Close Bonds: Chapter 24

Wind. Rushing, howling wind. It swirls about, haunting your sleep with the way it hollers in your ear, the screams rushing past you like a child caught in a river.

Your eyes snap open, taking in the view of the ceiling above. Dim light streams in through the blinds, casting rays and shadows against the wall and ceiling.

SNRXX--

You immediately snap your head to the left. Beside you, a certain cyan pegasus sleeps, her mouth hanging wide open. You clamp her muzzle shut with your hand mid-snore, and listen quietly.

At first, all you get is silence. But as a few seconds pass, the familiar sound of wind rustling the leaves on the trees becomes present. It begins to pick up, slowly gaining speed until the very fabric of the air itself starts to rip and tear along the corners of the houses and the edges of the leaves, like new jeans caught on a chain-link fence.

Hm. Looks like the pegasi have finally done something with the weather other than year-round summer… I don’t think that extreme wind is what everyone had in mind for December, but it’s a step in the right direction at least.

You look down at the little pegasus next to you. She lies on her back, warm air streaming out through her nose, still completely unaware of the fact that you’re holding her mouth closed.

I’d bet any amount of bits that it has to do with her not being there.

You smile and let go of Rainbow’s maw, which returns to its former open state and continues with the snoring. She unconsciously licks her lips, and a speck of drool hangs off the corner of her mouth. You wipe it off with the bedsheets and pull her closer to you, your two bodies brushing contact before molding together.

You can feel her soft, warm fur against your chest and belly, her body giving slight resistance to yours as her barrel expands and contracts. She faces away from you now, so your hand comes to rest on her supple belly. You kiss the base of her neck, and hear a sigh of contentment arise from your little rainbow-maned pony. You feel a hoof close around your hand, prompting you to hold her a little tighter. You smell the sweet scent of her mane-- a specific conditioner, you’re sure-- and her fur, which has a kind of earthy musk to it, slightly masked by the remnants of whatever she washed herself with last night.

You find yourself drifting off again, the thumping of your companion’s heartbeat lulling you back to sleep.

You walk through the hallway in your boxers, simultaneously scratching your ass and yawning for the fifth time since you woke up.

Eight-fifteen. You really slept in today. Not surprising, though, considering everything that happened the previous day.

And the day before that. And probably for the last couple of weeks. In fact, at this point you’re pretty sure that whoever’s in charge of the world put a marker on ‘December of Ivan’s Life,’ tore the page right out of the calendar and wiped their ass on it as much as they possibly could before clogging the toilet with the discolored piece of paper and causing the toilet to back up, producing a soggy, shitty mess. Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, and have a great Hearth’s Warming Eve.

No, wait. Hearth’s Warming falls on January here. If December really is your shit month, maybe you’ll have a good Hearth’s Warming after all.

Did you just really accept that theory?

You stop your little stroll through the hall. Looking down at your feet, just before your toes, a thin strand of light streams in diagonally from the left. You look up, noticing that the door to your left is cracked open.

Scootaloo’s room.

You widen the crack a bit, just enough for you to poke your head through and peer inside.

It seems… very empty, for some reason.

“Scoots?”

“Yeah?”

You jump at the sound behind you, nearly smacking your face on the doorframe as you pull your head out of the crack and whip around to face the small pegasus, who seems unsure whether to be frightened or disturbed.

“Uh…” You stand there awkwardly, realizing you were just caught peeping into her room. “Just making sure you were alright.”

She says nothing, only stares at your mostly-naked form. It’s now that another revelation is made: you’re standing in front of a young teenage girl, one who you don’t quite know beyond what Rainbow’s told you, in your boxers.

It somehow hadn’t occurred to you that you now have a young filly living in your house, and that being in your underwear nearly counts as being naked. At least, not at the same time.

She eyes your pale, embarrassingly skinny legs wearily. It makes you a bit self-conscious, and you hope to Celestia she isn’t offended- okay, too offended by your nudity. Maybe you can make a clothes run back to your room…

“Are your legs on backwards?”

Your eyes widen, trying to comprehend exactly what it is she’s asking. “What?”

“Your knees,” she says, pointing with a forehoof, “Are they supposed to bend like that?”

You look down towards the joints in question. You raise a concerned eyebrow, wondering if there might be something wrong with your knees. You lift one leg, bending and then extending it a few times before planting your foot back on the floor, much to the apparent amazement of the little orange pegasus. You see her put her forehoof back down as well, bending as it takes a portion of her weight. And that’s when it clicks.

“Ohh,” you say in your newfound revelation, instinctively bending your knee again. “Yeah, human legs bend forward, not backwards like ponies. Haven’t you ever noticed that before?”

She shakes her head. “You usually wear long pants. I usually can’t see your knees.”

You furrow your brow. “Shouldn’t you still be able to tell which way they’re bending? And what about that one time we all went to the beach? I was wearing shorts then.”

She just shrugs, leaving you slightly mystified. Not only for the fact that, after well over a year of knowing her, she just now realizes your kneecaps are in the front, but also because she just seems to dismiss the fact that only one article of clothing separates her from your naked body.

“So…” you begin, looking around, “What are you doing up right now?”

Again, she shrugs. “I fell asleep on the couch. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to go to school today, so I came out here and just kinda… waited.”

Hm.

“Well,” you say as you begin to make your way through the hallway, purple-maned companion close behind, “it’s kinda late at this point. I think we can just take today off, don’t you think?”

More than likely, they don’t even have her registered in that school anymore, anyway.

The filly nods, though not as enthusiastically as one might expect from a foal being told they can skip school. Nonetheless, the two of you troop on over to the kitchen.

“Let’s see what we have here,” you say as you begin searching through your pantry. Your favorite cereal, Chocolate Frosted Sugar Cubes, is the first thing to catch your eye.

“Ah, nice!” you say, pulling it out. As soon as you do, however, the weight of it in your hand tells you that there really isnt much left. You pull out a bowl and empty out the cereal box, only to realize that mere crumbs remain.

“Dammit,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that there’s only one other pegasus in the house that could’ve done that. Upon further inspection, the rest of the dry morning delights strike you as unappetizing, mostly things that Rainbow and, admittedly, you, usually add a bunch of sugar to.

“Let’s see what we have in the fridge.” You open the fridge door and scan the interior, the sight of all your perishables giving you a sense of deja vu.

“Milk… Alright.” You screw open the cap, ready for some fresh juice squeezed from the udders of a semi-sapient farm inhabitant. Instead, the receptors in your nostrils quickly warn you of imminent death upon mere contact with skin, and possible acidic burning of the lungs.

Your eyes water up, clouding your vision with tears that you try to blink out. You move to dump out the spoiled and likely curdled milk in the sink, but soon think better of it as you imagine the strength of the stench out in the open. “Okay, umm…” You screw the cap back on, glancing to the open fridge. “I think it’s safe to assume that everything in there is probably bad.”

Even from where she is, Scootaloo seems to have gotten a whiff of the horrendous stench. “Yeah…”

“You wanna go to Sugarcube Corner?”

The little filly’s eyes widen. “Really? I haven’t gone there in like, forever!”

“Yeah. I mean, until we either clean it out or throw it out, that fridge is a biohazard. We might be going out to eat for a little while.” You look back to the food storage space turned mortuary, shuddering at the thought of having to remove everything in there.

A whole month… Most of this house hadn’t been touched for an entire month…

What the hell is with this wind?

You trek onwards on your journey, eyes clamping shut as a cloud of sand collides with your face and irritates the sensitive surface of your cornea. You raise your sweater-covered arm to shield yourself from the onslaught, silently cursing whoever brought this foul situation upon you.

Which is funny, because you can literally blame someone for the bad weather now.

From what you can see, Scootaloo isn’t doing much better. Pony eyes are significantly larger, making it that much easier for her to catch dirt in them. She squints, occasionally scrunching her snout under the wet rag tied around her head and over her mouth. You have one as well, although at this point, ‘wet’ probably wouldn’t describe the shriveled up piece of towel that serves as the boundary between you and millions of tiny projectiles in the air.

Soon, through the storm, a rather welcome sight appears before the two of you. Despite your bleary eyes, Sugarcube Corner sticks out like a beacon in the night, guiding you towards sanctuary from the chaotic elements.

As you reach your destination, you hold open the door for Scootaloo, a ringing sounding out as you both stagger inside.

The first thing you notice is that the small bakery is completely empty. Sliding off your pseudo-bandana, you take a look around at the oddly calm scenery. Tables and booths lie empty, except for the strange occasional untouched pastry at a few of them, and light, cheery music plays at a low volume in contrast with the dead silence.

“Hi there, welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” Pinkie Pie waves from the counter.

“Pinkie!” Accompanied by loud hoofsteps, a middle-aged voice calls from the back, “For the fifth time, I told you to stop pretending we have customers! It lets in the dust, and it’s a waste of food to be serving empty-” She stops mid-sentence when she sees you with Scootaloo.

“But I’m not pretending!” Pinkie rebuts her, “Ivan and Scootaloo are here! Look!”

Mrs. Cake clears her throat, smiling embarrassedly. “Sorry, you two. And, Pinkie,” she adds, receiving a dirty look from the pink pony. “We just haven’t had any real customers all day. I didn’t expect anypony with that dreadful storm going on outside.”

You wave it off. “It’s fine, Mrs. Cake. Really, I’m surprised that you didn’t just close down for the day.”

“We just might, soon. But feel welcome to stay and eat as long as you’d like. Pinkie will be eager to serve you, I’m sure.” That last part is punctuated and accompanied by an eyeroll.

“I sure as sugar am!” Pinkie exclaims excitedly, hopping over to a booth and pulling out a notepad and quill before you can even sit down. “What would you two like to have?”

“Um…” you murmur, trying to get past the energizer bunny so you can take your seat, “I’ve never been here for breakfast before. Can I have a-”

The pink pony pulls two menus out of the same place she got the notepad, and plops them down in front of you.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” you say, opening up the menu you never knew this place had, and beginning to browse through.

“You’re welcome!” she replies, and proceeds to stand there with that overly wide, somehow-unscathed-by-sugar smile as you attempt to decide what you want.

Your eyes dart her way a few times as you shift in your seat. A minute passes before you decide you’re ready to order. You make eye contact with Scootaloo, and it seems she’s ready as well.

“Alright, I’ll have the-”

“Yes?!”

You raise an eyebrow at the overexcited waitress. “I’ll have the cheese and dandelion croissant, please.”

“Croissant with dandelion and melted cheese, coming right up!” She quickly scribbles something down on her notepad, and turns to Scootaloo. “And for you?”

“I think I want-”

“Yes!?”

Scootaloo gives Pinkie Pie a disturbed look, pulling away slightly. “I uh… Can I have the daisy soup? It looks pretty good.”

“Oh, believe me, it is,” the baker mare says while slurping her tongue around her face Scooby-Doo style. “Okey-dokey, your orders should be ready in just a few minutes!”

“Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Yup!”

You watch the crazy pony leave, waiting until she’s gone before turning to Scootaloo. “Wow,” you chuckle, smiling at the small filly, “you like daisies? Those are gross.”

“I get to pick what I want, don’t I?”

You take a moment to try to figure out her intent with that statement. “Yeah…”

“Okay then. Don’t bash on what I like.”

A retort hangs off the tip of your tongue, but you hold back. “Sorry. It was just a joke…”

The two of you sit in silence for awhile, neither making eye contact. For Pinkie’s normally-quick service, it feels like an age before she finally arrives with your meals.

“Here ya go!” she says, chipper as ever. She slides a plate and bowl onto the table, each meal going to its respective owner.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” you say as you take your plate. Scootaloo says nothing, just silently inspects her meal.

“Yup! Just call me back if you need anything!” The pink pony gives you a broad, blindingly white smile, and then turns to the opposite side of the table, where her grin seems to linger on the filly for an uncomfortably long time. Surprisingly, the pegasus just continues to stare at her food.

You begin to eat, and Pinkie Pie eventually leaves. Midway through your croissant, you take a discreet glance at Scootaloo; she rests her elbow on the table with her head resting in her hoof, idly swirling her spoon around in the broth.

“Uh…” The small pegasus looks up as you begin, but you look the other way. “Hey, Pinkie?”

“Right here- Ow!” There’s a loud bang, accompanied by the table shuddering and a scream from Scootaloo. Pinkie appears from under the table, crawling to her hooves with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about that. Nothing spilled, right?”

Why does this even surprise you anymore?

You clutch your heart, your breathing taking a little longer than normal to return to its normal rate. “N-no…” You look down at your crotch. “At least, I don’t think.”

“Alrighty then! What can I getcha?” This time, no notepad.

“Well…” You look across the table at the filly, who seems to be slowly returning to her sullen state. “Scoots?”

Her head pops up at the mention of her name. “Huh?”

“How ‘bout a milkshake?”

Complete confusion twists the face of the little orange pegasus. “What?”

“Don’t tell Rainbow about this, she might get mad at me… But I’ll buy you a milkshake if you want.” You smile. “You want one?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Okey-dokey-lokey! One milkshake-”

“Make that two.”

“Two milkshakes, comin’ right on up!”

The party pony exits the scene, leaving the two of you in silence once again. This time, however, you find that you’re not the only one sneaking hidden glances.

The milkshakes come quicker than the first food items. You and Scootaloo each thank Pinkie, who promptly salutes, and leaves you with a few rather puzzling parting words.

“You guys didn’t tell me what kind of shakes you wanted, so I brought the flavors that I always drink in the morning!”

You pull your shake close to you, adjusting the straw for maximum efficiency in liquidized frozen dairy product transportation. You suck on the straw, filling your mouth with the cold, sweet taste of-

What?

“My milkshake tastes like a damn bagel.”

Scootaloo looks just as befuddled, staring intently at her glass, though more out of curiosity rather than boredom this time. “Mine tastes like blueberry pancakes.”

The two of you make eye contact, sharing the moment of confusion at your breakfast milkshakes.

“I mean, it’s not exactly bad-”

“No, it isn’t.”

A pause. With a shrug, you continue slurping your bagel-flavored milkshake, and Scootaloo does the same.

“You should feel lucky, Scoots. All the other colts and fillies are in school right now, and you get to hang out with me and Rainbow.”

You take a bite of your croissant, and rip off another piece for the filly at your side. The daisy soup got left behind, seeing as how Scootaloo “wasn’t hungry” just long enough for the two of you to leave the restaurant.

“Eh, school’s okay… sometimes. The whole ‘school’ part sucks, but I get to see my friends there all the time. It’s especially good if one of us gets grounded, because we all still have to go to school, so either way we get to hang out.”

You nod. “That’s true. School was pretty fun for me, I guess. That’s where I met most of my friends.”

By now, the wind has nearly completely died down, making it possible for the two of you to converse while you walk back to your house. Rays of sun poke through the clouds of dust hanging around, casting a dim light over the small town.

“You know what’s weird?” Scootaloo asks.

You look down at her. “What’s that?”

“You’re only four and a half years older than me.”

You nod. “Yep.”

She ponders this for a moment. “It’s just funny because… well, you have a house, and a job and stuff… and you’re not even much older than me.”

You nod. “Yeah. And I never got to finish school, either. Heck, I would still be in school right now, probably still being the same dumb kid I was.” Smiling, you add, “Those were the days.”

“Do you miss that? Your old life?”

You walk in silence for a few beats. “Maybe I do. But things are fine the way they are now, and I don’t like to dwell on the bad for too long. I’m fortunate, really; most people who fall down caves don’t tend have as good experiences as I did.”

She scrunches her nose up, giving you a look. “‘Most people?’ Who falls down caves?”

“People like me, I guess.”

At this, she starts laughing. You join in for a chuckle, asking, “What? You asked.”

The rest of the walk goes by quickly fairly quickly, as the two of you continue to talk about anything from school to where not to keep pet spiders.

“Really? In your mom’s shower?!”

You grin. “Well, I don’t suppose you could say I ‘kept’ it there, since it already lived there, but I did feed it flies and stuff… And really, I shouldn’t even be telling you this stuff, since you’re going to be living with me now.”

“Aw, come on, dude. It’s not like I’m not gonna actually do it.”

“Uh huh, sure.” You turn the corner, and your house comes into view. “Anyway, we’re almost home now and I have some things to do. So once we get back you just run along and do… whatever Scootaloos do. Just be home before dark.”

“Alright… At least tell me what happened at the end.”

You pull out your keys as you approach the door. “Oh, the spider? Well, my mom eventually caught me feeding it one day. This made her really angry, because she’d been trying to kill it for months: bug spray, hairspray, cutting off its food supply, lighters, all the works. So, as punishment, she made me kill it.”

“How’d you do it?” the filly asks, the excitement in her voice rising.

You fumble with your keys for a moment, trying to select the correct one. “It was pretty easy, actually. See, the reason she couldn’t kill it was because there was a little crack in the wall that the spider would always hide until it came out for food. So what I did, was I threw a grasshopper into its web, and when it started eating I took a stick and swirled the stick around in the web.”

Picturing the old memory in your mind, you laugh. “If you’ve ever tried this, you know that everything on that web gets stuck to the stick like flies on a horse’s--” Scootaloo is giving you a curious look; you decide to rephrase that: “Like flies on honey. So, with the spider completely vulnerable and likely to die anyway, I poked it open with some scissors and looked at its insides.”

The door unlocks and you swing it open, all the while internally laughing at Scootaloo’s disgusted expression. “And that, my friend, is the story of Charlotte the black wid--”

You take one step through the door, and stop. Behind you, Scootaloo looks around your leg, curious as to what could be going on.

On your couch is Cream; and beside her, Rainbow, hugging her. Neither look as if they’re in the best of moods.

As you make eye contact with each of them in turn, all you can do is stare. “Uh…”

Something’s definitely happened.

You can see it. Cream, normally wearing makeup and having done her mane just to her liking, has bags under her eyes and her hair is in tangles. Rainbow is giving you that look, that look that tells you shit’s hit the fan somewhere in the wide wide land of Equestria.

“Hey, Scootaloo,” you say, looking down at your little orange companion. She looks up at you, sensing the tension in the air as much as you do. “Not to kick you out or anything, but… could you leave us alone for a little bit?”

Author's Note

Hey, so, summer has hit, hiatus over. Nothing too special this chapter, just easing back into it, and updates should continue as normal. As for the previous chapter, I know I've gotten a lot of requests to change/retcon it, but I probably won't. It doesn't really reveal a lot about Scootaloo's decision or anything like that, but I really never wanted it to. I was going to let the next arc speak for that... next arc never exactly happened. Until now.

So, here we are.