We get to his hotel room, which is lovely for being on the first floor. It’s got a king-sized bed like any other, but also room for a couch and full kitchen. The bed’s made and the room is mostly clean, but there’s still evidence that he’s been living here a while. I see books piled up beside a radio and smile. The light’s on in the bathroom, which he rushes to shut off, silently cursing himself.

He has me lie down on his couch, which is comfortable. Grey linen with very sturdy cushions. I notice a little stain that looks like wine and smile apologetically. Like, “oh no, poor guy…” Or whatever.

“Here,” the lifeguard hoofs me an ice pack.

I take it. “Thanks.” I hold it against my cheek. The cold startles me at first, but I adjust to it quickly. He sits down beside me, dread in his eyes. When he finally looks at me I can tell he’s a little uncomfortable. “Look… I—I know he’s you’re brother but…”

I sigh. I was hoping we’d gotten past that. “I don’t care what you do. I’m already never going to speak to him again, now that he knows…” I realize too late that this stranger doesn’t really know the details of the argument. “I mean, we were never really great friends, but after that I doubt we’ll ever meet up again.”

He sighs, “Right, ok.” He’s silent for a moment, which I’m grateful for, but I can tell he’s still uncomfortable. Somethings bugging him. He fidgets for a few minutes while I ease into a pillow. “Did you want to… talk about it?”

I take a deep breath. I feel like I owe it to the guy, but I don’t know what I’d say. Would I give him every detail, or leave some things out to spare myself? Or spare my brother? “I guess,” I offer, though remain silent for a few moments. Once I draw up the courage I begin, “My dad’s pretty old fashioned, and with him being the oldest he was raised to basically uphold all the standards my dad set without question. He’s very hard working. They both are, and most of the time put their jobs before the world. I guess, the way I’ve been acting hasn’t been up to their standards.” That’s fine, he should understand now, I don’t need to go any further. “Then when he found out I was gay…” Well crap.

“I see…” he mumbles. He’s quiet for a bit, then, “Well, that takes a load off for me.”

I look at him strangely, leaving my ice pack behind. “What…?”

“Just,” he scoots closer, “finding out you’re gay. Now I don’t feel as awkward admiring you.”

My mouth falls open, so I close it again. I’m blushing. How do I respond? Should I laugh? It seems kind of funny at how perfect this whole situation is. He’d probably get offended. Should I cry? That seems like a pretty appropriate response. Though, should I cry out of joy? Or fear that it won’t end well? Do I get the choice? I don’t really feel like crying, or laughing. How would he even react? He seems like he’d be a great boyfriend. He has ever since we “met” back at the spa. But that doesn’t answer anything. What if I’m wrong?

In the end I don’t react at all beyond wide eyes. “Aww, jeez,” he groans. “I’m sorry, that was not the right time.”

I gasp, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, “No, not really.” Then again, maybe it is. Maybe that’s exactly why I can’t find the right reaction. “It’s just… I’ve never really been hit on before.” I smile awkwardly and seal the deal.

He laughs acceptingly. “Is that true? I don’t believe you!”

I laugh at how cool he’s being. “It’s true! Most ponies don’t even believe that I’m gay. My brother certainly didn’t.”

“Well he wouldn’t believe anyone if they told him the sky was blue.” I laugh at that, then my head throbs unexpectedly and I wince. It wasn’t my cheek, though. I rub at the top of my head. He moves my hoof and inspects my hair line. He’s tracing my scar. Please don’t bring it up… “Where’d this come from?”

I smile sheepishly. I don’t want to talk about it, but I don’t really want to talk about anything. “Oh, that’s, a long story. A while ago my dad starting losing his memory…” I cut off suddenly as another thought comes to my mind. I was supposed to see Noh for lunch on Monday! When those drunks came in and… Did he see Pearl, or anyone else? What did they tell him? I haven’t seen him since Sunday, he’s likely worried sick.

I feel a wing rest on my back and look at the lifeguard again. “It’s ok…” he reminds me.

I tear up. He really is perfect, reading the situation, understanding at least partially that something’s wrong, and taking into account the last subject I was on and knowing it might have been a touchy subject and not asking about it more. That might just be a fluke, but it’s something I often take for granted when spending time with Pearl or Noh.

Suddenly I feel like I’ve neglected my friends somehow. I only believe that I don’t deserve them, and I certainly don’t deserve this lifeguard. I have to cut this out before I take it took far. Why do I think that? He’s perfect. Maybe too perfect. But, is that even possible? I don’t want to hurt him. Can I hurt him? If I leave him now I’ll hurt him. I should just give him a chance.

“You want to lay down?” He asks. I notice he’s gotten up from the sofa and is gesturing to the bed.

I smile, a little sad. “Yeah, I do.” I leave the ice pack on the end table and lie down on the right side of his bed, facing the middle. He gets in opposite me and looks at me. I’m still smiling like an idiot, then my lip quivers. He was smiling, too. He takes a deep breath, as if demonstrating, then he slides closer to me and lays a hoof over my shoulder, pulling me in to rest in his bosom. I sob. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” I whisper.

“I may have some idea,” he coos. His voice is so powerful, even when he’s quiet.

Our bodies close together, I quickly lose track of time. I don’t really care, though. I’ve never had something like this all to myself and I wanted it to last. He knew I didn’t want anything else yet, and he wasn’t rushing me. He just wanted me to be happy. I sob—or maybe it was a laugh—again and he pulls me closer. I’m wrapped up completely in his embrace, his front left hoof under me, his front right wrapped around me holding my head, his right wing draped over my mid-section. I’m curled up against his chest, protected from the world by his bastion. I’ve stopped crying, if only to breathe in his scent. He smells just like the pool.

Then he starts humming. I recognize the tune as what I considered a love song by a relatively famous pop artist. He hummed it slowly, and in such a low octave it resonated through his chest and into my whole body. I don’t want to lose this.