In the Shadow of Midnight
I wake up to a rooster crowing, only it's not a rooster. Roosters never sound like owls, now do they?
Tilting my neck, I gaze out the window above our bed. A starry night hangs high over the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres in dark purple shades, twinkling beyond the gray, wispy clouds. A gentle wind blows, scented with apples. The curtains dance and cast shadows across the starlit room.
In my peripheral vision, I catch the pale face of the bedside clock. The small hand is barely past the number four; a thankful sigh escapes my lips.
And then I feel you stirring, and I'm sorry for ever being startled awake to begin with. But that's the only thing I'm sorry for.
I tilt my head back to the pillow and see nothing but colors. My eyes fall down your spiked bangs and stop at your tiny, fluttering eyelashes. Are you starting a dream or ending one? Am I with you in them, just like you are with me now?
I see your lips pursing. Your face hangs on the edge of something unpronouncible, and yet there is a stammer beyond it all, a shudder to your breath. Are you waiting for something? Are you searching for somepony? I'm right here, Sugarcube.
A breath escapes me, and I see your mane parting down the center. It's the only invitation I need; I drag a hoof up from beneath the covers and stroke it through your bangs. Your mane's so soft, like silk; I imagine not many ponies know. But I know. I feel the delicate strands, I see their sheen in the moonlight. I wonder if they can reflect my smile.
My cheeks hurt. Staring at you this closely is such a workout, for my heart as much as for my lips, as I fight the urge to kiss you senseless, to chase every color into the back of my mind until I blink and plant them back before me, so still, so beautiful, so here.
You stir again; I want to giggle and apologize all at once. How did it come to this? What was I before our breaths became one, before we shared our secrets and fears, before you gave up the sky for this one place on earth, this one simple little house, this boring little room that became a sanctuary the very moment you trotted in and didn't leave?
I can't stop stroking your mane. I keep the motions gentle, cherishing you, gently reeling you up to the rippling surface of slumber but no further. I watch your wings twitch as though you're on the precipice of a cliff, and the only place you have to fly is straight into my forelimbs.
Such a star, such a flying banner for all that's amazing and awesome: everypony in town looks up to you. Everypony praises you. Everypony wants to be you, and yet you chose to be with me. Out of all the mares in Equestria, out of all the generous and kind and magical friends, out of all the rich and dashing ponies who could have given you so much more, you settled for so much less.
I was shocked at first, scared even, and I felt like I had to prove something. I felt like I had to give a piece of me that I didn't even have just to deserve you, and then I realized it was you who was doing the giving, who needed to give in the first place. You've given me this: this innocent face, these fluttering eyelids, this gorgeous petite pegasus that shivers and clings to me like a foal in the nightly wind. This is the secret you, the quiet you, the needy and delicate and adorable you, the you that is too afraid to fly over our rootops, the you that can only be the best and yet is so scared of being the worst. All of this you have given me, and for months I wondered what the price was.
But now I know. The price is for me to be myself, for me to be as lucky as you have made me. I love you, my little surprise, something that is only here for me to witness, for me to hold, for me to adore in even a fraction of the way that you have been gracious to me. I only understand so little, and I am still catching up to your affections, but, really, is there any other way for us to run this race? You must always be in first place, and that's okay, because we both know that I am actually the winner.
For how else can I feel but lucky? I have a piece of the sky in my embrace, all the colors of life, all the speed and thunder that makes up the Equestrian spirit. You've let me be your anchor, and everytime I feel you, it's like I've lost the earth beneath my hooves. You've taught me how to be free, how to be weightless, so that sometimes I feel like I'm the one who's actually clinging to you. I know what fear is, and I know what it means to gallop past it, for you've lit the way for me, like a path down the orchards, like a swim across the freezing pond. I emerge in the frosty cold, lungs choked and quivering, and all I can do is laugh, and you're there to laugh beside me, with your adorable voice, with your daring sneer, with your playful shoves and gentle nuzzles and quiet sobs.
You stir again, fitfully this time. One of my tears must have awoken you.
"Mmmm-uhhh..." Your voice cracks, a quiet trilling sound. With eyelids clenched, you slide your face across the pillow and murmur, "Nnngh... izzit... izzit morning yet?"
Inhaling deeply, I bring my hoof down from your mane and stroke your cheek. "Nope," I whisper, trying to keep my drawling voice straight. If only I could sing so crisply what I feel deep inside upon hearing you. "Sun ain't risin' for a good two hours at least."
"Wanna..." You yawn, and your wings stretch out as you curl up against me. "...wannahelpwithchoresssss..."
"And you'll get yer chance," I say softly against your eyelids, breathing you in with a smile. "You just rest yer eyes and go back to sleep, darlin'."
You exhale, sinking deeper into the bed, sinking deeper into me. "Mmmmmff—loveyouuuu...."
My heart was born for moments like this.
"I love you too, sugarcube."
I lean forward and kiss you on the forehead before wrapping my forelimbs around you. You hide here in my embrace, nuzzling your face into my chest as I rest a chin atop your silken mane. Now I can close my eyes, for I have you anchored again. You are mine, your warmth and your sighs and your trust, and Celestia help me; I'm never letting go.
I feel your body go still as you sink back to sleep. I stand on the shores of your slumber, staying guard, keeping you safe. For now.
When the sun rises, the sky will need its color. For a few hours, at least, I have what I need to paint my dreams.