Wonderful Lies, Fruitful Truths

“Ugh, where is it?” Soarin grumbled, rummaging through his closet. Where was his jacket? He could’ve sworn he put it in his closet. How was he meant to look cool without it? It was his signature look, after all. Maybe he put it on the top shelf.

Soarin stood on his toes, attempting to peak over the shelf. He didn’t know why he ever put anything on this shelf; he could never reach anything. His hand brushed against something hard, causing him to jerk back.

“What’s this?” Soarin muttered, picking the item up. It looked like a hand-carved jewelry box. It was carved beautifully with a heart on the top. It must’ve been Zephyr’s. Soarin wasn’t exactly the type to wear jewelry.

He hummed, arching his eyebrow. Now that he thought about it, had he ever seen Zephyr wear jewelry? Soarin eyed the box curiously. What was in this?

The man gave it a soft shake. Thumping came from the inside. It definitely didn’t sound like the metallic clatter of necklaces and rings.

Soarin plopped on his bed, clicking the box open. He just had to see what was in this. Inside were photos. Dozens of them, in fact. They were bound together with a piece of red ribbon.

Who still kept photos? Everything was on phones nowadays. Soarin couldn’t help but chuckle; Zephyr was always the sentimental type. He picked apart the ribbon, pulling a photo from the pile. Soarin nearly melted where he sat.

Zephyr looked absolutely angelic. His purple eyes shined brightly, and he had the utmost beautiful smile. His eyes veered over to himself. He looked disgusted. His face was scrunched up, staring at Zephyr with the most repulsed look he could muster.

Soarin furrowed his brows. Who could look so disgusted next to such a gorgeous person? He shook his head. Maybe he was just in a bad mood that day. Soarin flipped to the next photo.

He looked just as angry in the next photo. Zephyr’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder. It was clear that Soarin was pushing him off.

Soarin frowned. Why was he so…off in these pictures? Why did he look so pissed? Soarin shook his head. Surely, he couldn’t look like that in every photo.

He flipped through more photos. In every single one, he looked some variation of angry or disgusted.

Soarin’s breath shuddered. Why would Zephyr keep these? These all looked terrible. Did Zephyr really love him that much? Soarin’s lungs felt empty, and his head felt light.

He couldn’t look at these anymore. Soarin sloppily placed the photos back into the box, slamming it shut.

Soarin tossed the box to the side, flopping back onto his bed. His head began to ache, and his stomach churned. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ground his thoughts.

How long had he been treating Zephyr like that? He closed his eyes, thinking back to everything. Their dates, every interaction. Even down to the day they broke up, Soarin acted like a brat.

In every interaction he recalled, he was a monster. Soarin was just so…controlling! What was wrong with him? How could he be so selfish to his own boyfriend?

Soarin quickly sat up, his breath now rigid. Rage coursed through his body. He was practically trembling under his skin. His eyes darted around his room, looking for something, anything, to take his frustrations out on.

His eyes landed on his bedside table. Perfect.

Soarin kicked over his table, one of the legs flying off. He continued to stomp on the table, the thin wood breaking under his steel-toe boot.

Soon, the table was nothing but a pile of crushed, broken wood. Despite this outburst, Soarin still felt anger swell in his chest.

This wasn’t enough; he needed more.

Soarin stood in his living room, his body trembling. His apartment was a mess. Windows were broken, walls had holes, and furniture was destroyed.

It felt like he had gone on a blind rampage, the past hour blurring by.

The man touched his face, feeling the sweat drip down his skin. His breathing was heavy, and he felt lightheaded. Soarin looked at his hands, watching them vibrate. Dry blood clung to his knuckles. He didn’t remember when he had cut his hands, but here he was.

“What is wrong with me?!” Soarin shouted, kicking over his recliner. His heart continued to race in his chest. He had his little temper tantrum; wasn’t that enough?

Soarin sunk to the floor, pressing his back against the now broken chair. He needed help. Soarin shuddered at the thought. He didn’t want help. Besides, who would he even go to?

His phone buzzed, catching his attention. It was Trenderhoof.

His gaze softened. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had to talk to Trenderhoof.

Soarin stood at Trenderhoof’s front door. He stared at the mansion. It never failed to impress him.

Soarin rang the doorbell, his hand still trembling. The door swung open, revealing Trenderhoof. He wore an overly fancy robe, a glass of wine in hand. His eyes lit up at the sight of his boyfriend.

“What brings you here, cutie?” He playfully flirted. Soarin rubbed his arm, avoiding his boyfriend's gaze.

“Can…can we talk?”

Trenderhoof eyed Soarin’s nervous demeanor.

“Of course! Come on in.” Trenderhoof stepped to the side. Soarin entered the mansion, making a beeline to the living room.

“I feel terrible. My apartment is trashed, and I’m a monster, and I…I…” Soarin stammered over his words. It felt like all of his thoughts were stuck in his throat.

“Soarin, sweetheart, you’re spiraling.” Trenderhoof pointed out. He sat down, patting his lap. “Lay down, let me play with your hair.”

Soarin eyed Trenderhoof wearily. He didn’t have much to lose, did he? He laid his head on Trenderhoof’s surprisingly soft lap. The fabric of his robe felt smooth against his skin, like fine silk.

Trenderhoof rubbed his fingers across Soarin's scalp.

This felt…nice. Soarin sighed, practically melting under Trenderhoof's hand. His fingers felt like magic in his hair. He could feel his tension headache fade away. Soarin’s trembling slowed to a halt, and his eyes fluttered shut.

“If your apartment is that bad, you can live with me. I’ll take care of you.” Trenderhoof reassured. Soarin hummed in response. Living in a mansion with his cute boyfriend didn’t sound so bad.

The pair remained silent for what felt like forever. Soarin wished he could stay like this for the rest of eternity.

“Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” Trenderhoof spoke up. Soarin’s grip tightened again. What would Trenderhoof think? This could lead to them breaking up!

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge.” He reassured. “I promise.” Soarin let out a shaky sigh.

“I…I think I still have feelings for my ex,” Soarin admitted. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was it; this was the end of the relationship. Trenderhoof would yell and kick him out, breaking up with him on the spot.

“Who doesn’t?” Trenderhoof shrugged. Soarin blinked in surprise. Not quite the reaction he was expecting,

“If you feel that strongly, you can date Zephyr.” He offered. Soarin furrowed his brows.

“But…I’m dating you. I don’t want to break up.” Soarin pointed out, burrowing his face deeper into his lap. Trenderhoof shrugged.

“It’s not weird to have multiple partners.”

“Really?” Soarin asked in disbelief, sitting up. Trenderhoof chuckled.

“Yeah! Nothing wrong with dating more than one person.” He explained. “You love who you love.”

Soarin had never even considered that. He anxiously nibbled at his nail.

“It’s not just that. Even after we broke up, I terrorized Zephyr and his boyfriend.” Soarin sighed. “I just…feel like shit.”

Trenderhoof placed his hand on Soarin’s.

“I think it’s best if you apologize. Even if they don’t forgive you, it’ll be a nice thing for you to do.” Trenderhoof suggested. Soarin slowly nodded.

“Yeah…yeah! I’ll do that first thing tomorrow!” Soarin decided. It felt like a weight was lifted off his chest.