"colts don't cry"

by alafoel

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Braeburn, Profanity, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 10338

Young, dumb and gay: Braeburn tries to work through all of this when his cousin Big MacIntosh visits from Ponyville.

Braeburn was young, gay and confused. Then his extended family from Ponyville came to visit in Appeloosa, and Braeburn finds himself even more confused as he tries to work through his feelings for his cousin Big Macintosh.

An introspective romance story featuring Braeburn and Big MacIntosh, written for the 2023 M/M Shipping Contest. (Oh, hey! Won judge's prize!)

Contains some strong homophobic language.

Feedback is appreciated, as brutal as it needs to be.

Published 2023-10-26 00:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-10-26 00:40:01 UTC

"colts don't cry"

Living in Appleloosa, you hear a lot of jokes. Small, dumb town like ours, it's easy to joke about. One I hear a lot goes something along the lines of “if your perfect idea of a first date is a FAMILY REUNION… you're probably from Appleloosa!'' In my case, I don't think you could so much as call it a date. At least not in the typical sense. Other than that, it's pretty accurate.

Where do I start? It was a warm day. Dry. Though that ain't nothing special here, I suppose. You could feel the air like dust, filling into your lungs any time you took a deep breath. Made me want to breathe quick and short. It picked up some more when the train came in - I stood there waiting, I knew family was coming on. Granny Smith bringing her young ones from Ponyville. Big MacIntosh and all, that little bit of the family. It ran in slow, picking up orange dust as it came. Chugging. Smoke out top. I took in breaths - short, sharp. I hadn’t seen this side of the family as long as I remembered - I must’ve been a pretty young colt last time I did. It scared me a little. I knew they were family, but it still managed to put me off. Way anything new scared me back then - stuck in a small little ghost town like I was. I wasn’t used to change. I bent my knees just to remind myself I could, creaking the floorboards beneath me, waiting there on the train platform. It was still all coming in like slow motion - the smoke pillowed up and away in a marshmallow crawl: grey plumes slipping between each other, bending their way trying to grab up at the sun. The dust picked up and settled and slowed and you could feel it like the air in your lungs. Quick breaths. It must’ve been an hour there, staring at carriages crawl by, before the train actually stopped.

A horn loud enough to scare off any of the birds decided to perch by the station - the few ones we had, not hidden away under some shadow from the heat. The few ones not picked apart by buzzards, not fallen dehydrated some patch alone in the desert. This little ghost town. Hoofsteps - seemed enough for a whole crowd, loud and hurried - but only a few ponies came out. Granny Smith, it must’ve been, came up to my dad - some colt, a couple fillies behind her. I stared at them for a bit. Colt must’ve been the oldest, I thought: tall and red, large. Larger than me. Big Mac, I figured. My dad had told me all the names, knew I must’ve forgotten. “They got a colt not much older than you - Big Mac he’s called. You two oughtta get on pretty well!” He didn’t smile like the fillies he came with - one of the two looked so young it’s a wonder they took her at all, small enough that her little bow seemed gargantuan, made for some long-gone horse of legend. And there she stood grinning wider than anypony else I could think I’d ever seen. Apple Bloom I figured, dad said that was the name of the young one. We all stared at each other and back, us foals. It looked like the middle one - Applejack, right? That’s the name my dad gave me. Anyhow, it looked like she was about to speak up, say Hi or something, but got interrupted. Granny Smith started some talking with my dad. Whatever it was I didn’t listen. Just stared at these foals, must’ve been somewhere around my age. I didn’t know many ponies my age. We stood in silence, waiting for our chance, to be told we were allowed to speak. It’s not like we were that young we still needed permission (I was in my teenages by this point, I know) but when you got your elders talking, when you ain’t seen family in that long, you sort of give them some reverence. Like you know what they got to say is more important than you or any of the other foals. Certainly Big Macintosh, the oldest of us, he knew not to speak - and if he’s the oldest ain’t you gonna trust him?

It was some time just staring at each other before I heard my name - “Braeburn! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Granny Smith had sidled over now, no longer just talking with my father. She bent over to look at me closer, look into my eyes, examine me. “You sure have grown!” I had. She hadn’t seen me since I was little more than a newborn foal - least that’s how it felt for the both of us. She did a little more asking up of me, inspecting me. Making sure I was a factory-bred, top of the line, apple family stallion. Every test she put up I seemed to beat - “Why, you must be the strongest colt in Appleloosa!” After some more of this, she finally set us free. Drew some magic words to release us: “I’m sure you’ll get along just grand with Big MacIntosh and his sisters.” When she spoke those words, I don't think she quite knew how grand we would get along. I don't think she could have.

Something lifted after she spoke - I drew a big breath, the other foals did too. Dust filled up our lungs, our legs began to creak back into motion. We didn’t quite talk yet, just walked alongside as we followed behind. It still felt closer. More real. We'd left the station, spent some time sifting through the sand outside, then trotted along. Sun beating down, sand beneath taking and giving. We bunched up, almost in a line. Two by Two. Me and the middle foal, Applejack. Behind us was the youngest, then Big MacIntosh alongside her like some kind of bodyguard. Like it was some secret game they were playing, just those two - the way he would hunch down, crook his neck either side looking for anypony meant them harm, bunch back up and nod all clear. And she'd just giggle. Just little ones, but so filled with heart. Even in front, it was hard for me not to giggle along - Applejack certainly gave in a time or two. I held on, just trudged. Felt sand beneath me, felt dust fall in and out quick in different breaths. Just making the way back home.

I don't think anypony actually spoke to each other til we got in the house - any of us foals at least. My dad and Granny Smith kept talking the whole way of course, but nothing that concerned us. We were in our own world, world that stood two steps behind. Followed them into the home - the door opened and shut, drew us in before we could object. I think it must have been Apple Bloom broke the silence - "Hoo wee! It's sure cool in here!". Of course it was - finally away from the sun. Maybe that's what got us all talking. Cooler heads, less stress on the brain - room to move and spin and work. Chance to build up sentences where before they just brittled and broke.

"Eeyup." Her brother joined in next. Our elders had moved on to some other room, left us here to chit chat.

The other sister now: "Why, outside there was hotter'n a fresh cooked apple pie!" As we spoke, we tested the foyer - tested the wood beneath our feet, tested how it creaked different from that wood at the station. The air inside wasn't so dusty, either. You could breathe slower, let your lungs fill. Stay clean.

I was last to speak. "Ain't so hot to me." I wasn't lying completely - being out in Appleloosa I could deal with the heat much better than anypony from Ponyville, I'm sure of it. Doesn't mean I didn't know a hot day when we had one. Nopony quite knew how to respond to this, so burden was on me to think of something new. "How long are y'all in town?"

“A week.” Big MacIntosh again - he seemed to be in charge. In charge of those three and now he’s come here and he’s in charge of me too. Not in charge - but he’s got something over me. Voice was deeper than mine - mine had started to break, shift a little. Certainly wasn’t as squeaky as it used to be. Big Mac’s had already lost the squeak entirely. Seemed it had more way to deepen too - of course, it did. A week - I didn’t realise yet that they were staying that long. I assumed it would be more than just the day, but a week was a long time. At least it seemed like a long time, before it all came to pass. Before life heaped on top of life on top of life and that one week piles up under so many.

The conversation continued. Introduced ourselves a bit more, talked over what it’s like in Ponyville, what it’s like in Appleloosa. What we said wasn’t really all that interesting, certainly not important to what I’m saying now, so I figured I’d take the opportunity and talk about something that is. To put it plainly, I already knew I liked stallions by the time Big MacIntosh visited. There was a cute colt lived near me - A bit shy. Walked around with a mussed brown mane, a little weak smile when he made eye contact. Always seemed to have lines under the eyes from where he didn’t sleep the night before. I never really spoke to him - a few words a couple times. I still remember I made him smile once - grin real proper. Told a joke, managed to make him laugh. Still ingrained somewhere in my memory. He was like me, it turned out. Said something sweet to some other colt he probably shouldn’t have and word got around. It’s a small town, even I heard from some foal I didn’t really talk to. Came up and told me of that queer colt, some exaggerated story of what went down. So word got quick about this colt, about that fag colt. Talking sweet to other stallions, some ponies saying he tried to kiss him - I don’t think that part was true. It was later that night when his parents were yelling at him. Living close I managed to hear. I didn’t hear exactly what they were actually yelling about, but I figured. He ran off before sun, parents didn’t realise til morning. By the time they’d found him, out in the desert… A foal like him, going out - you’d need a lot of water. I don’t suppose he had any. Sometimes I think stupid thoughts like “What if I’d have asked him out, before that other colt could get to spreading vicious stories?” Thinking I could save him, if only I was more confident. Stupid thoughts, I know.

“Fun? Well there ain’t much excitin’ to do here in Appleloosa.” Me again. “I s’pose when I don’t have work to do, I just read. Or sit around ‘n’ think.” By now, we'd wandered into the sitting room. Placed ourselves on cushions, all put down by a coffee table.

“What, you ain’t play games with the other foals?” Applejack’s question stung a little. Like I said, I didn’t really know anypony my age.

I almost brought up some bulk rage trying to defend myself. Come up with excuses for being so lonely. I ended up simply saying “Nope.”

Applejack smiled. “Well, maybe we can teach you some!”

“Oh, I’m alright. Learnin’ games won’t do nothin’ to help me work.” At the time I wanted nothing more than to be a full grown stallion. Spend all day working until there was no work left to do, then go home, sleep for the rest of time. I stared at a book on the table in front of me. Some western story I'd been reading - set in a town like mine, except folks had excitement and aventure beyond sitting around pulling weeds. We were alone in the house - Granny Smith and my father had made their way to the garden to reminisce or talk family or whatever older ponies did back then. It all hung there for a moment before anypony spoke up again.

"We could teach ya catch'im!", Apple Bloom began, "It's real simple see, Big Mac kicks this ball up in the air and then we all run around and try and catch'im!"

I considered it a brief moment: "Catch the ball or catch Big Mac?"

"The ball." Big MacIntosh. He was brief with his words when he spoke, like he didn't wanna waste any.

"Maybe." After I said that, some silence washed back over and stayed.

We ate dinner in silence too. Me and the others at least - the elders spoke of course. We didn't have anything more important to say than they did, so we ate in silence, some steel hanging over us. Grinding away at the space we had to talk. We ate cornbread. It was nice.

Arrangements had been made. Applejack and Apple Bloom would get the spare room, Big MacIntosh would share with me. Had a mattress on the floor for him, covers and a quilt. I was embarrassed as we went on up - didn't think I'd be sharing. Didn't think about what I had up and out. There was some stuffed toy on my bed - plush dragon, laying there with snaggletooth. Got given it when I was younger than I could remember and kept it with me all the years - surprised my dad never got rid of it. Anyway, we come in and that's there on my bed. Some toy for a small foal. I thought for sure Big MacIntosh'd make fun of me for it, but when he saw it he just smiled. Similar smile to that kid that ran away - only this time not so weak. Sort of thin, but assured. A kind smile. He was all tired from travelling, and I wasn't much more awake so we just slipped in ready to dream. Just after lights were turned off, he looked to me and said "Goodnight." I didn't respond.

Next morning, my father told me I didn't have to do any work or learning that week. It was for spending time with family, so we went out and played catch'im together. We had to find a ball first. Sun warm again, air just as dry. I continued on quick breaths, trying to avoid that air, that dust in my lungs. Spent maybe an hour looking for a ball - surely we had one somewhere, but not anywhere I used it. Course it was in with the tools, some shed jutted off the side of the house. Dragged it out… Boy could Big MacIntosh kick. And the way those sisters ran after, perfect ready to catch. I was no match. I tried - they began to ease up on me after a while. Never could quite catch it. And all the running around, that horrid heat. All the quick breaths I made had caught up to me, no air left inside. I just collapsed there on the floor, dust picking up, burying me, deep breaths taking in more now than ever. Real dust this time. Deep breaths, then coughing up some, then deep breaths again. Everypony ran over to me, ready to help, but none of them quite sure how to. After I'd cleared out my lungs a few times more, I steadied myself up and wandered back inside. We didn't play catch'im again for the rest of the week.

Back inside, my father and Granny Smith were having some conversation in the sitting room. I let myself decompress, let the dust out of my lungs. The others were sitting quiet for a time, so I picked up my book and kept reading. By the time I put it back down they were gone - outside I suppose. Do something other than sitting around pulling weeds.

Soon, it was dinner again. That steel hanging more - telling us be quiet. Elders spoke on, almost as if we weren't there. Then half way through the meal, chowing down on hayburgers, the steel somehow lifted. Something must have changed when they were all out there, leaving me to my book. Some grand adventure or magic cure I never got. It was the littlest one spoke up first: "These'r some good hayburgers!" Dad says thanks, cooked them himself. Pretended like it wasn't wrong the steel would go away. Like he was all as normal. So they got to talking, talking about food over here and food back home, and what a mean apple pie Granny Smith could cook up. I didn't speak. The steel was gone, but you knew it'd come back. What then? I just pushed around crumbs on my plate instead.

Dinner passed, the elders stayed in the kitchen, made themselves hot tea. Talked on and on. The sisters went off to sitting room, making gossip or whatever it is fillies do together. Applejack was much more of a filly then. I've seen her since, push it off. Take responsibility and push it off. She was a real filly then - whatever changed. Big MacIntosh and I ended up back in my room, us two. Not all tired, crawled into bed. Ready to sit and talk some. "How do you like Appleloosa?" Big MacIntosh asked me. It seemed the sort of question I should be asking him. He'd asked before, only he must've figured I wasn't being honest then.

"It's a ghost town." I paused a bit before I said it, tried to make it seem like I'd come up with that on the spot. Like it wasn't the sort of thing I say to myself in my head when other foals were out wherever playing games together. "Like you could snap, disappear all the ponies here and the routines wouldn't change a bit. Train would still come in, weeds still get pulled. Some voice out there still complain about the weather. Like it weren't any ponies doing it in the first place. Just ghosts." Way I said it made me sound like I despised it all. I think I did a little, but I knew some large part of me wanted just to be a ghost too. Fade into background noise instead of spending all my time thinking.

"Hmm." Big MacIntosh trying to reconcile what I said with everything he's seen of the town. He looks over at me - him sitting down on that mattress, looks up at me on my bed. Looks over and says "Ya sure?" Maybe it was a genuine question. Felt more like some cogent argument at the time. Ain't no ghosts around here. Just you. It was still light, but it was losing it. Some little drabs of orange and gold started to make their way through the window. I didn't answer Big MacIntosh's question, so he went on. "You ain't talk much?" As he asked, he stood up, cantered over to the window. Put himself in the sunset, doesn't look away.

"I been talkin' just as much as you or your sisters!" I took it more as some complaint than a question. Looking back, I think he was just asking.

Stayed there, fixed on sunrise, didn't look even as he asked more. "When I ain't here?"

"When you ain't here, there ain't no one to talk to." He was smiling before, just about, but this seemed to take him out of it. "My dad ain't got nothin' to say, neither anypony else 'round here." I think this upset him somehow. I dunno. I certainly wasn't that great at reading faces at the time, especially with the way he kept staring off into the sunset. Silence a bit. I wasn't sure what to say so just strung off some small talk question. "How do ya like your sisters?"

"Ah love them." Looked at me just a split second, some kind of punctuation mark. "More important t'me 'n anypony else." I was jealous here. Not that he loved somepony else more than me, just that he had somepony else to love. I dunno. Some juvenile thing.

I didn't let up, said some small thing like "That's nice". Didn't want to make a big deal where I shouldn't.

"Eeyup." Still staring out that window. Figure by now I need to see whatever it is he sees that's so grand. Walk on up beside him, look out. Just some sunset. Same as every night. It had moved on now - let more warm colours beam into the room, paint it half up. Up in the sky, where the gold band gave up, you could just start to see the stars make their way out. He's waiting there, patient. Ready to see them all come out, every single star. Drink them in a while. He's got that smile again. That little thin one, doesn't quite crack open his lips. Assured. Full. Reminds me of that colt tried to run away. Never talked to anypony about it when it happened. Who would I talk to? What was there to say? Somehow, I get the stupid idea to start talking now. Still nothing to say.

"Couple doors down, there was a colt lived here. People started talkin'. He was more into stallions than mares, right?" I look to Big MacIntosh. See if there's anything he's got to say about this, any frown for him to pull over himself. Sees me staring, looks back over to me. I look back to the stars and then so does he. Couldn't figure out what it meant, if anything. "He was more into stallions… And then it gets around town. Ponies gossipin'. Hear it one night, parents givin' him hell. Runs away. Collapses out there in the desert before anypony can find him." Look back to him. Don't break when I make eye contact. Stares right back, smile is gone of course. Who'd smile at that?

Big MacIntosh, he gulps, swallowing the words in his throat. Tries once more to push them out. "He okay?"

"Course not." And there's a little staring more. No words being given or taken, just looking in each others eyes. And this awful story, and just staring at him, somehow I can't help but to smile. And then I'm smiling and it's so stupid, I can't help myself, and I get to giggling. And now here I am, telling him about some poor colt who died and laughing in his face. I wanna stop, and for a moment I do, and then I think back how awful it is for me to do all this and start up laughing again. Then it fades out in some cough. Some real cough, but I fake a couple more at the end. Don't know why. "I'm sorry. That's not- I weren't laughin' at him." Now finally I look away, ashamed to be looking at him in the first place like I wasn't worthy. "I'm sorry."

Instead of speaking up, he just keeps on looking at me, puts some hoof around me. Rubs my back - same way he probably did if his sisters dropped their ice cream. Just rubs up and down a couple times. Almost like he's saying "it's okay" but there are no words coming out. It feels a bit better. I start to smile again, then I look up. See him looking back, eyes big and wide. Some care inside. Some concern. And I can't bear it, I can't. Start crying. Shove his hoof off and just cry. It’s not right - me crying like that, someone like him. And over what? Some colt I never knew? I couldn't stand to look at him. Almost like I'm tryna say "GO AWAY!" but of course I don't, and of course he doesn't. Does something I never would have thought, just comes in and hugs me tighter than I can ever remember. I don't know why. I know I wouldn't have done the same. I don't know how long he hugs me. Five minutes. Maybe five hours. When he finally lets go, opening my eyes, tears somehow stopped… Sunset has finished. Looking out the window, some dark quilt, stars all come out to show off. I think he's gonna just turn back - look at the big show he was waiting for. But he doesn't, just looks at me instead. Looks at me like I'm some little filly, and I hate it. I hate him for it. I hate him for being so kind. I don't know. I don't say another word. Don't even stare at him too long, just go and hop in bed. I'm not tired but none of me can bear to be anywhere else. Pull the covers high up over me as I can, knock that stupid little stuff toy off the side. Does some pirouette, face plant, rolls across the floor. Big MacIntosh looks at me for a bit, watches as I go off. The time he realises I gave up on him, he just goes back to looking out the window. I don't know what time he got to bed. Last I saw he was still standing there, staring out.

After I wake up, first thing I notice is that damn stuffed dragon, now up there on my bedside counter, showing off. As I look around more I half expect Big MacIntosh still to be out there staring out the window. He's not, of course. Snug in his makeshift bed over on the floor. I don't know what to think as I look at him, so I stop looking at him. Figure best thing I can do is avoid him, at least for the morning. Leave the room before he even wakes up.

It was a poor day trying to avoid him. First I thought I’d speak to his sisters instead, but of course wherever they were, he was there too. I just sat inside and read. That book again, the western one. Read on. The hero pony, some stallion of his own, he'd just saved the sheriff's daughter from some outlaws. Now the two ponies are talking, realising how much they love each other. The stallion gets the mare and all is right. Not too long after that, the book ends. And there I am in this little room alone, nothing more to read. Of course, nothing more to read, I got to thinking. Thinking about the night before - as much as I didn’t want to. What else was there to think about? I could think in circles, little pleasantries “Oh, isn’t it nice for the family to visit” but I know it would just be gnawing away out back. Of course, grown up, it all looks pretty simple. But I was still some dumb foal back then. I couldn’t quite comprehend it - someone as big and tough as him, coddling me like some filly. Part of me thought maybe it was some joke. I mean, I knew it wasn’t but I still had that thought. Another part says, he knew I was queer. Treats me like that because that’s how queers are - all prissy and emotional. All these thoughts I had, never thought just simply that he knew I was upset. Wanted me to feel okay. It had to mean something, point to something else. Past a certain point, I stopped even trying to figure out last night, just thought about him. Some enigma. Stronger than me, more of a stallion than I ever could be and just now I see him out that window playing fairy or doll or something with that little sister of his. And I needed to figure him out. But not today - I couldn’t face him yet. So I just went on in silence, waiting for some call to dinner.

When dinner came, the steel was gone. Everypony was talking all together as if this is the way it had always been. I still kept to myself. Ate my food and kept quiet. Even if the steel was gone, was really gone… It didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel up to it. It came and passed. Meaningless small talk. At some point I got some deathly fear stuck up in my throat, caught there, choking me - I had it all worked up that soon Big MacIntosh would go on all about everything we said last night, the little queer story, the crying like a filly. I could barely breathe for the rest of dinner, didn’t finish the couple bites I had left. It became tough, tearing through seconds slowly. Crawled on as it did and then just as suddenly as that fear came, the table was empty and it proved wrong. I still felt it stuck in my throat some the rest of the night.

It was later now. The elders cleared off to some corner to speak, the two sisters stuck together in the sitting room. Big MacIntosh went off to the porch by himself, goodness knows why. I thought about joining him, but… Trying to avoid him all day, then sneaking up when he means to be alone. That wouldn’t work out well for anypony. So I joined the sisters in the sitting room. Some conversation, I don’t know. I don’t think I was fully paying attention. Snapping in and out between phrases. “So dry out here.” “Friends back home.” “Deal with the apple farm.” Some basic questions put to me, ones I answered plain and simple. Yes or no sufficed for most of them. At some point got to gossip I guess - telling me all the schoolfilly gossip of Ponyville. There wasn’t any Appleloosa gossip for me to gossip back, unless I tell them the story of the runaway too. No, but they poke and prod for any morsel til they get to whatever last question they got left: “Is there some filly you got a crush on?” and I tell them no, there isn’t. They don’t believe me and ask once again, twice again and every time no just doesn’t satisfy them. I get mad at them - don’t shout, but mad. They can tell. Leave early, off to my bedroom. Doesn’t help at all to tell the sisters of course that I wasn’t lying. Maybe it’s good though, they think there’s some filly I like.

I go to bed and I just lay there, another night laying in bed when I’m not tired. Wishing the week would just end already. Covers heavy and warm. And bed fidgets, itches as I look around the room hoping for some off switch. All I see is a half messed mattress on the floor and that dumb plushed dragon staring at me from my counter. Just staring in dumb silence. And I stare back. It’s like this for some time before I can’t take it mocking me, so I knock it down and now there’s nothing to stare at. I just lay there, bring my eyelids down only half - try to shove myself to some limbo in between. Time on and on, the door creaks open. Big MacIntosh of course, finished whatever he was trying out on the porch. About to get into his bed I guess, then sees that little plush on the floor. Grabs it in his maw, goes on up to my side counter but hovers there a minute. Some gears in his head turning. Decides against it, turns from the counter. Puts it down there on the mattress, under the duvet. And then they’re there together, him and that dumb stuffed toy snug together. I toss and turn in the covers a bit, hoping for morning to come. Spend some time just staring at the wall and drift off without realising.

Some loud noise downstairs early morning and the room is plunged awake. All so sudden, he looks to me, I look to him and then the both of us that little plush dragon he’s now got held so tight to him under the covers. And Big MacIntosh just stares at me, eyes wide like he was caught doing something serious. Something wrong. Opens his mouth, but whatever words don’t come out. Closes it again and blinks some few times, all the while still holding the damn thing so close. I don’t quite know what to think, staring at him. That toy was still in my bed, what two nights ago? Even if I did put on some show about it, he knew. And we’re still staring at each other, some bewildered faces drawn across our heads. Then the mouth opens again - words finally make their way out. “You weren’t usin’ him.” I guess I wasn’t. And then he pulls over some goofy grin - not that little thin one I was used to, this one big and wide. All his teeth on show. It’s there I realise, some colt in my bedroom. Bigger, stronger. More attractive than me. And he’s just as caught up and vulnerable. Just the two of us, here in my room. Vulnerable together.

All these days later, I often try and tell myself I never felt anything towards him. It all ended up being some expression of my loneliness in someone I could trust, some misstep of confusion, some practice run for when I grew up and met real stallions. I tell myself a lot but I know I’m lying. That moment there, early morning, looking at him with that dumb grin and toy by his heart, I just wanted to kiss him. And I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, get out of bed. Say some god awful stupid line. I’ve made myself forget it - the words I exactly used, but the sentiment was pretty simple: you don’t have to hug some soft toy when you’ve got a real pony here. And I go down, lay on top of the covers right by him. Place a hoof around him. I don’t get under the covers with him - just lay on top. Some separation. But I’m there, awkwardly budged on the mattress. Holding him through some layers of duvet. I look in his eyes. He looks in mine. I don’t know what I’ve done, if it’s crossed some line. I freak out, I think this isn’t right. I’ve gone too far. He must see some fear in my eyes, some regret. I pull back, but as I do he just places some hoof on me. Just on some part of my foreleg. Not grabbing me, trying to hug me, no. Just has some hoof on me, and I freeze. A few seconds staring at each other, but it felt like hours. I can’t stand it, start looking anywhere else.

Big MacIntosh speaks up again. Just says my name, “Braeburn.”, and I try to keep looking away but I can’t. I have to look back. Look back into him. He continues on. “Braeburn, do you like colts?” The question hurts me. I feel some burning, some sting. I’m not sure where, but I can feel it so real. Any other time I would have just said no, right away. Without hesitation. But here somehow I’m locked, I’m frozen. My throat can’t work into action, I can barely move the eyes in their sockets. I look for a bit, trying to ready myself, trying to work up the muscle to deny it. Then I realise that by now it doesn’t matter what I say. He already figured before he asked, and my pause removed any doubt there could be.

Instead of answering, I just ask him back. “Do you?” He doesn’t answer either. There’s some more staring in silence, getting nowhere. Then suddenly I fall back into place, feel the floor beneath me. Remember where I was. “What do you suppose that noise was, woke us up?” Big MacIntosh brings his hoof off me. I move away from the mattress as Big MacIntosh wriggles out of bed, sidles off.

“Better find out.” and he’s out the door before I am.

Turned out the sound was from the kitchen downstairs. Granny Smith was getting ready to bake her famous apple pie, some treat for the whole family, but grabbed some pan out of an awkward stack and the whole thing came down. We had a laugh about it. It wasn’t that funny, but we needed something to laugh at.

It was an exciting day for the town. Small pegasus family had stopped by. Just a quick stop on the way to somewhere else. My dad told us almost as soon as he saw us - any time pegasus came by was exciting. Not much need to change the weather when the weather never changes. You didn’t have to go outside to feel the gossip course through town. Appleloosans, we already knew. You’d hear - some beam to your brain, out of nowhere - you’d hear them say: “I heard we got a surprise thunder storm in tonight. That’s why they’re here.” And then you’d hear some other voice out the ether - “No, no. They’re just visitin’. Ain’t here for work.” And all this, back and forth and before you even have to leave and talk to somepony you’ve had the conversation already. Big MacIntosh didn’t get it - neither did his sisters, or Granny Smith. They didn’t live out in Appleloosa. There were plenty pegasus in Ponyville. Didn’t get what was so special. Either way, whatever the parents were doing, they let their pegasus colt play with the other kids around town. Had a lot of the colts and fillies all out, talk to this out of town foal. Even if they didn’t understand why, those three wanted to join in. Managed to drag me along with.

Supposedly they were all playing a game of soccer together, but it was mostly just an excuse to gaggle around and talk to the pegasus. Applejack wondered maybe if he was from Ponyville, maybe they’d recognise him, but no. Turns out he was from Cloudsdale - this was exciting for a lot of the foals. Raised in this dirt and dust town out in the desert, this little ghost town, and you think of some beautiful city up in the clouds… I was excited, I admit. Not by the pegasus himself, but some other notion. If he could get all the way from Cloudsdale to here, then maybe the other way around isn’t such a stretch. Of course it was dumb dreaming. I never did leave Appleloosa. But anyway, the foals are all crowding around and in between vague kicks of the ball ask questions, what’s it like in Cloudsdale.

“Oh, it’s awesome. We got to go on a tour of the weather factory recently. It’s basically the coolest place in all of Equestria.” Dark blue mane ruffled back over his pale face, tried to look everyone in the eyes as he spoke. “We’ve got the best flight school ever. I’m gonna become a Wonderbolt someday.” All that he said, I couldn’t tell if it was him trying to brag over some group of simple kids or some genuine enthusiasm. Some incredible patriotism and hope. “I’m a pretty good flyer. I can show you some moves.” The ponies round him went wild, and he worked his wings. The other ponies were cheering already, before he even got off the ground. Just working those wings ready - then he did. He got up. Did some flying, some moves. They seemed fancy to me, but so did any flying. I looked over to Applejack, Apple Bloom. Big MacIntosh. They all seemed fairly entranced too. Maybe he was better than the other pegasus - at least the ones in Ponyville. He whooped around some more, a light blue streak against the deep blue sky, and skidded down to the ground. Picked up dust, left some trail behind him. The ponies cheering louder than ever now, and he seemed pretty happy with himself. Pretty tired too - hot day like this, you’re gonna work up a sweat showing off for no reason. So he calms them down - “Phew. I think that fancy flying might have worn me out for the rest of the day.” - and the other ponies, they say aw. They’re disappointed but they still crowd round him like a prince. Like he’s a Wonderbolt already. And instantly, questions start up again. This and that about what’s it like being in Cloudsdale, what’s it like being a pegasus and he’s happy to keep answering but you can tell he’s almost had enough of the same questions in a circle over and over, standing there, trying to work down his sweat.

Big MacIntosh finally gets enough of the same old questions too. Clears his throat, asks a question of his own. “Ya like apple pie?” It’s such an odd question, so out of nowhere it manages to bring about a quiet. Everypony just as confused as each other, but they’re also eager in wanting an answer.

“Uh…” That pale blue colt, making some turns in his head just to find himself ready to comprehend the question in the first place. “Yeah. Sure.” And he looks at Big MacIntosh, waiting for some follow up or reveal to explain it. He’s waiting, maybe, for some apple pie as a reward. Big MacIntosh doesn’t say anything else, just smiles. And everypony’s looking at him to try and figure it out, when we’ve got some Cloudsdale pegasus, when we can ask him anything we want, who’s the pony just asks about apple pie? And suddenly there’s some shift. The attention’s no longer just on that new pegasus, but now this new earth pony too.

It doesn’t last long. After some initial excitement, some what’s your name, where are you from, what was that about apple pies (“Just curious.”) and they realise he’s just some earth pony like them. But there’s interest for that little bit. He’s a strong pony, they could see that. So it’s strong versus fast. Does the brute earth pony win or the fancy pegasus? Try to egg them on to fight, these two out of town colts. Neither wants to of course. So the fun is done with Big MacIntosh and it’s back to the one who can show off. Back to the same old questions. Soon, Big MacIntosh gets bored and sneaks off. I think about following him but I’m not quite sure where we stand after this morning, so I just stay with the sycophants.

Most of the rest of the day keeps on going uninteresting. It’s not til sometime after dinner, getting dark, that Big MacIntosh comes up. Simply says “C’mere.” Waits for me to follow him down the hall. At first I’m wary, but I follow. And he carries on, out the door. Sits on the porch. I stand for a bit on the precipice, just staring at him. Sat down there, looking off somewhere else. I stare for a good bit before I figure he wants me to sit down too, so I canter over. Sit down a few steps across from him. It’s getting dark, the stars are making their way out on show. I’m waiting for Big MacIntosh to say something else when I just suddenly realise I’ve never been out this late. Here, at night. And you can see the stars over the houses, and that dry air doesn’t feel so dusty - I’m taking in deep breaths now. Over and over, loud, deep breaths. No dust. It’s sort of shocking, sitting and taking in everything that’s always been here. I never even tried to see it. While I’m there, taking it in, Big MacIntosh shuffles across. Huddles with me, like he forgot I’m not one of his sisters. This must’ve been what he was doing the night before: Stargazing.

After he’s settled in, takes his eyes off the stars to look at me and ask: “You ever seen a shooting star before?” I tell him I haven’t, no. In my memory it happens right away - it must’ve been some minutes in reality, but replaying it in my head, it happens in an instant. I don’t know how he did it. Staring up at that sky, and two shooting stars burst across, right in perfect view. I know it must have been him. I really don’t know how he did it. One shooting star, that’s a coincidence maybe. But two is impossible. He tried some spell, pulled some chance, made some wish. Put them there for me. I know he did. I look up at him, and he’s smiling that thin smile. Assured. That smile saying to me: How’s that? I did it for you. I’m looking back and I can feel some dumb grin wrap across my face too. I take some hoof, put it round him. Round behind his head.

I lean in, he leans in too. I kiss him. It’s dumb and gross and juvenile and neither of us seems to know what in Equestria we’re doing with our tongues, but it’s my first. That’s enough to make it nice. The awkward swapping of spit, fighting tongues, lips smushed up against each other. Lasting a few seconds too long. We draw back, just look at each other for a bit. I’m about to go back to looking at the stars when he leans back in. So I do too. The second time is just as gross, and I think we realise this time. Stop earlier. But it’s still so fun. Exciting. It’s only after the second that we blush - the both of us, like we’re in sync. I laugh. He just wears that thin smile. I hug him close. Tight. Ready to watch the stars with him til sunrise. Only we don’t get that long - maybe 10 more minutes before there’s some creaking, the door readying to open. Fast as I can I tear myself out of that hug, try to scoot along. It’s my dad. Tells us colts it’s late. We better get inside and go to bed.

We awkwardly share the mattress on the floor. Too small for the both of us. We’re wrapped up, some insane tangle. Almost a hug, almost one being. We’re there alone - the two of us. Sharing a bed. It doesn’t go beyond that. I don’t know, maybe it could’ve. But I was content just to hold him there. Have him hold me. He slept like a baby. I barely slept at all. I was afraid what would happen to me if somepony came in. Seeing the two of us together like that. Like that, with my cousin. Like that, with a colt. I don’t think I would have lived. I was scared, so I held him tight and it helped a little. And he held me tight right back.

I can’t remember whose idea it was, but the next day the two of us ask my dad if there’s any work around home needs to be done that we can help out with. He says, there's always weeds to be pulled. So there we are, out in the yard. The two of us pulling weeds. Big MacIntosh hunches over, gets a weed between his maw. Clenches those teeth and tears it right out. Much less struggle than I needed to pull them. I always knew he was strong but this is where I first saw it. These effortless motions where I jerked and tugged strong as I could, breathing harsh all the dust in my lungs. You wouldn't know Big MacIntosh lungs were filling up with that dusty air if you looked. Maybe they weren't.

I'll refrain from any descriptions of his body as he worked. I promise not to describe a single thing as 'glistening'. Nowadays, when I see him - grown up exactly as I thought he would, set rigid into that perfect mold - I sometimes think about bringing up that old week. Maybe I'll play it off as a joke. Remember that dumb time when we were foals? Ain't that so funny to look back on? He's not stupid. Maybe I am, but he's not. Even if I bring it up serious, what's there to say? I won't learn anything. I'll probably just hurt. It's not like I think we'd get back together. He's found himself a mare. I'm not stupid enough to hold grudges like that anymore, but if I found out he'd go on with some mare? Back when we were colts, if I knew he had that option, I'd have killed him. I guess I just want to know that he felt something too. That it wasn't some joke or act. That I meant something as much as the stallion he brought with him a few years back. Anyway, he was getting enough work done that I mostly just watched him. Awed that that was the same colt I kissed last night. Tugging those weeds, some smooth motion.

We were interrupted soon after. Colt lived close came up to us. Stared for a bit before he spoke up. "I saw you two." His voice was whiny, pathetic, but still stuck to me like daggers. I just looked. Hopeful. Hopeless that he wouldn't say what I thought he would. "Last night." Then and there, my life was over. I try to maintain composure, but I feel so much of that dusty air in my lungs that there's no real air left to breathe. My lungs are going to burst. I try breathing fast, breathing slow, but it only fills up more and more with dust. I'm dead. Staring at this kid here, and he's got this power to kill me. I look over at Big MacIntosh - hunched to pull weeds, but neck crooked over to look at this colt. Just calm, waits for him to continue. "You two was kissin'." Dust in my lungs and now this ringing in my ears and I can taste blood in my mouth. Feel some buzzards or crows or whatever it is picking at my skin already, feel their beaks tear all the hairs in my mane til I'm scalped and bleeding. All in this tiny moment, just staring silent. Looking on and I'm already dead.

Big MacIntosh isn't scared. Rears up taller than he ever did. "Do ah look like ah kiss colts to you?" Just stares at this little foal - he doesn't respond. Big MacIntosh takes some steps over. Louder, stronger steps than is even possible. The ground bends and cracks beneath him, thunder. Towers over this colt, staring down at him. Like a bear to a bug and just as strong. "Ah said, do ah look like a faggot to you?" The words came out red hot. You could see on the poor colt's face from where got a burn.

"N-no." He just about squeaks out. Canters off dizzy, legs barely stepping in sync. I guess Big MacIntosh's argument must've been pretty convincing, cause thats the last anypony tried spreading rumours about the two of us.

Big MacIntosh looks back to me now. Walks on over. I can't help myself but to rear backwards and flinch. Whatever pony I met just some days ago was gone now. I was staring at some beast. Some unknown figure. He sees me flinch, stops mid step. Hoof still in the air. His maw just hangs open a little. Eyes wide. Hangs there a minute, and I feel myself shrink down. Become that little bug. "Ah-" and he's about to say something, but gives up. He tries to put on that thin smile of his but comes off all crooked. Gulps. He takes a couple steps closer. I don't dare move. Eventually, he manages some fractured half sentence. "For you?" Comes out as a question. Tries to hug me, but I don't give. The dust is still in my lungs. I don't know who I am, where I am for a moment. I think maybe this is Tartarus. I'm that colt ran away. Here's my punishment, my trick. Get back at me for talkin' sweet. I think this for a minute where I can't see a single thing in front of me. Just some fake colors dancing about, some ringing and buzzing. Dust. It's all dust. My lungs must have filled up too high, and now it's all going to my eyes. I feel my legs give beneath me as I slowly flop to the floor. It's all dust. My eyes are filled with it. My lungs are filled with it. Now my brain is filled with it too. No thoughts. Just dust. Dust. Dust. Dust.

It's my father I see first when I come to. Trying to get me to drink up water. I wonder where Big MacIntosh is. Not aloud, just in my head. I can't quite get to moving my neck to look around for him. Water. My dad again trying to get me to drink. There's still dust in my brain. A bit in my lungs, but it's fallen now from my eyes. I drink the water. It doesn't seem to make any difference. I just want to close my eyes and sleep. My father brings me back up. Walks me inside, supporting my weight with one of his hooves wrapped around me. Tells me off for overworking myself on a day like this. As we're going back in, I see Big MacIntosh. Hunched over by the side of the house. Kicking the ground about with one of his hooves. I stare at him, he tries to stare back but can't make eye contact. Just goes to staring back at the ground.

It's at dinner, and you can feel the steel back. Hanging over us. I don't know how the two sisters figured, but even they stopped speaking. We ate in silence. Elders barely spoke even. The steel was stronger than ever. Back and heavy. I could still feel the dust in the bottom of my lungs no matter what I did. Stared at a half empty plate and left without a word. I worked all day, til there was no work left to do, and now it was my turn to go to bed. Sleep for the rest of time.

The time I woke up the next morning, Big MacIntosh was already there. Sitting awkward on his mattress. Lines under his eyes from where he hadn't slept properly last night. Mane all mussed from tossing and turning, not getting the chance to sort it out. Looked at me. Some horrid little weak grin came across him. Looked at me so weak. I felt sick. Works up his voice, not as strong as it usually is: "Mornin'." And he pulls it back on, that weak little smile. This one isn't cute or endearing. I've seen him smile properly, so this one just worries me.

"You're not gonna go an' do somethin' stupid, are ya?" That weak smile fades. He shakes his head. "Good." I don't know how much I believe him.

"Ah'm sorry. For yesterday." This must have been what he was doing instead of sleeping. Crafting up some words to use. "Ah didn't mean- Ah didn't want you to get hurt. Or me. Ah didn't want me to get hurt."

I'm not emotionally intelligent enough to deal with all of this. I just want to pretend nothing happened, so I do. "What d'ya mean? Yesterday was fine." I don't look at him as I say it. Just then I can start to feel it, that steel, making its way from the dining table up the stairs. Trying to get through the door, into this room. Hang over here too. I don't want it. “Hey, why don’t we sneak away somewhere? Just us two?” I hope this staves it away. It just about does.

There’s nowhere to sneak to, so we just sit at the edge of town. Just beyond the edge of town, sat down on sand and dust and dirt. Looking off out into nothing. It seems to go on forever, nothing goes on and on forever. Waiting for something to happen. Some signal. Some purpose. Some letter to fall from the sky, tell us it’s okay to be who we are. Some shooting stars to burst back across like they did just a couple nights ago. Remind us why we came out here to begin with. The dust settles into my lungs again - not so strong, out here. But it’s still there. Dust. Wait so long for anything real to happen, the way we feel something is meant to happen. It doesn’t come. I look to Big MacIntosh and he’s fallen asleep, so little sleep that he got last night. I huddle over, put myself round him. Hold him close. Not tight, just close. The closer I hold him, the more the dust clears out the air. The smoother it all becomes. It’s still hot as all can be. I think about that runaway colt. Wonder how much further he got than us. Out here, I can see why he ran. There’s peace. Just you and the ground beneath you, ground to hold you up. Feel you don’t have to worry. Big MacIntosh is snoring now - folded himself down to the ground. Snoring loud. I never heard him snore all those nights, but here it’s finally started up. Holding him there, snoring. Sleeping peaceful - some rotten thought comes in to my mind. Some rotten thought to just leave him out here, alone. Off out where he probably doesn’t know where he is. I don’t know how this thought wells up in the first place - I don’t want him hurt. I guess I just didn’t want his peace disturbed again.

“C’mon.” I wake him up soon. There’s food to eat, water to drink, nice beds to sleep in. It was fun playing pretend but not much use. Jostle him a little, see his eyes blink open. Ready himself upright. Looks over at me and I pat his back a couple times. “Let’s get back.” So we canter off to town.

Big MacIntosh ends up napping most of the day. Rouses himself up for dinner, steel still hanging over from the last night. I hate that steel. I hate this ghost town. Don't know what comes over me, start to speak up. The steel still there weighing down on me, but I hold it there and carry on. "Granny Smith, when y'all are leaving tomorrow, think y'all can take me with you?" She just laughs. So does my dad. Rest of the night it's like I never said it. Steel's there, now twice as heavy. Pushing down on me, crunching me up. Squishing my lungs and I can't hardly breathe. Stays so strong for all of dinner.

There's a knock on the door signalling morning come. Me and Big MacIntosh were sharing that little mattress on the floor again. And some knock at the door. I'm deadly terrified, but lucky I'm deadly stupid too. Tear myself out, thud right by my bed. Rub myself on the head like I'd just fallen out of it. It's as Granny Smith opens the door, I say "Ouch." Sitting there, rubbing my head, laying right next to my bed. She laughs - tells me she didn't mean to shock me. Doesn't think why Big MacIntosh's bed is in such a state or how I fell out while leaving the covers so perfect. She just came in to tell Big MacIntosh he'd have to leave soon. Breakfast, then an early train. I'd assumed they'd be leaving late. That I'd have one more day, but no.

Breakfast comes and goes in a second, before I manage to say something about it. I'm already standing on the train platform and I don't know how. We're saying goodbyes, all of us, and just as I'm about to speak up - just after they say it to me - I realise they're already on the train. I didn't even blink and they were already on there. And I can't help but breathe quick because it's all going so quickly that none of it is even happening and the train is moving already, I see them waving out the window at us, the train is moving. And then it's gone. I just look at my dad and start to laugh like it's the funniest thing. That the day didn't even start and it's already all over. That we could stand an eternity here just a week ago and now they won't even give me a minute. And the more I laugh, the more dust fills my lungs. Soon my chest is more dust than it isn't and each giggle puffs dust right out of my mouth, only for more to just flood right back in. I laugh all the way home, spitting up dust as I do. Laugh all the way up to my room and as soon as that door closes I just break down and cry. As I'm crying the tears just come out as dust, more dust, and that's when I realise it. I look around, and the floor, the walls, the window. It's all gone away. It's just the bed, the cabinet and me standing out in the middle of the desert, no way back home. And everything else is just dust.