not-” Mac floundered for a moment before he seemed to catch himself, straightening up and looking her right in the eye. “I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee or something?”

Oh. That’s what this was. “Mac,” she said, trying to sound both understanding and firm – a hard line to walk. “We both know why that can’t happen. You know what I do.”

Never with a client. That was definitely a rule, even if it hadn’t ever needed to be one until this moment, and while Red was struggling with her rules right now this one seemed like a very good one to stick to. Especially for Mac. If there was any pony whom she didn’t want to see after, it was him.

Mac didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by her words. “Well, beggin’ your pardon, but I know what Red does. But I ain’t here to ask Red out, Miss Roseluck. I’m here to ask you.”

That earned a raised eyebrow. Did he know? Could he look at the dark rings around her eyes from her sleepless night and see the conflict eating her inside out?

No. Surely he was too naive for that.

“They’re not much different,” she lied.

“Maybe they don’t have to be. Just different enough.”

Mac seemed different today, too. More sure of himself. She supposed that made sense; this was probably more familiar territory than last night. And as he stood there, smiling an easy smile that was only slightly tinged with nervousness, Roseluck was surprised to find she was genuinely considering it.

No, said Red. This cannot happen. He’s from your other life, from my world. They don’t mix. They can’t mix.

They already had, though. From the moment Red had given way to Roseluck, from the moment that every wall she’d so carefully built had crumbled away and let the truth in.

That was different. This is different. This is dangerous.

And Red was right, it was. This was a terrible precedent to set, agreeing to a date with a client. Agreeing to a date at all. Roseluck hadn’t had a coltfriend in a long time. It was… incompatible with her line of work. No stallion would want to be with someone who bent over for anyone who paid them enough, and she was not the type to hide something like that from someone who deserved better. Red might have, but not Roseluck.

But Mac already knew all that, knew what she did, knew who she was. He knew both sides of her, and yet here he was, asking.

“Why?” she asked, eventually.

“Why what?”

“Why this? Why not just come by when I’m working another night?”

Mac’s flush deepened, and Roseluck was sure the memories of the previous evening were currently spiralling through his mind. He scratched his head and shrugged. “I don’t think that’s really what I want.”

“Then there’s a million other mares out there, Mac,” she said.

This time there was far more surety in his words. “They ain’t what I want either.”

An unfamiliar flutter in Roseluck’s heart came with Mac’s assertion, a rolling excitement in her stomach. His eyes were locked with her now, and she felt like she might lose herself in them if she wasn’t careful. They’d already seen everything she was, even if their owner didn’t really know it. They’d already seen the truth as she’d shuddered beneath him and Red had faded to nothing, as Roseluck had curled up alone after and frozen him out. And yet Mac hadn’t accepted being pushed away. Confronted with her icy silence, he’d come back to her. For her.

No other client had ever done that. No other stallion had shown her even a sliver of the compassion Mac had. She’d never worried about her clients asking her on a date because until now the idea had never even crossed her mind. It certainly hadn't crossed theirs. It wasn’t what she was there for. But here Mac was, waiting for an answer to a question Roseluck had never even thought of.

If you do this, said Red again, filled with rising panic, there isn’t any going back. If you do this I can’t protect you anymore. I can’t keep the memories out if you keep letting them in.

She was right. Mac was a constant reminder, not just of that one night but of all the other nights, of everything she’d ever thought and assumed and lived. He was every stallion’s face, he was that conversation with her mother

Be careful

and he was all her regrets and mistakes. Because he was everything they hadn’t been, he was the contrast, the context. And he would never stop being that.

But was that worse?

Yes, Red urged. Tell him you can’t. Tell him it would never work. And then we can go back to that place and everything will be back to normal and I can take care of you.

Because that was the alternative. To carry on as before. To hide behind Red and all her mistakes and use them as her excuses. To go back to that place and spread her legs and take the bruises and scald herself in the shower as she tried to burn herself clean.

But at least it was what she knew. At least she would have Red to shield herself from the worst of it. Going with Mac now was stepping into the unknown without anything to protect her.

An impossible decision. Stay, or go. A familiar cage, or terrifying freedom. Her armour, or her last chance at something else. But only a chance, and a slim one at that.

Red, or Roseluck.

She looked up at Mac, still with that gentle smile, still with those warm eyes that waited patiently for her, would maybe wait forever. “What do you say?” he asked.

And Roseluck made her choice.