episode one

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There was little doubt that at this time, the locker room of the CloudsDale Flight Academy was the liveliest place in the whole city. And for good reason- the Wonderbolts, the best team of fliers in all of Equestria, were there. They had just finished practicing for the night, and the group was winding down, showering, talking excitedly amongst themselves about shows performed in the past and shows yet to come. Eventually though, the team began to depart, giving each other farewells and their best wishes until the next meeting or practice had come, and the locker room of the Academy fell silent.

However, though silent, the locker room wasn't entirely empty. A few moments after the group had left, a single Wonderbolt quietly made his way down the rows of lockers until he reached one in particular. He opened the lock, and after a few seconds, stripped himself down, revealing himself to have light blue fur. With care, he picked up his uniform in his mouth, and hung it on a hook inside his locker. Just as he finished, a mare's voice behind him said, "Hey there Soarin'. What're you still doing here?"

Soarin' jumped, slamming his head against the top of his locker with a loud metallic bang. As he recoiled, the voice behind him giggled and said, "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you." He turned back to see who was there, and his heart skipped a beat.

Behind him stood the captain of the Wonderbolts, Spitfire. She was still in her uniform- the form-fitting garment left almost nothing to the imagination, causing a lump to form in Soarin's throat. She shifted slightly, staring at him with those big, brown eyes of hers. "Well?" she asked expectantly.

"Oh, hey… Spitfire," he said nervously. "I was just gonna go take a shower- I had some things I had to do first, so I couldn't do it with the others." That was a big, fat lie. Soarin' didn't actually have anything to do- he was simply too depressed. Spitfire giggled again and pressed herself against Soarin' and said, "You could take a shower with me," Spitfire blushed and leaned in for a kiss. Soarin' ducked away and stared at Spitfire in disgust. "You. . .disgust me; do you think that if you kiss me I'll magically fall in love with you?"

The orange mare narrowed her brown eyes and flicked her tail. "What?" she said in surprise. "This isn't the Spitfire I know. . ." Soarin' hissed, turning and trotting away, his goggles pressed to his forehead. "Wait! Soarin'! We can work this ou-. . ."

"No." the stallion refused, opening his wings.

"But, you won't even give our love a chance!"

"I said no,"

The light blue male flew off, leaving behind a stunned Spitfire. The pain reared it's ugly head again in his heart. "I need a drink. . ." he whispered to himself. Soarin' steered to the left, clenching his teeth as the "symptoms" began to kick in.

Lump in throat. Check.

Strange arousal. Check.

Loneliness. Now where was that?!

In the past few days, Soarin' had felt a hole in his heart. But since Spitfire and the other WB's have been having more meetings, he was feeling better. Like the wound had been filled, but not completely. . .like there wasn't a wound at all. He made his way to the CloudsDale bar and stopped infront of the two large, glass doors. Soarin' pushed it open, sighing in relief as the dim lighting engulfed his pelt, making him look like a total stranger.

He trotted silently to the booth and lifted his hooves onto the counter. "Can I have Sarsaparilla?. . .Double shot." he asked the barkeep. The stallion nodded and disappeared. As he returned, he placed the drink down, putting a sliced lemon wedge on the rim. "Thanks." Soarin' said bluntly, pushing 15 bits toward the bartender. He smiled and backed away, tending a mare on the other side of the counter. He sipped his tangy drink and smiled sheepishly as the pain began to die down. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Are you done, sir?" a voice said, which made Soarin' jump. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. It was already 10:14. "Y-yeah. Thanks." he mumbled, trotted out the bar.

The pain had subsided but hadn't entirely been removed. Soarin' sighed sleepily and flew to his suite, smiling a bit as the clouds brushed across his face.

He landed infront of his mansion, trotting past the other rooms. He felt a sharp glare from Spitfire as he passed but said nothing. Soarin' made his way to his own private room and closed to door behind him.

He plopped onto his bed, his body weight sinking into the plush covers. He covered himself and closed his eyes.

The pain was still there. . .and there wasn't anypony who could remove it.