Birthday Boy Blues

After breakfast he was, mercifully, allotted some time to himself. Half an hour, apparently, according to his sister’s schedule.

So he’d gone into his room, and closed the door, locking it. He really did want to take a look at his old comics. If he couldn’t be a baby today, then he could have a little time as a kid, right? Comics were acceptable at any age, at least in his mind.

So, he’d gotten one from his shelf, and started to read. As he grew more enveloped in the story of the Power Ponies (The first issue that he’d gotten for his seventh birthday), he didn’t notice his hoof sneaking it’s way into his mouth as he started to suck on it for comfort. It wasn’t until he finished it that he realized it was in his mouth. He took it out with a wet pop.

What are you thinking?! Stop that! You can’t afford to make these kinds of mistakes today!

He chided himself for it, even though sucking it and reading his comic had made him the most relaxed he’d felt all day. Angry with himself, he got out of bed to get a different comic to read from his shelf.

It was at this point that he made a mistake.

He hadn’t made up his bed this morning, and some of the covers had fallen over one side. His hoof tangled in it, and he tripped, falling flat on his stomach.

For a moment, he was too shocked to do anything. The next, he burst into tears.

All the feelings of shame, of upset, of exhaustion, of anger, of wanting comfort, came pouring down his face. Some distant part of his mind realized that this wasn’t a big deal, and that he was sobbing loudly, but then it reminded him that that really hurt and that he’d enchanted the room to be soundproofed whenever the lock was turned. So he’d cried and wailed, sobbing for his hatred of his birthday, for his wanting comfort, for expectations too much for him to shoulder. And when he finished, he hiccuped a little while, before he realized his time was nearly up. Wiping his tears, he went to his bathroom, and started to wash his face off.

There. He had had the breakdown that had been coming to him all day. Now he could get on with the rest of the day as planned and not have to worry about it anymore, right?

If that was right, then why did he still feel so little? And more importantly, why did the nagging thought of why didn’t Mama come to check on me? Persist in his mind.

He shook himself. “Gotta be normal. Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours.” He told himself, trying to force himself to make it through them.

Steeling himself against his fears of what waited on the other side of the door, he squared his shoulders, and braved the fears outside of his room.

All seemed quiet as he made his way down the stairs, and this made him highly suspicious. As a guard, he knew, when things were quiet, those were the days when things happened. Considering what today was, he was even more paranoid than usual. Adrenaline heightened every instinct in his body, to the point where he thought he could feel every groove in the wood of the stairs he was coming down. His heart began to pound the way it did when he was about to enter a battle, and it wasn’t an entirely inaccurate assumption at this point. He was entering into a battlefield he didn’t want to be on, but like any good soldier, he followed his orders.

He reached the bottom of the stairs. All still seemed quiet. He took a few tentative steps forward, and nothing happened. Maybe he was in the clear and his family was outside? That was a comforting thought.

Alas, it would prove to be a false one.

He decided he might as well get some water from the kitchen, only to find Twilight, Cadence, and Flurry standing there.

“Shining, come outside! Flurry made hoof paintings on the porch!”

He blinked in surprise at something so ordinary coming out when he had expected the worst. “Oh, sure!” He tried not let any relief get into his voice, but he wasn’t sure about how well his efforts paid off. “Where’s Mom?”

“Mom went out for a few minutes to get something. Come on!” Twilight said, and took him by the hoof to the backyard.

The place held both comfort and upset for him. Many of the birthday parties he’d had as a young child were in that yard. He tried not to think about it for fear of his resolve crumbling further, but it was hard not to. A flash of a colorful piñata hanging from a tree, a glimpse of his mother putting a colorful party hat on his head, flashes of cameras taking his picture when inside he’d been dying. He shook his head a little to clear it. It wouldn’t do any good to focus on that now. He turned, and saw several hoof paintings from his daughter drying in the sun. Little hoofprints, immortalized by paint, streaks of bright colors, all a testament to how little she was. He smiled at that, a genuine one.

“These are amazing!” He grinned, looking at the colors. He turned to his wife who was holding his daughter, and kissed his little girl on the cheek. “You’re such a little talent, Flurry!” He gushed. Flurry giggled and crooned, flapping her wings happily, and for a short moment, he felt a smidgeon of peace. Children were a second chance, or so the saying went, and he would make sure he never missed a birthday of hers, unlike his own father.

He gave his daughter a hug and kiss, happy to hear her giggle and squeal. But soon, his anxieties found a way to niggle into that peaceful moment.

He hadn’t noticed that Twilight had gone inside shortly after they’d come out, and now, she poked her head back out of the sliding glass door.

“Shiny, Mom’s back! Come inside!” She called, voice full of good cheer.

The feeling of dread settled back into his stomach as he handed his wife their daughter, and went inside, sitting down at the table at his sister’s instruction.

He was blinded momentarily when all the curtains in the house were drawn shut by Twilight’s magic, and panic made bile rise in his throat. What was going on?!

The answer came not a moment later, when his mother came holding a cake with lit candles, and his family began to sing Happy Birthday to him. When she set it down, though, he was dumbstruck.

The cake was clearly homemade, but the piping around it was almost professional. His heart skipped a beat. Mama must have made that cake. There wasn’t any explanation that fit. Twily could bake and decorate well, but this wasn’t her work, because there were still tiny places where piping didn’t align right, and his sister wouldn’t have allowed that. He’d never seen Cadence bake a day in her life, either. No, this was Mama’s work, and Mama couldn’t draw to save her life. Mama always said she became a writer, not an artist for a reason. Mama couldn’t draw, and she didn’t do it for anypony, ever. The effort she must have gone to to do this for him…

He didn’t realize he was crying silently, tears coming down his face. Mama did that for him. Mama thought he was worth the time and effort. Mama cared about him. The feelings that invoked were so strong he felt his mind going blank in an effort to try and process it all.

When they all stopped singing, he didn’t blow out his candles. He was frozen.

“Shiny?” Twilight’s questioning voice came from behind him.

“Open the curtains Twily.” Velvet said softly.

When she did so, they all saw the twin streams of tears coming down his cheeks. Velvet, of course, reacted immediately.

“Shiny? Are you alright, honey?” She asked, putting a hoof on his shoulder.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Without warning, he burst into sobs.