I never gave it that much thought, to be honest; it was one of those things that just snuck up on me without my ever being consciously aware of it, like the revelation that I was considered to be a doormat by most of the ponies in town, or that others thought I possessed a good singing voice. I'd heard the jokes, of course. One so used to having ponies talk behind their back always picks up on these things eventually. They think that I don't hear, of course, or that I'm not liable to kick up a fuss even if I do. But I do. Internally, at least.

        Don't you think that they're a bit too close for comfort?

        Isn't it weird how he'll just be waiting in her home most days?

        Celestia knows WHAT they get up to behind closed doors, but you should hear the noise some nights …

        Truth be told, this is water off a duck's back to me; for pretty much my entire life, ponies have been making fun of me. Because I couldn't fly, because I was weird and gangly, because I spent all of my free time talking to animals.

        If you think what they say to my face is bad, you should hear what they murmur behind my back; so, by necessity, I've been forced to develop something of a thick skin in order to cope with the snide chatter. Sticks and stones, as I believe the saying goes.

        His mind, however, is an enigma wrapped in a puzzle box surrounded by a moat of chocolate milk, and while I understand him about as well as anypony possibly could, that still means I don't understand him in the slightest. I'm usually so good with monsters, too.

        Not that he needs me to, with all of his power and knowledge, I worry about him. What did he think of those ponies who made fun of him just for being different? Just for having a different worldview than most? More importantly, what would he do about it if he was pushed just that bit too far?

        Princess Celestia, even Twilight and my other friends, are all under the mistaken impression that I control him, that I tamed him with my empathy, but the reality is far more complex than that; for his own inscrutable reasons, he wants to be friends with me, and he has even begun making overtures to the others, though they're still reluctant at this stage to accept. I can't say I blame them, but I can still think it from time to time when he tries his best and they rebuff his efforts. Yes, he comes on strongly at times, but imagine you were dying of thirst in a desert and somepony offered you a glass of water. You'd hardly sip politely, would you?

        What he did in the past, I'm not even sure I can forgive that, and it's probably for the best that neither he nor Princess Celestia have ever given me the full litany of his crimes. There's only so much a fragile pegasus can take after all, and I still have a hard time with what he did to just myself and my friends. It's so strange to think that all of this could've been avoid if, rather than imprisoning him, somepony had just taken a chance on befriending him. All of us have the capacity to go a bit strange when deprived of company.

        A friend. That's all he is to me: nothing more than a friend. Somepony to share cucumber sandwiches with on a pleasant spring afternoon.

        So why did just looking at him make the blood rush in my ears? Why does his mischievous smile make my heart pound in my ears? Why did that misshapen agglomeration of parts that contrived his body, so radically different from what conventional wisdom said was attractive, make all four of my knees quake?

        Whatever strange force had gripped me, one of the symptoms was, it seemed, taking temporary leave of my senses; seeing him by the fountain near the Town Hall, that roguish grin of his in place as he observed the ponies going about their daily lives, something changed in me. When I got close enough, I pressed my muzzle against his.

        As I would tell myself over the next several days, it was a peck, not even a real kiss. That said, it was still totally out of character for me. So much so that even he, still unaccustomed to all the naunces of the ponies that he had found himself mixed up with, was moved to comment upon it.

        “What was that, Fluttershy?” Discord's expression was curious. Considering. No doubt, he'd seen ponies kissing – pecking – before, but never having experienced it for himself it was a strange feeling for him.        

        “Um,” I said with all the profoundness that I could muster, my cheeks turning the same rosy hue as the apples in the nearby stalls. “It was a kiss. Er, it's something that ponies who really like each other do sometimes to show that they, well, really like each other.”

        “I see,” he replied with scientific interest, a notepad appearing in his lion paw. With his eagle claw, he produced a quill and wrote something down. “A friendly gesture? One meant to evoke a feeling of closeness?”

        “Something like that, yes. But ...” Did he really not know what a kiss was? Celestia said that he was thousands of years old, even older than herself and Luna. In all that time had he never … kissed? I found myself feeling sorry for him. Tartarus, even I'd been kissed in my short, sad life.

        “Hm?”

        “You know, don't just go around kissing anypony, okay?” I said, hoping to ward off any potential awkwardness. Whenever Discord learned something new about friendship, his tendency was to err on the side of overzealousness as he giddily through himself into applying those lessons on everypony he encountered. “Only ponies that you really, really like. And with their permission, of course.”

        “Got it,” replied Discord, the notepad and quill disappearing into the thin air from whence they had came. “Well, I must be off, my dearest Fluttershy. Chaos isn't going to spread itself. Unless I invented some type of Self Chaos Spreading machine, but then, what would I do?” He threw his head back and laughed exuberantly, and I felt my heart warming at the sound.

        Before I could say anything in reply, he was gone in a burst of light and something else tugged at my insides. I couldn't deny it any more.

        “I'm in love with Discord.”