Zmtgdt0W

1Saturday
2	In the penultimate Earthspin of the sevenlong, a pair of see-globe covers tremored, then vanished. The sleep-place within the look-gallery, the lash-flaps removed it several times while your live-motor cranked itself to a start-place. A small windtorrent of de-oxided breath-gas fled from your lip-circle, the pink edges of which smacked wearilously. At the summoning of your up-limbs, a blockade of the port-homed member is brought to mind-view.
3	A minor retrieval was sought, and, arm-stayed, you direct your observating-ovals to the predicted home of the move-enemy. You kill the quiet air-bite in your throat-tube with the free five-finger over your facehole. The wake-noise stopped, the anti-mover remains considerated in your stilled top-globe. For the arm-trap is none other than your very own aunt-spawn, the El Doradon personette Apple Bloom. Her front cushions lift and unlift with her vacillatory oxide-feast, captivorating your thought-place entirely. Her port up-looking, the homed up-reacher cloaks your own high-chest. Dainty fifth-longs hang over your starboard top, faint-sweeping it at intervals. 
4	Both tragesorrowedly and unwished luck-holding, your semi-lovepal was cloaked in a T-shape of the Southern whitefluffs and double-longs of the rough-blue. The bottom-standers were cutiferously unheld, adore-calling end-nubs clenching and unclenching as their homes swayed with the un-normed temperature. A bouquet of cherry ultra-thins homeseized your lefting-grabstick, the soft-wrap of the snoresquare, and even part of your limb-base. Curiousasking why the ticklebearing rosethreads didn’t untriple-z you pre-now, your collect-sift the animesque waywarders to a more together-bound area. 
5	Unthinking of wakecausing, the proper course solestands, your see-globes cannot but shimmer upon the beautyowner. The livegranting regalite, somehow miraculized into your gratefilled embrace. Brown youthspots over her puffcircles and olfactory organ adorable to the max. Her speakmaker crescented in some enjoyitude, evercute. Willingless to desirecease, your hand lovestrokes the see-treat’s blushholder, the smoothflesh liplifting your still dazed personage. 
6	With the tendersweep, the residual resident of the refugous nocturnal imaginarium stirs. The shortquake of the halfduo alarms you after-caught, your lovesnugg mitt still her-homed when sunshone see-globes encapture your sightform. Uncontent with usual cornerlip-heightening, her reaction up-antes to a personpaw mouthmeet. Enjubified and butterflated, you switch your stroketool with your own mouthpiece, lightly liplocking with the femalian friendlove. Emotative topbulbs parted, hilarious shypbreaths were lost to the atmosphere. But peril, ever banished for littletime, rode in upon shrill woodraps. Three bonks stageset the impestuous call:
7	“Boyguest?” Doublepairs of flabbergastic alarms meet, follow by the sweetbreath of the prime planner.
8	“Pseudosleep, speedily!” Upperholders unweave and topbulbs featherfall soundless to the bodywarmer, your bodies devicinitated to each other. No sooner than the chaste tableau apparates than the fourwalls is impaired, an easthole bearing the a second personette, triple appled. Viewing the hornified hiders, a pair of citrous lips imply a protectorating discontent. With a falsitous deep cough, you’re cued to informize the toe-tapping invesitigant. Subpoenaless, your bedmate intersects, placepilfering the hotseat designed for you. 
9	Cinematoriously, the pro-you Apple hammocks her highglobe in double personpaws, lazylooking at the duellish trespasser. Tumbox hidly tingling, the present unsleeper awaits, first move declining. Crosslimbed, the inquisitor enquests explanation, the suspectily gossipfodder unaloneable. The responder’s headfront is undazed, unproblemed. AJ depatiently words the lewd potential pre-now causes of doublysleeping, unbuying the innocence. Uprighting herself to a greater degree, the defending personette mouthsounds another tale, a pre-now mirror of unsame cousins. Chestsinking, the listener rightpredicts the incoming names: her own, and Braeburn. 
10	Backfooted, the now-focused elder wordswats away the implicatory rejoinder, the defenses failworthy. A mere topeye brush-raise is enough to wordstop the blusher, retractily wording some apology as she hurries exitwards. The wallhole shuts, fading footdrops indicating the disapperated danger. Sightsafe and deperilized, you celebratiously lovepour into the salvatory sweetheart, ultimatedly tilting girlwards. The pro-pair recipient pinkifies at the saxifragous encoupling. Toplimbs rewrapped in the safespace of inhabitory fourwalls, interrupters unexpected. You unspot the both, brazefully amorating the chest cushions as he arranged a superior lesiurelay. 
11	Horizontalized, the permissing pal halfcrawled on your tophalf, starboard limbs curled pleasurily over. Minutepassing with the girlish loveholder, you lose yourself in the splendidspot of being a subqueen’s alphaknight. Palmfives poke through the rosethreads, eliciting a puffchested lovegroan. Her rapturous see-globes vectorize to your headfront, appreciously lovelusting the lipgrasp once more. Syncroniziously thoughtful and message receiving, you wishgrant the lovebuddy. Timelocked, the sunfurthers into the clearwalls, lightbathing your effulgent belover. 
12	Eventualending, you fastly persongrasp the treasure, closeness the prize. Responding lasciviously, your own toppiece constricts in the ecstatic yougrip of the amoriscious emotator. An unfinal retreat leaves you personless, a necessary redress calling to both halfpairs. Waterfall intending, a pretendinvite spurs schemes in each, the jokelaughs fading in the seriousing of youngwishes. A futurepromise threatens to lovesplode the doubleheart, and the wallhole begins anew. But before the sleepspace singlizes, the depantsing of the male begs a stillstay. Unshirting, the watchgirl fins her previous pretense of innocence boyheld as you casualsearch for your nextcovers, boxerbound solely. At the rehiding, you drop a see-globe cover to the flushcheeked watcher, who, untranced, finds the fourwalls exitable once more.
13
14---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
15
16	Slowly, through a torrent of vivid dreams, Saturday came around. The last day of the week, the last day of your visit with the Apples, crept into your blinking eyes through the early sun. You blinked a few times, barely blocking out the light, which still crept in through that hazy red of a sun through closed lids. Your head and heart begin to stir, transitioning to a more lively state. You breathe in deeply, letting loose a great yawn. In those stretches that bring awareness of the body, you find your left arm unable to move. You try to move it again and, still failing, glance over to identify the source of the impairment. 
17	Laying atop your arm is Apple Bloom, looking as radiant as she ever did in the bright sunbeam. Another yawn is cut off midway by your hand clasping over your mouth, suddenly desiring quiet. Her back is on the bed, her chest rising and falling slowly with her relaxed breaths. The rise and fall of the fair breasts captivates you for a moment, your staring face frozen for a moment. Your silent adoration eventually ends, allowing you to look at the rest of her. Her left arm is laid gently over her stomach, traveling across to the right side, with the hand dangling over. Her little fingers are close to your own chest, the occasional shifts from her breathing making them brush you very lightly. 
18	Unfortunately, but probably fortunately, she’s clothed in a light cotton shirt and some jeans from yesterday. Her feet lack socks and shoes, looking cute at her toes furl and unfurl in those natural reactions of the non-static temperature. You try to remember if you’ve given her a foot massage yet. You feel like you have, but nothing comes to mind, and so you resolve to get one in there somewhere. Her rosy hair has cast in all directions, coating the hand that came from under Apple Bloom, her shoulders, and a little bit of your own chest. You wonder why the ticklish strands didn’t wake you up before, and try to brush them into a less-crazy area.
19	But you hadn’t thought of the possibility of her waking; your mind was still stuck in the singular function of appreciation this gorgeous girl you’d spent the night with. Surprisingly, though not justifiably so, she stirs, her own eyelids fluttering as she tried to snatch wakefulness. The adorable little yawn makes your head swim with affection, multiplied by the following grin as she recognizes you. Your hand moves, seemingly off its own accord, lightly stroking her cheek in dazed affection. Her grin widens at the tender display of love, and she places a light kiss on your hand as it passes by. Feeling as though your heart may burst, you pull her into a long hug, the failure to connect as fully as possible unthinkable. She pulls off just a little bit, then immediately solves your confusion with a kiss. 
20	Your moment, tragically, doesn’t last. Just as you’re about to step up your kiss, shrill raps can be heard upon the door, followed by a piercing call.
21	“Anon?” It’s Applejack; for the first time, the notion of her makes your heart sink. As good of a friend and family member she is, you find yourself wishing she’d fucking stop and go away. The continued knocking informs you that your wish is ungranted. Apple Blooms eyes, filled with alarm, meet yours. The realization that this is not only a disruption of your romance, but a potential injury to it, fills yours with the same. Her voice, still sweet under the fear, comes quickly and quietly.
22	“Quick, pretend to sleep!” Your arms unweave, both bodies falling soundlessly on your bed, not too close to each other. Your portrayal of an innocent scene is completed just in time, the door opening not a moment after your pretense is complete. Her lips purse as she spies the scene, your frozen forms not enough to push her away. She taps her foot and coughs loudly, inviting you to an interrogation. But before you can respond, the shifting of your younger cousin alerts you to her volunteering. She assumes a look of pure innocence, not too hard for her, and places her head in hands, supported by elbows propped on the bed. Her nervousness doesn’t show while she waits for AJ to speak first. 
23	“So, ya wanna explain this?” 
24	“Explain what?” You’re worried she’s piling on the naiveté a little thick, but you trust her anyway.
25	“Somebody lookin’ atcha like this might assume something… a little more than what family oughta be doin’.” Apple Bloom looks down at you and herself, then turns up to her with am able response:
26	“Who’s gonna see besides you? Ah mean, you’re the only one that’d come here an’ see anything.”
27	“That’s not the point. Ah mean, Ah don’t know if anything happened. Should Ah be thinking so?” The hidden question of what you and Apple Bloom were was nearly tangible; you wonder if Apple Bloom can still get you off without lying. From what she’d told you, AJ was something of a lie detector. But Apple Bloom takes a different route, trying to divert her.
28	“Well, Ah don’t know, AJ. Should Ah have assumed something when Ah saw you an Braeburn sleepin’ on your bed together?” AJ turns bright red, facing the wall. She looks for something to say, but can’t find an answer. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom goes on: “Ah mean, Ah don’t know if you two were wearing clothes like me an’ Anon here, seein’ as y’all were under the covers…”
29	“Alright, alright!” AJ nearly shouts, throwing her hands up in surrender. She still just looks around, trying to find something to say. Nothing can be found, and she leaves quietly, apologizing about the accusation. Under the growing shock that AJ might have had a similar experience that you were having now, you feel a little bad about shutting her down so hard. But still, if it gets you to be with Apple Bloom, you’ll take it. Hearing the door close, you finally rise from your pretended slumber to see your dearest cousin grinning in triumph. Immediately she jumps on you, kissing you deeply in continuance of your halted outpouring of love. Your arms wrap around another as you make out heavily, and you try to keep your hips from moving thrusting forward, as they so wanted to do.
30	Eventually, one of you does pull away, though it isn’t clear who. You do have to get ready for the day, after all. You hop off of the bed, promising the kissing session will be resumed at a later time. Trying to hide your erection, you make your way over to the dresser. She gets off as well, moving towards the doorway.
31	“Ah’m gonna go take a shower.”
32	“Mind if I join you?” you ask, initially in mockery, then realize the underlying seriousness. She blushes at the thought, not wanting to admit how much she wanted it to. 
33	“Ah think, with what just happened…” she trails off, regretfully understanding that you should probably not test the waters right not. But she does glance back up at you, a determined look in her eye: “Eventually, though.”
34	“Yeah,” you affirm, as she smiles once more and opens the door. Before she goes, you drop your pants, not thinking of her as somebody you should be clothed around. Your shirt taken off, you’re now solely in boxers, the full light of the morning shining on you. She stops her exit, staring lasciviously at your unnoticing form. You notice her watching, and give her a quick wink as you pull some new clothes on. Removed from her trance, she finally leaves your room, hoping you don’t hear how heavy her breaths have got.
35	As you see her leave, you yawn again, rubbing your eyes. In the absence of Apple Bloom, the delirium of the morning fades away, though not without leaving a small tinge of magic. You walk over to the edge of the bed and sit, trying to clear your head from the stubborn cloud of sleep. For the most part, you’re feeling pretty refreshed and awake. Stretching out, you can feel your muscles tingle, ready for the grape-stomping of today. Still, you take a minute before you go off to shower; Apple Bloom is probably still using it anyway. You can feel the soft give of the mattress, depressed beneath your weight. Your torso leans back, both hands extending in the same direction, keeping you at a 45 degree angle above the bed. You toss your head and take a deep breath. A clear head and full lungs portend a good day ahead. With your head falling back, you smile with eyes closed in the simple enjoyment of where you are right now. The bliss invites a full fall, and you give ion, letting your torso lightly smack the top of the bed in a muffled thump. Your body calls for another stretch, delighting in the feeling of such. After a few soft half-yawns, you finally push yourself off the bed and stand up. 
36	You walk over to the door and head out into the hallway. The nearby bathroom still holds light coming from beneath it, indicating its occupation. But before you can turn around and continue the wait, the door opens, and a vision comes through. Wet hair, long and straight falls down the shoulders of your little cousin. The darker red color parts as she tilts her head to the side, exposing her eyes to a greater degree. The light copper skin of her face and shoulders disappears beneath the veil of a brilliant white towel, ending just below her hips. Your eyes travel to the lower end of the towel, where the shining, glorious legs erupt from the cotton fields. A breathy gasp makes its way past your lips, mortifying and flattering in one spontaneous motion. Coughing, you try to distance yourself from the many seconds spent staring, and greet her happily.
37	“Hey Apple Bloom.” You go in for a hug, the type of greeting pretty common and immensely desired. You realize only a second later that she isn’t returning it. Stepping back, you see her giggling features, still joyous from your earlier ocular compliment.  She shrugs, saying,
38	“Ah’d hug ya back, but Ah think Ah’d lose my towel.” You nod, trying to believe that that’d be a bad thing.
39	“Oh yeah, definitely don’t want that to happen.” Your insincerity comes out in an almost subtle sarcasm, unfortunately caught by her. She blushes, then bites her lip. 
40	“Well, Ah’ll see ya in a minute.” With both parties unsure of how to address the mutual desire to see each other fully, you’re not too unhappy at the ending of the conversation. Still, you’re never a fan of her image disappearing into her room; but it’s not like you can follow her or anything. Ignoring the fantasies that streak into your mind like unforeseen fireworks, you blush and head into the steamy bathroom. It smells like her. You try to clear your head while walking into the shower. But the mental images of her in this space are a little too much to ignore. A good fifteen minutes later, your shower ends, your heart rate significantly dropped after the relaxing experience. You dry yourself off, then put your clothes back on. Heading out of the bathroom, you’re greeted once more by Apple Bloom, who’s jumping up and down in short bursts. 
41	“Hey AB-“
42	“Blueberry pancakes!” She returns your greeting with great news, the words bringing a huge smile to your face. You fucking love blueberry pancakes. In response to the news and her still hopping body, you jump along with her.
43	“No way!” She nods her head up and down in that excited way as she counters your claim. 
44	“Way!”
45	“Those are like, my favorite!”
46	“Ah know!” Wait a minute. You stop your hopping and tilt your head curiously, not having recalled imparting that information. 
47	“Wait, how’d you know?”
48	“You told me!” 
49	“I did?” She stops jumping for a minute, placing her forefinger on her lip as she assumes a thoughtful pose. Looking to her upper right, she explains.
50	“Well, on our date, you were telling me about this one time you were tellin’ me about how you’d slept over, way back when you were in third grade. That means Ah was in kindergarten at the time…” She trails off as she compares her timeline to yours, before snapping to attention and continuing. “An’ you said that in the morning his mom made you blueberry pancakes, and you’d loved ‘em since!” You’re a little awed that she remembered such an insignificant detail of an insignificant story, and feel your heart swell a bit at that. A pretty girl paying attention, noticing, remembering you is always good; but when that girl is Apple Bloom? Your cheeks flush, just a little bit, but enough to be noticed and to surprise both parties. You’re going to say something to break the silence, but you don’t actually know what to say here.
51	“Uh… thanks.” What would be an awkward, somewhat discouraging response is alleviating by your obvious happiness, and Apple Bloom smiles brightly at the appreciation. Grabbing your hand, she bolts down the stairs, a motion joined immediately by the necessity of your holder and excitement over the destination. You tromp down the halls, loud clanging heard when you pass over the kitchen area. The stairs fly under you boisterous sprint, the hubbub unnoticed by either of you. Your minds are on pancakes and held hands, and nothing could penetrate your attentions but the entrance of the first or disappearance of the second. The former appears before you, bringing the latter as you part for plates. Dishing up, you fill yours to the brim and sit down, the table filled only by the lush plates and two cousins. As you devour your meal, a thought crawls into your mind. There’s nobody else here right now, and these pancakes are still steaming from their being cooked. It becomes clear that Apple Bloom had made them, not Granny or AJ, as you’d expected. You ask her, just to be sure.
52	“Hey, did you make these yourself?” She looks up, then closes her eyes and nods vehemently. A piece of waffle, not fully placed in her mouth, interrupts the sweet curves of her smile. You feel your own eyes crinkle as a similar expression works its way across your face. Something about that small act of making you breakfast fills you with a greater happiness than you’d expect. You really want to hug her, but she’s on the other side of the trouble. Uh… Hmmm. Yeah, screw it. Without thinking past your decision to do so, you stand up and quickly walk to the other side of the table, kneeling down, and giving her a big hug. She squeaks a little as you embrace her, and does her best to return the gesture from her somewhat awkward position. Finishing, you return to your seat and resume eating, though not without flashing a little grin and explaining: “Couldn’t help myself.” She’s visibly delighted at your inability to hold back your happy gratitude. Both of you continue eating, and finish up after a little while. Looking at your empty plates, you think you see a way to repay her. 
53“Hey, I can do the dishes for you if you’d like.” Again she looks pleased at the gesture, but doesn’t find it necessary.
54	“That’s alright, Anon. Since Ah made it, the others gotta clean up; family rule.” 
55	“And that doesn’t include me?”
56	“Not if Ah don’t want it to. And since you’re a guest, Ah’m not gonna make you.” Well, you kinda hoped you could respond to her kindness this way, but you’re not going to mourn the loss of dish-duty. Your stomach full, you lean back and release a hefty yawn. 
57>Your mind turns towards the events of the day as you look on the slowly brightening room. 
58	“So we’re gonna go stomp grapes today, right?” She bobs her head in a quick nod, wearing that closed-eyed smile you’ve come to love.
59	“Yup!” 
60	“Cool. So when’s that start?” She touches her finger to her lip, then glances at the clock behind her. 
61	“Right around 2’o’clock. So we got about… four and a half hours to kill.” Geez, was it really that early? This is your last full day, so you don’t wanna waste any time just hanging around. The thought of the finality of the day sends a tight clenching to your stomach. You take a deep breath, and try to ignore it. You’re not going to screw up your last day by filling it with worry. If anything, you’re going to make sure you appreciate it as much as possible. Just as you’re trying to stick to your affirmation, trying to push away the fear of a wasted day, AJ and Big Mac come in. Both have hands up to their faces in nearly synchronized yawns; AJ’s is recently risen and her brother’s is on the descent. 
62	“Morning, guys.” AJ says quietly. You respond in kind, and Apple Bloom joins you. Big Mac gives the two of you a small nod, which you also return. AJ’s eyes find the stack of only slightly steaming pancakes, then smiles sleepily.
63	“Ah thought Ah smelled something nice. Y’all made some pancakes?”
64	“Yup! Blueberry ones!” your youngest cousin says cheerily. This elicits a wider curve from AJ’s mouth, and a hint of one from Big Mac, though you may be imagining it. As Big Mac and AJ dish up, you casually ask Bloom about pre-stomping plans.
65	“So, d’ya wanna do anything before we go grape stomping?” She nods, her eyes focusing on you. Her reply comes lazily, her eyes glazing over as she stares at you. As you’ve spoken, your arms have crossed in front of you, your chest unknowingly pushed out. The more or less masculine pose, completely overlooked by you, captures Apple Bloom’s blossoming interest. She’s loved the way you’ve looked since you first came, from your different style of clothes than the boys at her school, to the specific ways you carried yourself when you walked and stood. But here, the amorous appreciation breaks into the next level, your motions and posture bringing her attention fully to you.
66	“Uh-huh.” You look up to the right, trying to figure out something to do. Your finger rises to your bottom lip, and Apple Bloom continues her dreamy gaze. Not used to feeling this way, Apple Bloom isn’t self-conscious enough to stop herself from leering at you. Meanwhile, you’ve never been looked over as you’re being now, and so you fail to recognize what’s happening. You’ve never really noticed the girls who’ve crushed on you, nor understood what it was that made girls like a guy, besides muscles and charm. Naturally, not being terribly gifted in either section, you hadn’t expected any girl to grant you that breathless look you received now. You realize that she might have an input, you turn towards her and ask her.
67	“Is there anything you’re wanting to do?” She nods, still looking at you with barely blinking, heavy lidded eyes. Suddenly noticing her expression, your heart leaps in your chest and you breathe in quickly. You’ve never seen that look on her face before, but it’s definitely something to make your heart beat faster. Her reverie snaps in a moment, and she does a little shake of her head before answering. 
68	“Uh, yeah. Wait. Ah mean, no. Can’t really think of anything.” She blushes and looks down, becoming aware of that her rapt staring might have been noticed. But neither of her siblings saw, and you weren’t the kind of guy that could identify the look. Still, she didn’t know that, and tries to transfer any spotlight on her over to you. “What about you?” You think for a moment, bringing your finger to your lip once more. Going through the possibilities of both your interests and the speedy list the CMC had given you yesterday, you pick out one that seems pretty good. 
69	“Yeah. Uh, do you wanna go get a coffee or something?” Apple Bloom’s never been a really big coffee drinker. She can’t even remember the last time she’d had some, except a sip here and there from AJ’s rare trips. But she’d go just about anywhere for you, so she agrees without hesitation. 
70	“Yeah! I love coffee!” AJ and Big Mac both give her skeptical looks, which she studiously ignores. You grin at the acceptance, having missed the taste of coffee since you’ve been here. Most of the time you’d been preoccupied with the other events, but here and there a wave of weariness would crash over you, making you miss the hot, comforting drink. 
71	“Sweet!” Your lack of familiarity arises, and with it, the lack of a destination. You struggle to figure out if you’d passed any on your date-night or the other trips into town, but nothing comes to mind. You look over at the three Apples, and speak to none in particular. “Where’s a coffee shop around here? The three Apple as look up, the oldest and youngest trying to figure out if there is one, and AJ trying to remember where one is. You take the silence as a sign that there might not be one, and ask with the slightest of worry: “There is one, right?” Big Mac shrugs his shoulders at the same time that AJ responds.
72	“Yeah, we got one. Starbucks in right by the Target, just behind the McDonalds.” She speaks more to Apple Bloom than you, who is definitely a better navigator in this context than you. “Ah think there’s a stand somewhere near the church. Right by Baskin Robins.” Apple Bloom looks confused at the second one, then nods her head vigorously as the memory returns to her. 
73	“Yeah, ok! Ah remember now!” There’s another concern that brushes across your mind. What if the other two wanted to go? You really didn’t want to bring them along, but you weren’t sure how to clarify that. You decide to just ask for the keys and head out, hoping they’ll pick up on the implication. 
74	“Hey, where’s the keys to the caddy?”
75	“Ya wanna take that thing again?” Well, yeah. AJ looks a little uneasy, for some reason or another. It’s not normally used, except in very rare cases; twice in a week is something the tradition-loving girl isn’t used to. Maybe it was one of those things they just keep around, like a knick-knack? You push the thought away, the notion of that car falling into disuse being too much for you to bear. Cars like that needed to be paraded around, and filled with beautiful people like Apple Bloom, not sit in a garage and rot. Before you can inquire further, Apple Bloom speaks out on your behalf.
76	“Aw, come on AJ. He’s our special guest.” Her voice stretches out the word ‘special,’ and her eyes goes puppyish. ”Pleeeeeeease?” One of those two factors, reason or cuteness, get the better of AJ, and she grants you the use of the car. 
77	“Yeah, alright. Just be careful with it. It’s kind of a family heirloom, if that makes sense.” You guess it does; you don’t know the history behind it, but you can see something like that being treasured and passed down.
78	“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.” You grin as you promise her, hoping she’ll recall your love of cars. She smiles in return, understanding.
79	“Yeah, I reckon you will. After all, if you scratch her up, Ah’m gonna be tanning your hide.” She responds good-naturedly, knowing you’re not gonna do anything to mess it up. You head over to the nearby key-rack, happy that it’ll just be the two of you. 
80>After the risk fades, you realize that it wasn’t ever really an issue. 
81>With Big Mac being as quiet and socially recessive as he is, and with AJ’s embarrassment over this morning, neither of them was likely to offer to be a companion or chaperone. Grabbing the keys, you immediately head over to the garage, motioning for Apple Bloom to come with. She does, and the two of you reenter the car.
82	Man, even though it’s only been- what, a day and a half? – you feel some strong, pleasant memories of that night. The sweet girl beside you buckles herself in, then looks happily to you. As you return the brilliant gleam as best you can, you realize you’re never gonna get over that smile of hers. That cheer, directed at you, caused by you; if you were asked a week ago if you could feel this happy, you’d have laughed in the questioner’s face. It was almost too good to be true, but with the evidence shining on you, not two feet away, you can’t deny it. The urge to kiss her, an impulse that’s become increasingly more common, starts to rise in you. Looking around to make sure nobody’s entered the room, you move your head forward and kiss her lightly on the lips. You move your head back and turn towards the back window to begin your exit. Her expression makes it clear that she wished you’d stayed so she could return the kiss; but since you didn’t, she makes do with blushing and biting her lip slightly. Her amorous eyes stay on you, barely seen due to the need to maneuver a couple tons of metal around some delicate fixtures. But eventually you do get out of the garage, scratchless, and drive off onto the main road.
83	The bumpy road sets both of you thumping up and down in your seats, and you think you hear a squeak after a particularly large pothole. You turn to her, who faces away with carefully crafted poise, then looks at you as if nothing happened and she has no idea why you would ever ask if something had. You can’t help but smile, then look her over. Her legs are crossed, the thighs more than a little visible beneath the short bottoms of her overalls. The straps above go down lower than you think it’s supposed to, connecting to the front portion just beneath her breasts. Both straps are placed right over her perfect chest, looking like they’d barely cover her nipples, had another barrier not been in place beneath. Underneath her coveralls is a light white tank top, with a small lace-border. It isn’t quite see-through, but it’s thin enough to make you stare a little longer than a driver should. Her cute little feet sit atop some dark blue flip flops, which had been cast off upon entering. The cool blue denim of the material strikes a brilliant contrast against the burnished gleam of her gilded legs, perfectly tanned past the natural paleness. Gosh, this girl makes it hard to look at the road. 
84	As you fly forward, the occasional farm houses make way for thicker clusters of neighborhoods, then actual stores as you enter the town proper. The sudden arrival of the squat squares, filled with advertisements for things you don’t want, kinda make you miss the country road before. A lone dirt road, with nothing besides seas of farms and the occasional home, was rare for you. In fact, you don’t think you’ve seen a single other car on that road yet. It was a little refreshing in a way you didn’t know how to describe. You couldn’t really place it, but there was something about that quiet little road -no, the whole farm really- that appealed to you. The most you could say was that it felt light; like you could breathe there. Not fully understanding your thoughts, and dissatisfied with your inability to define that allure, you try to change your thoughts. Apple Bloom pipes up, interrupting your thoughts at the right time, and guides you over to the little coffee shop they’d spoken of earlier.
85
86
87
88------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
89You are now Apple Bloom.
90
91	“Alrighty now, just take a left right after that Baskin Robbins.” You shift in your overalls, trying to get a little more comfy. Boy, were you excited. Maybe it was just a little coffee date, but still: it was a date! With him! You were a little worried that he might catch onto your being a coffee greenhorn, but you think you could play it off. Even if you couldn’t, you doubt he’d really mind. With the way he’s been acting towards you, his not-so-subtle glances in the car included, told you he probably wouldn’t be too mad. You still can’t believe that he likes you; it almost feels like a dream. You’ve looked at yourself in the mirror a few times, and thought you were alright; that, and your two besties attested to you being beautiful. Still, you had your doubts; you were kinda scrawny, and your chest certainly wasn’t as big as other girls’. What’s worse is your build: you had a few more muscles than other girls your age (you’ve been working on a farm since you were a kid, so what could you expect?). And even though they weren’t anything huge, you still got teased for the little definition you had by Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
92	But Anon still stared, and when he touched you with those magic hands… Golly, that boy knows how to work a girl. You mean, a body. Anon knows how to work a body. Gosh, this isn’t getting any better. You try to control your blush as you step out of the car. The hot summer air pushes out the cold breeze of the Caddy’s AC, a pleasant transition for you. There’s nothing like that sweet, summer heat. Especially if you could find place in the shade (which was different from it actually being cooler, darnit), or get a cool drink to even it out. You take a minute to wonder if coffee can be cold. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve heard that somewhere before. You don’t really know any dedicated coffee drinkers, and AJ never describes hers beyond ‘just coffee.’ Looking over, Anon’s form rises from the other side of the car, then meets yours as you move to the front of the car. He takes a step forward, opening the door for you.
93	“Aw, what a gentleman,” you say, echoing your thoughts. He gets this giddy little grin that he tries to hide, which just makes him even cuter. “Ah’m glad chivalry isn’t dead.”
94	“Not here, anyway.” He says, following behind you. The store is a small little place, with only a handful of tables, chairs and one couch spread out in the customer’s area. The first thing that stands out is the art: there’s this black and white picture of Clint Eastwood hanging over one of the tables, and another of that Nirvana guy, you think. Then there are the paintings made directly on the red and white walls, including a woman with the head of an alligator and another with the head of a zebra. The former has a ludicrously long tail that goes all over the walls, ending behind a metal sign with the image of Betty Boop. The walls themselves are mostly white, with a red outline, and a red line just above the lower perimeter, looking something like one a’ those heartbeat machines. In one spot, the line turns into what looks like a picture of a city, with one weird looking structure in the center. It’s a big pointy thing, with a flat line at the top of it; something about it seems familiar. It’s gonna bug you all day if you don’t find out, so you ask your cousin.
95	“Hey Anon, d’ya know what that’s supposed to be?” You ask him, tugging on his hand and pointing to the weird looking building. His eyes squint, then light up in realization. 
96	“That’s the Space Needle! Oh man, I’ve always wanted to go there!” You’re still a bit behind.
97	“What’s the Space Needle?” He seems pretty excited as he explains. It’s an uncommon expression for him, and one you love seeing.
98	“It’s this huge, sort-of skyscraper thing that they built in Seattle for a World’s Fair. I think. Apparently you can see the whole city from it, and it rotates, and there’s even a restaurant! Well, that’s what one of my friends told me. I’ve wanted to take a trip there for ages, but I never actually could.” 
99	“Well, what’s stoppin’ ya?” He frowns, then scratches his head.
100	“Uh… Actually, nothing. I was too young or too busy before, but this summer, I think I could actually go there myself.” He trails off, looking into the air. Something apparently clicks in his head, and he looks down to you with the same suppressed smile as before. “Hey, would you wanna go see the Space Needle with me?” Yes! Yes, you would. Would they let you? You’re not sure if you could pay for it, and you’re a little averse to asking for money. Not to mention, they usually wanted an adult to chaperone you if you were ever going out of town. Wait, that second one might not be an issue here. You try to hide your sincere wish and excitement, not wanting to let him down if you can’t go. 
101	“You’re an adult, right? Ah mean, you’re eighteen?”
102	“Sure am. I mean, I don’t really feel like an adult, but I’m not gonna argue with the government over that.” Sweet, so that’s one thing down. You’ll ask your older sister later about the money thing, and for permission at that. It isn’t certain if she’ll say yes, but that’s why you have your plan B: ask Granny. AJ was mostly in charge, so it was more or less her call, but she always listened to Granny, and Granny listened to you more. It felt kind of like cheating to make a plan to go around AJ’s back, but sometimes AJ got a little too strict, and she knew it. If it was a bad idea, Granny wouldn’t say yes either, so its not as if you were tricking anyone, just getting a second opinion. Like how people do with doctors. The moral quandary solved, you finally respond to your waiting boy. 
103	“Ah gotta ask for the money and permission, so Ah’ll get back to you on that.” His hopeful face drops slightly at the non-yes answer, and he makes another offer. 
104	“Ok, I understand. But if money’s a problem, I can take care of that.” You look at him with widened eyes, somehow not expecting the charitable action. It’s not as if you expected him to be stingy, but still… you didn’t know how much that’d cost.
105	“Are ya sure?” He nods affirmingly, confident in his funds. This was great! You were still gonna ask for money from the family bank account, just so you didn’t have to take anything you didn’t absolutely needed. But still, if you got negatives for that, you could bring up his offer. So all you really needed was permission. Delighted at the shrunken potential obstacle, you bring Anon into a tight embrace. 
106	“Thank you!” He hugs you in return, saying nothing beyond the tight squeezing. The embrace breaks, and he changes the subject:
107	“Alright, now let’s get some coffee.”
108	Oh jeez, you’d forgotten. The two of you approach the counter, your worry over keeping the lie afloat increasing when you see the nonsensical titles on the board behind you. You don’t know what half of these words mean. Anon steps up first, and you don’t follow him.
109	“You got any specials today?” The barista, a tall brunette, replies cheerfully.
110	“Today we’re introducing the Nitrous N20! It’s like our regular White Rockets, but with a couple extra shots in it.” Anon looks intrigued, but doesn’t take her up on the offer.
111	“Huh. You know, I think I’ll just go with a black and white mocha, with two shots of black.”
112	“And would you like whipped cream with that.” He grins like a little kid:
113	“Heck yeah!” Then her turns to you, noticing that you’re far enough from the counter to look like another customer. “Come on, Apple Bloom, I’m paying.” You walk up to the girl, hiding hesitance. You pretend to peruse the menu, then say nonchalantly:
114	“I’ll take a coffee.” Both Anon and the barista look at you with confusion. Great job, Apple Bloom. The latter speaks up, trying to ascertain the rare order:
115	“You mean like, a drip coffee?” You nod quickly, spying salvation. 
116	“Uh… yeah.” She looks at Anon, who just shrugs and pays. She gets to work on the drinks, and you look around for a place to sit, not wanting to talk about the obvious strangeness of your order. It’s a little chilly in here, but there’s a couple white tables outside, with metal imitations of wicker chairs out there. “C’mon, ‘let’s go outside.” Anon nods at your suggestion, following your lead. There’s a great white tarp-like thing hanging out over the small yard, a makeshift ceiling blocking a few of the sun’s rays. As you walk underneath, basking in the toasty air without the direct stream of the burning rays, you sigh unintentionally. This is perfect. 
117	Sitting down with Anon, he pulls something out of his pocket. You look closer, and see that it’s a pack of cards. He shakes them a bit, holding that happy look once more. 
118	“Found these in the side panel on our date night. You wanna play some cards?” You nod at him, smiling with your eyes shut. While you wait for his shuffling and the girl’s coffee, you lean back in your chair and make yourself comfortable. Your feet slip out of your flip-flops, and drop onto a nearby chair. You’ve never been a huge fan of wearing shoes; having free feet was almost always superior. The gentle breeze caresses every part of your feet now, the plastic straps no longer pressing into your soft skin. You clench and unclench your toes, just enjoying the refreshing feeling. The tender kiss of the sun and the clean air, only a trace of dust found in it, goes onto your bare legs too. The warmth makes you feel a little bit sleepy, the indulgence of that perfect atmosphere on your body giving rise to a sentiment you’d heard a long time ago: ‘I could just fall asleep here and never wake up.’ 
119	Fortunately, you don’t fall asleep here. You’d rather stay with your boy than anything else. Just as you’re letting your head fall back in relaxation, you hear some worrying words:
120	“Coffee’s ready.” She places two white cups on the table, with tiny streams of steam rising from the small holes in their lids. Anon takes a sip of his, then sighs, clearly pleased with the outcome. Guess it’s your turn. You bring your lips to the cup, tilting it back ever so slightly. The first few drops show you your clear mistake, and you thrust the container back onto the table with the violence of disgust. My goodness, that’s awful. You look up to see if Anon’s caught onto your telling response, but he’s only looked up at the sound of the cup hitting the table. Your disgusted expression having disappeared before then, you try to cover.
121	“It’s, uh… hot. It’s hot. Too hot.” Your mouth scrunches, not unlike your older sister when she fibs. Oh please don’t notice, please don’t notice. He raises his eyebrow, then shrugs again. Ok, looks like you’re in the clear. He finishes shuffling, then passes out cards, thirteen each. 
122	The game’s Gin Rummy, and you’re lookin’ for groups of three or three cards in a row (of the same suit). Whatever can’t be put into those groups gets counted, the number of its points equal to the number on it (tens for face cards). Dealer puts one card face up on the discard pile, which the non-dealer can choose to pick up. If they don’t, the dealer can. If the dealer doesn’t, turns start as normal, the first turn going to the non-dealer. Turns go as such: you can pick up the top card of the discard pile or a card from the deck, and then go down if the number of not-grouped cards is ten or less. You discard a card at the end of your turn (although you don’t have to if you’re going down, but you usually do). When one person goes down, the other person has to go down too, even if they have more than ten points; they can, however, add their cards to the other’s (e.g. if the person that went down has a group of threes, and the other has a three, the latter can place it on the group and not take the points). The difference is calculated, and whoever has less points gets the total (e.g. if one person has seven points and the other has seventeen, the former will receive ten points to their score). 25 points are added if you go down with no points (a Gin), 31 if you go down with no points (a Big Gin) and without discarding, and 25 points if the person that didn’t go down first wins. First to 150 wins. 
123	But despite your eagerness to defeat him, your bloodlust soon dies down. Anon’s not new this this game, but you can’t tell he’s not very good at it. The first game destroys him, a 39 point victory leaving you in a pretty good lead. The second brings you another victory, only two hands in. He had a good hand, only giving you 12 points, but it’s clear he thought he was gonna get that one.
124	There’s a bad feeling growing in your gut, a notion that Anon wouldn’t enjoy himself. >It seemed like a small concern, but the worry was real. After all, this was his last day. Unless he said yes to AJ, which you know he will. You know he will. Your heart starts to doubt the once definite future, but you push the feeling to the side, trying to explain away the fear with something else. It’s, uh… this is his first week. Yeah, it’s his first week, and you gotta make it perfect; it’s these few days that he’ll remember above all the other days. That’s a reason to worry, a reason for this pit in your stomach. 
125	Anon snaps a card onto the table, declaring that he’ll go down. His hand has seven points, and you have ten. He seems happy enough with an actual win, but the measly three points isn’t something he’s getting worked up over. Trying to retain your cheer, you pick up the deck and start shuffling. Your attempts to act happy seem to be successful, but you’re not feeling it. You remember this one time that a butterfly up and landed on your finger, and by the time you realized it, it took off. That feeling returns to you again, sinking your typical happiness. And try as you might, you can’t force that light feeling, so natural to you, to come back. So you deal, hoping it’ll return. Your coffee remains untouched. 
126	A third victory brings 20 points to your 51, close to the halfway mark. His banter starts to fall off, and his acceptance of your successes grow duller. Geez, this isn’t what you want. You’re not gonna throw it or anything, but you do start slacking off a bit; you don’t bother with some strategies, and be a little less vigilant about what cards he picks up and throws. Normally, you’re pretty competitive –you get that from your big sis- but this time, you’re just gonna focus on having some fun. Just then, Anon asks you:
127	“Is your coffee still hot?” Huh? You cock your head at him, asking for an explanation.
128	“Beg your pardon?” He points to your coffee.
129	“Is it still hot? You haven’t touched it in a good hour.” Consarnit, the coffee again? Can’t it just leave you alone already? You’re trying to deal with your emotions and give Anon a good time here! You smile hesitantly, then cover for yourself. 
130	“Oh, Ah plumb forgot about it!” You reach over to pick it up, your body rebelling against the reach for that gross substance. Once the cup enters your grasp, you feel that it’s gotten lukewarm. Maybe that’d make it better, you vainly hope. It reaches your lips, but you’re having some trouble actually taking a sip. You struggle against the petulant refusal of your body, and finally succeed in tipping back the cup. But your body was right: this stuff needed to not be in there. Immediately you swallow, aiming to get it off of your tongue ASAP. Your face contorts in disgust, the lukewarm temperature making it much worse. After the unavoidable “blechs” finish leaving your mouth, you look up to see if he was still looking. Yup, sure was. He looks at you with this little sideways smile.
131	“You’re not really a coffee drinker, are you?” You shake your head sheepishly.
132	“Ah think the last time Ah had some was on our family vacation to Apploosa. About a year ago…” You shrug and open your hands as you offer the small correction. He chuckles, then stands up, offering his hand to you; you’re exactly sure what he’s doing, but that ain’t gonna stop you from taking his hand. You’re pulled out of your chair, and directed towards the counter. “Ah come on, Anon, don’t make me drink any more a’ that stuff!” He turns to you, looking confused:
133	“What? Why on Earth would I do that?”
134	“Well, you’re takin’ me the counter of a coffee shop, what else are ya gonna do?” 
135	“Get you something else! They had smoothies, tea, and hot chocolate, and there’s coffee that isn’t actually that bitter if you’re lookin’ to try it. I mean, you don’t have to go straight black.” He shivers as he mentions the black drip coffee, apparently with you on the sentiments toward such. Looking at the menu again, you revisit the best part of it. 
136	“Ah’ll go for a fruit smoothie; Ah can try coffee later. If, uh, that’s alright with you.” 
137	“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” Stepping up, you make your order: “Hey, can Ah get one a’ those berry smoothies?” The barista takes a look at you, and asks kindly:
138	“Finished that coffee right off, huh?” 
139	“Eh… Not really.” But she can’t hear your answer, having turned to a series of machines and begun making your drink. She looks at you and says something unintelligible, also blocked by the noise of the smoothie-maker. In no time she’s done, and hands the colorful drink to you. 
140	“Alright, here you go.” As the two of you are returning to your seats, you notice an odd look on Anon’s face. It looks almost hurt, but not quite. Before you can place it, Anon looks at you seriously.
141	“You know Apple Bloom, you don’t have to lie to me.” The directness of his assurance is unexpected; you’re not really sure how to respond. You look off to the side as the two of you sit down. Before you can think of something to say, he continues. “I mean it. I know you were just doing it to make me happy, and while I appreciate that, I wanna know what you’re feeling, what you like and don’t like. Even if it’s something as small as this. Hey.” He directs your wandering gaze back to him. 
142	“Yeah?” You stare into his eyes, trying to read the emotions on it. Seen again, he starts into a deeper word.
143	“Apple Bloom, I love you.” You’ve heard it before, but somehow the phrase still feels new. Despite the outpouring seeming kind of out of place for the context, you feel your heart warming. “Apple Bloom, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re needing to lie. You’re perfect to me.” He looks off to the side, feeling like he’s made it awkward. “I’m sorry if this sounds weird. I guess it kinda is…” He scratches his head, then continues. “But the thing is, I’ve seen stuff like that happen before, where people start hiding the small things, and before they know it, they’re trying to convince their partner they’re somebody completely different. It’s happened to some people close to me, and I…” He shakes his head with a grimace, trying to move past the ugly memory and back to you. “I just don’t want that to happen here.” He holds both of your hands in his, your breath catching in your throat. “I love you Apple Bloom, just the way you are.” His face returns to that unsure expression just before, saying apologetically: “Um. Sorry if that was weird.”
144	It was kind of unexpected, but you think you get it: whatever happened in his past, to him or whoever, he’s just trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. And, as you’re beginning to realize, he really does love you; the realization impacts you more than you’d expected it to, a tear threatening to form at the sentimental outburst of your dearest boy. The outpouring of love seems justified, given his circumstances and affection, and you’re not going to turn it away. You squeeze his hands back, touched both by his concern for your relationship and his clear love for you.
145	“Not at all.” Pleased with your answer, he lets loose that certain smile you’ve seen him wear from time to time. It’s exuberant, just like a kids, but muted, barely suppressed, as if he can’t bear being that happy. It’s almost a twitchy expression, a grand smile growing then halting as he tries to regulate himself, then growing once more. That joy, despite being so hard for him to hold, still lit up your heart. But there was one small issue you were having, some nagging feeling that you didn’t say enough. Here was your boy, your Anon, the one who’s set you alight every time he’s come near, and all you could say in response to that emotional confession is three words? And not even THOSE three words? Aiming to correct the problem, you ready the three most important words you could say. But before you can spill them into the sweet summer air, the same feel stops you. Yeah, those words were important, but were they enough? 
146	You set aside your plan to speak the affirmation of love, and set to constructing another. You wanted to say something meaningful, something deeper than the phrase. So what do you say? Looking over at the city boy shuffling dexterously across the table, you let your mind relax, trying to catch the thoughts that come naturally. He catches your silent gaze, and smiles with just a hint of nervousness. Gosh, I love you. The words streak through your head as a soft, contented sigh exits your lips. It was hardly a new experience, but the pursuit of something more to say leads you to a question you hadn’t thought to ask before. Why?
147	Beyond the perceived necessity of a response of equal depth, another force pushes you towards answering the question.Curiosity bubbles up in you as you observe the deft motions of Anon. What made him different? Why did he set your heart aflutter, so far beyond all the little crushes you’d had before? This was something else. He was something else. Your mind takes on an explorative direction as you continue your steady gaze. 
148	The first thing that jumps to your mind is his touch. At the memory, you can almost feel his hands over your body. You shiver, just barely, as the reminiscence. Gosh, he was so good at it. The way he would move his hands almost felt like he was painting a picture, and your skin was the canvas. A private pleasure erupts from the thought, and your willingness to be a canvas whenever he needed one. The skill in his hands was evident, and that alone, even apart from that vastly enjoyable experience he made, was a reason to love him. You close your eyes, taking a brief break from the happy sight of the beautiful cousin to indulge in the sensual memory of his body moving yours. Damn, he was good with his hands; the thought comes as you unconsciously move your body in a slight reenactment. You don’t like using that word, but what else could you say?
149	He was unique. You’ve known a lot of people, despite Ponyville being such a small town. There were quite a few visitors to your house, and even more that would hang out with your sister’s friends (whom you eventually met or caught wind of). But none of them were quite like Anon. Or rather, Anon wasn’t like anybody else. There was something in that worldly, almost jaded way he saw things that was different from others whom the world had hurt so badly. It rung closer to wisdom than that broken pessimism you’d seen in a lot of older persons: he still saw the good in some things, still had his heart open to adventure and love, if not fully. Nobody saw things the way he did, that was for sure. And it was that vision, that world he lived in, that increased your intrigue; you wanted inside of his head, to see what he saw.
150	But it was more than just that. You recall the look in his eyes when he sees you, how they light up. He cares for you. Golly, that boy cares for you; the more you think about it, the more you realize how loudly he expresses his affection. Every glance, every touch of his hand feels electrified to you, and it’s becoming clear that he feels the same way. The way he blushes when you kiss him, the way his heartbeat speeds when your lie on his chest. But the time that made it more clear than anything was when you’d taken off your shirt for him: he hadn’t stared hungrily at you, or tried to do anything really naughty. What you saw in him was adoration, love; you weren’t a piece of meat to him, you were somebody he loved. His tender caressing, his passionate kisses told of his love for you. It was almost enough to make you cry; you cared for him so much, you wanted him to be happy so badly. And he cared for you! He loved you too! Not only was he happy, but you were making him happy. It was an honor you weren’t sure you deserved, but nonetheless brought endless delight. 
151	“Apple Bloom.” You open your eyes, lifting colorful visions of your love’s beauty. Snapping back to the real world, the emotional daydreams start to wither as they pass into the background. 
152	“Yeah?” You respond in the manner of a recently awaken person, not prepared to act in the waking world.
153	“You alright?” There’s a note of concern in his voice, and you look questioningly at him. “Are you tired?”
154	“No, not really? Why?” 
155	“Well, you’ve kinda been… ”I don’t know, it kinda looked like you were napping for the past minute or two.” You shake your head around, clearing it slightly. A pinkish hue still colored your thoughts, clouding the world about. As you focused more on the world, the context returned to you. You were playing cards, and you had a pile of thirteen before you. Oh, he’d probably been waiting for you.
156	“Oh geez, sorry., Ah was just thinkin’.” You can see curiosity invade his face as he answers.
157	“About what?” Should you tell him? Grinning, you decide to, aiming to tease him just a little bit.
158	“You.” His eyebrows grow up, hope and worry tangling within his face.
159	“O-oh. Good things, I hope.” Your roll your shoulders back, keeping your coy look:
160	“Only the best.” You pick up your hand, and start sorting through your cards. As you arrange them and start playing, your mind falls back to the questions. The answer was only partially found, and you weren’t gonna leave the job half-done. You drop a king of diamonds and pick up a three of clubs. He looks hard at the the cards, a cute seriousness in his determination to win this time around. You knew it had to be something more than what you were thinking of: there were cute guys, guys that liked you, and guys that were somewhat unique before. But they didn’t ignite you like he did. You next card played is slapped down almost in frustration.
161	He paid attention to you. You think back of his loving looks, his attentive nodding as you detailed your life and history. He asked questions, referenced your likes and dislikes, and so forth. You’d always been somewhat overlooked by the people around you; you tried to keep it hidden, but you’d always been terrified of being left behind. There were times you thought your friends, even your family would just up and walk away, forgetting about you. And even when you were assured the weren’t, and did your best to believe it, there was still that voice in the back of your head saying they’d leave you behind. Funnily enough, you didn’t really get that with Anon. True, there was that secret terror that he’d be dragged away by his parents and his city, but that wasn’t the same. Even if he did leave, you knew that he didn’t want to, would never want to. And that made all the difference. 
162	You reach for the seven of hearts Anon throws down, but he announces that he’s going down, preventing you from a further turn. Crap! Anon’s got only two points, and you’re stuck with a whole buncha un-matching face cards. Counting them out, the points come to 43. Minus his 2 adds 41 to his score, bringing him much closer to beating you. Happy at his reentry into the game, he jumps up and pumps his arms wildly, belting out a 
163	“Oh yeaaaaah!” before resuming his more inhibited nature and sitting back down. You laugh at the display, but your smile falters as he catches himself and sits down in needless embarrassment. It isn’t that you dislike him when he’s shy, but you like it so much better when he acts out. You get that he’s a little shy naturally, and that’s fine, even cute; it’s just… some of that is pretty obviously coming from the way he’s been beaten down all his life. And whenever you see him overcoming those barriers, you feel like you could just glow. It was this weird mix of happiness, of seeing him healed from those hurts he carried, and pride. After all, you’re partly responsible for that.
164	Thinking of his smile, you return to that proud feeling, the notion that it was you that helped him do it. It wasn’t just pleasure at him being happy with you, though you were certainly cheerful at the fact. It’s the fact that you had helped him get there. Suddenly, your mind moves over to your brother, and what had happened to him. 
165	You don’t remember much about your parents; only bits and pieces of them. It was hard for you, no doubt about it, but nobody was hurt worse than Big Mac. AJ would never tell you the full story, always being overcome before she could say it. But you did know that he wasn’t always this way; the quietness of his personality, sort of like the natural shyness you saw in Anon, was massively increased by the trauma they’d experienced. His cheerful smile remained in your memory, only occasionally remade by the brother himself. There was one memory you had, a time your whole family, parents and grandparents, had all sat by the fire at Christmas. Big Mac was just talkin’ up a storm, then; you didn’t understand most of what he was saying, the boy bein’ much older than you, but gosh was he animated. His hands were flying up in the air, his legs kicking up as he told his story; pretty sure it was a bout school or something. Anyway… You sigh as you pull the fading memory closer. You’d always wished you could help him, maybe bring him back to his old self, even just a little bit. What wouldn’t you give to see him talk like that again? Maybe that was why it felt so good, so important, to be able to heal Anon, even if it was only a small amount. 
166	Besides, you wanted to help people. That was what you did, and what you were proud of. The CMC was a defender of the weak, the protector of the little, the friend of the friendless, as the motto went. Ok, it was unofficial; you still had to run it by Scoots and Sweetie, but it was on your heart. You’d stood up to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, you’d befriended Featherweight and Twist, and far more, just for the purpose of helping people. The other girls were with you on this; it was your passion, both you and the group, to help people. And when somebody was in need, you could bet your bottom dollar that Apple Bloom would be there. Triumphantly throwing a three of clubs on the discard pile, you snap out of your heroic inner dialogue and look at the boy across from you. There’s this feeling of disconnection you get, the hinting that your reasoning still isn’t complete. Thinking about it, the feeling’s right; Anon isn’t just a patient, or replacement for Big Mac. He was more than an opportunity to help; he was himself, the thief of your heart, whom you’d had the privilege of helping. He was-
167	Suddenly, as if on its own, your hand reaches out and touches Anon’s. You just… you just wanted to touch him right now, to connect with him. Throughout your thinking, there’d been this torrent of emotions flowing through you. But now, like some inward geyser, it felt like it had exploded, a surge of emotion threatening to wet your cheeks once more. Seeing the confusion in his eyes, then tender requitement of your loving touch, you wonder if this is what he felt like just before now. His hand gripped yours, a firm response to your unhidden need. It was a strong hold, a steady one. Maybe that was it. You’d had just a glimpse of the pain he’d been through, the misery surrounding him, and yet- here he was. Smiling. Happy. You loved the credit you could take for him, the joy of being relevant and good for him, but you knew it wasn’t just you. He wouldn’t have been able to take your hand if he wasn’t strong, wouldn’t have been able to make this kind of progress toward being alright if he hadn’t already possessed some great inner strength. Resilient, that was the word. He was resilient. As you held his hand, you couldn’t help but be impressed by everything he’s gone through, and still come out the other side.
168	You tighten your hold on his hand, looking into his eyes with pure, nude affection. Nothing held back there. Maybe you couldn’t place your finger on it; maybe you weren’t gonna be able to figure out exactly what made this man so special. Everything made sense, everything seemed to fit, but… as you kept his gaze, it still felt like you hadn’t found the answer. He seemed almost magical in your inability to pin him down. All you knew was that you did love him, and that to an immense degree. It still felt like it wasn’t enough, but you think the only response you can give him is those three words, and hope he understood all the weight beyond them. Falling into those perfect eyes, you open your mouth to speak them. But instead of the short declaration you intended, another phrase comes out. Breathlessly, your voice almost cracking, you hear yourself say:
169	“Don’t go.” You tighten your hold on his hand, looking into his eyes with pure, nude affection. Nothing held back there. Maybe you couldn’t place your finger on it; maybe you weren’t gonna be able to figure out exactly what made this man so special. Everything made sense, everything seemed to fit, but… as you kept his gaze, it still felt like you hadn’t found the answer. He seemed almost magical in your inability to pin him down. All you knew was that you did love him, and that to an immense degree. It still felt like it wasn’t enough, but you think the only response you can give him is those three words, and hope he understood all the weight beyond them. Falling into those perfect eyes, you open your mouth to speak them. But instead of the short declaration you intended, another phrase comes out. Breathlessly, your voice almost cracking, you hear yourself say:
170	“Don’t go.” Somewhere in that short time of holding his hand, the fear of his departure had arisen. The continual examination of him and all those positive traits had brought forth that flow of love you’d held for him, which had been growing since he’s first stepped off that train. But with your affection, the terror over the possibility of him leaving had grown with it, every piece of joy that came with him had become a risk, like a hostage held by parents and city. Unthinking, you squeezed his hand harder, as if the tightness of your hold could overcome the threatened retrieval by his tormentors. You didn’t want him to go.
171	Feeling you, Anon places his cards face down, then moves his chair over to your side of the table. Contact is broken temporarily, but the second he moves closer, you dash into his lap, hugging him tightly. Some other time you might have cared what an onlooker would say, but right now, the thought couldn’t be further from you. Your arms constrict him, squeezing tightly. Hearing a cough, you loosen your grip just a tad, allowing for both his breaths and your arms keeping him in Ponyville. And as you allow yourself to experience the previously suppressed fear of his probable departure, the feeling grows far greater than the minor glimpses you’d had before. The thought seems to become more probable with every passing second, and more horrendous. Trying to keep from crying, you whimper into his chest:
172	“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” His arms wrap around you, slight tremors evident in his own embrace. You look up, half expecting to see tears on his face. But no water surrounds his eyes: instead, that expression of suffering is drawn upon his features. That firm mouth, and a solid, narrowed gaze pointed straight forward; it’s as if any tremble of his lip or glance at you would break him. He closes his eyes and bends over a bit more, hugging you tighter. There you stay for what feels like hours, both of you clinging desperately to each other, trying not to name the fearful future, trying not to cry. Finally, he looks up, the saddest eyes in the world meeting yours. 
173	“I don’t want to.” Immediately, before he can add something else, you jump on him, the chance to convince him like a great piece of driftwood to a floating shipwreck survivor. The eagerness in your voice is almost palpable, and you struggle to keep your words from becoming unintelligible. 
174	“Then don’t. You don’t have to go back to them. You can’t go back to them.” Your gaze loses the girlish fear from before, replacing it with the forward urgency of a fanatic. He can’t go back. They’ll wreck him, and everything the two of you built will be for nothing. Can’t he see that? He has to! He has to! A few moments pass before the answer comes… he doesn’t. A grimace invades his face as his mind inhabits the prophesied future: 
175	“Apple Bloom, I…” He stops, choking on the incoming word. He closes his eyes forcefully, mashing the lids together in an attempt to stop any tears from escaping. “Apple Bloom, I can’t stay here; this isn’t my home.” Yes it is! Dammit, it is! You immediately jump on his words.
176	“Yes it is! Your home is with us! With me!” Your voice cracks on the last word, as you point to your own heart. Not that you could even care. Anon laughs, almost bitterly, a weak smile forming as he acknowledges the truth.
177	“I know, but… you know I don’t mean it like that. You’re always gonna be where my heart is, Apple Bloom, but… Come on, you know what I’m trying to say.” His words come haltingly, needing to be ripped from an unwilling mind. “I’m not an Apple. I’m just your cousin.”
178	“Yes, you are an Apple!” You slam your fist on the table. “Maybe your last name tells a different story, but Ah know you belong with us. You know you belong with us.” You remember once, not more than year ago, when you’d found out Pinkie was probably related to the Apples; there hadn’t been explicit confirmation, but AJ had told her that she belonged, whether or not a piece of paper said so. An’ if Pinkie could be a part of your family, you better bet that Anon was gonna be. He looks off to the side, the same tragic smile painted across his gorgeous face. Taking your hand and placing it on his chin, you guide his face and eyes back to you. You smile sweetly, only a hint of sorrow in it. You place your other hand on his heart, leading both your attention and his to the spot before you make eye contact once more: “Sorry, honey, but whether you like it or not, you’re an Apple. To the core.” And with that, you lean forward and kiss him. 
179	He tries smiling again, then closes his eyes and grits his teeth, desperately holding onto dryness. Back and forth he goes, switching from that joyful smile that came from belonging, to the bitter verge of tears over what he thought was an undeniable pull away from the people that mattered most to him. Biting his lip, he looks down at you with moist eyes.
180	“B-b-but,” he stutters, shutting up immediately. Taking a deep breath to collect himself, then tries again. “But that doesn’t mean I can stay.” 
181	“Of course you can! We want you to stay!” You blurt out, almost going against AJ’s forbidden offer. She’d told you not to invite him yet, but you’re having severe doubts about the rightness of her call. She said she’d have to work out the details with him, and she didn’t want any false hopes goin’ on. Still… AJ didn’t see this boy, right now, at his most vulnerable. You’re not entirely sure of whether his implicit denial of your request was due to his belief that he didn’t belong or because he didn’t think he would be allowed to. A lone finger ascends to your lip and your brow furrows at the dilemma. You get that you shouldn’t offer a deal if you can’t ensure it’ll go through… But as Anon looks into your eyes, half between his misery and confusion at your sudden, thoughtful pose, you decide he needs it. If only for the hope it’ll bring, you have to tell him.
182	“Alright, Ah wasn’t s’posed to tell you this, but AJ’s gonna ask you if you wanna stay.” He doesn’t respond beyond shifting into a neutral expression. His eyes stare into yours and his mouth seems to have frozen at some half-open place. You continue, telling him as much as AJ told you: “You can help out on the farm, help pick up some a’ the chores, and with some of our old machines and trucks. We’re always lookin’ for help, and this way, we don’t have to do a big ol’ background check, since you’re part of the family! Ah mean, we’d still have to clear it with your parents…” your voice drops on that note, the only potential hitch in the plan. “But you can do it right? Ah mean, you want to, right?” He opens his mouth, trying to coax words from within it. Nothing comes out, his lips still trembling in disbelief. You lean in, eyes widening as you anxiously wait for his response. Suddenly it comes in a great hug, tighter than the loose holding you’d been in, and a magnificent kiss. The brief heaven ceases, and he presses his forehead into yours, eyes closed in a happiness too great to believe.
183	“Yes. Yes. Yes, oh yes, yes, yes! He repeats the word over and over, the word itself like some wine he cannot get enough of. His pained look slowly turns to one of pure joy, like a girl getting the perfect gift for Christmas. Your arms mirror his own, tightly wrapping themselves around the body of your dearest one, completely absorbed in sheer joy. He’s in! He’s in! He’s- uh. Well. Suddenly you recall AJ’s words about trying not to get him too worked up over something that might not happen. That’s right, he still had to wait on his parent’s answer, and that wasn’t a sure thing. You hate to ruin his expression, but you gotta remind him. 
184	“Hey, remember you still gotta get your parents’ per-“ you stop halfway, remember something he’d said earlier today. “Wait, you’re eighteen, right? We were making plans around you still being a minor, but if you’re eighteen, you don’t need permission!” Your wide grin is cut short by his uncomfortable shifting.
185	“Uh… that’s actually a month away.” What. Now it’s your turn to stare at him. His expression looks pained again, this time with the agony of shame over that of imprisonment. “I, uh... Well, I was gonna be eighteen by the time I take the trip, and I kinda…” He looks away from you as he finishes, not wanting to meet your eyes. “I was just trying to get you to come. I didn’t think it was that important.” There’s a note of pleading in the final sentence, a clear hope that you’ll forgive it. 
186	You’re not gonna lie, this is pretty upsetting. Part of it is the lie, but most of it is because you thought he’d be able to stay, obstacle-free. Taking a note from Anon, you look away, not wanting to show the disappointment on your face. After all, it’s not wholly in Anon; a lot of it is just the situation. Still… why couldn’t he have just told you the friggin’ truth? You take a deep breath, then let it out in a heavy sigh. You wanna be mad at him, but you did the same thing not an hour ago. The shift from misery to joy to numbing disappointment, was actually kinda of tiring. Turning back to face him again, you respond.
187	“Ok, just- just don’t do that again. You don’t have to impress me, Anon.” As you begin to move away from the white lie and its immensely magnified inconvenience, you gain a little smile as you assure him: “You’ve already done a pretty good job of that.” You chuckle lightly, hoping to ease the situation a little bit. You need to focus on what’s important, and that’s keeping Anon here. If he does something like this again, then you’ll give him an earful, AJ-style. Anon smiles nervously at you, still slightly afraid that you’re mad. And while you are a little bit mad, you don’t want to surrender the moment to it. 
188	You give him a quick peck, then a bigger one at the surprisingly alluring feel. You’re still emotionally exhausted from everything that’s gone on, but these last few minutes of blank discomfort have left you wide open for the shockingly massive affection you had for him. His mouth on yours, passionately working his magic, feels like it’s restoring you. A few moments pass before you break off, wanting to talk about his future a bit more, maybe plan something to say to his parents. But at your lips’ departure, he can only stare at your lips for a few seconds (while you respond in kind, forgetting what you were gonna say when you see his perfectly formed, slightly wet lips) before going in again. Wait, we gotta- Oh, never mind. You close you eyes and give into the amorous kiss.
189	Minutes pass, and the third cough from another patron convinces you to stop. You giggle as you stare into Anon's eyes, forgetting the other troubles, just for the moment. Right now, it’s just him and you. Your hands still touch, your bodies only inches from each other. He’s still leaned most of the way out of his seat, like you, in your effort to get as near as possible. Leaning back, he mirrors your actions, but neither of you takes yours eyes off each other. There’s something special about this moment, some vague bubbliness floating gently into the front of your mind. It’s a simple cheer, like some light pink bubble slowly encompassing the both of you. His eyes are half open, fluttering lightly. The tender gaze he gives you feels freeing, as if it could wash away everything else. The threats of before stand at the edge of your mind, ready to torment you the moment you let them in; and while this sweet aura doesn’t dispel it, you do feel as if you’re given a choice. It’s as if you’re able to choose whether or not to let those thoughts in or not. And while a part of you does want to return to the worried planning (though you’ll never understand that draw), you gently deny it entry. You came here to have fun, to give Anon a last day worth remembering. The whole point of this was to just relax with the best boy in the world before you went out to stomp some grapes. So why not? 
190	You return to your other side of the table, the neglected cards calling for play. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy some more cuddling, but you’ve still got a while. Besides, you know for a fact that a couple games of cards can bring about some fine memories. You can still remember a perfectly ordinary day, two summers ago, when you went to the park with Big Mac and AJ. All you did was sit by this big old oak, play cards, and eat sandwiches, but for some reason, it was the most memorable day of that summer. Maybe it was pointless to try to manufacture memories, but you might as well give it a shot, right? As the control freak within you cheers at your attempt to create a perfect moment for your Anon, the other part of you gets to playing. 
191	Glancing at your cards, you gulp; it’s not a great one. Too many high-point cards. You take a quick peek at Anon, hoping to see any indication of his hand. He nods slightly, and shifts a few other cards; nothing to be gleaned from that. Well, all you can do is hope to pick up a couple kings and queens, maybe find a run or something in there. You draw a ten and keep it; it doesn’t quite get you a run, but it promises more use than that eight. He picks it up, and you drop a quiet Consarnit from your mouth; that meant it was helpful, and if he goes down now, you’re lookin’ at around thirty points. The next two turns bring a king and queen to you, filling the gaps perfectly. With a little investigation, you find that you’ve lucked your way into seven points. The game’s still very early, so you knock the table:
192	“Ah’m goin’ down.” His heretofore blank face disappears as a thin smirk stretches across his cheek. His lips are almost pursed in the mocking grin, eyes shining in perceived triumph. Oh geez, this is not good. You place your cards on the table, grouping them in the runs and groups you’ve seen. “Seven points,” you inform him. He nods, then throws down a nearly perfect hand, only two cards left over, both fours. He’s lost by one point. Suddenly, horror overthrows his expression, and his hands fly to his head in stressed support. 
193	“Oh, come on! I thought I had this!” You fold your arms, and jokingly respond with a voice of the utmost pretension: 
194	“Well, sweetheart, Ah guess you can’t count your eggs bef-“ Your gloating is interrupted by his gleeful surprise.
195	“I got it!” What? No! You look at the table, and he’s rearranging his cards so that he’s left his a four and a five of spades, the latter of which he adds onto your run of spades. Now he’s perfectly imitating your previous stance, arms folded and eyes haughty. “What was that, Apple Bloom? I think you were saying something?” In mock grumpiness, you swipe up all the cards and begin shuffling. 
196	“Harrumph.” He puts his hand to his ear, like he’s hard of hearing.
197	“Oh, what’s that? Twenty-five extra points because I beat you when you went down? Oh, I’m sorry, did you say 28 whopping points for me? Oh gosh, Bloom, you’re too kind!” You send him a grumbling yes as he writes his score down with a huge smile, now having a decent lead on you. Despite the unhappy pretension, you’re actually glad that he’s being silly again. You might be able to deal with the shitty circumstances well enough –after all, you were well-practiced- but you weren’t sure Anon could. In fact, you were slightly worried that bringing the subject up might screw over his whole day, or just a big part of it. But it seemed like he was getting along well enough, and you couldn’t welcome your cousin’s cheer any more than you already did. Oh, that reminds you:
198	“Hey, uh, just one more thing before we keep going: can you not tell AJ that Ah told you about the deal thing? She was gonna ask you tonight or something; wanted to give you a little more time, Ah guess.” He nods, stiffening slightly. If you were anyone else it would have been imperceptible, but you know Anon pretty well for the time you’ve been with him; not to mention you do pay a lot more attention to him than most would. 
199	“Yeah, no problem.” He leans back into his chair and sighs. But before you can say anything to try to distract him again, he flashes that brilliant smile and says: “Now, are you gonna deal those cards or not? I’m itchin’ to beat ya again.” What surprises you more than the honest happiness in his eyes is his choice of words. Itchin’ to do something? That’s something you say, not something you’d imagine gets said in the city. The conclusion brings a huge grin to your face as you realize you’re rubbing off on him. It’s a small thing, but still, it’s making you grin like an idiot. 
200	Dealing out the cards and thinking of the previous result, you realize the loss has made you feel a tiny bit sour, and you recall your habit of over-valuing winning in games. In response, you take a more comfortable pose and take a deep breath. You’re gonna try to take this a little less seriously and just relax a bit. The lungful of fresh air helps, the clear feeling it leaves behind more refreshing than you’d remembered. Taking a minute, you just close your eyes and take in your surroundings. With your feet propped up on a nearby chair and your torso leaned back about thirty degrees, you’re at your comfiest position. Nearby, there’s the sound of the occasional car, scooting right on past. Beyond that, there’s very little noise; the rustling of the wind through the trees, the chirping of unseen birds, and the shuffling of another patron are the only things that fill the air.
201	The smell of summer is bright and clean, the aroma of nature filling your nostrils. The park is only a block away, just down a nearby hill, and the trees that fill it could account for the enticing scent. Giving into the gentle relaxation, you feel the need to stretch coming on. You extend your legs, making them as straight as you can, then relax them again. The mostly bare skin can feel the gently breeze softly gliding over them. The slight chill, more cool than icy, brings a certain kind of relief that can only be felt in summer. It was hot, just the way you liked it, but the dark shade and the cooling breeze made it just perfect.
202	Your arms, previously laying at your sides, rise up, elbows out and hands brushing your sides as they ascend. As your hands touch your shoulders, chicken-like, you extend you are fully and continue rising, moving into that victory pose every stretcher knows by heart. The light shirt you wear extends with you as your chest is pushed forward in the arc. As you hold the position, just before coming down, you wonder if Anon’s looking at you. You wonder if Anon likes what he’s seeing. The thought of this makes you blush and giggle just a bit, enough to set you back into your comfortable slouch. Suddenly, your absent-mindedness departs, and you remember where you are. 
203	“Ah gosh, sorry about that.” You apologize to Anon, who’d been absent from your attention for at elast a couple minutes. But as you face him, it becomes clear that he doesn’t have a problem with it. His eyes are fixed on you, a little half smile on his lips. The moment you spoke, his eyes darted up to you; and while you didn’t see where they were pointed before, you can make a pretty good guess. A smile works its way across your mouth as you realize: guess he did like what he saw. Anon speaks too, also sounding like he’d left a reverie.
204	“Uh- Yeah, no problem. You looked pretty comfortable there.” He gulps, obviously a little embarrassed at what he thought he’d been caught looking at. Seems kinda strange to you; he’d actually seen the girls, so why was he being bashful now? Huh. Boys; you’re never gonna understand them. Still, that expression on his face is sweet as peaches, and you take a moment to appreciate it. Leaning forward, your hand comes up on your chin to support your head as you look interestedly at him. Today you got one of the best days of summer, the perfect temperature and few clouds, as well as a boy like that, liking you. And you know what? It felt pretty darn good.
205	“Ah was.” You grin brightly at him, “sometimes you just gotta sit back and smell the roses.” The boy across from you smiles sweetly in response: 
206	“I hear ya.” His gentle look threatens to melt your heart. Your hands move to the pile of cards in front of you, then stop. A sudden thought enters your mind: dancing. Preferring an impromptu session to the continuing game, you grab his attention.
207	“Hey.” His eyes, which returned to an organized hand, move to you. 
208	“What’s up?” Now, you could tell him. But where was that fun in that? Instead, you inch your hands over to his, and softly tug at his cards. Ah, there’s that bewildered expression you love. You partly expect him to hold onto his cards, but he relinquishes them, a limp grip allowing you to retrieve them. Placing them with your cards, then adding that to the deck, you put the cards away. His head tilts, but he still doesn’t say anything; instead, he leans his head on his hand, looking pleased to just watch the mystery unfold. Well, hate to ruin the show, but you’re participating in this too. You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him out of his chair. Suddenly standing, he finally inquires:
209	“Alright, so what’re we doing now?” All he gets for an answer is excited eyes above a lightly bitten lip. Somewhat satisfied with the promise in your look, he goes along with you, still sporting that confusion that makes him so cute. You turn around, your hand still holding his, but with your arm extended behind you. You make your way over to the car and deposit the cards and your flip-flops.  The initial plan was just to sprint down to the park, but why not skip instead? Barefoot, you give into that sprightly joy that so often possesses you, moving forward with great leaps and bounds. The crumply gravel and soft grass kisses your feet as you pass from the street to the nearby hill. It’s too bad Anon’s got his shoes on; he should be feeling this. You stop in your tracks, Anon soon reflecting the motion. Turning around to him, you disappoint his expectation for an explanation, instead making the appetite grow:
210	“Take off your shoes.” 
211	“Why?” Huh. You didn’t expect him to actually ask, though he certainly had reason to. But you’re not one to spoil the surprise, no sir! You walk a little to the left, slightly up the hill, lessening the height difference by an inch or two. Then, leaning in, you close your eyes and peck Anon on the lips. His lips pull back as he smiles, and you answer him, the distance between your faces only a couple of inches:
212	“That’s why. Come on.” Still smiling, he does what you ask, his excited heartbeat overthrowing any concern of his. You grab your newly barefoot beau and pull him along once more, causing him to let out a small “waah!” as his balance is imperiled. But while his legs do flail a little bit, he regains his footing soon enough, and is soaring with you across the grassy hill. As you and he bound over the brilliantly gleaming grass, you tilt your head back and laugh, the simple motions of joy swelling your heart. Soon enough, both you and the leaping boy are bounding in time, your feet slamming down with the synchronicity of a marching band. An elite marching band, not a high school one. Two right feet pound the thick dirt, then spring upwards, leaving two happy kids suspended in mid-air for one blissful second. The moment seems to last longer than it really does, the unbounded freedom of flight seemingly held in that leap. And when it does end, the descent is no return to earth, but the mere preparation for another majestic flight. Closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the sun, you take a mental picture of this moment. Whether or not you needed it, you wanted to remember this forever. 
213	A slight change in the held hand draws your attention over to the holder. He’s catching up, his hand pulling you in just a little bit to help himself. Steering himself slightly rightwards, he moves to your right side, skipping alongside you. His legs take a moment to realign, then mirror yours with expert precision. Glancing to the left, he throws a cheerful glance your way, then squeezes your hand three times. You shake your head, albeit with a happy grin. That Anon; every time you think you couldn’t be happier, he pushes the limits even further. The pace accelerates as the happiness becomes energy, and the two of you are overcome with that curious fire that impels children to run as fast as they can for no apparent reason beyond “I can.” Suddenly wracked by that now-common need to be closer, you retract your arm, pulling Anon closer. But this doesn’t fit well with the speedy skipping, and soon, the two of you take a dive.
214	The hill is flattening out, but still retains a generous downward curve. Anon’s foot catches something, the unbalancing pull bringing his right foot to an odd place. Suddenly out of rhythm, his body tries to correct itself by placing the left foot as far to the right as possible. But mid-leap, this only serves to weaken the landing, and his weight tilts too far to the right, following with a crash. His hand tries to let go off yours, hoping not to drag you down. But while you aimed to do the same, your heart acted on its own accord; fingers tightened as yours loosened, the hated act of departure foiled at the most inopportune moment. Anon’s hand flew down, pulled by his grounded body, and yours soon followed. Memories of the raft trip and the tipped tube return to you, the same wounded perspective held now. In your rolling, you see the sun and sky clearly, then suddenly obscured by the ground. Then there it is again, rising from the river above it; wait that’s not right… The mistake fails to matter as the ground swallows up both again, then throws them back at you, each rotation slowing. 
215	Your hand touches a particularly warm and soft portion of the ground, then more of your body falls on it. You feel part of it sink beneath your now-stopped body, having much more give than dirt normally does. The blue ground has the texture of denim, and –Good gracious it’s moving! The ground beneath you parts, and your head fall a bit lower, hitting normal earth. Trying to get a feel for your surroundings, your arm extend, hitting a pair of small, moist somethings and a significantly harder substance in the gap between. Immediately upon feeling the slight wetness, you pull back your hand and yelp.
216	“Ah!” 
217	“Ow!” Half the ground beneath you twitches, revealing itself to be the body of Anon. Oh yeah, that makes sense. You look over to the sound of hurt, but see only a bright sky above blue. Your vision adjusts a bit more, and you suddenly realize that your head is lodged firmly between his thighs. Meaning that bulge is… With your recovered spatial awareness, you’re able to sit up and skootch away at supersonic speeds. The embarrassment-fueled actions depart as the distance is created, and you glance back to your previous seat. He’s sitting up, legs closed now, and rubbing his upper lip. Oh geez, did you hurt him? You’re already close to the ground, so you get on your hands and knees to close the distance. Arriving, your hands are just to the left of his left legs, and your face only a foot or two from his.
218	“Hey, are you alright?” He smiles on one side of his mouth and rubs the back of his head. 
219	I’m a little banged-up, but I’ll be fine. Are you?” His happy groan turns to worry at the last sentence as he realizes you might be hurt. You immediately clear the air.
220	“Ah’m fine, dear.” You mean Anon. “Ah mean Anon. Ah’m fine.” Geez, you didn’t mean to say that! The term of endearment, given to him on his second day here, had never actually been used out loud, and you sure as heck didn’t mean to let it out now. The verbalization brings a massive blush to your face, though if you were to stop and consider why it would be bad, or look at Anon, you wouldn’t be so embarrassed. Anon’s expression remains unseen for several seconds, but the nearly glowing grin of his finally makes its way through to your attention. Fearing the worst, you only stare at the silly happiness on his face before he leans in and surprises you with a kiss. You’re caught between feeling like you have to explain something and kissing him back. You go with the latter choice, which just seems way better.
221	Too soon, the kiss stops, and Anon grunts as he lifts himself off the ground. He brushes the dirt off of him, making sure not to do so towards you. Then he extends his hand towards you, offering you help up. Slowly, you hand raises to meet his. You’re still a little bit behind him; he’s ready to continue the skipping, seemingly fine with the new name. It’s almost as if he didn’t notice it. A small pit forms in you as you wonder whether it meant something to him; you really hope it did. But at the same time, you’re just plain relieved. It was probably needless worry, but being vaguely aware of that didn’t make it go away. Whatever. You grab his hand, and enter once more into the moment. A short focus on his gleaming smile and capable arms forms, followed by a thin plan to call him “dear” at a more intimate moment forms, with the hope that it’ll still be found pleasing while being meaningful. After all, it was what your parents and grandparents referred to each other as. Ah! Bad Apple Bloom! It doesn’t happen often, but you can get lost in your head, and this is definitely not the time to do so. Blinking your eyes, you try to focus on what’s happening around you instead of worry and planning. It’s harder than it sounds.
222	Looking around, you see that you’re actually at the bottom of the hill. The park’s still about half a mile away, but you’re kinda running low of skipping energy. The riverside path isn’t too far in front of you, lined with thick trees, sparsely scattered on either side. He seems to have an idea of your idea and pulls you closer to it. This time, he’s leading you; it’s a good feeling, you silently reflect. Stepping onto the concrete, mostly cool from the shade of the trees, he stops. He doesn’t know where to go now. His pleasant face turns down to you, a question upon it.
223	“To the left.” He nods, then starts down that way, you at his side. His hand searches for yours, but once they meet, yours runs up and softly holds the lower part of his bicep. Understanding the cue, he brings up his arm making it perpendicular to the torso it crosses. Happily clinging to his arm, you sneak a few glances when you think he can’t see. That gentleman posture he’d inadvertently assumed when he’d made his arm perfect for holding is pretty dang fine, if you say so yourself. Visions of future proms and homecomings fill your mind, you in a princess-like dress and him in a handsome suit. It’s enough to threaten a swoon, but you fight it off. You’ve still got a ways to walk, especially at the comfortable pace set, so you try to draw some more stories out of him.
224	“So, tell me more about the city.” Instead, he just shakes his head.
225	“No no no no… I think I’ve told you enough.” You look at him confusedly, not expecting the sudden closure. But before you can say anything else, he grins and comes up with a counteroffer: “I wanna hear about you.” He pauses before saying ‘you,’ and gently boops your nose on as he does. After blinking in surprise at the unexpected boop, you hesitantly agree.
226	“Alright, fine.” It isn’t as if you don’t like talking about yourself; you could go on for some time, as your besties had informed you. You’d just rather hear about him. Talking about yourself felt like a bit of a waste. Still, he wanted to hear about you, and that valuing was good enough for you. “So, what do ya wanna hear about?” He looks up, trying to find an answer.
227	“Uh… I don’t know, anything. Just tell me about yourself.” About yourself, huh… 
228	“Well, Ah was born right over in Ponyville Hospital. Ah don’t think you’ve seen it, it hasn’t been anywhere near where we’ve gone. But yeah, lived my whole life around these parts, in that same old house.” You stop, wishing you were a little more exotic. The way it sounded out loud was like you were just some plain country girl; who would want that? A quick peek over at Anon reveals an unanticipated interest. Uh, you guess if he’s enjoying it, you’ll keep going. As you do, you do keep glancing at him, watching for signs of boredom. “Went to Sunnyside Elementary, which was alright, Ah guess. Ah wasn’t the best student there was,” you confess, just a little bit ashamed of it. You quickly try to defend yourself:
229	“It wasn’t that Ah was dumb or nothing, just, you know, there was always so many chores at home. And when- well, when my parents…left… things kinda got crazy. Granny and Grandad came back over, sold the little cabin they’d be living in. Always felt bad about making them come back. Um, anyway, they managed to help AJ and Big Mac kinda get back together. You know, into their whole routines and everything. Granny was more of a mentor for AJ than Grandad, an’ the same thing for Big Mac, but the other way.”
230	“You mean your grandpa was a mentor for Big Mac?”
231	“Yeah, they were pretty close. Ah mean, as close as Big Mac could get to anybody back then. Ah didn’t really need as much support as they did. Ah mean, Ah was just a kid.” These last words are pronounced with a bit of bitterness, that hatred of being overlooked surfacing for some reason. Not wanting to think about it, you push it back down, and finish up. “Anyway, that was that. Grades weren’t too great at that part, but got better. Took another dip when Grandad left, but yeah. Ah did pretty well besides that.” He looks hurt, an expression which you assume you share. You change the subject.
232	“Uh, Ah was a pretty big tomboy back then.” Through the dwindling discomfort on his expression, curiosity is found in his raised eyes. “Oh yeah, Ah hated all those dresses and stuff that Ah had to wear on Sundays. Ah mean, Ah got a perfectly good pair a’ overalls and a T-shirt in my cabinet, why do Ah gotta put on that thing! And, later, when Ah met Sweetie, ooh!” She blows air of her mouth, an exasperated look on her face. “Alright, get this: we agreed to go to the school dance together, and she’s like: ‘Hey, lemme pick out the dresses,” you know, Ah just say ‘Ok.’ Ah mean, she’s way more into style and stuff than me, so Ah figure she’ll handle it just fine. Turns out she got us a pair of matching corsets! Corsets!” You hands fly up in the air at the thought of the ludicrous piece of clothing. “Ah didn’t really have a choice, so Ah had to do it. The dang thing felt like Ah was caught in a lasso! All evening!” You pull him close, eyes wide with the awful memory. “You know what that’s like!?”
233	“-N-no”
234	“It’s awful! Ah gotta take a look every time she wants me to wear something, just in case she tries to slip one a’ those in there!” 
235“Ah gotta take a look every time she wants me to wear something, just in case she tries to slip one a’ those in there!” 
236	“Has she tried?”
237“You bet she has! Ah swear, girl’s in love with those.” You stop, hearing the soft laugh of Anon. “What’s so funny?” 
238	“I’m just imagining Sweetie chasing you around your house waving a corset.” He’s not too far off, actually. You correct him: 
239	“You’re almost right. You see, usually she’s chasing me an’ Scoots around one of our houses.” The mental imagery of not one, but two girls, fleeing from a crazy fashionista is a bit much for him. Letting go of your arm, he doubles over in laughter. Recalling the actual memory, in all its glory, you join in. A few moments later, both parties recover and return to their idle walking. After a short pause you continue your exposition.
240	“Ah kinda got over it, though. Ah mean, Ah’m not gonna spend half the time knitting and planning outfits as Sweetie, sure, but Ah still like the occasional dress.” Anon nods his head.
241	“I’m glad,” comes his voice, softer than usual. 
242	“You’re glad?” He looks at you with a benevolent smile.
243	“Well, yeah. I mean, if you didn’t like all that stuff, how would we have a ton of fancy dates?” Grinning, you pull him closer.
244	“You like that? Like, what we did on Thursday?” He snorts, nodding a few times to emphasize his ‘yes.’
245	“Well, yeah! That was one of the best nights of my life! No way is that only gonna happen once.” The certainty in his voice grants you a strength you didn’t know you needed, the illimitable encouragement of another believer when one thinks oneself the only one. You nod, your cheek pressing into his arm.
246	“Well, Ah’ll be glad to keep that up.” Another small pause finds its way out of the moment, cued by Anon’s voice. 
247	“So, you got any other good stories?” You think hard, trying to capture some. There was that time you put on a big show and got best comedy act… but you didn’t really wanna share that experience with him just yet. It was fun and all, but still a bit embarrassing. And that time you tried to keep Granny from speaking on Family Appreciation Day. You tried a whole buncha things, but the story was still kinda boring. Hmmmm… The next story that comes to mind is that time the homecoming queen picked a fight with that foreign exchange student. It was pretty crazy; she basically got the whole school to watch, and straight up lost. Kinda lost her ‘queen bee’ crown there. Anon didn’t know about it, and you might be able to substitute the foreigner for yourself, or give yourself a bigger role in bringing down her reign… Nah, you can’t do that. Gotta be honest, ‘specially around Anon. Ooh! You’ve got it! 
248	“One time we drugged Big Mac and Cheerilee!” He stops walking, looking at you incredulously. For a moment you hesitate, wondering if this was the right story to tell. But as soon as a smile invades his wide-eyed face, you can tell you haven’t blown it. Good thing, too. 
249	“What??” 
250	“Alright, so we were still pretty young, and we were having this big ol’ Valentine’s Day party in class, with Ms. Cheerilee. Aw man, it was great. We got here this huge valentine, way bigger than anyone else’s. If it hadn’t kept falling over, she definitely would have liked it more.” 
251	“Uh-huh.” He responds, nodding his head just fast enough to get his message across: ‘Hurry up and get to the good part!’
252	“Anyway, Sweetie Belle asked her if she had a boyfriend, an’ she didn’t, so we figured: ‘Hey, we’re pretty great at this stuff; let’s go find her one!’” Then, under your breath: “Woulda found one too if this town wasn’t so dang tiny… Anyway! So after finding a whole lotta nothing, Sweetie and Scootaloo picked my brother. Ah accidently agreed to it…” At his questioning expression, you explain: “Ah got caught up in the moment! So we get this real romantic date set up, an you wouldn’t believe what happens!”
253	“Noth-“
254	“Nothin’! They just sat around like a couple a chickens! So We go back to the clubhouse, y’know, to figure out a plan. Me an’ Sweetie were gonna try again with the date, make it real romantic, way more than the first one, but Scootaloo was like: ‘Ah got something that’ll do it!’ She won’t tell us what it is, but we go over to her place, and she’s got a couple of pills that one of her neighbors gave her.” Now he’s looking really shocked. You quickly try to calm him down. “We didn’t know what they were, Ah swear! We figured it was like, Ah don’t know, mood enhancers. Like how some vitamins can make you feel good!” Ok, part of you did think it might have been drugs, but Scootaloo had asked you to trust her. Still, your youthful stupidity is seeming a lot less defensible right now, but what could you say? You had always tended towards tunnel vision, and were really focused on the goal. He still looks a bit worried, so you just press on with the story. 
255	“Anyway, she called ‘em happy pills, said they’d really give ya a good time. Scootaloo tells us if we just slip em into their drinks, they’ll be so happy, they’ll think it was each other, and then date! Seemed kinda thin, if you ask me, but we thought it’d be better than another date by itself. Keep in mind, we were still pretty young at this point.”
256	“Uh-huh.”
257	“So we set up the date just like Sweetie and Ah planned, and gosh was it good we didn’t stay with that plan; they were crazy awkward. But then they drank the juice we gave them, an’ they started acting all funny. We watched them for a bit, but they never actually did anything besides lay on the ground an’ look up at the clouds.” Anon scoffs, shaking his head with only a trace of a smile left.
258	“Well, I’m glad nothing too bad happened. Didja get in trouble?”
259	“Oh, yeah. We went back to Scootaloo’s house, an’ a couple hours later Big Mac picked us up. He really chewed us out, too.” You shiver, not wanting to see your big brother angry again; it was pretty scary. Sensing your discomfort, Anon blankets your shoulders with his arm and pulls right up against his side, offering a comforting look. 
260	“Well, we all do stupid things. I mean, I haven’t drugged my family members,” Anon consoles you, snickering at the above-average mistake, “but I’ve certainly done some dumb sh- stuff.” Your misgivings about the story are somewhat justified, the experience seeming much less light-hearted in retrospection. Definitely not something you plan to revisit anytime soon. You duck into Anon’s arm, hoping to separate yourself from the discomfort. His protective embrace is almost perfect, a warm feeling soaking up your full attention. 
261	Under your foot, the gravel sports a pair of bright painted numbers: ‘0.5’. You and Anon had entered the path a little while before the starting marker, meaning you had about half a mile to go before you reached the park. Not too far in the distance, you can spy the sparse parking lot, sprinkled with a handful of sedans and trucks. There’s a large truck towing a boat behind it, getting ready to back into the boating area and drop off its cargo. Your family doesn’t have a boat–the rest of your family isn’t quite as into it as you are- but you borrow one from your neighbors every once in a while. Another plan, involving boats and Anon in a pair of trunks, fills your mind. Your future summer’s plan is rapidly filling up; maybe you should consult Anon before filling up his schedule. Turning your well-nestled head upwards, you ask him if he’d like to go boating.
262	“I’m not sure we have time…” he responds with a hint of a smile. 
263	“Well, not today. Silly goose.” You jab his side on the latter sentence.
264	“Oh, well then yeah.” Sweet! Well, there’s one down. It crosses your mind to invite him to all thirteen activities planned, but you turn the inner proposal down. It’d probably be better to ask him about them every once in a while, so you don’t overwhelm him, or come on too strong. Maybe you could suggest something to him here and there, see if you can make him think it’s his idea. AJ told you that’s an important thing to know in life. For now though, you just keep on walking.
265	The path is sloped ever so slightly, up until a division in the path, which marks the entrance of the park itself. The multicolored little stones that make up the path are imperfectly flattened, only noticeable to the shoeless, like you and your beau. You’ve gone so many places barefoot, and done it so many times that you barely notice the heat and rough texture, though you can’t say the same for Anon. Thankfully, it isn’t too hot today, and he seems to be making it along alright, except for the occasional ‘ow,’ and stagger as a sharper piece falls under his step. Maybe you’ll give him a massage when you get there; it’s only fair. There’s railing on the left side on the path, faded and cracked paint over the black metal, the olive coating broken in off in great chunks. On the other side is a short hill, no bigger than 8 or 9 feet tall, covered in rocks as big as your head. The jagged wall probably served as a levee before the nearby dam fixed the issue of flooding. 
266	Thick trees had begun to spring up, hiding the river on the left side except in the occasional spaces where one had fallen towards the river. The depressed branches of one hang below the rest, the low ceiling of leaves forcing Anon to duck. You reach up and grab a branch as you pass by, a wide but firm grip dragging some of the leaves off as the branch pulls out of your receding motion. The bright green leaves, a dry mossy color on the bottom, flutter out of your open hand. The wind and your forward motion fail to escort one of them out, a lone leaf holding strong to the palm of your hand. You look at it with interest, wondering how it’d braved the pushy breeze, and what kind of tree it’d come from. But the thought is interrupted by a sudden motion of the boy on your arm. He’s bent over, trying to keep up his pace, then stood back up. Had he tripped? No, it didn’t seem lik-
267	Before your thought can finish, his right hand moves in front of you, showing you a brilliant daisy. Every petal shines bright, each as pearly white and proud as the feathers of a swan. The lingering presentation ends along with the walking and his arm’s hold on you, as he fixes the flower in your hair. He puts it right over your right ear, needing a couple tries to keep it in place. You’d help him, but that determined look in his eye and the exaggerated dismay when it doesn’t keep are too good to ruin. When it finally sticks, patted twice to ensure its stability, he breaks out in a proud grin. A giggle breaks out, the show proving too funny to keep silent for. You go up on your toes and kiss your adorner’s cheek in thankfulness, then return to your original position. The walk continues with beauty intensified, and you hum contentedly into his side. Can he hear it? Can he feel it? 
268	His right hand holds his shoes, forefinger and middle finger hooked on the back of the dangling loafers. Your own shoes are carried in the same way, though on your left hand, so your other is free to hold onto him. Both external arms swing softly in the sweet motion of the stroll. At first, the bobbing of your walking, the movements up and down as your legs carry you onward, is mismatched, but within a couple steps, you’ve synchronized with him. Your head leans slightly into his torso, and his hand, hanging just over your shoulder, softly caresses your left cheek. His body is warm from holding you and the warm sun resting on him. The division of the walkway into two separate paths, the herald of the park, is coming closer, but you’ve long forgotten the impulse that led you here. For now, all that exists is the boy and the stroll.
269	Soon the split in the path is found, the wall of trees rapidly fall off to reveal the majestic sparkle of the sunlit river. The gleaming whiteness of the ragged waves are nearly blinding, though rare in the undulating blue. A boat or two comes roaring out of the tree line and into the limelight, before disappearing into the other side of your view. Trees still hug the side of the path, but to a much lower degree, only one every couple of yards. The leaf-coated branches still block out some view, but it’s still inconsequential. On the other side of the brilliantly shining water is a small island, one you’d trekked with your older siblings more than once. 
270	Beyond that lied the other shore, golden brown dirt surrounding the few houses sprouted here and there. The island was fantastic, a rich oasis of plants and trees, devoid of almost any human involvement. Sure there was a bottle or two lying around, but for the most part, it was a small portion of the wilderness never broken by the advance of civilization. You’d definitely have to bring Anon there sometime. And so the schedules swells. 
271	“Oh! Over there!” A pull on your hand invites you to follow the running Anon, and your glance reveals the source of his excitement. In a small field, fenced by a ring of loosely placed trees, is a small playground, the nearest attraction being a pair of swings. The excitement catches, and soon you’re booking it towards the metal structure alongside him. A race develops in the first couple steps:
272	“Bet Ah can beat ya there!” 
273	“Like heck you can!” He picks up his pace, moving to be just more than a head in front of you. His bounding body moves up and down over the emerald grass, turned dim under the tall canopy of trees. The trees themselves may be thin, but they rise far above the ground, the lush branches providing a surprisingly adequate cover for the park itself. >Under that cool shade, you double your speed, really going for broke. >His longer legs carry him further, but years of running in the fields grant you a strength his legs don’t know. >You speed ahead of him, landing in the mottled bark a step before he does. The tiny chunks of wood are no friend to bare feet, and you kill your momentum quickly, as does he. You pass by the first swing, allowing Anon to have it; it’s the little things you can do for people that mean the most, you know. 
274	You hop into the black seat, the former line made into a ‘U’ at the sudden pressure. The chain lines, snaking their way to the sides of it jut inwards, a little more pressure on your sides than you prefer. Then again, it’s been quite a few years since you’d last gotten onto one of these, and you weren’t the same weight as a third grader. First, you stand on the ground, sticking your upper half backwards, at an angle. Then you tilt your body backwards and extend your feet forward, moving you forward just a bit. Though it’s at a very low speed, you can already feel the illusion of a slight breeze caused by your body cutting through the air. Once your momentum all but stops, you lean forward and contract your legs under your seat, rocking you back. Once the apex is reached again, you return to the former position, and begin to pick up speed. Only a few more iterations and you’re soaring through the low arc. Up, up, up you go, a good second of motionlessness –or a velocity close enough to it- in that highest position. It’s actually a little bit scary there: that second lasts way longer than it has any right to, your weight just hanging in the air like some old cartoon. You instinctively grip the chains to either side, the odd shape making odd impressions on your hands. Still, that rush as you speed from that first height to the second is awesome, and you can’t help but shout for joy as you swoop to the front of the swing set.	
275	Anon’s over to your left, swinging with wild abandon. It’s surprising to see the older boy, usually so serious, swinging with that childlike glee on his face, but goodness is it there. Those positions, back lowered and legs extended forward, then quickly switching to torso leaned forward and legs curled almost seem silly on his larger frame. The motions of a happy kid are unusual to see, but the sheer happiness exuding from him as he grins at you is inspiring. You’re glad you came out here today. Suddenly, he slows down and turns around, facing the opposite direction as you are. Then, after picking up speed, he extends his hand for a power-high-five. Not one to deny him, you put yours out as well. Then, just before the midpoint on your arc, they meet. POW!Geezums, that hurt! You take your right hand off the chain line and rub your hand, the intensity of the awesomeness leaving a bit of pain behind. It fades momentarily, and you’re free to appreciate the five again. Looking over at Anon, you can see him rubbing his hand as well, but no injury done to his smile. Good; that’s something you wanna protect. 
276	Ready to get off, you aren’t sure about the instinctive exit. The way you’ve always done it was to just leap off, see how far you could go. But you were going a bit faster and a bit higher this time around; maybe that kind of leap wasn’t the best. But the only other thing you could think of was to just jam your feet down and drag along the dirt until your momentum was killed. It probably wouldn’t hurt your slightly calloused feet too much, but no way in heck are you gonna take the lame way out. Compromising, you go through a couple iterations without any motions to hasten yourself, and the momentum and arc lowers slightly. Now at a more comfortable place, you leap off, throwing the chain supports behind you. That momentum of air is pure glory for you, absolute freedom. Soaring through the air without the sides jutting into you, your whole body free from all external touch;  you can see why’d you always leap off as a kid. The ground finally hits, more than half the pressure entering your left foot and leg. A sharp pain, noticeably sourced in the middle-right part of your foot shoots through you. You stumble, but catch yourself, the sting falling off momentarily. 
277	Suddenly, you recall the impulse that had brought you here in the first place, and you rush over to him. It’s a slight hobble at first, your pained foot rebelling against the motion, but it comes to its senses soon enough. Grabbing his hand, you lead him over to the bare part of the grass. Arriving, you immediately turn around to face him, his expression bright and open. Too carefree to think consider the possibility that he doesn’t know square dancing, you go right ahead and start. The circle’s what you and your family usually start out with, where you just face each other and revolve around a point in the center. Pretty simple, and kinda like those scenes in the movies where a couple is spinning in circles in a field and one starts to lift off the ground. Wanting a reenactment, you speed up, and he soon joins in. But the pace gets to be a little too fast before any liftoff happens, and the fear of falling slows you down. 
278	The next move’s just a simple forward and back: you face each other, get right up close, and then back to original positions. It’s a bit more fun when a lot of people are doing it, but it’s the dance you know, so you go for it. Your hands grasp each other’s’, elongated and pulling when you’re distant. But as you move in close, your chests touch, and his face is as wide and pleasant as the sun itself. You move backwards, then in, aiming to kiss him at your next convenience. Apparently the same plan is had by him, and both faces move forward a bit faster than usual. His mouth hits yours, each drawing a small pain in the lips.
279	“Aw geez, are you okay?”
280	“Ah’m fine, Ah’m fine. Are you?” 
281	“Yeah, yeah.” He reassures you, then awkwardly begins the dance again. This time he’s leading, and you’re not exactly sure what’s going on over there. There’s a vague feeling of swing to it, but a lot more individual motions going on. At one point, he severs the connection and begins shuffling in place, swinging his arms as he does it. Another move, presumably a popular one in the clubs he’s told you about, comes about: a mess of arm sways and kicking graces your vision. Stepping back to watch the show, you’re unhappy to admit that the best part is the smile as he does it. He really looks like he’s enjoying it. But… you look at the moves again, to make sure you’re not missing any secret coolness. Eh… You don’t wanna say his dancing’s dumb. You really don’t wanna say it looks sillier than a cow in stilts. But he’s making it real hard on you. A hand ventures out, and you’re pulled into a flurry of wild gesticulations and wobbles. Trying desperately to keep up, you show off your skill at the Shopping Cart, and the Sprinkler. 
282	Partway through, he slows down, looking at your ill-matching moves. It’s not a bad thing; a little funny maybe, but he’s certainly not unhappy about it. Your pace slows down, your eyes mostly on his goofy dancing as well. Slowing to a stop, the two of you continue looking at each other with repressed giggles. Eventually they do come out, the ludicrousness of the alien dances as well as the never-to-be-spoken-of attempt to mingle them a bit too much for each of you to remain serious-faced at. His eyes always close when he laughs that hard, a wandering mind notices. When he does open his eyes, they seem clear; his hand extends to you, and you grasp it, hoping the next stage of dancing will go a little better.
283	It does. His first steps are slow, allowing you to understand what he’s doing and follow accordingly. Right off the bat you understand the motions: he’s swing-dancing. It’s the basic forms, and at a slow enough pace to sync up with each other. You count inside your head, being out-of-practice; 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and, repeat. 1- Left foot forward, little weight on it; and- back to standing; 2- right foot forward, little weight on it; and- back to standing; 3- right foot out to the side, little weight on it; and- back to standing; 4- left foot back, full weight on it; and- place weight back on right foot, begin to move left foot forward. You continue this for a little while switching feet every once in a while, or going diagonally instead of straight forward. His foot does come down on yours a couple times, but his worried apology isn’t necessary; this isn’t the first time you’ve danced with boys. And if you could deal with them, you could certainly be okay with Anon here. 
284	The pace has been slowly accelerating as you get into the groove of it, but he slows down to show you something new. Instead of the rock-step on 4, he thrusts his left arm out to your right, and takes a giant step that way, turning to face you at its completion. You follow suit, rotating about a quarter turn every measure of that unheard music. Here and there he pulls you into a spin, and you make sure to slap the ground as you do so. It was the way cool kids did it. 
285	During your spinning, the flying colors of an unfocused background make their way into your sight, the kaleidoscope of hues more beautiful than ever. The perfect summer sky, blue as ever, against the brilliant greens of the trees and grass feel like some exaggerated painting. But his hand in yours, and the beautiful music, the kind for your ears and his only, tell you that this is all, incredibly and wonderfully real. The wind flows through your rosy locks, sending them flying in a mad attempt to keep up with your bobbing head. His fingers are cinched on the back of your hands, and your grip holds him in a similar manner. For a moment, it feels like you aren’t two people, just one, caught in this magic maelstrom. He twirls you once more, this time holding your back and letting you fall most of the way to the ground. But you don’t fear falling for a second, knowing he’ll keep you. And as the ground finally stops rising to meet you, his face descends, kissing you passionately on your own lips.
286	Your arms extend, reaching up to snag him in a tight hug. Your lips respond to kiss, answering every inch of love he’s given you with your own. And your love for him ain’t something to scoff at, no sir. Somewhere along the line, your impassioned response makes him forget his balance, and the ground soon closes the distance. But he didn’t forget entirely, and he regains his mind just enough to spin and let you fall on him, instead of the other way around. Feeling the soft give of his chest under your, you lie your head down on his chest, listening for his heartbeat again. Thankful for the protection, your hand slowly rubs his chest, just an inch past where your head is located. You hope the love in your touch can make up for the skill you know you haven’t got. But the humming that comes a moment later tells you he’s content with it. And there you lay, for who knows how long, in the loving arms of your cousin, Anon Orange.