Unrequited
You loaded the last bucket of apples into the cart, and gave the signal to Mac. He nodded, and started pulling the heavy cart into town. Applejack trots up to you as you wipe the sweat off your brow.
"Y'all work up a good sweat?"
You chuckle.
"Sure did, ma'am."
"Oh, shucks, Anon. Ah dun told ya, y'all can call me Applejack!"
Miss Applejack was a good pony. Traditional, family oriented, understood the value of a good days work.
"All right then, Applejack."
"Got any plans fer tonight? I was thinking we could have dinner or somthin' together."
Applejack was a nice girl... mare... lady. And she seemed to have a thing for you. If she were a human, you'd be just fine with a girl like her. Sadly, kindly as and intelligent as these ponies are, they're still just animals, and any relationship with one would be an affront in the eyes of the Lord.
"Sorry, Applejack. I was just going to go down to the bar and have a drink with Braeburn."
"Oh, w-well... alright, then."
You feel a pang of guilt as she tries to hide her disappointment. As she walks away, she calls over he shoulder.
"Ah guess I'll see ya in the morning, then."
With a sigh, you stretch your sore muscles, then head off to the bar.
You push open the saloon doors, and enter. Quickly scanning the room, you see Braeburn waving over to you from the bar. With a quick nod, you make your way over.
Braeburn had lived in Appleoosa most of the time you were in Equestria. Then suddenly, a few months ago, he decided to come to Ponyville. He said things in Appleoosa just weren't working out anymore, but he wouldn't explain why. Oh well; it's none of your business, and every man has his secrets.
You became fast friends with him. Big Mac is a good man, so to speak, but he's so stoic and quiet, he doesn't make for very fun company. Braeburn, on the other hand, is much more outgoing. You take a seat beside him, and clap your hand on his back.
"Well hay there, Anonymous!" he says with a grin. "You're hear sooner than usual! That slave-driver give you the day off?"
You laugh as the bartender pours you your usual drink. Straight bourbon whiskey. A man's drink. Braeburn always orders fruity cocktail drinks, but you don't hold it against him. Not everyone has the stones to handle fire water.
"Nah. We just got done earlier today than expected."
"Well, I can drink to that!" he says, raising raising a glass full of blue liquid with a lemon wedge on the side. Holding back a laugh, you raise your glass of whiskey, and tap it against his. You both down your respective drinks.
About an hour later, Braeburn is well past drunk, and you're pretty tipsy yourself. You can't help but chuckle as Braeburn slurs his words and can hardly sit upright. Such a lightweight. As Braeburn finishes the last of his fourth glass, you notice behind him, down the bar, there's a young mare stealing glances at him. Trying to be subtle, you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.
"Hey, check it out. That pretty little thing at the end of the bar has been checking you out. You should talk to her."
Braeburn doesn't so much as glance at her before he laughs, waving the bartender over for another drink.
"Nah. That's awful nice of her, but I just ain't interested."
"What's wrong, not your type?"
Braeuburn hesitates slightly, before bringing his glass to his mouth.
"Y'all could say that."
The conversation dies down to awkward silence for a few moments.
"Well?"
It's none of your business, and normally you wouldn't press the issue, but you were drunk and curious.
"Well what?"
"What IS your type?"
Braeburn freezes for a few moments, then downs the rest of his drink in one gulp. He suddenly seems much less drunk now that he's serious. He glances around for listening ears, then leans in close. You lean down so you can hear him.
"Now, don't tell no one. But I'm gay."
You sit there in stunned silence, unsure of what to say or think. Braeburn sits back up, waving the bartender back over, while casting nervous glances at you. After about a minute, you finally speak up.
"That's why you left Appleoosa, isn't it?"
At this point, you're beyond caring about what is or isn't your business. Braeburn looks surprised at the question, but nods. Still keeping his voice low, he leans on again.
"I had a partner, out there. In the end, it didn't work out, and he threatened to tell everybody about us if I didn't leave. Now, they don't take kindly to... "us" out west, and my family would have been ashamed of me. So, I came east, hoping to make a new start."
You don't reply. You just stare down at your drink. To think, all this time. Your best friend in this world was keeping a secret from you. All this time, the "man" you confided in, respected, viewed as an equal. Was gay.
It made you sick. With a swift motion, you toss what remained of your drink into Braeburn's face. Braeburn let out a yelp, and brought his hooves to his stinging eyes.
"Anon, what-"
You grab him by the front of that hideous vest he always wears.
"Don't you ever say my name again, you fucking queer."
You shove him backwards off his stool. You look around, expecting someone to protest your actions, but everyone is doing their own thing. Looks like nobody ever saw. Giving Braeburn one last disgusted look, you turn and exit the bar.
About three hours later, Braeburn finally leaves the bar. Judging from all the ponies that left before him, he must have been the last to leave. He stumbles down the street, clearly smashed. As he passes in front of the alley you're standing in, you grab him. Clamping a hand over his mouth, you quickly drag him back into the alley before throwing him into the wall.
"Anon, what is thi-"
You cut him off with a hard right hook to the jaw. He screams, recoiling in pain.
"I told you to never say my name!"
You land another blow on the tip of his nose. Blood falls from his snout like a waterfall. With a cry of rage, you tackle him to the ground, and unleash a flurry of blows on the defensless pony. After a few minutes, he's gasping for breath, choking on tears and his own blood. Your knuckles are battered and bruised, your blood mixing with his. Exhausted, you stand to your feet. Looking down at him, you spit on his face, before giving one last kick to his ribs.
"Don't ever let me see you again, faggot. I'd leave town if I were you."
Braeburn looks up at you, eyes swollen so bad you could hardly see them, tears running down his cheeks washing the blood away.
"But... Anon..." he says slowly through his cracked jaw. "I... loved you..."
You almost vomit when you hear it. Filled with renewed fury, you walk to a nearby cinder block laying on the ground. Picking it off the ground, you hoist it up over your head. You look at Braeburn one last time before you slam the brick down on his face. Again. And again.
It occurs to you how much trouble you could get in for this, but you don't care. You're doing God's work. Something these heathen ponies wouldn't understand.
Eventually, the brick cracks in two over what's left of his face. He lays there on the ground, not moving. You feel bad for losing your closest friend, but you feel better knowing you sent a worthless faggot to Hell. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you spit on his corpse before leaving the alley. A heavy rain begins to fall as you walk home.
The next morning, Applejack is a inconsolable mess, as Big Mac tries to calm her down. You act shocked, but you're smiling on the inside. Even Big Mac's stoicism was fading, if that was possible.
"What... what happened?" you ask innocently.
"They don't know. Somebody just killed'im. Left the body in an alley like a piece of garbage. They say the rain washed away about any evidence that would have been left behind."
Big Mac's voice was quivering with rage, and he had tears in his eyes. You remain silent for a moment, weighing your options.
"I think I'm going to leave Ponyville for a while."
Big Mac nods; it'd be normal for you to want to get away after your best friend was murdered.
"Where will ya go?" Applejack asks, through her shuddering sobs.
"I have a friend in Appleloosa. I'll go for visit..."
