Close Bonds: Chapter Twenty-Seven

You sit on your haunches in the middle of the living room, facing your now truly-adoptive little sibling. She mirrors your exact position, up to one minor detail.

You hold out both hooves bottom rims up, smirking at Scootaloo as she stares at the two appendages.

“Come on, lil’ sis. Don’t got all day.”

“Yeah, you do. Don’t rush me.” She bites her lip, then slowly extends her own hooves out towards yours, eyes trained on you as she ever so steadily comes closer and closer.

An evil thought comes into your head. You twitch both hooves, letting them rise just slightly above the height that they previously were. Almost immediately, Scootaloo yanks both hooves back.

You laugh at the glare she gives you. “What?” you ask innocently, hooves still seemingly in the same position in front of you. “I didn’t even move.”

“Yeah you did! You did that like ten times!”

“Sure… Now come on, you still need to beat me.”

She frowns, again watching your unmoving, waiting hooves. Cautiously, she brings them forward, nervously pulling her hooves back to her a few times at some imagined movement of your hooves.

At about the third time she’s withdrawn, you chuckle. “You have to touch me before I hit you, you know.”

She takes this information in without replying. Slowly, carefully, she brings her hooves to yours, centimeters away. The time she takes to cover this distance draws out into forever, her eyes focused intently on any signs of movement from you.

Finally, the very rim of her hooves connect with yours, a soft tap resounding.

In a movement quicker than her eyes catch you bring your hooves up and around, the two appendages hovering above her own. You bring them down swiftly upon hers, a loud smack sounding off as the hard keratin comes in contact with her soft pastern.

“Ahh! SH-oot,” she cries out, shaking her forelegs out. Patches of red blush on the area of impact, not from this incident alone but of about ten other identical ones that have played out over the last half hour.

“They don’t call me fastest in Equestria for nothing, kiddo,” you boast, blowing on one of your hooves as if to cool it down. “It’s gonna be awhile before you can keep up with me.”

“Oh, yeah?!” she shouts angrily, “You’re not fast, you’re just using surprise! I bet that I would win if I tried to smack you!”

You smirk. “Oh, ho ho! Is that a challenge?”

She turns her forelegs over and holds the undersides of her hooves up, daring you to try.

You click your tongue. “You sure, Scoots? I mean, I’m gonna have to laugh at you if you lose.”

Her face becomes one of determination. She tilts her head slightly downward and squints.

“Bring it.”

You sniff outwardly, appearing confident. On the inside, however, your heart feels ready to explode with pride.

That’s your sister.

You place your hooves on top of hers without any hesitation, even going so far as to put weight on them. This surprises Scootaloo, as you can feel her tense up. Her hooves shake as she prepares to take you by surprise, determined to beat her very idol at her own game.

You, however, just imagine yourself flying. You’ve always found that you’re much more perceptive when you think about the clouds, the vast blue sky, the wind blowing through your mane… It likely comes from your habit of instinctively taking note of everything around while you’re in the air.

Aside from its advantages, it makes your rather frequent trips to the hospital that much more unbearable. There seems to be a clock in every room in the hospital, and that Celestia-damned ticking drives you insane. All your friends can testify to that.

Oh, whoops. Scootaloo’s hooves just dropped a little. An unmistakable telegraph.

You quickly pull your hooves back, feeling the air swish off the tips of her hooves as they barely miss yours. Damn, she really is quick, even if not as fast as you are. Maybe someday, she’ll pass you up.

Maybe.

Unfortunately for her, she’s not as good with control as she is with speed. She slams herself on the fetlocks, giving way to a yelp and two inevitable bruises in the near future.

She falls on her back, rolling on the floor as she holds her forelegs, gritting her teeth in anguish. You, on the other hand, are on the floor for different reasons. You tried to hold back your laughter, even going so far as to bite down on your lower lip. However, as the tears pooled in your eyes and your whole body racked with barely contained guffaws, you gave up and fell onto the rug, clutching your sides as your snorts and chortles filled the air.

Scootaloo soon recovers, sitting back on her haunches and giving you a scornful look as you continue to laugh at her expense. It’s finally died down enough for you to hold it in, and as you clamber back to your hooves you cover your mouth with a foreleg so as to hide the still very apparent smirk.

And then, something unexpected happens. The corners of the filly’s mouth twitch, preceding a broad smile taking over her face.

Next thing you know, the both of you are on the ground again, this time with Scootaloo joining in on the laughing. It goes on until it starts to become painful; whenever either one of you tries to stop, all it takes is a quick glance at her counterpart and the two of you are back on the ground, flopping about and gasping like fish out of water.

It takes up until you hear the door unlocking before you two can finally end the chain of chuckles. Both of you quickly compose yourselves, rocking up to your butts again and sitting there, each with stupid grins on your faces. You wait for him, ready to drag your stallion into this laughterfest whether he’s willing or not.

As soon as the door opens, your demeanor immediately changes. You don’t even need to use your little focusing technique, but by the very way he opens that door you know that something’s off – something’s wrong.

Scootaloo, however, doesn’t seem to notice. She simply waves at him, ignorantly wearing that ever-present grin. “Hey, Ivan!”

He does what looks like a half-attempt at a smile. Instead, it stops halfway, forming more of a grimace. You rise to all fours and walk up to him, hiding your uncertainty with a caring smile.

“Hey there, big guy,” you say, standing on your hind legs so as to become level with him. You hug him around the neck, and give him a smooch on the cheek.

He doesn’t have to force anything this time. The edges of his lips curve up slightly, a rosy tint coming to his cheeks as he seems to brighten up a little bit. “Hey, Dash,” he says quietly.

Despite looking more positive than when he first walked in, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for another kiss. Not a good sign. You let go and hop off him, but stay close to his side as he closes the door and walks into the living room.

What you find just a tad bit scary is that he walks straight up to Scootaloo. He doesn’t change his clothes, or get something to eat – no, he makes a beeline for the little orange filly.

“Hey, Scootaloo,” he says, standing over her. She leans backwards away from him, her eyes darting around the room for a moment before finally resting on his.

“Yeah…?” she asks, her tone caught somewhere between sarcastic and intimidated.

“We need to talk.”

“Hey~! Ivan!” You immediately cut in, killing this before it can go anywhere. The two members of the conversation both look surprised at your interruption.

Shit. What do you say now?

“Uh…” Quick! Think of something! “Scootaloo still has some homework to do. Couldn’t this wait until later?”

The pegasus gives you a confused look. “What? But I already–”

“I thought I saw some, Scootaloo. Now go do it.”

It takes her a moment, but she finally takes the hint.

Ivan watches the purple tail disappear around the corner, followed by the sound of a door being carelessly slammed shut. He stands there for a bit longer, staring in the direction that Scootaloo went.

You start to say something, but he holds up a hand, letting out a bland remark. “It’s fine. It’s not like I had anything important to say.”

He leaves you behind, shaking his head as he sullenly enters the hallway. You, however, are not going to let him get away that easily.

“Hey! What’s up with you?” you press, following him down the hall. He ignores you, and consequently only manages to incite your temper.

“I’m talkin’ to you!” you shout. He proceeds to turn the corner into your bedroom, and slams the door in your face. You stand there for a moment, stunned.

That almost smacked you in the nose. Holy shit.

Seriously, what the fuck is his problem? If something’s bothering him, he needs to say something, not act like a fucking foal and slam doors.

You feel your breath quicken, your heart rate picking up as you let angry thoughts set in. It doesn’t take long for you to get all worked up. You grit your teeth, ready to buck in the door and demand to know what's going on.

A thought stops you. You furrow your brow. You feel like you've been in this position before. Standing outside his door, thinking about...

Oh, yeah. You remember.

You've done it. You've done it now, you blue idiot.

Celestia, fuck, dammit, why did you have to do that? It could’ve gone so much better.

You stand before the door to his room, the day playing over and over in your head.

Right after you smacked him across the face...

“Ivan, wait!”

“I'm sorry, Ivan. I wasn't thinking. Please, just listen… Ivan, please...”

What were you thinking? Hunting him down, screaming at him in front of an entire park, and then giving him a bloody nose? What did that do for you? And because of that, here you are standing outside of his room, thinking of all the ways you screwed up. All the ways this day could have gone better.

Starting with you shrivelling up into a little ball and dying before any of this could have happened. At least he wouldn’t be pissed at you, then.

You wonder how long it is before he kicks you out.

Breaks up with you.

Finds another mare. One with a smaller mouth and a bigger head.

Imagine that, Rainbow. He won't miss you. He doesn't need you. All you ever are is a drain on him. You've only been together three days – Scratch that, were only together three days, and already you've proven yourself to be a psycho bitch. He'll be better off without you. He'll be happier with another mare.

You can't stand the thought, though. It latches on to your psyche, slowly draining you of your resolve, sucking away at the remnants of your composure.

You let out a quiet whimper as you beat yourself on the forehead with a hoof. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You don't deserve him. He deserves better. You had your chance, and you blew it.

You blew it. Just like you blew the Wonderbolts.

Just like you screw up everything.

You want to fix this. You think you can. Maybe.

Yet, everything in your body urges you, screams at you, to just run away. Run away and hide somewhere where you can’t hurt anypony. Where nopony can hurt you.

You tentatively reach for the doorknob, fighting against your thoughts. Yet, an imagined scene plays over in your head, discouraging any attempts at trying to settle things. You imagine him yelling at you, questioning what goes on in your head and pelting you with insult after insult. You’d just sit there and take it all, too.

Some masochistic part of you would enjoy that, you feel.

Your resolve weakens. You retract your hoof and slump to the floor, the dam finally bursting.

The lump in your throat doesn’t go away. Not swallowing it down it only makes your crying that much louder, to which you bury your face in your forelegs so as to not let him hear you.

Stupid. Loser. You knew you were going to lose him.

Can’t even keep a stallion for more than three days.

You fall asleep to these thoughts, curled up in a ball by his door.

You woke up a few hours later, eyes crusty and nose stuffed from crying. You dragged yourself into your room and plopped onto your bed, where you continued where you left off: sobbing hopelessly.

As it turns out, you weren’t quiet enough that time. He heard you, and walked into the room. However, instead of being angry as you expected, he was… kind. Concerned.

An excited chill runs up your spine as you recall the way he comforted you, soothed you. How that soon escalated to a kiss, then two, and then...

Maybe this’ll end in hot, sweaty sex too?

You chuckle to yourself. No, you wouldn’t count on that.

Back to the present. Your stallion’s in there. Something’s bothering him, and you’re going to do the same for him as he did for you. Show him kindness.

Especially if it means hot, sweaty sex.

Heh heh.

You’re half-naked and in the middle of taking off your pants when the door to your room opens. In walks Rainbow Dash, likely here to chew you out for acting the way you did.

Fuck. You know you acted like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but you really don’t want to deal with this…

You slip on some comfortable pants and quickly turn to rummaging through your closet. Maybe it’ll mute at least some of her yelling. God, you really don’t feel like this right now.

“Hey, Ivan,” you hear from behind. She says your name flatly, as if in a statement.

You groan, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “Yeah, Dash?”

A long pause. As you continue to dig through your clothes for something suitable, you start to wonder if she suddenly had to go to the bathroom or something. That would be weird. Not altogether unwelcome, though.

Unexpectedly, you feel a pair of forelegs wrap around your torso. Rainbow presses her body against your back and begins nuzzling you.

“You know I love you, right?” she asks, giving you a soft kiss on the neck.

Of all things… “Yeah, I know. A-and I love you too.”

Still, you can’t help but be a little suspicious. You wonder if she noticed you stutter.

If she did, she doesn’t show it. After squeezing you for a few more beats, she releases her grip, returning to the ground with a soft pomf. You hear the slow, deliberate plodding of her hoofsteps as she puts some distance between the two of you.

You take your shirt off, not bothering to perform the sacred shirtless routine of all men: looking at yourself in the mirror, checking out your biceps and abs as you flex your hardest in a poor attempt to feel manly.

You don’t really want to try this right now, though, since Rainbow’s here. The last time you tried this in front of her, she started laughing. Like, all-out guffaws, rolling on the floor and everything. That was certainly a hit to the morale, and she only apologized an hour later after she realized you were hesitant to let her see you in your underwear. She threw out some excuse that ‘I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at what you were doing.’

Knowing her, it almost sounded believable. Apologizing, but managing to throw an insult in there all the same. That’s just like her.

Which is why you have the right to suspect something here. On a normal day, you would’ve gotten an earful about your previous actions; things you regret doing, of course, but you digress.

Something’s up. You can feel it.

The bed squeaks, and the sound of a drawer being opened and idly brushed through reaches your ears. “So, Ivan,” you hear from behind you, “how was your day?”

Straight to the point, you see. A seemingly harmless question.

Met with a seemingly harmless answer. “It was fine. Went to work, worked, then came home,” is your curt reply.

You feel her eyes bore a hole into your back. You slip a shirt on.

“Anything… interesting happen today?”

Definitely prying now.

You slip your head through the hole. “Not anything I’d want to hear about, that’s for sure.”

The rustling seems to come to a halt. You, however, aimlessly dig through your closet, pretending to be looking for something even though you’re fully dressed.

You really don’t feel like putting up with this shit right now. You don’t want to talk about it, you don’t even want to try discussing it with her… Not right now, at least.

“Ivan.”

You sigh. Knowing that she’s caught on to your charade, you stop, waiting for her to continue.

“Come here.”

You turn around. The little rainbow-maned pony sits on your bed, patting a spot next to her.

Reluctantly, you do as she wants, and sit down beside her. The action bounces her a little, nearly making her lose balance and causing her wing to flare up. She plays it off by wrapping her wing around you, as if she mean to wing-hug you.

“What’s going on, dude?” she asks, concerned. “I know something’s up. You’ve been acting funny ever since you got home.”

Your eyebrow nearly up and flies away. Did she just tell you that you have been acting funny?

“I’ve been acting weird, Rainbow Dash? Me?”

She gets this confused look, as if not sure how to react. She probably hadn’t expected this response; her act was so unreadable, right? “Well – Yeah, that’s what I just said, right?”

You shake your head, not at her question, but at her awkward attempt at passive-aggressiveness. “Look, I’ll be honest here. I don’t know what it is, but you’re acting really odd right now. I think I should ask you what’s going on.”

“What?” She looks genuinely hurt at this. “But I thought – “

“You thought what? That interrupting me while I’m trying to say something to Scootaloo, and then acting like everything’s all fine and dandy immediately afterward is alright? Because on this side of the room, I’m feeling just the teeniest bit suspicious that what you’re doing right now isn’t a hundred percent genuine.”

She’s speechless for a moment. A blush settles across her cheeks and she frowns. “Are you saying I’m acting or something? That I’m a liar?”

“Well, unless you suddenly went bipolar or something – “

“Can’t I just be nice for once without you fucking questioning it?” the little blue pegasus shouts in your face as she jumps to all fours on your bed.

Okay, that’s more like her.

“Why don’t you just talk to me, dammit?!” She stamps her hoof angrily, but the soft mattress negates the effect a bit. “I care about you, I really do, so why won’t you just tell me what the fuck is wrong?”

The groaning of moving hinges puts the conversation on pause. The two of you look in the direction of the door.

A nervous-looking filly peeks her head through a small crack in the doorway. She looks between the two of you and gulps, regretting the decision to even show her face. “H-Hey, is uh… Is everything okay?”

The two of you stare at her. Another lump moves down her throat. She attempts a smile, which fails miserably.

It’s funny, really. Amidst the arguing and mind games, you’d nearly forgotten you were even mad at her. If Rainbow’s plan was to make you forget, she almost succeeded.

Almost.

“It’s fine, Scootaloo,” Rainbow says. She gives you a glance, quick but enough to tell you that if you make a sound you’re dead meat. “Just go find your friends or something, alright?”

Scootaloo seems hesitant to go. She takes a precautionary step backwards, but then decides she’s going to stand firm in her spot.

“What’s wrong, guys?”

To be honest, you’re amazed at her tenacity. Whenever your parents got into an argument even close to as loud as the ones Rainbow and you get into – which wasn’t too often – you would shrivel up in fear and make yourself as small as you possibly could. Usually, hiding someplace safe such as your room would muffle the noise a bit.

But still. Every shout, every time one of them would try to raise their voice over the other would make you cringe.

Either that girl really has guts, or not having both parents for an extended amount of time has made her forgotten how to behave in this situation.

Either way, admittedly, you’re impressed.

A fleeting sense of panic flashes across Rainbow’s face. Whether real or just a cover-up, she grits her teeth in annoyance at the filly’s persistence. “Scootaloo, I’m telling you to leave. Ivan and I are discussing something, alright?”

“What is it?” she asks ignorantly. “Maybe I can help.”

God, if only she knew…

“Scootaloo.” Her patience has worn thin. “Leave. Now.”

The small orange pegasus stands firm, choosing to defy the command.

Well then, if she really wants to know…

“Maybe you can help,” you say, an edge to your voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by the other two in the room. You pause for a moment, looking from the shocked blue pegasus – with whom the situation has started to spin out of control – to the half-as-surprised filly in the doorway.

She’s looking a bit nervous now, sorry that she hadn’t listened to the wise advice of Rainbow Dash. “Okay… How?”

“I have some questions, and you are going to answer them,” you say.

Scootaloo blanches at your tone. This is exactly what Rainbow has been trying to avoid. “Ivan…” she hisses.

You ignore her. “First question, Scootaloo. Remember that day we got food at Sugarcube Corner?” At her nod, you continue. “Where did you say you were that day? I forget.”

You can see her already shuffling under the scrutiny. “I hung out with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.”

It looks like her alias holds up; that’s what she said that day as well. Still, you notice that that’s the same thing she’s said every day. “And…?”

The guilty look in her eyes says everything. She’s busted, and she knows it; she’s just attempting to stall, now. “A-and what?”

“And did you go anywhere else?” You furrow your brow, the heat of your gaze causing her to take an involuntary step back.

She bites her lip and her eyes dart around the room, as if looking for some way out of this, some kind of escape... “Yes…” she finally says.

“Where?”

Rainbow interjects. “Ivan, you’re acting like she’s some kind of suspect. Stop treating her like this, it’s like an interrogation – “

“Rainbow, be quiet.”

The room goes silent. Those three words, spoken quietly but with a piercing edge, cut Rainbow off mid-sentence. For a moment, her jaw drops; but that quickly morphs into an expression you know all too well.

You swear you feel the temperature in the room rise a few degrees.

“What did you just say, dipshit?” Every word is enunciated clearly and concisely, leaving no doubt as to the malice behind them.

At this point, you – and any other sane person – would have backed off. But tonight… You’ve been dealing with so much shit lately. You really don’t feel like putting up with any more.

Fuck this. “I said, be quiet. Do you need me to say it again? ‘Cause I will: shut your mouth for once.”

She looks like she’s been stabbed. Angrily. “I’ll- I’ll shut my mouth when I want to shut it, you idiot!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “‘You idiot’? You sound like a fucking child. You see why I get tired of you talking sometimes?”

She rears up, one of her wings flaring out. You’re guessing she was about to fly up and get in your face, but couldn’t due to her other wing being in a cast.

This only seems to frustrate her more. When she comes back down to all fours, she forcefully stomps the rug, causing all the windows in the room to shudder.

“Why are you acting like such a jerk? I was just trying to be nice, and then you fucking turn it all around on me.”

“Oh, really? When the hell were you being nice? Because I really can’t remember.”

Her voice catches in her throat for a moment. Her lips tremble, and she swallows a lump. “You’re an asshole, you know that?!”

“And you’re a loud bitch! Do you ever even think about what you’re saying, or do you spout things as soon as they pop into that empty head of yours?”

A loud clack sounds off, and a fiery pain shoots up your leg. That leg gives out, causing you to fall to your knee, clutching the spot on your shin where hoof met bone. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts completely focused on the knot forming under your hands and the cause for it.

That bitch.

When you finally open your eyes and look up, you see Rainbow standing before you. She holds her shaking hoof out in front of her, her breathing ragged.

“Don’t… Don’t you ever…” Steam spews forth from her nostrils, most likely ventilating the fire in her eyes. “...call me stupid. You hear me?!” If anything, she’s succeeded in her goal of getting in your face.

You say nothing, afraid that she might actually attack you this time. After a few long moments of her puffing hot air into your face, she turns around, walking to the other side of the room and away from you.

“Get out.”

You sit there silently, staring a hole into the back of her multi-colored head. Neither of you move, neither of you talk.

Minutes go by. Finally, steadying yourself on the bed, you rise to your feet.

You walk to the doorway. Scootaloo left a long time ago, it seems.

The door moves automatically, slamming behind you as you exit. You wince at the sound, but don’t look back.

A lump forms at the back of your throat. You swallow it down, leaving your airways clear for your hot, shaky breathing.

Of all things to pop into your head at the moment, you begin to wonder about how you went from sitting on the bed to cringing on the floor. You don’t even remember, everything is so hazy...

You need to go for a walk.

Author's Note

Got it done in under a month this time, yippee me!

Thanks go to Jazzaman and an Anonymous Gopher for pre-reading!