//------------------------------//
// VI// Story: What You Can't Tell Anypony Else, or Rumble's Reluctance// by The Elusive Badgerpony//------------------------------//

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

It was Friday afternoon.

Two-thirty-three.

She had been thinking.

A few days ago, she had awakened at seven, like she always did by instinct.

She had to escape.

She made it.

Narrowly, but she made it.

She had heard hooves against the hallway, and made a judgement about them in miloseconds. She hopped out of bed within half of a second. The doorknob turned. She didn’t have enough time to duck out of the window. It was around a second or two away, and she had maybe a small fraction of that. Scootaloo had to repress a cry as she rolled underneath Rumble’s bed, and she held her hooves to her mouth to keep her little grunts and frightened squeals to herself as she saw the dark-gray hooves move across the floor.

“Dude, c’mon, get up, you’re not gonna get up late this time, okay?”

Rumble groaned.

Scootaloo heard the bed creak above her head.

Then it creaked again, and the dark grey hooves returned to her line of sight.

“Shit! Fuck! Goddamn! What the hell is all of this shit?! Dude, your sheets are fucking filthy!”

She closed her eyes and repressed a groan.

Barely.

It was strange, because she knew how to keep her cool.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

“Shut uuuuup,” Rumble moaned, and Scootaloo heard a few thumps that must have been him putting pillows on top of his head.

“No. Get up, get cleaned up, get to school. 'Kay?”

“Rrrrrgh…”

“Yeah, okay. You’re okay. Don’t make yourself late, kid.”

The hooves disappeared.

Scootaloo rolled out from underneath the bed.

She used a hoof to wipe the sweat on her brow.

It was narrow, but she had seemingly sort of made it.

Rumble looked at her.

He looked away.

He didn’t cry.

That was all over the night before.

They stood there, looking at each other, silent, now equal in a way.

Or at least, Scootaloo thought so.

She thought they were equal now.

She hoped so.

Scootaloo broke the silence.

“Rumble…”

“Go away.”

“But…”

“Just go away, Scootaloo. You shouldn’t talk to me.”

She didn’t move.

“Scootaloo…”

“No.”

Rumble looked at her.

His eyes were ice. They were desperate and clear, and they let her see right through them, into his soul, and they were sharp around the edges, and dug into hers. His face was flat, fallen, expressionless and yet not, sometimes twitching, as if encouraging him to smile or frown or blink, but he couldn’t do any of those things.

Because of the night before.

Because of what he had done.

Scootaloo sighed.

“Rumble, it’s not your fault.”

“Scootaloo…”

“It’s not. It’s nopony’s fault. It just happened. It’s just what’s supposed to happen. I took what I wanted from you, you took what you wanted from me…”

“Scootaloo, I raped you!”

Scootaloo turned her head away.

“I know, but… That makes us even. You’re not a victim. I’m not a victim. We’re equal now. We’re together. We’re connected. You said so yourself, right? We’re connected.”

Rumble’s face seemed to contort a bit.

“Thunderlane might come back in here. Go away.”

“But Rumble-“

“Scootaloo, just leave me alone. Please. That’s all I want right now. I want to be alone. Just give me some time.”

Scootaloo would have cried normally, seeing his face so desperate, so pleading. Scootaloo would have begun to sob, her body shaking uncontrollably. She might have hovered up to Rumble on his bed, and kissed him, held him, snuggled into him, anything she could do to make him feel better. Make him know that she loved him. That she forgave him. That it was okay.

“Rumbl-“

“Go.”

She sniffled, turned around, and did as she was bidden.

Or not.

She stopped right beforehoof.

“Rumble…”

He was staring up at the ceiling, his face without any emotion, just a blank slate, and he wanted it to draw something, he wanted to know how to feel, and she knew that, and she remembered what it was like to feel that way, to not know how you want to feel, but now she knew exactly how she wanted to feel, she knew exactly what to say to make her mistakes seem less like mistakes and more like minor, inconsequential missteps. She knew how he felt now, and her heart ached for it.
She hopped onto the bed, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

She narrowly avoided the weak swat from his left hoof, but she couldn’t avoid his eyes.

They seemed to ask how she could still love him.

How she could still adore him, idolize him.

How she couldn’t be affected but what he had done.

It was pretty simple.

She had been there before.

And the next few days, Rumble didn’t come to school.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

Two-fifty on Friday, she had never experienced it like this.

><><

Her hooves shook uncontrollably when she wasn’t paying attention, the nerves responding to the concern deep inside of her by shivering as if she had just been pulled from an icy lake.

She became sensitive to everything, the sounds of the chalk against the board, Miss Cheerilee’s hooves patting against her big wooden desk, looking for the tests they had taken Thursday.

And it wasn’t just noise, she felt the contours of her desk like never before, her tongue could always taste something that was in her mouth but wasn’t, this metallic, tangy, tingy taste that traveled around her mouth, sometimes settling inside of her cheeks and lightly buzzing, sometimes on her tongue and swirling.

These weren’t normal nerves. These weren’t weekend training butterflies. These weren’t bad-test-grade trembles, or gossip grumbles.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

But she had never felt this before.

She didn’t know what it was.

And when the bell rang, she jumped.

Sweetie Belle.

Applebloom.

They came over to her desk.

With paper mache gas-masks.

“Har-dee-har-har, guys.”

“Hmphalmphahummahmmmph!”

Applebloom raised her gas-mask, and Scootaloo almost bolted at the sight of her.

There was an overwhelming amount of concern and apprehension on her face.

“Ah think what Sweetie men ta say was that you’ve been actin’ up, Scoots.”

“Harmmmph!”

Sweetie Belle nodded.

“Ah mean, we’re jus trahin’ ta make ya feel better, is all. You’ve been actin’ like yer sick or somethin’. Are ya sick? Ah mean, if ya are, me n’ Sweetie can run See-Ehm-See jus fahn, an ya’ll can’t git home and rest a touch-“

“I’m fine, guys. Really.”

They wouldn’t get it.

They wouldn’t know how it felt.

They wouldn’t know the way it felt to have the most wonderful colt held up against them, holding them close to his chest, matching his breathing with theirs, his lips a mere half an inch away, and the slightest movement caused them to brush their lips against his.

They wouldn’t understand how, then and there, they could let them do whatever they wanted. They could let them do anything to them, because that was what love was. Complete surrender. They didn’t know that. They’d never know that. Even if Scootaloo decided to do something weird and freaky, and tried to make them understand, tried to hold them, kiss them, touch them, push them over and fuck them while they were down, make them understand what love meant, it wouldn’t matter.

They wouldn’t get it.

Though what they did get was that Scootaloo had started staring at the clock again.

“…Scoots?”

“Hm?! Yeah? What?”

“…Ya sure yer okay there?”

“Hmphmphlahmmph?”

Scootaloo shook her head a bit.

“Yeah, I… I just got a lot on my mind, is all.”

“So yer comin’ ta the meetin’, then?”

Scootaloo nodded.

“Mph!”

Sweetie Belle stuck out her hoof, Applebloom’s soon joining it.

Scootaloo smiled, and joined in the secret tailshake.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Go!”

But Scootaloo hesitated to go.

Sweetie Belle and Applebloom had rushed to the door, but Scootaloo has remained behind.

Because she knew what she had to do.

She had to talk to him. She had to see him, make sure he was okay. She had to go to him, check up on him, make sure that he was alright. She had to make sure he wasn’t dead, or crazy, or hopeless, or something like that. She had to make sure that he didn’t tell anypony what they did. If he did, she had to make sure that he had a plan, or make up a plan for him.
She had to make sure Rumble was okay, because she loved him and he loved her, and that was an indelible truth.

“…Scoots?”

“Yeah! You guys just go, okay? I’ll catch up, I got something I need to do before I head to the meeting.”

Sweetie Belle wrestled the useless mache gas mask off of her face, and gave Scootaloo the same quizzical look Applebloom wore.

“What do you need to do, Scootaloo?”

She smirked in response.

“Pick up our newest member.”

><><

It was a different place in the light.

The house was big, square, shaped like a baseball home plate pointed upwards.

The paint was gray, the door and windowsills white.

It was in decent repair.

It wasn’t too notable itself as a house.

All that was notable was what was within.

She was nervous.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

But not this kind of nervous.

It had taken her five minutes to work up the nerve to just trot up to the door.

It had felt like an hour when she got up the courage to ring the doorbell.

She couldn’t help but pace.

It felt like hours before she heard hooves approaching, muffled on the other side of the door.

It opened to Thunderlane.

He looked almost as anxious as she did.

“Hey, look, little filly, I’m sorry, but now isn’t a really good time, okay?”

Scootaloo gulped.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, look, whatever you need, I think you can get it the next hou-“

“I wanna see Rumble.”

Thunderlane glanced back.

“Now isn’t a good time.”

“I need to make sure he’s okay.”

He glanced back again.

“He ain’t.”

“Oh.”

Scootaloo looked at the ground, as if the multitudes of grains in the concrete porch below her would inspire the fiery courage she needed.

She needed it now.

Rumble needed it now.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Thunderlane blew through his lips.

“Hell if I know. He locked his door two mornings ago and refused to come out. He hasn’t eaten or anything. I don’t wanna break down the door or anything, but I’m half tempted to now. He won’t talk to me.”

He joined Scootaloo in looking down at the ground.

The difference was, he didn’t know what was going on.

She did.

“I mean, he won’t. I ask him what’s wrong and he just shuts up. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t… I don’t know what the hell I should… Did Cheerilee send you?”

Scootaloo shook her head.

“No. I’m…”

She had to keep her cool.

It was hard.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

But she had to keep her cool now, and not show it. She had to stay cool for her sake. She had to stay cool for Rumble’s sake. Tears flowed backwards into her head, cries were swallowed, guilt going down with it like a pill with water, floating in her stomach, and threatening to burst it open. All of her feelings in that moment were compressed into a small bomb, a fuse lit in her esophagus and burning down, slowly, slowly, slowly.

“I’m… A friend. I’m Scootaloo. A friend.”

Thunderlane tilted his head.

“You probably should go, Scootaloo, I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

She swallowed the guilt and fear again.

The fuse burnt down slowly, slowly, slowly.

“Let me talk to him.”

Thunderlane glanced back again.

“I don’t…”

“I think he’ll listen to me.”

Thunderlane sighed.

“I don’t… I don’t know. Sure. Yeah. Fine.”

Scootaloo nodded her thanks, and rushed into the house.

Thunderlane glanced back again, and sighed.

“Weird kid,” he muttered with a hint of a laugh around it, but Scootaloo did not hear him say so.

><><

Five minutes later.

Three twenty-five.

Nothing had changed.

Rumble was still locked in his room.

Scootaloo had been pacing back and forth outside of his door.

She hadn’t said anything.

What would she say? What could she say? Because Thunderlane was in the hall with her at that very moment, an eyebrow raised, watching her pace back and forth, shakily, trying to come up with something to say, and if she said the wrong thing, Thunderlane would hear them talking about… About having sex. Together. And she didn’t know how he’d react. She’d only barely escaped him before, and now she felt as if she needed to escape again.

But she couldn’t.

For Rumble’s sake, she couldn’t.

She had to talk to him.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

She put a hoof on the door and swallowed her feelings one more time.

“…Rumble?”

There was a small gasp on the other side of the door.

“…Who…”

“Rumble, it’s me.”

She heard breathing.

Not normal breathing.

It was faster, desperate breathing.

“Rumble, calm down, it’s just me, okay? It’s just me…”

“I thought I… I thought I… Can’t you just… Just go away, please, I can’t come out.”

“Rumble, you’ve been in there for two days! Nopony knew where you went besides Thunderlane.”

“I can’t come out.”

“Rumble-“

“I can’t risk it. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt anypony again, just leave me in here, please, okay?”

“Rumble…”

He was breathing fast again.

Scootaloo was worried that he might start crying.

But he didn’t.

He just squeaked in desperate breaths, pushing out, fast, heavy.

He was nervous.

And so was Scootaloo.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

But not like this.

Her heart was pounding with sheer worried energy.

“Rumble, are you okay?!”

Breathing.

“Rumble!”

“What? Uhm… I… My stomach hurts…”

“Rumble, have you eaten the past few days?”

Silence.

Breathing.

Scootaloo raised a hoof to her mouth, putting her back against the door.

She was shuddering.

She had to hold it in.

She couldn’t cry.

She had to be brave for Rumble.

“Good Goddess, Rumble…”

“It’s… Oh… Kay…”

“Rumble, you gotta come out and you gotta eat something.”

Breathing.

Desperate wheezes, fast, unhiltered breathing.

Rumble was panicking.

Because she was there.

She had to hold it in.

She had to be brave for Rumble.

Because Rumble didn’t have any courage himself, now.

He was a puppet, trying to break the strings, but he couldn’t. He was a minion who had made a bid for power, but found out what it meant. He wasn’t evil. He didn’t have the heart. He wasn’t like Scootaloo. He couldn’t take what he wanted without any remorse. He didn’t have the capacity for that. He didn’t understand himself and the world around him well enough.

The breathing stopped.

“Rumble?...”

Scootaloo turned over, her eyes wide.

“Rumble?!”

><><

Hoof over hoof.

Up the pipe.

She had to see him.

She couldn’t get to him through the door.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

She had tried to be brave. She had tried not to lose it. She had tried everything.

It wasn’t working.

He had to be okay.

He simply had to be.

The Rumble she knew would be okay.

The Rumble she knew would have showed up to class the next day. He would have laughed and played and glided around. He would have introduced himself to Sweetie Belle and Applebloom, and became a fellow Crusader. The Rumble she knew was kind, gentle, compassionate. The Rumble she knew wouldn’t have had any remorse. He would have understood.
She thought they were equal now.

She hoped so.

The Rumble she knew would have thought that.

This wasn’t the Rumble she knew.

This was the Rumble she loved.

This was the Rumble that needed her. The Rumble that wanted her. The Rumble whose every thought and desire was led by her, was about her. The Rumble that was crazy about her, that wanted to understand her, know her forever, and be with her forever, the Rumble that was so deep in his lust and his desire and his need, that he found all of it in her, all of it given back to him. The Rumble that loved her desperately, that didn’t want to see any bad come to her.

That was why he felt so bad.

Because he loved her, and he felt that he had betrayed that.

Not because he had sunken to her level.

Because he loved her.

It made more sense that way, at least to Scootaloo.

Hoof over hoof.

Up the pipe.

She made it.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

Now she felt at least brazen, stepping out onto the scaffolding and gently pushing in the windows, thanking Celestia that Rumble never bothered to close them.

She wished she hadn’t come in.

Rumble was a mess.

His mane was in complete disarray, his face stained in long stripes of tears, his gaunt face even more so, his eyes shut tightly. He was curled up, groaning gently every once in a while through his gritted teeth. He smelled awful. Of sweat, tears, vomit. Vomit, Scootaloo knew, because of the brownish patches across his bed, coating his chin and chest. He had vomited at least twice. He sat up, and opened his eyes, glaring at Scootaloo as she stepped into the room, her head turned away.

“What part… Of go away… Don’t you understand?!”

“Rumble…”

“You can’t trust me! I can’t… I can’t… I…”

“Rumble…”

“That night,” he muttered. “That night, I went crazy. I didn’t care about you. I didn’t care about anypony. I didn’t even care about myself. I just did what I wanted. You couldn’t stop me. I couldn’t stop me. That was me, Scootaloo. I let myself go.”

“Rumble, forget about that night. Please.”

“Do you think I’ve fucking tried?! Do you even know how I feel?! Look at me.”

“Rumble…”

“Fucking look at me.”

She looked at him, into his eyes.

His eyes were ice. They were desperate and clear, and they let her see right through them, into his soul, and they were sharp around the edges, and dug into hers. His face was flat, fallen, expressionless and yet not, sometimes twitching, as if encouraging him to smile or frown or blink, but he couldn’t do any of those things.

But they were clouded now, filled with a maelstrom of emotional turmoil, rolling through his head, fogging everything in hatred and disgust and love and pride.

“Scootaloo, don’t you see what I’ve done?”

She stayed silent.

“Go away. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Scootaloo took a step forward.

“…Scootaloo?”

Another step.

“…Scootaloo… Don’t.”

Another step.

“Don’t!”

Another.

“Goddammit, Scootaloo, I might-“

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

Another.

“Rumble, you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Another.

“Because you love me. Because I love you.”

Another.

“I get that you feel really bad about what happened. I do. But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Another.

“Please, Rumble. Snap out of it. You’re not gonna hurt me, because you don’t want to, because you love me.”
Her voice was steady, although she was nervous.

Scootaloo had been nervous before.

She was mere inches from him.

She could smell everything. The vomit, tears, sweat. The sharp tang of the fear and desperation in his eyes. His ragged, quick breaths. The pleas underneath it. Rumble wasn’t going to hurt her. He wasn’t. She put a hoof on his cheek, and he whimpered.

“No… No… Go away…”

“Rumble, I’m not going to do anything.”

All she did was look in his eyes.

“Rumble… Please… You’re hurting me now when you’re like this. Please, clean yourself up. Please.”

He started to shake. Scootaloo put a hoof on his chest, the rubbery hairs covered in dried vomit against it, but she didn’t show the slightest bit of disgust. Her face was a mask of concern.

“I’m…”

“Rumble, shush. You’ve said all you needed to. I forgave you a million times over. Please, Rumble. I need you to forgive yourself.”

Rumble sighed.

“But…”

She leaned in and kissed him.

He didn’t resist.

He closed his eyes, fresh tears traveling down well-worn paths.

He let her linger for a bit, before he pushed her away.

“I’ll… I’ll get myself back together… Just… Just leave me alone now.”

Scootaloo nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay…”

><><

“Okay?”

Sweetie Belle had just finished positing the latest Cutie Mark scheme.

Scootaloo hadn’t heard it.

“Huh?”

“Scoots, we’ve got a two-to-one vote on this, what’s your take? You’ve got veto power, after all…”

“My... Wha?”

“Eww, Scootaloo, yer breath smells… Ech!”

“Yeah, did you like throw up or something? Are you okay? Because if you did, I mean, then we probably should just cancel this…”

“What’s ‘this’?”

The other Crusaders looked at each other, then nodded.

“It ain’t important now, Scoots.”

“Yeah. What happened?”

Scootaloo shrugged.

“The new member didn’t want to come along. He wasn’t feeling so good…”

“Ah’m thinkin’ yew caught wind a’ whatever he’s got! Gross!”

Sweetie Belle slipped on the gas-mask again.

“Hmphmalmmphalmph!”

“Sweetie Belle! We can’t jus’ kwar-en-teen Scoots! She needs support! We gots ta give it to ‘er! Even if what she’s got gon’ kill us!”

“Hmph…”

Applebloom glared at her companion. “Don’cha go talkin’ that way. Granny says words like them gonna make yer mouth fulla fungus!”

“I’m fine, guys. It’s…”

Rumble.

Scootaloo wondered if she should check up on him again.

He seemed okay when she left.

But maybe he went right back to-

The bell above the door rang out, and everypony turned to see who had entered.

Rumble.
