Something I Could Never Have
Gallus pushed his way through the trees of Sweet Apple Acres, staying under the leafy branches but above the ground, hoping not to leave any trail. He did not want to be found right now, no thank you. The orchard passed by in a flurry of brown and green (with spots of red, yellow, and lighter green), all mixed and blurred with speed and the traitorous liquid spilling from his eyes. Aw man, was he really crying over this? Not cool, brain, Gallus chided himself.
Eventually, Gallus found what he was looking for. He had heard tale of this tree, or rather, pair of trees, from Professor Applejack and had sought it out a few days later when he was feeling particularly lonely. Since then, it had been a place of lonesome comfort for something he could never discuss with others. It was sometimes a painful reminder of what he could never have, but it was nice to think of how much Professor Applejack’s parents had loved each other.
He rested his back against the bark and forced his shoulders to lose their tension, and tried to breathe. Headmare Twilight had helped him out once, telling him of how she learned this from her sister, Princess Cadence. Oh great, another reminder of love. Just what he needed.
His traitorous brain recalled the events leading up to his isolation. It was just a normal dance, and he found himself alone again. (“You’re too mean, Gally!” Silverstream would say, “no pony feels confident enough to approach you! I bet you’ve got a whole line of suitors too nervous to say anything!” That was great and all, but he just wanted one specific suitor.) He had sat at a table in the far back, fiddling with his itchy bow-tie and taking sips of punch as he watched his friends. Silverstream fluttered from friend to friend, a dance per song per friend, oblivious to how at least half of them were obviously crushing on her, and another fourth were subtly crushing on her. Ocellus and Smolder talked in the back, dancing quietly and allowing attention to drift. And then there was Yona and Sandbar, jumping and smashing in the middle of the dance floor, the ground slightly rumbling with each thump.
He had watched them dance, unable to keep his eyes off the manic grins they sported as they danced. Or rather he could not keep his eyes off of Sandbar, his eyes sparkling and cheeks turned red from exertion and the smile spreading his cheeks. Gallus had downed his lukewarm punch, hoping it would calm his speeding heart, and slipped out the window.
And now here he was, sobbing his eyes out over the most romantic place he knew. He really was turning into a sap. The leaves of the trees softly rustled, and he lost track of time as he wallowed. His silence was disturbed, however, when a voice called through the trees, “Gallus! There you are!” He wiped a claw across his eyes to clear the tears, and watched as the purple and green form of the Royal Advisor promptly crashed through the trees, shaking leaves and twigs off of himself.
Spike had recently gone through a growth spurt (“Finally,” Smolder had muttered, “I seriously thought he was never gonna get bigger.”) and had clearly been struggling to rework the sense of his own size. Gallus ducked as the drake flew over him and into a nearby tree, shaking his head from the crash. He winced as a few apples fell on his head and knocked the dragon off balance off again. Flying over, he pulled the dragon up. “Hey, Spike. You alright?”
“Just fine,” he winced, shaking his head, then leveled his (now at the same level as Gallus, which was weird) gaze at the gryphon. “More importantly, are you alright?” There was obvious concern in his voice, and his own heart hurt.
Gallus scoffed and deflected, like a true gryphon. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” He placed his claw on his chest and threw his head back in pride.
“Cause you left in the middle of the dance, sneaking through a window, and you’ve obviously been crying.” He flinched. Observant dragon. “Seriously, what’s wrong Gallus?”
He sighed and shuffled back to the entwined trees. “It’s not important, Spike, seriously. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh sure, guess I’ll just ignore an upset friend,” Spike rolled his eyes, “what a genius idea for the a Royal Advisor.” He fluttered over to Gallus, sitting next to him, and the silence enveloped them for a few seconds. Fireflies were beginning to show up, small stars drifting from tree to tree. “Is it about Sandbar?”
He was pretty sure he got whiplash with how quickly he glanced at the dragon next to him, then quickly sputtered and blushed. “Wha- pff- I have no idea where you’d get THAT idea.”
Spike raised a solitary eye ridge. He wishes Headmare Twilight and her friends were not so good at that. “Maybe cause I saw you staring at him the entire dance? That or you had sudden amnesia about traditional yak dances and didn’t wanna say anything.” He paused. “The former seemed more likely.”
The gryphon groaned and leaned his head against the tree, placing his claws over his eyes. “That obvious, huh?”
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, you’re more subtle than most ponies I know. I just happen to have a good eye.” He grinned and rubbed his nails against his chest, before placing his claws back in his lap. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I wouldn’t have run off if I wanted to talk about it,” Gallus groaned.
“Fine, fine.” There was a pause, and Spike gazed up at the stars. Gallus leaned against the tree more solidly, placing his weight against it, feeling the entwining trunks supporting his wings. Bumpy and a little uncomfortable, but solid. Spike spoke again, “would you feel better if I talked for a bit?”
“Can’t see how it’ll hurt.”
Spike gave a chuckle, and fiddled with his claws. “I... think it’s pretty obvious I have a crush on Professor Rarity.”
“No, really? Never would have guessed,” came the monotone reply.
He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Big surprise. If I’m being really honest, I had a crush on Rarity ever since I met her. That crush has made me act... really, really stupid. And often, it’s felt like she’s used it against me. She’s better now, but for a long time she knew she could just bat her eyes at me and I’d do anything for her.”
“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”
“Oh just be quiet,” Spike snapped, groaning. “I’m not done yet. Despite everything, I still have a crush on her. I know now she’ll never like me like that, and I’m really proud of the friendship I have with her, but it doesn’t change how I feel.” Gallus remained silent, and Spike continued. “She’s not the only one I like, either. Ember and Thorax are close friends, and I’ve been crushing on them since I’ve met them. They’re just... incredible. All three of them are incredible.”
Gallus kept his eyes closed and dropped his claws. “Yeah. I know that feeling. He’s pretty incredible, y’know? Incredibly stupid sometimes, but incredible anyway.” He felt Spike’d claw on his shoulder and sighed, before tilting his head to look at them. “What about Ember and Thorax? I haven’t seen much of them, but they seem to be very close to you too. You could confess to them.”
“I could,” Spike admitted. “But they have such important jobs, and I value their friendship so much that I don’t wanna ruin it by saying anything if they don’t like me back. Thorax was thrust from being a traitor into being a king, and Ember is still struggling to unite the Dragonlands. They have way too much on their plate.”
“Okay, maybe my crush is less bad by comparison. That sounds awful,” Gallus added in his usual irreverent monotone.
Spike frowned at him and rolled his eyes (man, Gallus got creatures to do that a lot). “Alright, here’s the point you’re clearly waiting for. My big friendship lesson.” He paused for dramatic effect (or to collect his thoughts, Gallus wasn’t sure), and finally began to speak. “Romance is the toughest part of friendship. Jealous over your friend falling in love. Jealous because you can’t have them. Not wanting to risk ruining a friendship if they don’t like you back. It’s something that will never truly become easier.”
Gallus glared at him. “I don’t see how any of this is supposed to be inspiring or help me.”
Spike laughed, a mixed thing of humor and bitterness. “I’m not the best at this, alright? That’s why I’m not a teacher. But you are going to have to address this sooner or later, you know. I’m the only one who figured you out now, but someone is going to find out. Better to get a head start before your friends can try and give you romantic advice.” He shivered. “Especially the CMC’s.”
Gallus gave him a weird look, but shook his head. “And I’m supposed to tell him? He’s obviously in love with Yona.”
“I’m obviously in love with Rarity, too,” Spike said, “but you didn’t know I was crushing on Ember or Thorax, did you?” Gallus opened his beak, then closed it and crossed his arms. “I think it’s a risk worth taking, is all.”
Gallus glared at him. “Oh, and I’m supposed to take this kind of risk when you won’t even take a chance confessing?” Gallus looked away, standing up and walking away from the trees. “I know it’s different, but it doesn’t feel different.”
“Heh, maybe you’re right.” Gallus looked back, and watched as Spike breathed out onto a card. He didn’t see much detail before it vanished, but he saw the bright red heart on the cover, and stared at a Spike with his mouth dropped open. “But creatures can surprise you. Just think on it, okay?” With a smile, the drake flew off into the trees.
Gallus closed his mouth and stood there for a few more seconds, looking around at the crowd of fireflies that had advanced during their conversation. It was beautiful. Sandbar would like it, his brain suggested, and Gallus considered destroying that train of thought. Instead, he decided to take a risk, and let it remain on track. Who knows? Maybe he would be surprised.