That's What Boy's Are Made Of

Snails yawned, blinking the sleep from his eyes. His walk was slow as he strolled behind Snips, who marched in front of him. Snips’ saddle bag rattled with each determined step he took.
The unicorn looked to the hundreds of stars above. While they were a beautiful sight, Snails couldn’t help but be a bit confused. He could’ve sworn that he was meant to be sleeping now.

He shook his head. He must be mistaken; his scattered brain always mixed things up. If Snips wanted him awake, then he had to be awake; that’s what good friends did!

Snails inhaled, taking in the fresh night air. He didn’t know why they were out, but it was nice to take a walk. Maybe Snips just wanted to spend time with him. Snails smiled at the thought.

The duo approached Sugarcube Corner. Snails tilted his head. Why were they here? It was too late to get any sweet treats, wasn’t it?

Snips approached an ajar window, shuffling onto his hindlegs. He pressed his face against the glass, peering into the dark building. His breath fogged the glass as he peered through.

The colt muttered to himself, though Snails couldn’t understand what. Snips shoved his hooves through the cracked window, pulling it open.

He lunged himself onto the windowsill, his body halfway in the bakery. His legs dangled a few inches off the ground, kicking helplessly in the air.

“Come on, give me a boost.” Snips whined. Snails finally snapped from his daze.

“But, uuuuh…” He drifted off, trying to find his words. “This is breaking in. That’s wrong. Won’t the Cakes be upset?”

Snips rolled his eyes. “We’re just borrowing their stuff. There's nothing wrong with borrowing, remember?” Snips reminded. “Besides, the Cakes aren’t home. They’re in Vanhoofer for some dumb baking thing.”

Snails slowly nodded his head. If they were just borrowing, what was the issue? Snails let his classmates borrow from him all the time!

“Alright.” Snails ducked his head under Snips’ flank, nudging his friend upwards. Snips tumbled into the building. He popped back up, ushering Snails towards him.

“Come on! We don’t have all night.” He whined before venturing further into the dark building.

Snails lifted his lanky leg, stepping through the open window with ease. The building was dark, smelling faintly of sweet treats. Snails blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness.

Through the dark building was a light coming from the kitchen. Clattering came from within, presumably Snips. Snails trekked to the light. By the time he reached the kitchen, Snips was already quick to work.
He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out an entourage of items, muttering as he went. Snips looked to Snails, gladly pointing to the ingredients around him.

“Alright, start baking.”

Snails slowly blinked.

“What?”

Snips rolled his eyes as if it were obvious.

“Well, I don’t know how to bake.”

“I, uh….don’t know how to bake either.”

“You used to bake all the time.” Snips reminded. His scrunched. “Well, I’m not sure if you remember that…” He shook his head, rattling the thoughts from his brain. “You’ll be fine!”

Snails stared at the ingredients. What was he meant to do with these? He looked back at Snips, who stared at him hopefully. If it would make Snips happy, it wouldn’t kill him to at least try.

Snails opened his mouth, reaching for a measuring cup.

“A-hem.” Snips cleared his throat. He pointed to his horn, giving Snails a knowing look. Magic! Snails always forgot that he had that. He levitated the ingredients with moderate ease, placing them on the counter.

The lanky unicorn stared at the various ingredients. What exactly was he meant to do with these?

“I almost forgot the secret ingredient.” Snips announced, reaching into his bag. He held a white bottle above his head. It rattled with every movement.

“Mmm, candy.” Snails moaned, licking his lips. Snips rolled his eyes.

“No, they’re sleeping pills,” Snips informed. “My mom has plenty lying around. She won’t notice this one bottle being gone.”

Snails cocked his head.

“Do pills go in muffins?”

“They will today!” Snips grinned, tossing the bottle to the counter.

While it didn’t seem right, Snails couldn’t bring himself to question Snips. Who was he to pester a dear friend with meaningless questions?

Snails looked at the ingredients. For a brief moment, Snails felt a tug deep within. Something inside of him pulled, wanting to be free. His body began to move on its own accord, picking up the flour.

It felt natural, mixing the flour and sugar into the bowl. It was like a burden had been taken off of his chest. It was nice.

Despite the brief relief, a question bounced in Snails’ brain.

“Why are we making muffins for Trixie?” Snails finally asked.

“So Trixie can be our friend.”

“I thought she was already our friend.”

“A better friend.”

How could Trixie be better than she already was? She was already perfect. Snips must have caught onto Snails’ confusion because he continued to speak.

“You remember how we met, right?” Snips asked.

Snails scrunched his muzzle. How exactly did they meet? Just the thought of it gave him a rippling migraine. Snails squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temple.

“You know what, don’t answer that.” Snips interrupted. “These muffins are going to make Trixie happy, just like I made you happy.”

Snails furrowed his brow. Was he unhappy? He couldn’t remember ever being upset in his life.

“I wasn’t happy?”

Snips groaned, throwing his head back.

“Yes, Snails. You were, well…” Snips tried to find his words, “different. You were different. You wanted to leave.”

Different? Was Snails different back then? He couldn’t seem to remember.

“But I fixed you! Now we’re the same, and we’re together.”

How did he meet Snips? Anything before a few months ago was blank.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head whirling. Why was it so hard to think?

A knot began to form in Snails’ stomach, and his legs started to tremble. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened. It took everything in Snails to not double over.

What was he doing a few months ago? All he could manage to muster was Snips.

Snips was his life, wasn’t he? Most kids had parents or ambitions, but he just had…Snips. Had Snips always been a part of his life?

“Can you tell me how we met?” Snails spoke before thinking. He didn’t mean to say that, but he knew the thought was deep in his mind. Snips furrowed his brows, huffing.

“I don’t think that’s important.”

Something inside of Snails swelled, begging to be released. If he didn’t get it out now, it would crawl out of him, clawing through his throat.

“Snips, please.” Snails begged, his voice wavering.

The room was silent; the only thing being heard was Snails’ stirring. Snails couldn’t bring himself to look at Snips. Something inside of him urged him not to turn around. If he had to look at that thing--Snips--he was sure to lose his dinner.

The silence was finally broken by a deep, guttural sigh from Snips.

“Your dumb parents wanted you to leave, so I made you…better.” Snips explained simply, crossing his arms. A smile flashed on his face. “But look at you now! You’re still here! So I think I did a pretty good job.”

Snips continued to speak, but Snails couldn’t bring himself to listen. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conceal the trembling in his hooves.

If he pushed past the migraine, he could remember something. His life, his parents, him. His heart pitter-pattered, a slight tremble forming at his legs.

Snails wasn’t supposed to be here. He was meant to be in Canterlot, baking for upper-class ponies.

This body wasn’t his. Snails shuddered at the sensation. His legs felt too long, and his skin was too tight. His horn felt unnatural on his head, feeling like prodding a growth. If Snails could, he would gnaw through this flesh, freeing him from this damnation.
He was supposed to be dead. Being sacrificed wasn’t exactly something you came back from. Snails glanced at Snips, his heart speeding in his chest. He wasn’t sacrificed, was he? No, no, it was something much worse.

Snails’ brain took him back to the beginning of it all. He could feel the blade pressed against his chest, slowly ripping open. At the end of the blade was his dear friend, Snips, who whispered nothing but words of comfort.

How could Snails be friends with such a monster? He needed to leave; he needed to run. Snails’ eyes flickered to Snips, who idly chatted. His voice was nothing but a faint hum in Snails’ ears.

Snails couldn’t just leave; Snips was watching. Snips knew what he was thinking of; he was sure of it. If Snails left, Snips would find him and start the process again. What could he-

“There you go!” Snips cheered, snapping Snails from his daze.

“Hm?” Snails hummed, his voice wavering. Snips pointed to the counter.

“You did it.”

Snails looked to the counter. In front of him was a pristine tray of muffins. They smelled---and more importantly looked---delicious. Any worries Snails had swiftly turned to pride. He had done it!

Hell, he didn’t even remember making the muffins, but here they were.

“What were you thinking about, anyway? You were weirdly quiet.” Snips questioned. Snails furrowed his brows.

“Uuuuh…” Snails’ mouth hung open, scouring his brain for any thought before this moment. What had he been thinking about? His mind drew a blank. Was he upset? No, that didn’t seem right. His scattered brain always mixed things up.

Normally, something like this would distress him. But Snips looked so happy. How could he be upset when he made his friend happy? Snails smiled.

“I don’t remember.”