Reader, she found him.

It did not take her long, nor did it take her much effort. Though there were no tracks and though she had no means of transportation, she simply let her heart tell her where he might have gone, and that was how she found him.

She found him, reader, in the grove—no, past it. Past it, to where that strange curving tree had stood with the lanterns, where she had put down her gift that one night. Reader, she saw him standing there at the base of the tree, him all cold and shivering in his suit, no jacket with him, breath frosty. She saw him standing there and that was when she stopped, looking at him, reader, from that distance, uncertain and afraid and yet also neither of these things.

And so a moment passed. She could have turned away, reader. Turned and walked back to the home and she could have waited there for him. But what did she do, reader? Oh, of course you know. She had found him and what kind of person would she be if she just left him there?

“Hey.”

That, for some reason, was the first thing out of her mouth. It was lame. It was short. It spoke no volumes of what she was feeling. And yet it was the first thing out, and she figured, Maybe that means something.

He turned at the sound of her voice, and she saw across his face his smile. “Hey,” he replied.

She approached him, the dirt solid beneath her shoes, the coat wrapped around her and the scarf billowing out. Then she was next to him, and they were both looking up at the tree.

“It’s a very pretty tree,” she said.

“Eeyup,” he agreed. “My parents planted it, before…”

She was surprised how quick she understood what he meant, and was surprised how much quicker she was to step closer to him, her hand on his arm, a motion of comfort. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s okay. I know they’re still watching me.” His smile had yet to fall, and she was happy to see that.

They returned to looking back at the tree. With the ornaments and lights gone, it might have looked drab to the ordinary watcher, but to them it really was a beautiful sight. Simple, and yet unique. It was quiet in that grove. Ink allowed herself to enjoy it.

She could not enjoy it forever, though. She had come here for a reason. She took a deep breath, and turned to him.

“Mac, I—”

“Ink, I—”

Both stopped short, realizing they’d cut each other off. Both blushed. “Er, you go first, Mac,” she said.

He hesitated. Then he asked, “How was Braeburn?”

She actually managed to laugh a little at that. “Oh, he was a lot, that’s for sure.” And she proceeded to tell him what had happened, all the way up to the hospital visit. His eyes widened when she spoke of the lengths Braeburn had gone to trying and impressing Ink, and he smiled when she spoke of how her mother had finally recognized her. It was easy telling him these things, easier because he was patient and accepting all through it.

She finished with a sigh. “So… a lot has happened,” she said, getting a chuckle out of him. And just when she was about to explain all that “a lot” meant, it was as though all of her thinking had gone out the window. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her hand stiffened and she felt completely paralyzed.

But Mac would be patient, as he always had been. He would wait however long he needed to for her to arrive.

“I… I saw Sugar Belle,” she finally said.

Here, Mac’s face fell. “Oh.”

“She… told me what happened. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It… It is what it is. I guess some things aren’t supposed to work out the way y’ sometimes think they oughtta.”

“Yeah.”

Quiet again. But that was all right. They had all the time they needed for this, Ink thought.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” she said.

“Eeyup. I still remember when we bumped into each other back at Canterlot High.” He let out a rumbling chuckle as she blushed. “Least you didn’t make a habit of it.”

“Yeah, well, I remember when I found out you were reading those women's magazines,” she teased back. He blushed but laughed good-naturedly.

“So much has happened since then,” she continued. “A lot of nice things, but also painful things. And… because of all that, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

He let her talk, and she was thankful.

“You and I, we’ve… we’ve seen some things, done some things, er, yeah. Um. And you’ve been there through it all, with me, and I’d like to think we’ve grown closer because of all that and—well, you see…”

Goddamn it. I’m the girl who likes words, and I can’t even formulate a cohesive sentence!

She looked at Mac to see if he was confused, but his face was a calm sea of acceptance. She felt something bubbling inside of her. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s— there’s been a lot on my mind, and a lot has been thrown at me as of late.”

“Take yer time,” he said calmly.

“S-Sometimes,” she began again, “sometimes, you go about your life and your days doing what you gotta do, and then things happen that make it hard. Or difficult. And then during that time you meet people, a lot of people, and, and they, they, uh… they’re with you then. And some will stick with you for a season, or for a reason, or for more, but some will go and some will stay, either way.”

She folded her hands behind her, looking back up at the tree. She wasn’t sure if any of what she was saying made any sense, but he made no move to ask for clarification. “Some days it’s dark and all, and these days it’s been dark… but, well, in those kinds of days there are things or people that will give light. That will help you. I… I think that we only meet a certain number of people in our lives before we meet the ones we’re meant to be very close with.”

She paused, then shook her head. “I… It’s hard to put into words, everything that I’m feeling. It’s like… it’s like my heart and mind are the ocean, tumultuous and scary, unknown and uncertain, always rocking the boats and crashing against the shore.”

“Sure,” he said. It was enough of a confirmation for her to go on.

“And, and I want the ocean to stop, to calm down, but it can’t until I actually get somewhere with it. I guess I’m the boat in this thing. But the ocean is raging, but not angrily, just with a lot of energy, inside, and it feels scary. I’m scared,” she said, and found she understood that she was. “I’m just scared of what I’m feeling, because it’s so new, and it’s so… so profound, and even though it makes sense, I just… I’m scared of it.”

“What are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

She faced him, her hands coming undone and coming to her chest, clasped together in almost a prayer-like stance. She took a deep breath. “At first I thought it was because of what Apple Bloom said. Then I thought it was Applejack’s doing. Then Sugar Belle’s. Maybe even Gaige, all that time ago, when she shouted in your face. But maybe it all started before all that, when we first met. Maybe it was all building up, bubbling, but not ferociously; maybe, maybe that’s what this all is. Bubbling emotions, threatening to burst. And… and it all makes me so confused inside, but I also find that… that I don’t want to not feel this. I don’t want to not feel this.”

Still on edge, her hands ran into her coat pockets. She stopped. There was something in the right one. Her hand grabbed it and took it out and she looked at it. It was the poster. The poster that Mac had given her. The poster that he could have easily ignored, and yet he hadn’t; and not only had he hadn’t, the minute he’d seen it, he’d taken it because he’d thought of Ink, because that… that was what Mac did. No, that was who Mac was.

He made you his world.

Ink was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, and a kind of nervous energy was bubbling up inside her. She thought back to the meeting at the bus station. You would know when you were feeling it, the man had basically said; and this she had learned. And now?

Now she knew what she was feeling. She knew, with all her hert, her soul, her entire self, what this was.

“Mac, I… I…”

She gulped. Now or never, Ink, now or never. Stay true.

“I love you.”

It was barely more than a whisper, barely more than a murmur from the music beating in her heart.

Ink’s face was downcast. She was looking at her feet. She was shaking all over, not from the cold. Oh, God, she had done it. Oh God, she did not know if he had heard her, but oh God she had done it.

But Mac?

Reader, he heard her loud and clear; and his heart was beating the same tune, and though outside it was quiet, inside it was deafening.

And reader, do you know what they say about hearts in quiet moments?

In quiet moments do the closest hearts beat the same rhythm.

He was thinking, reader, this: She loves me?

And he was thinking this as well, reader. He was thinking back to all those days ago when he had hurt his leg and Ink had been the one to help him back to class all the way from the nurse. And he was thinking too of how they had talked about Artifex and of the magazines Mac had been caught reading and more importantly how that sort of conversation flowed so naturally, especially because Mac, always the silent type, talked rarely. And he remembered, too, that time at the mall, when he had seen Ink, when she had stomped right over and insisted she help him, even as he protested.

And, then, reader, this: he thought of the dinner, no, the date, because yes he was going to call it that now, yes, what else was it? If Sugar Belle said it was and if Santiago had said so then it must have been. And he had enjoyed that moment, that date, that night. It had been on his mind all the while.

And his mind kept turning over the days. He thought about Christmas. He thought about Ink’s mom. He thought about their time underneath this very same tree, when both had sung carols and songs into that long stretch of night.

And finally, he thought about what Ink had just said, and he realized there was an implict question under there, and he could hear it now, hear it even as her voice was gone, hear it on the simple wind blowing through that grove all around them them.

Do you love me? it asked.

The biggest, cheekiest smile broke out about his face, and he stepped easily towards Ink. “Betcha I can one up ya,” he said.

“Wha—” Ink said.

And that was all she could say then, because then; because then, dear reader, well.

Fireworks. Fireworks in a kiss.

Ink’s breath was gone; Mac had taken it. Her heart was yammering in her chest and she could feel every nerve fiber tingle across her entire body. She had never kissed before and Mac had kissed rarely but this felt natural. It was like this kiss was just for them, built just for them, meant just for them. Perhaps it wasn’t just that kiss but that entire moment, and it was indeed a moment they would forever remember.

Ink closed her eyes against the kiss. She heard herself sigh into it.

When they broke apart, both their faces flushed, Ink saw that grin. “I love you, Ink.”

She looked up at him. Then, she giggled. “Yeah, that’s quite the one-up, for sure.”

And then, just as naturally, they held each other. They were standing beneath that tree and it was looking down on them with approval, and they held each other and were standing there, together, and Ink found herself thinking, with no small amount of relief, how right that truly felt.

She was holding the poster while they walked back to the house. There were things they had to deal with, of course, when they got there: namely Sugar Belle. But that would be dealt with in time.

“I was thinking,” she began.

“Were you now?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t act so surprised. But yeah. It’s this poster.”

They stopped for a moment, and Mac looked at her. “You mean—”

She nodded, a bit hesitant, a bit scared. “Yeah. I… There’s nothing lost if I try, right? And… And I think Mom would want me to try.”

She paused. “There are other ways we’ll get money. I’m sure there are. But… I want to give this a try. I do.”

Then she shook her head. “Except, I threw away the document, didn’t I? Darn it, guess I’ll hve to start from scratch.”

“Maybe not.”

He reached into his pant pocket and fished around, before he emerged holding a familiar-looking USB stick. He held it in the palm of his hand. Ink’s eyes doubled in size. “Mac!”

“I was, well, I was gonna give it to you this morning, but, uh, Braeburn sorta came around and… well, you were busy, and I was busy, and I forgot I had it with me all day until, well, just now, and—”

He was rambling. She decided she didn’t like it when he rambled. So she silenced him with a kiss. She was a quick learner, that way.

There would be changes, of course, and this development would come as a surprise; and perhaps Ink would not follow through on her promise to write; but for that moment, that soul-defining moment?

Ink felt pure bliss.