I sprung forth from the bed and landed into my shoes, darting out of the room. I combed through my frayed hair in front of the mirror and tampered it down with a few splashes of water. It looked like a hurricane had passed through the house earlier judging by my appearance. Something like this was an all too common occurrence. Going over to my pre-ironed clothes that were waiting for me by the door, I threw them on and chucked my old clothes into the bin.

I popped a tablet of chewing gum into my mouth, took the flowers from the vase, and made off towards the train. There was a spring in my step, and a flow in my body as I half-jogged to the station. I wore a brown turtleneck alongside a pair of light beige cargo pants, alongside a light blue jacket that I’d put on at the last second. It was the most proper thing I could concoct, a mismatch between an odd number of birthday presents I received in the past.

Reaching down my back, I plucked off a tag and stuffed it in my pocket. I'd never worn these things before and now I’m wearing them for the first date.

But it was no matter, my pace picked up as the train screeched to a halt in the distance, blowing its horns. My feet glided across the cobbled roads, it felt like I was flying as I narrowly entered the train cabin. The ponies were a little confused upon seeing my frazzled look. Nearing the back of the cabin, I took a seat in an empty section and set down the flowers on my lap.

The ride to Whinnyapolis wasn’t long the last time I rode, and not very busy too. Somepony told me that the only reason that anypony would want to move to Whinnyapolis would be if they were obliged by their job or if they were visiting relatives. Today, I bring forth a third reason; dating.

As I settled into the cushioned chair, I fumbled with the turtleneck’s itchy collar before resting my neck on the windowpane. Having not slept a lot last night, I’d take the extra shut-eye whenever I could.

Sounds of moving ponies and shuttered chatter were consistent throughout the ride, the general accent becoming more Northern oriented the more I stayed on the train. A creeping sense of cold penetrated through the thin glass, and I opened my eyes to see very heavy snowfall coupled with what seems to be a few feet of snow on the ground.

What was visible of the sky seemed to be covered by a foggy gray, and I was certain it wasn’t like this the last time I visited. I took another look at my choice of attire and leaned back into my seat, groaning.

I’d probably die in this weather.

Ponies around me were quite nonchalant about everything, clad in their multiple layers of winter clothing. Some snuck sharp glances at me, mainly targeting my shirt that was a little bit too thin for this type of climate. Tall buildings went by as the train pulled into a station, halting once more. Ponies funneled out of the train with monotone expressions as I sat in my seat, building up the courage to bring myself into the freezing cold.

As I took the step of faith into the outside world, piercing breezes went through my shirt like it was just a mere facade. My outstretched stance turned into a withdrawn mess as I huddled towards the benches. I mapped out a path in my head of the routes to take that would not make me end up as a frostbitten corpse on the ground. First, I’d go to this neat little clothing store on the right, then, I’d head to that big steaming food stall, then I’d–

A hoof pressed on my back just as I was about to make the run for it.

“I knew you’d wear something dumb for our date.” I snapped my neck around to see March behind me, stoic acceptance on her face. She threw a heat pack at my chest which I caught after a second of juggling it in the air, “A little bit of snow today, hm?” As I prepared myself to chuckle, I noticed that she had a deadpan expression and was looking elsewhere. I cleared my throat.

“Yeah, a bit,” I said. She shook her head as she returned to face me, nudging me along with a few firm thumps. I was practically dragged across the road as we turned left and right, navigating the icy roads. As we made our way through uncountable brick buildings and complexes, we halted at a two-story building, indiscernible from the rest.

“Is this your house?” I ask, still clutching onto the heat pack for dear life. I briefly looked around my surroundings, we were in a different corner of Whinnyapolis, gruff-looking ponies looked out of their windows with a hint of skepticism in their eyes. Not the prettiest part of town, I thought.

“None other,” she said, pushing a pair of keys into the lock and pushing the door open. Her home was sparsely furnished, a distinct lack of decorations was the first thing that I picked up on. There was a “Welcome” mattress on the outside, but that was about all there was. She led me inside the house, shaking off some snow that had accumulated on her coat. I followed suit.

Closer inspections told me that, although the interiors were a bit worse for wear, it’s still maintained quite regularly. She turned and went into a room off to the side, it was next to the staircase. Taking off my shoes and socks, I laid them on the ground and walked inside of a bedroom, following her hoofsteps. For the record, she was silent throughout the whole ordeal, and I didn’t really notice where I was headed until the door shut behind me.

I sat down on the mattress with a soft thump, she stood near the doorway, looking quite blank. There were two hot drinks already on the bedside table, and I helped myself to one. I brought it closer to take a quick whiff, and the spicy aroma cleared my sinuses then and there.

“So… what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, enjoying the warmth of the hot beverage as I held it in my palms.

“I can’t let you go outside in that cold without any sort of protection, don'tcha know. Wait here, I’ll get you some extra clothing,” she left the room as soon as she said it, and I could hear a few rustling sounds from the room next to me. I took a sip of whatever was in the cup, relieved at the fact that it’s just hot chocolate and not battery acid black coffee.

There was a picture frame on the table, it was an image of March sitting next to somepony. I could only tell because there was a hoof wrapped around her neck, the other half of the image had been cut off, leaving only her image. Sensing that she was approaching, I looked away from the frame. The last thing that left my peripheral was the date at the bottom of the frame, going back two years.

It was not long before she made her way back into the bedroom, carrying with her a variety of garments and scarves. She caught onto my strange behavior but dismissed it with a wave of a hoof.

“Oh, that’s nothing. Just an old picture I had around,” she added, fixing the slight tilt of the frame before carrying on. “Here’s some scarves I got for you, not the comfiest out there but it should help with the cold,” she smiled weakly, subdued with emotion in her eyes.

I picked out the thickest ones that she had and wrapped it around my neck, creating a mess of tangled fabric that would repel Satan himself. She put the rest of what she had into a cabinet and briefly looked at me before gesturing for me to follow her.

“I gotta say, this wasn’t the type of place I was expecting you to live in,” I added as we shuffled through the hallways.

“I prefer it this way,” she said. I prepared myself as she swung the door open, an immediate inpour of coldness filled the house up with a chill that gave me goosebumps. At least now only in the areas where there was exposed skin.

The streets felt a little more empty as we walked on them, passing by numerous storefronts that are also lacking in business. The cold air from our breaths mingled, white clouds dissipated into nothingness behind us. Melancholy lingered in the atmosphere, I couldn’t help but to notice that she still carried with her that same look from earlier.

As we neared the same row of restaurants from our first meeting, I reeled back at the activity in the same restaurant that March had taken a picture of. Her expression faded into that of a more neutral look, and she batted her eyes back at me, a sweet smile on her face.

“I’ve never eaten at this place before, so I know just as much as the next pony,” she added, craning her neck to look into the interior of the restaurant.

There was an almost constant stream of ponies entering and exiting the building, and I could make out faint strings of conversation through the swinging glass door. I must’ve looked through the big glass windows for too long because a nudge on my leg brought me out of it. As we were seated at the table, the waiter brought menus to us with unmistakably Italian dishes. Sorry, Itailian.

It is and will always be a surprise to me that everything here can have such parallels with the things we have on Earth. I scanned down the list of dishes offered at the restaurant, and settled with a Pasta Carbonara. Meanwhile, she seemed to be having a lot of trouble deciding what to eat.

“Having a hard time over there?” I asked. Her eye movements were so precise, I could almost see each and every line she was currently on. She nodded, stopping for a brief moment and closing the menu.

“Yeah, there’s no images anywhere and I’m not exactly a connoisseur of this food. I think I’ll just ask them to make me something random. You got anything in mind?” She asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Uh.. yeah, I was just thinking about getting the Pasta Carbonara, I used to eat this every other week at home,” I said, folding up my menu and placing it on hers.

“The Pasta what?” She asked.

“Pasta Carbonara. Basically, spaghetti made with eggs, seasoned with salt and black pepper, and um, ‘cured hay’, at least here it is. And, it has cheese,” I conjured up a mental image in my head, it’d been so long since I had proper carbonara and not some crap I made.

“Sounds good,” she said with a soft smile, “You really know your stuff huh?”

“Nah, we also had this food back from where I came from, only difference is, it’s called Italian food,” I said, emphasizing the “Italian” part.

“I… tah-lian?” She said, tilting her head a little to the side.

“Yup. Also, you’re not gonna believe me, but we also have a Whinnyapolis and a Manehattan, the only difference being their names. There, we call it Minneapolis and Manhattan,” her eyes went through a mixture of narrowing and furrowing as I spoke.

“No way,” she said, placing a hoof on the table and leaning backwards with a hint of skepticism.

“Yes way. In fact, the people in Minneapolis sound Just. Like. You,” I said, reaching out to boop her on the nose. She responded in kind by scrunching it up and flicking my hand away.

“You mean like the Whinneysotan accent?” She asked, still in disbelief.

“Yes, the Minnesot– Whinneysotan accent, I don’t know how our worlds are so similar in that sense, but it’s pretty cool,” I said, crossing my arms.

Her mouth twitched a little as she searched for a response, but she settled for a nod and a quick raise of the eye. She took a large sip out of the provided water and patted her mouth dry with the tablecloth. I was still curious about that picture she had put up, but I didn’t want to sour the mood with my nosy self.

“So, how is your time in Equestria so far? I know for certain that the ponies here must’ve taken a while to get used to your… appearance,” She said, smirking.

“Everything’s been alright, I mainly work odd-jobs here and there just to make a couple bits. But, costs of living are low here, and I can get away with not doing much. And, you say that, but my reception– at least in Ponyville, was quite warm. Of course ponies still give me the stare every now and then, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” she chuckled as I finished my long-drawn answer.

“I can imagine that,” she said. It was quite the treat when she’s relaxed, and for a moment I could feel the corners of my lips tugging upwards as I sat across from her. I didn’t have a lot to add to the conversation, and neither did she, but I felt content enough with this silence.

If anything, it let me look into her eyes just for a bit longer.

It wasn’t long before a waiter arrived to take our order. He wore a navy blue apron and had quite the fancy mustache. Taking a moment to refill March’s glass, he asked for our orders in a smooth voice.

“Welcome to Gusto, my name is Parma John and I will be your waiter for today, may I take your orders?” He asked, sporting a distinct lack of a pen and paper. March looked unready, so I went first.

“I’ll just take the Pasta Carbonara, thank you,” I said. The waiter gave me a firm nod and turned to look at March.

“Of course, and for you ma’am?” He said.

“Surprise me. And… I’ll take some red wine, thanks. The cheapest kind,” she added with a sudden urgency in her voice.

“Very well, I will be right back with your food,” the waiter shuffled away and disappeared into the kitchen.

“March, I didn’t know that you drank wine,” I asked. It wasn’t something that would surprise me but considering her cutie mark, I thought she’d have a preference for a short coffee of some sort at this restaurant. She shrugged.

“I don’t, but I wanted to try since we’re here. I always wondered what it tasted like,” she said.

“Wouldn’t you have wine sometimes with your meetings and such?” I scratched my head.

“What sort of meetings do you think I go to?” She looked at me with a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes.

“Fair point.” The waiter came back with a bottle of wine and poured it into our glasses until a third of the way full. March herself appeared to be surprised at the amount.

“This is our house red wine, enjoy,” the waiter vanished again, leaving us to our own devices. I never liked wine, it was too intense of a taste for me to enjoy. Not that I had the money nor the opportunity to splurge in these wine and dine dinners very often.

March picked up her glass and stared at it before taking a big swill. She smacked her lips a little, tasting all of the different flavors there were in the wine. She placed both of her hooves on the table and pressed it down. She bent her neck and contorted her face in a funny way.

“I didn’t like that very much,” March said calmly, a gruff voice from processing the unpleasant flavors. I chuckled and pushed my wine glass to the side.

“Yeah, me neither, but I don’t drink much anyways. How’s it taste?” I asked, shifting my expression a bit as I tasted the wine in my head.

“Weird.”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” I added. She raised her glass once more and downed the rest of it in one go, leaving as little time as possible for her to taste the wine.

“Hey hey hey, what are you doing?” I asked as she placed her glass down and drank some water to clear out the aftertaste.

“Uff da… that wasn’t fun, but I can’t waste any bits. And I definitely will if I eat the food first. Give me your glass,” she extended her hoof to grab mine, but I stopped her by snatching her hoof. She stopped and looked up at me, her cheeks now had a rose-tinted flare to them. Whether it was a byproduct of the sudden wine intake or not, I wasn’t sure.

“March, no, I’ll keep my glass,” I said, and with a grunt, she muttered an affirmation and tried to yank her hoof away from my grasp, “On second thought, I want to keep on holding your hoof if that’s alright with you,” I said, the words almost flowing together like a stream.

This was my first time really holding a pony that way, and her hoof was a lot softer than I initially expected. I bristled her fur, enjoying its silky coldness. Her blush’s complexion had reddened a tinge more, so I guess she had no objections to what I was doing. Although it was a bit awkward having to stretch my hand out over the table and maneuvering over the various items already on it, it was worth it.

“Hey March, would you mind if I switched my seat and sat next to you? This is a little awkward,” I say, preparing to move myself out of the seat. I was thankful that no one was looking at our half-baked display. She retracted her hoof and nodded, scooting closer towards the wall to make some room for me. I took a few large steps over and moved in with her, getting close enough that our bodies were brushing against each other.

I sat there and continued to hold her hoof, brushing over it with my thumb. As I leaned in closer to say something to her, she thumped my stomach with enough force that it caused me to keel over and clutch my belly in pain.

“March, what the f–”

“-Ahem. Your food,” I turned to see the waiter standing there, holding two steaming dishes on both of his hooves. He wore a quizzical look on his face, sliding them down onto the table and going elsewhere. The dish that they’d make for her seemed to be a small Margherita pizza, and it looked amazing.

I took my fork and dug into the Carbonara, enjoying the absolute creaminess of the dish. Although the hay’s texture wasn’t my favorite, I still liked its saltiness.

March was worried, and she spectated my careless feasting for a while before running her hoof along the side of my belly in soothing motions. It kind of tickled.

“Are you hurt?” She asked.

“Uh-uh.” I mumbled over my mouthful of food. Yes, there was a slight burning sensation down there, but it wasn’t anything I haven’t experienced before. And, nothing could take me out of chowing down on some good comfort food.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” She spoke, this time in a firmer voice.

“Heh, I know, I’ll be better next time, I promise,” I said, finishing off my current bite and wiping my mouth clean. Her expression softened as she returned to her meal, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a large bite out of it. She chewed, giving slight nods along the way, “I take it you like it?” I asked, enjoying how adorable she was as she ate in silence.

By now, her cheeks were almost the same hue as her bright pink eyes.

“Yeah, the flavor isn’t what I’m used to from pizza but it’s quite good,” she said, swallowing, “How’s your pasta?” She asked, her attention now on my half-eaten plate.

“Oh, it’s amazing! Just as good as what we had back home. Hey, maybe you’d like to try some?” I spun my fork around, tangling the strands of spaghetti together for the perfect bite. She looked at me, hooves clammed onto my hand as she opened her mouth with a certain pensiveness. She inched her head closer and bit down on the fork, pulling away as she chewed. As she eased herself, the one cautious expression melted into satisfaction. I brought my hand to her hair and held one of her locks in place, it was very smooth.

“Please, we’re in public, Anon.” She retorted, brushing away my hand and prompting me to continue eating like normal. Our meal passed in relative silence, I finished my meal a lot earlier than March, and that gave me extra opportunities to gaze into her eyes. I know, it’s really cheesy, but sometimes I just can’t help myself in situations like these.

Before we knew it, we were outside, having already paid the bill and left. For a minute, we stood there, exchanging no words. I pulled the flowers out of my pocket and patted her on the back, handing it to her.

“I picked this up back in Ponyville, the florists there recommended it,” she plucked it out of my palm and observed it for a short while. A warm smile perked up on her face, but it shifted to a more solemn look as she looked back at the flower. As she stuffed the flower into her jacket’s collar, snowflakes landed atop the petals.

Maybe it was an incoming food coma, but I could tell she had something else in her that was a source of bothering. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she stood on her hind hooves and wrapped her arms around my waist, perking her head up and looking at me.

“Anon… I… I…” She paused, hesitating.

“You love me?” I asked with snark, returning her hug. Her warmness radiated through my entire body, and I could feel my arms tightening their grasp around her.

“No, well– that is not what I’m talking about, just, give me a second,” she said, sighing. She released her grasp of me and returned her gaze to the ground. As I kneeled down to try and figure out what was wrong, a singular tear fell onto the snow.

“March… what’s wrong?” I cupped her face with my hand, she took my hand and pushed it away, eyes still lingered on the snow. A second later, she made eye contact with me.

“We have to walk.”

Author's Note

March seems to have a lot on her mind.