Is it fair to say you burn too brightly? Is it fair to call your warmth unbearable? It is not intentional, I don’t think, that I burn up when I’m around you. I orbit you like a comet and fall apart like so much stellar debris in the white-hot flash of your smile. I have dreams of your touch and your quiet voice and your perfectly uneven laugh but I excise them in desperate forgetfulness when I wake.
Do you think it’s by choice I forget you? Do you think I’ve chosen to stop asking you to go out for lunch, that I’ve stopped remembering your birthday, that I’ve stopped visiting you so frequently? You’ll have to forgive my cowardice, my indecision. Daydreams tend to sour like milk left out on a countertop.
I’ve carved a space out of a cloud to sit and wait the day out. I figure waiting is better than any feeble attempt to struggle with the enormity of the task I’ve set out to complete. You would think, with how stubbornly single-minded I am, that this wouldn’t be a problem. That I would just see this as another pass at a trick, another mountain to climb, another Wonderbolts’ test.
The thing about those things is if I fail, I can get back up. I can try again. I can keep practicing loops until I die and nothing bad will come of it. But this? Right now? If I fail, if you say no or if you say yes and I hurt you or if you say yes and maybe you’re not entirely sure and we drift apart after a couple years of nothing; there’s no coming back from that. If I fail, it’s over. We’re over.
How am I supposed to live without you? I figure it must be more painful than living only barely with you, if it’s taken me this long to realize what needs to be done. I sometimes think about what my life would look like without you in it and there’s more than a mere absence. There’s a great empty hole devoid of light or meaning, a scorched path in a million memories now rendered worthless by your departure from them.
I owe so much to you. You understand then why I can’t do this, right? You get it. I’ve seen it in your eyes and in your lips; you want what I want. We both want the same thing but neither of us have the will to gamble on living in a future where this fails. It’s a lot easier to live in a fantasy, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why Twilight loves books so much — the worlds they make for you to live in are so much simpler than the reality I have to contend with when the covers are closed.
I was content to live in my fantasy, you know. I was content on ignoring the longing glances, the lingering brush of wingtips, the quiet murmurs of desperate affection. Just like how I’m sure you were equally keen on ignoring my pathetic attempts at affection, at honesty, at anything beyond whatever sugar-sweet poison I’ve long been riddled with.
Such contentment never lasts long, I've found. It’s like the surface of a big storm cloud; outwardly calm but rippling with an uncontrollable energy. Sooner or later that front would burst and we’d be forced to deal with its consequences. So it was that ‘sooner or later’ happened to be today, a lazy spring evening. As the sun dips below the horizon and burning streaks of pink and orange stretch across the rapidly-darkening sky, my hiding spot is compromised.
It stands to reason that you are the only pony to find me all day. Of every pegasus in Ponyville, it would have to be you. It could never be anypony else. Fate would work its machinations and I’d have to confront the one thing I wanted to keep running from.
“Rainbow Dash! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
You aren’t looking at me when you say that, instead studying the thin wisps of clouds that still linger in the air. You turn your hooves over in your lap absent-mindedly.
“Oh yeah? Hope I didn’t miss anything too important.”
I can’t look at you either, to be fair. I’d rather lean back, my forelegs crossed behind my head, and pretend I’m anywhere else but here.
You shake your head, pink mane catching in the last light of the setting sun. It glimmers with a beauty indescribable; impossible to replicate. “Nothing important, I guess. Just kind of missed… having you around.”
How do you respond to that? What do you want me to say? What should I do next?
“Yeah, I’d miss me too if I were you.” I elbow you playfully and the pensive look on your face evaporates in a moment.
The giggle that spills out of your lips was more than enough to make me regret staying up here moping all day. It was stupid, I know that much. You being here just drives that point home even harder. “Is everything okay? You’ve been a little distant lately.” That pensive look is back, like you’re hoping as hard as you can that I’m thinking the same thing you are. “I really liked having you around.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. I’ve talked about this with our friends, you know. To their credit it seems none of them have said a word to you. They said I need to go for it, that I’d be happier, that it makes so much sense.
I agree with them. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Maybe that’s why I’m so scared. I’m not great at doing things that make sense. The impossible isn’t a challenge for me, but this? This is beyond me. Or it felt like it, at least. I lick my lips and jump. “I liked being around you too. I like you a lot, you know?”
You smile. It breaks my heart to see you smile like that, your eyes full of so much sadness. “I like you a lot too, Rainbow Dash.” You move around, positioning yourself to leave. “I won’t bother you much longer. See you around?”
“Wait!” I put a hoof on your flank, bounding upright. The sudden rush of blood leaves me unsteady but I continue, getting closer. “I mean. I love you. I’m not very good at saying it, or showing it, but—”
It’s hard to want to speak any more when I feel your forelegs wrap around my neck. As we hug, I can feel your body tremble. I can hear you cry, like I’ve heard a hundred times before.
This is different.
This feels nice.
“I love you too.”
