“Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.”

The next two days Rembrandt spent mostly trying to get rid of the unusual clenching in his chest. It wouldn't go away no matter what he did. It annoyed and stressed him out immensely, ridding him of his usually calm and collected attitude. He tried everything, from relaxing alone, drinking warm tea and reading his favorite books to attending (reluctantly) Pinkie Pie's famous parties with Caramel. Although he soon found out those were becoming a rather enjoyable experience, at the end of the day the clench was still there.

It was the third morning when decided he maybe needed a change of scenery, so thought of to visiting his family in Canterlot. He's been living in Ponyville for almost a month now, writing and receiving letters from his family, who was, as he pretty much expected, pretty understanding about it; his friend were a bit panicked, but soon got adapted when they heard he was living a nice life.

Rembrandt's parents were used to him suddenly traveling somewhere when he was younger and in search of his Cutie Mark, so this sudden decision thankfully didn't surprise them too much. His mother did took extra care to inform him how much he missed him in her latest letter though, so a visit would be in order.

Less than two hours from that decision, Rembrandt was on the train to Canterlot, not sure if he should stay the night or return with the night express. The ride passed pretty fast as his head was filled with thoughts of the family he missed, the clench that wouldn't let go and of train schedule.

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"Remmie, my dear! We missed you so much!"

"Welcome back, son."

"Hiya bro, I missed you so much!"

"Mother, Father, Margaret, it is so nice to see you again."

"I told you a hundred times to call me Rett! Margaret is so girly!"

Rembrandt didn't realize how much he missed his parents and his little sister until he saw them waiting for him on the station. It was a bit out of his character, but he couldn't resist but to hug them tightly, feeling a bit of relief inside of his chest. His sister Margaret, or Rett as she wanted to be called, let out an awkward giggle, but otherwise returned the hug. His parents seemed delighted to see how emotional their son got.

As they headed back to their family home, Rembrandt started telling them about his new friends, job and things he learned and how delightful of a surprise Ponyville turned out to be. By the time he finished, they were all already in the living room of their spacey family home eating snacks and drinking tea.

"Well I am certainly glad to see you haven't gone there in vain. In fact, I was proud you were so determined to do something about it, son."

"Thank you, Father."

"But you really could visit more often, you know."

"Sorry mother, I was just really indulged into the whole town of Ponyville. The ponies there are so different. And I met this interesting lady, Miss Sparkle, who has some books I've never seen before available for--"

"Right~ books, books, books, why am I not surprised!" Margaret snorted mockingly, earning a stern look from her father.

"Marga--"

"It's Rett."

"Margaret, dear, you might as well be a bit more like your brother. Now", he began, seeing that Margaret got noticeably madder, "I don't say your love of art won't take you anywhere, but you really could use a little more knowledge of the world. We have so many wonderful books just sitting in your room-"

"-collecting dust and being eat by bookworms, oh ha, ha, ha. I heard that a tons of times", Margaret rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to learn, I just want to paint!"

"Just painting will not make you insta-famous! You have to study, too!"

Although his father and sister started a petty quarrel once again, this time, instead of feeling annoyed, Rembrandt felt amused. He kind of missed this.

"So Remmie, sweetie, are you getting anywhere closer to finding your talent?"

Rembrandt got caught off guard so he just stared at her for a second. She seemed confused at his silence, so he quickly started talking, merely to fill in the silence between him and his mother.

"Oh, I err, yes, I mean, no, I mean, err... Khm, khm!" he coughed to clear his throat and his mother laughed softly.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be nervous. I am your family, not a lady friend."

"R-right. I'm sorry, mother. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"Remmie! I am your mother! You are my son! You can never disappoint me! Especially not after all you did", she smiled sweetly. Rembrandt returned the smile shyly. He never felt completely relaxed around his parents, because he couldn't help but wonder what were their real thoughts of him.

"Well, in fact, I do think I've been making progress. I mean, I've discovered things in Ponyville... I don't mean like in materialistic sense, more like... well, this will sound downright silly but... spiritual, maybe?"

"... I think you mean emotional."

"Ugh, I don't like that word", Rembrandt shifted uncomfortably, remembering all the emotions that did invade his heart for no reason he could think of.

"Well, a pony as educated as you should use his words properly, so you better start liking it."

Rembrandt could only sigh over his mother victorious smile as she sipped some more tea.

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"Oh do you have to go already?" Rembrandt's mother pleaded, while his father shook his head. The Sun already setted, and the first stars glittered in the sky. The night express was leaving in about an hour and Rembrandt decided he missed his bed in Ponyville, oddly enough; he did promise to visit the next week though, because he also missed talking to his family. Before going back to Ponyville though, he wanted to go on a quiet, lonely walk. His family knew how much he loved his lonely walks where he could think and get his thoughts in order.

"Oh come on Marigold, he's not a small colt anymore. He has things to do and ladies to charm, I bet", his father started playfully, as he always did when the ladies where in question. Now it was Rembrandt's turn to roll his eyes.

"I'm just saying, you're a grown, fine stallion already! Your mother and I want some grandchi--"

"Alright, now you're going too far!" Rembrandt laughed.

"Hey bro, it was nice to see ya again! The next time you come, we have got to hang out! You caught me by surprise when you visited us so suddenly, otherwise I would make you spend a whole day with me!" Margaret spoke in a quick manner, nearly running out of breath, but still considerably more coherent than Pinkie Pie's ramblings.

"Sure thing, Rett."

Her eyes lit up when he finally addressed her with her nickname, a thing he refused to do for a long time. For some reason, he felt like giving that little gift to her. His mother and father gave him a rare and short look of disapproval, but he smiled at them.

"Well, see you in a week then."

The four waved to each other until Marigold successfully dragged Margaret into the house, her being very entusiastic about waving to her brother and finally closed the door. Rembrandt sighed and slowly started strolling through the city, not sure where he was going. He found that while he did feel happy visiting his family and it did relax him quite a bit, that clench in his chest didn't lose its grip. Feeling a bit annoyed that he's been feeling down for practically three days, he got so lot in thoughts he didn't notice a slightly elderly mare in front of him. She spread her wings in surprise and shook her head when he gently bumped into her.

"Oof! Oh please pardon me, madam, it was my fault entirely!"

Seemingly satisfied with such a quick and polite apology, the mare, who was obviously (judging by the dress and ridiculously overdone haircut) a member of one of the old, elite families, smiled politely.

"It is quite alright, I suppose. After all you did apologize sincerely and that is something Mrs Whistler doesn't forget so easily!"

"Well that is very kind of- wait, did you just say your family name is Whistler?"

"Ah, recognized it, haven't you? I am not surprised; and by the look of your flank, I suppose you must be the famous Rembrandt of the Quills!"

"That is right", Rembrandt replied, not upset over her casual mention of his blank flank - at least she was sincere. He had something else on his mind anyway right now.

"Does that make Wind Whistler your daughter?"

"Oh, you know my daughter? Wonderful thing isn't she?" she suddenly looked at him as if were a prize and got closer to him; Rembrandt got an eerie feeling that it had to do with her daughters "unfortunate" choice for a boyfriend.

"Y-yes, I just met her a few days ago. I had her and Caramel Smith over for dinner."

"Oh... right", Mrs Whistlers' smile suddenly fell, proving Rembrandt he was right. The clench suddenly tugged on his chest, and Rembrandt very abruptly decided he couldn't leave the matter alone.

"Mrs Whistler, you'll have to accept my apologies for what I am about to say during out first official meeting, but you're making your daughter very distressed and uncomfortable."

The eyes of the Pegasus got so big and round they were comparable to the Moon. She managed to utter a rather angered: "Excuse me?"

Rembrandt sighed, realizing he couldn't stop himself from continuing; it was like his mouth wouldn't listen to him:

"Your daughter confined into me... Wind loves her Mister Caramel from the bottom of her heart and yet you're the one whom she stresses over because you haven't approved of her relationship. And yes, I know you just 'want the best for her', a stallion from elite family and of dandy financial situation", Rembrandt immediately said when Mrs Whistler opened her mouth, promptly making her fall silent again, "but you're in fact making her sad beyond belief. I personally met Caramel and we've been best friends ever since. He's a fine young stallion and I can honestly say he has just as much of a bright future as anypony you could ever find for her in this city."

It took Rembrandt a few moments to realize a few things. First, the Pegasus in front of him was slowly growing more angry than he had expected. Second, should he be rewarded with upset reply telling him to mind his own business, he was going to be late for a train. Third, he might've just lost his best friend because of this.

The stare contest began, the bright sunny eyes of Mrs Whistler dangerously piercing Rembrandt's meek pale green ones. For some reason he felt determined, probably due to the speech he just delivered, so he stubbornly stared back. It lasted for a few painfully long seconds. Then Mrs Whistler's angry frown disappeared and she looked at her hooves, a sad look over her face. Before Rembrandt could say anything, she very abruptly flew away.

Rembrandt took a deep breath and ran towards the station, not realizing just what had he done at that moment.

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Once he finally sat down and managed to think things through a little bit, Rembrandt realized just how prepared that speech seemed to be. Yet he came up with it in the spot. He felt the words almost naturally flowing out of him. Like he was speaking of something he knew well.

And that stare she gave him. How in the world did he collect the courage the look back at those furious eyes?

Rembrandt slowly fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of horde of ponies, all looking exactly like Wind Whistler stomping allover him. For some reason, in the dream it didn't hurt him physically, but he felt like crying.

He woke up when the train let out a high pitched sound, announcing his return to Ponyville. Pretty distressed, Rembrandt hurried to his home, not being able to wait a second longer for much desired sleep.

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Another two days have passed, with Rembrandt forgetting about the clench that was still gripping his heart, but with a new worry over what he did in Canterlot. Wind's mother was probably going to tell Wind some over the top story of how rude he was and she might got angry with him, which he definitely didn't want. No to mention what Caramel might say. Stress was getting to him so much that he didn't notice a pony coming from behind him while he was sitting in a cafe and nearly poured himself with a cup of coffee he was levitating in front of his mouth when she tapped his shoulder. He turned around and saw a familiar arctic blue Pegasus with a wide smile on her face.

"Wind Whistler, good morning", he said, still slightly startled. The Pegasus didn't respond, but still just looked at him with wide, glistening eyes. And that silly, way too happy smile. He was surprised to see her so happy - if anything, he expected her to come up to him with a frown or a pout.

"... uh, can I help yoummf!"

Her blonde mane covered his eyes as she gripped him into a tight, almost suffocating, but friendly, he was sure, hug.

"I don't know what to say but... thank you. Thank you so much!"

Rembrandt froze. Could it be that...?

"I have no idea what you told her, but my mother did mention your name. Whatever you did, I will be eternally grateful for it." when she finally let him go, he noticed her eyes were teary.

"I... umm...", he found himself lacking words. She laughed.

"You don't have to say anything! I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am. I definitely owe you one for what you did for me. And I can't believe you actually did it. You made Caramel bawl once he heard the happy news!" she giggled, and Rembrandt couldn't suppress a smile on the thought of Caramel crying and laughing like a child at the same time.

"You don't owe me anything. I... I did it because I felt like I had to."

Wind burst into very happy tears much to his surprise and he immediately offered her a handkerchief.

"Wh-why in the Heavens are you crying?! Please calm down..."

"You're t-too k-kind!" she said, laughter breaking through her crying features. She wiped her face and, still laughing, added: "I swear, you're the... the... the most something pony I ever met. I just don't have the word to describe that thing I see in you", she grinned with a wide toothy smile.

Whatever the word she meant and even though he didn't find out which one it was, Rembrandt had to admit to himself that he liked being the most whatever-he-was pony Wind ever met.

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Emotion.

I never liked that word much. It represented everything I wasn't. I was never much above being indifferent, unless it was a unique occasion, so to speak. I got excited when I got my parents bought me the present for Birthday I really desired and I showered them with love I usually wasn't showing much. I would get a tad bit soft of holidays and meaningful days, such as Heart's Warming Eve. I felt totally silly the first time I had a crush on a lady friend from high school.

Other than than, indifference ruled my life. It was kind of like a shell around me that protected me from everything I didn't want to have in me - insecurity, disappointment, feeling of failure, being betrayed... being like that saved me from many of those stuff, but also cut me back on everything nice I could've felt. Everything I've started to feel during past few weeks.

But who is to say it is too late to start feeling?

Private notes:

Oddly enough, talk with Wind Whistler's mother helped her! I never thought I might have influence like that on someone. I had an unusual amount of confidence when I talked to her, which is strange. It is not like I'm too soft to go against what someone says, but I usually don't meddle into other ponies' affairs.

The visit to my family was nice. Mother indirectly told me I should start listening to my heart more. Well, at least that is the way I understood her. Knowing her, it was what she was trying to say.

Rembrandt put his pen down and lay in the bed staring out of the window, feeling so relaxed he thought he could fly...

...

Wait, what? Relaxation?! The clench was gone! When?? When did he start feeling alright again? When he finished the article and sent it? When he talked to Whistler? Was it is late reaction from a few days ago when he visited his parents?!

...Was it that tasty cupcake from the Sugarcube Corner?

He had no idea.

With a frustrated groan, he fell asleep, looking forward to a night that wasn't going to be interrupted with strange dreams of being crushed by hooves.