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

The whole time on the way to the theatre, his eyes never left her butt.

Rumble had tried, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t ever really examined a filly’s flank in earnest before. Well, there was Scoota- No, he refused to think about her. Thinking of Scootaloo only meant more sadness and distress. He couldn’t fall into that. Maybe that was why he was looking at it so much.

It was… Fleshy. Jiggly. Pillows came to mind. Dinky wasn’t fat, not in the least, but muffins combined with the threads of egghead personality that she had seemed to take its shape in her rear. It was shapely, perhaps, a pair of perfect half-spheres pushed together, keeping form even as she moved. Rumble was captivated by its smoothness, by how wonderfully proportionate it was, the finishing touch to the rest of her body. He thanked the Goddesses that Dinky didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with the “conversation” she was sharing with him that he was incapable of responding to properly.

“What was up with yesterday, Rumble? What was all that you said to Cheerilee about?”

“Eh?”

Rumble cursed himself as Dinky slowed down slightly, letting him catch up to her, her glorious behind now only in his peripheral vision.

“You said something about zebras. Was it about Zecora? Or the new workers at Sweet Apple Acres?”

Rumble’s eyes raised to the sky, trying to remember. He was suspended yesterday, right? For what? Was it for looking at the world's most shapely rear? No, it was for falling behind. Like he wanted to. To see her behind more. Maybe he could get behind her, grab into those luscious cheeks, push into them, feeling their velvet softness-

He shook his head. Not here. Maybe in the theatre. And only if she asked.

She wouldn’t ask. To ask for such a thing would be out of character for her, at least, as far as Rumble knew. And that was the point of a date, which this was. This wasn’t two friends going out. This was a date. Dinky just didn’t know it yet.

Scootaloo would have known it, but Scootaloo was the furthest thing from Rumble’s mind. Sure, she might have surged up every once in a while to be compared with his new girlfriend, but that was normal. Scootaloo wouldn’t forgive him for the night before, and he wouldn’t forgive himself, but you didn’t have to forgive yourself for something you couldn’t remember. And Dinky Doo’s rear smushed endlessly into the stone tablet of Rumbles brain, desperately smothering those etched-in memories.

“Yeah,” Rumble responded absentmindedly to whatever Dinky had been saying earlier. She gave him a strange look, as if what he had just said was stupid, and Rumble felt the knot in his chest grow tighter, seeing her face scrunched up in confusion. She shrugged, though, and moved along in the conversation.

“I mean, what happened to poor Silver Spoon was just awful, wasn’t it?”

Rumble shook his head. Who? What? When?

“You do know what happened, don’t you, Rumble? It was all over the news last month! Heck, it’s still in the news nowadays. Featherweight wanted to do a series of interviews with Social Services, maybe Silver Spoon, although I was rather quick to remind him that she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it…”

“Huh?”

Dinky Doo giggled, and shook her head. “No, no, I went on a bit of a tangent, I’m sorry. But what happened to her, what’s happening to her, it’s just awful. I mean, I don’t know the details, since my mom sent me upstairs whenever it was on TV, but I know that it was awful. Silver Spoon isn’t the nicest pony, but I think she deserves our sympathy, don’t you?”

Rumble had to think about it for a moment.

Silver Spoon wasn’t Scootaloo. Silver Spoon wasn’t this otherwise wonderful filly, who had given her heart to a colt, no, pushed her heart into his needy hooves, and had offered herself fully to him, only to have him put it on the ground and crush it, twisting his hoof to spread it around, until it was nothing but a red smear. Silver Spoon hadn’t gone through hell just to be in love, had never felt the desperate need to have a wonderful colt with ice-blue eyes, and only that one, wonderful colt, only for him to not only turn her down, but deny her, destroy her.

Rumble’s stomach lurched. What was he doing? Didn’t he love Scootaloo? Who was this filly walking beside him? Why was he so interested in her? Dear Goddess, if Scootaloo saw him now…

He remembered. Remembered what happened after the first time. Remembered what she had said, still holding him down, the tears in his eyes, the confusion, the apprehension, the inability to understand, all of it clouding his brain, but what she had said came through, clear as crystal. He couldn’t tell anypony about it. Anypony. And if he did, she would beat the living stuffing out of him.

And he knew that she could. And that she would if she had good reason. And if she saw him around town with another mare-

“Rumble! Watch out!”

Rumble gave a small squeak of surprise as his reverie was broken by some sort of wall, and he reeled back on his hooves, falling onto his rear legs and holding his nose. His eyes trailed upwards in order to regard his inanimate assailant- The ticket booth for the movie theatre.

“Rumble! Sweet Celestia, are you alright?!”

Dinky Doo ran to his side, her eyes wide with concern. Without thinking, she took Rumble’s hooves down from his nose and inspected it herself, leaning in closely to get a good look. Rumble pulled his head back. No. That was… He didn’t love Scootaloo. He told her that. There was no reason for him to be concerned. Rumble leaned his head forward for what he expected, but Dinky Doo had already pulled back, heaving a sigh.

“Rumble, you totally spaced out there for a minute. Are you okay?”

Rumble nodded. “It’s… Nothing. I do it a lot.”

Dinky giggled. “So I’ve noticed. You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

She had no idea.

She had no idea that-

“Hey! Earth to Rumble! Do you usually space out this often?”

Rumble shook his head, trying to shoo away nagging thoughts and idle introspections, trying to focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately, the pair of gently jiggling orbs that he had become so interested in the past few minutes were out of sight, instead replaced by Dinky’s adorably cherubic face. Rumble felt a slight twinge of annoyance seep through his entire body, the desire to continue ogling Dinky’s derriere growing more and more by the second, and thoughts of Scootaloo seeping back in.

She was cute when she was crying.

Scootaloo. The tears would always flow in the same path, two little lines down her face. There was no smearing of makeup or sniffling. When Scootaloo cried, one could tell that she was trying to tough it out, to hide it, but when she let it all out, let out those wails of anguish, Rumble wanted nothing more than to wrap a wing around her, to tell her it was alright, that he would lo-

“Rumble?!”

He shook his head again, and the rear of his recent affection was again blocked by her stupid little adorable face.

“What?”

“Rumble, it’s kinda creeping me out now. Is there anything I can do to, I dunno, uhm… Take your mind off of things?”

Rumble felt a twitch, and tried to keep his cheeks from flushing. When Scootaloo said that, it had an entirely different meaning. That entirely different meaning being that she would push him over, grinding her dripping wet slit against his-

“No!”

Dinky took a step back from Rumble’s too-quick response, and he swallowed the blush again.

“I mean, no, it’s fine, it works itself out. Maybe we should head inside, start watching the movie.”

><><

“I love you!”

Dinky Doo gave a loud, mock groan, which coincided with a few other voices in the audience, and Rumble was left wondering why he had gone to watch this same movie again. He suddenly remembered why he hadn’t enjoyed it the previous time. The bad acting, the poor cinematography, the jarring music. He had seen porn better than this.

Rumble grunted under his breath, resisting the memories of Cheerilee and Thunderlane’s porn movies, trying to keep them locked up, instead focusing on Dinky Doo’s face.

Without a flank to look at, Rumble instead focused on her lips. They looked like they would be better than Scootaloos. They would be soft, untouched, golden. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to be pushing out, as if they would burst from his gut and begin flying around the tall ceiling of the theatre. It was enough to make him absently lay a hoof over his sore, throbbing belly. Rumble had never felt this sort of pain before.

With the pain came other things. Irrational fears. Scootaloo coming into the theatre and beating him up for hanging out with another mare. Dinky Doo not resisting, instead taking it like Scootaloo, taking it like an experienced mare, jumping onto him and bouncing up and down over his aching member.

He laid back, groaning. He would enjoy that other one-

He was enjoying the thought of it, wasn’t he?

Rumble looked down.

He was.

Gasping, he closed his legs, and an abysmal warmth suddenly greeted his inner thighs. He was holding the popcorn for the pair, and he used the bag to cover himself up a bit more, at least so that Dinky wouldn’t notice the raging stallionhood underneath. She wouldn’t understand. All she understood was math, and science, and reading and writing, and...

What if she did?

Rumble thought about the perfect lips again. Dinky’s lips. Or Scootaloo’s lips. His brain, mercurial as it was, kept switching between the two like a lightswitch. Scootaloo would have given a repeat performance of the previous day, sloppy and sexy and sultry, looking up at him hungrily, demanding him to let go, and Rumble would have bucked his hips into her mouth, demanding more, no, pleading for more. He always pleaded. Dinky would be inexperienced, but that was part of the charm. Her hoof would rub slightly at his length, her golden eyes eying it with an intense curiosity. She would slowly open her mouth, getting closer, closer, Rumble could almost feel her breath-

Rumble then felt plastic along the top of the previously mentioned organ as Dinky trailed her hoof around the bottom of the bag.

No.

He jumped up, and the bag flew from his hooves, landing on the floor, unpopped kernels spilling everywhere.

“Shi- Shoot,” Rumble muttered, quickly correcting himself. He didn’t want to make a bad impression on Dinky. Because he was in love with her. Kinda.

“Oh, it’s okay!” Dinky Doo reassured him. “I should have asked you for the bag.”

Rumble shut his legs more tightly over his rapidly growing length, blushing, cursing himself, cursing the movie, cursing Dinky for getting stuck in his head. He loved Scootaloo, after all. There was no place for Dinky there. But he loved her, so maybe there was. The lightswitch, he couldn’t stop flicking the lightswitch on and off. Scootaloo was a rapist who was hopelessly in love with him, Dinky Doo didn’t have anything to do with any of this, barring handing Rumble the note that sealed his fate to Scootaloos.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. For once, Rumble wanted to be like Thunderlane. He didn’t want to care anymore. He didn’t want to think that his actions had any ramifications, that he hadn’t gotten Scootaloo-

No.

He couldn’t think about that.

He needed a distraction.

“D-Dinky?” he whispered.

“Hm?” She tilted her head towards him, that lovely little chubby face giving him the blank look of someone listening.

“Isn’t this… This movie, isn’t it, ya know, terrible?”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Actually, Rumble, I think it’s really, really sweet.”

Rumble shrugged. “Oh.”

Dinky took a long suckle through the straw of her large soda, and smacked her lips before continuing.

“It got really glowing reviews in the papers, you know. You just have to pay attention.”

Rumble rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hard to concentrate with such a cute girl beside me…”

Dinky’s eyes went wide. She blushed slightly, turning her head away, and Rumble realized just how dumb he had been. His mouth refused to allow him to apologize, instead causing him to stammer and stall.

“Oh, gee, you really think that, Rumble?”

He was scared.

Why was he scared? Why did he have such cold feet? This wasn’t rocket science. She was filly, he was a colt. Colt tells filly she’s cute, boy and girl fuck. No. That didn’t sound right. Rumble looked at his hooves. They were shaking, nerves going haywire and firing off in all directions, caught in an internal struggle between grabbing Dinky right there and getting up and running away. The five bits to get into the movie be damned, he had to get out. No. He had to claim his prize.

“Th-th-think what?” he managed to shoot out, a bit too loudly for the theatre.

Why was she a prize? What had he won? What did Rumble deserve? She wasn’t a prize. Rumble shook his head. 

Thunderlane would have thought of her as a prize. Rumble almost spat at the thought of him. Thunderlane was probably in the theatre right now, making out with some mare. Rumble’s face hardened, his nerves calming. That bastard. She was probably pushing at his chest, begging him to stop, but Thunderlane, being the douchebag that he was, wouldn’t listen. He’d take no resistance. He’d take what he wanted, and everything else was peripheral.

“Rumble?”

“Huh?”

“You spaced out again…”

He looked into the golden eyes, which were now legitimately frightened, and Rumble couldn’t bring himself to look anymore. He was done looking. He could have looked all he wanted, and he had looked all he wanted.

“I… Dinky, I…”

“You what?”

Rumble swallowed. Here went everything.

“I love you.”

Dinky gave him an odd look. An adorable eyebrow raised, a scrunching of the lips, a quivering of blatant discomfort in her eyes, and she was blushing, bright red, to the point that Rumble could practically see her glowing. She put a hoof over her mouth to cover her laughter, shaking her head.

“You’re so silly, Rumble,” she giggled.

He didn’t know what else to do. His mind blanked. His limited playbook exhausted itself, and Rumble felt as if there wasn’t any other choice. He wrapped his hooves around her neck and pulled her in close, quickly aggressively, and Dinky squeaked as her chest bumped against his, her golden eyes now fearful, looking into his artic orbs with nervous uncertainty.

“Rumble, what are you-“

He kissed her.

Rumble leaned his head forward and pressed his lips against hers, silencing her. Dinky kept still, not because of desire, but out of shock. Rumble couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know.

Her lips were different.

Scootaloo’s lips had been purposeful, driven by want, and when they pushed against his, they seemed to want to linger. They wanted to kiss when she had kissed him. It didn’t matter if it was a hard kiss, a soft kiss, a tender kiss or a lustful kiss. When her lips met his, they shared a single spark, that electrified both of them, that energized their lust and love for each other. Scootaloo always kept her eyes shut, wanting to simply melt into the touch, shutting off everything else.

Dinky’s lips had been caught by surprise. They were soft, initially open haphazardly, as Dinky let out now-muffled protests. She seemed to relax into the embrace somewhat, but it was still stiff, still surprised. Rumble wondered if she had ever been kissed before. Her eyes were wide open, flittering around the room, desperately searching for a way out, but to no avail. She kept trying to pull away, weakly, unsure.

It was different. Rumble still wasn’t sure if he liked the difference.

When he pulled away, Dinky let out a breath, as if she had been holding it in ever since the kiss started. Rumble still had his hooves around her neck, looking into her eyes, which flittered away, her hooves against his chest, pushing. But not pushing down. Pushing away.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, Dinky seemed to be in a state of silent panic. She wanted to get away. She wanted to go home. She needed to think about this, talk with her mother about it, ask her if it was right, if it was wrong.

Rumble almost let out a sigh. Ditzy was treading a well-worn path of his by now, and she had to abide by its rules. He leaned in for another kiss, but she raised a hoof, stopping his searching lips.

“R-Rumble, what… Why… How…”

He grunted. “I said I loved you. Why won’t you let me?”

“I… But… It’s just… You…”

“If I love you, you love me. That’s how it works.”

“Rumble, who… What… Who told you that?! That’s…”

Rumble bit his lip as memories of Scootaloo pushed at his brain. Now, of all times and places, he needed them in the back of his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “The important thing is I love you.” He leaned forward for the kiss again, but Dinky turned her face away, pushing harder against the tip of his muzzle, tilting his head away.

“H-how can you… How can you say that, Rumble?”

“Because it’s true,” Rumble huffed.

“No, it’s not, it’s… Why… I… Rumble… I should…”

Rumble tightened his grip. “No.”

“Rumble, please-“

“No. Don’t go, please. I need to know what you feel like.”

Dinky pushed against his muzzle harder, but Rumble wasn’t aiming for her lips. He managed to slip underneath the hoof, pressing his mouth against her neck, giving it a warm, wet, sloppy kiss. Dinky gasped, pulling back her hoof and pushing against Rumble’s chest.

“S-stop it!”

He didn’t listen. Rumble’s head was too full. Thoughts of Scootaloo he was trying to repress, while at the same time he tried to pull what information he needed from them. His fantasies of Dinky. His mind was overloaded, a mess of sensory information. His length throbbed in between his legs, no longer repressed by closed legs. His lips traced kisses down the protesting filly’s neck, his hooves tracing over her sides, then down to her flank. She slapped at one, but to no avail- Rumble pressed into her rear, just as he had wanted to, and it was just as plushy and pillowy as he had imagined.

 “Stop! Rumble…”

He had shut out her protests. What he wanted was what she wanted. That was love. That was what he was going to get.

“Rumble…”

Rumble shushed her, pressing his lips against hers. She tried to twist her head away, but with every movement she made, Rumble matched it. He put his hooves against her chest, and pushed her over, making her groan in pain and fear. Their bodies were parallel, his length poking into her belly, and Dinky opened her eyes.

“Rumble, what is that?!”

“Shhh, not so loud!”

“Rumble, stop, let me go, please-“

He pulled his hips back, her protests drowned out in his need, in his desire.

“Rumble, what-“

The head of his length touched her slit, and Dinky cried out in surprise.

“Rumble! No! What are you-“

“Dinky, this is gonna hurt, so I need you to be brave. I love you.”

She beat her hooves against his chest, and Rumble winced in pain from a few of the blows.

“No! Stop! Hel-“

But Rumble silenced her whimpering form with a kiss, and at the same time, he jammed his hips forward.

Dinky squealed as the foreign object penetrated her, the head of it slamming against some sort of barrier. There was no more protest, no more resistance. There was only pain, and confusion, and fear, so much fear. All she wanted was for him to let her go.

Rumble didn’t have any such plans. He kept his mouth over hers, pressing further into her, the barrier slowly being torn away by his length. Dinky was a sobbing, squealing wreck underneath him, and Rumble had to entangle his hooves with hers, keeping her in place as he pushed past her virginity.

Just like her lips, her tunnel was different. Tightness, there wasn’t much notable difference. But Scootaloo had generally been soaking wet, and Rumble had been able to slide in easily. Dinky was bone dry, and Rumble had to push himself forward with a decent amount of force. This resulted in squeaks and groans and cries of pain from the filly, and Rumble grew increasingly frustrated. He pulled his lips from hers, instead jamming a hoof over her mouth. If anything, it was more effective.

“You gotta be quiet, Dinky, okay?”

She gave a muffled sob from behind his hoof. To Rumble, it was confirmation enough. He pushed forward, gritting his teeth as more of her tunnel enveloped him. Still dry. She wouldn’t stop squirming, even with a hoof pressing down into her chest, and Rumble gave a small, aggravated grunt as he bottomed out inside of her.

Still dry.

“Dinky, c’mon, please, be quiet…”

“Ghhhhmmmph!”

Rumble pulled his hips back, pushing forward for another stroke. Scootaloo was much, much wetter. Scootaloo’s little marehood would have been dripping and drooling over his length at this point. Dinky’s was a quivering, uncomfortable desert. It still felt good, but even in his addled state, Rumble could tell that Dinky was by no means enjoying this.

Suddenly, it all seemed a bit less like a good idea.

This wasn’t a mare that he loved. This was a friend that he was betraying. That he was raping. Because he wanted to press his hooves into her flanks, to feel her body heat against him, to make her love him as he loved her. He was doing this because he wanted her. He wanted to take her, just because he found her attractive, because she had a nice butt, and a nice face, and nice body, and he wanted to take it all, to rob her of her innocence.

He was doing something Thunderlane would do.

“Hey!”

The introduction of a third voice, gravely, yet nasally, a cocky sort of voice, broke Rumble from his reverie. Fear of discovery surged up from his gut, and he quickly pulled himself from Dinky, who gasped in relief and pain, sobbing, blood gently trickling from her marehood. He sat forward in his seat, meeting the gaze of a somewhat ticked-off pegasus a few rows in front of him.

“Do you two lovebirds mind?! We’re watchin’ a movie here!”

Rumble peered into the dim light, and his heart stopped.

The cocky, raspy voice belonged to Thunderlane.

Thunderlane was in the theatre.

And he had heard the whole thing.

“…Rumble?!”

And he ran.

><><

He didn’t love her. He didn’t love anypony except for Scootaloo.

Guilt surged through Rumble with every beat of his fluttering heart, not bothering to look behind him. He had been stupid. There was no reason for it. It was because Scootaloo was pregnant. He had panicked, dismissed it as a joke, or even as impossible. He had refused to listen to it. He didn’t believe it, even hough he knew it was true, because the truth hurt like a kick to the gut.

He wanted to do a million things. Rumble wanted to go back and uselessly apologize to Dinky for dragging her into this. He didn’t love her, because he was in love with Scootaloo. Dinky Doo had nothing to do with either of them. He wanted to go back in time and stop himself, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why. It just felt natural, to push her over, to feel her fear, her anxiety, to take those feelings and ignore them, to take her, claim her as a prize without a contest.

It felt natural.

That was the worst part. Rumble didn’t want to stop. He only stopped because Thunderlane- Thunderlane, of all ponies- Thunderlane stopped him. Unintentionally. He didn’t want to know what would happen next. He didn’t know who Thunderlane was in the theatre with. It didn’t matter. Only one thing did. He had to go see Scootaloo.

She was pregnant, and he was the only one who had had sex with her, so that meant that… Rumble let the thought fly out of his mind as he took a speeding gallop down the street, tears blinding his eyes. He was doing everything by instinct. Everything by chance. He had almost… Almost raped Dinky Doo out of instinct, as if he was programmed to do it, destined to do it. It wasn’t right.

Rumble let the tears stream from his eyes. Why? Why did he try to do it when he didn’t love her? When she didn’t love him? Why? What was the purpose? Why did he want her? He was only supposed to want Scootaloo. Why did Dinky enter the picture? All she had done was pass the note.

Rumble shook his head. The fact that he had to question himself now was too much to deal with. He had a destination.

Home. He had to go home, and he had to think about this some more.

Suddenly, the pain of all the running he had done filtered in. His stomach felt like it was going to explode, his head swimming in an emotional maelstrom, his mouth dry, his lungs begging for air, only to be crushed, his legs not even beneath him, merely wobbly pillars that threatened to topple at a moment's notice.

The pain was significant. Rumble felt like he was drifting in some sort of haze of aches and pains. His head pounded, the multitudes of thoughts in it threatening to push out the walls of his skull, make his head explode like a stick of dynamite. He had just raped somepony. He had just raped a friend. It wasn’t Scootaloo. It wasn’t something that he could legitimatize as love. It was because he wanted to.

Rumble’s hooves moved on their own, the path to the house ingrained in his brain. He would have to lay low for a while. He didn’t know how Dinky would react. How Thunderlane would react. Especially if they got talking. Thunderlane wouldn’t be merciful. Thunderlane would get Rumble in trouble for certain. Realization struck him like a moving truck.

Rumble was in bigger trouble then he ever had been in his entire life.

However, at that very same second, something else literally struck him.

The stumbling body of a mare collided into Rumble as if destined by fate to do so, turning both ponies into a heap of tangled limbs, grunts, and hurried apologies as they went down, snow almost comically poofing from the ground as they made impact.

“Eey! Watch… Watch where… Watch where ya goin’…” the other being mumbled.

Rumble didn’t respond, struggling underneath the bloated form of the other pony, but the voice was incredibly familiar. He kept pushing up against the soft gut of the mare, which smelled of alcohol. Rumble couldn’t put his nose on what kind, not that he had drank a whole lot of the stuff. It was an unpleasant experience, to say the least, and Rumble gulped in as much air as he could when the mare arose to her hooves, shivering with cold and drunkenness.

Scootaloo’s aunt.

Rumble’s mouth remained open. No. He couldn’t go home. Thunderlane would ask him about what happened to Dinky, or worse, Thunderlane would know, being a bit of a rapist douchebag himself. And Thunderlane would turn him in to Miss Cheerilee, no, worse, Thunderlane would turn him in to Social Services. And Social Services would send him to prison.

He had to go someplace else. Someplace nopony else would go.

He had to go to Scootaloo’s house.

Scootaloo would have an idea what to do. And he loved her, he really did. Rumble loved Scootaloo. He loved everything about her, and she loved everything about him. She would forgive him, and she would help him. She would get him out of this mess. Rumble was sure of it.

He got up onto his hooves, keeping his eyes on the inebriated mare that was now several yards away, and started following.

><><

At this point, Rumble was wondering if she knew where she was going.

Scootaloo’s aunt was clearly drunk. Not surprising.

She clearly had no clue where she was going. Not good.

And Rumble had to follow her, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to find his way to Scootaloo’s house. Even worse.

The path she seemed to take was meandering, a constant, drunken wander, what few ponies that were on the streets consciously avoiding getting in her way, only for their efforts to be ignored. It was increasingly frustrating to Rumble, especially because she kept stopping to drunkenly ramble to other ponies, or simply sit down and start… Singing.
Like she was doing now. Rumble gritted his teeth, hiding behind a bush as he waited for her to finish a barely-comprehensible stanza.

“You may saaaaaaaay I’m a dreeeammaaaar…”

Her voice was like somepony grinding a steel plate against a giant cheese grater. It was a thousand broken panes of glass at once. It was agony in audio form, and Rumble shut his eyes tightly, praying to Celestia that she would stop, that she would start going back home again.

“Buddim’ not the only oooooonnnne! C’mon, everypony! Sing aloooong!”

There was nopony on the road, however, save for Rumble.

“Oh, fuuuck you guuuuys! Fuuuuck you guuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiis!”

Now she was just singing for the sake of singing. Rumble groaned.

“It’s not faaaiir! Nopony wants to be my frieeend…”

“Shut up,” Rumble muttered. “Go home.”

She didn’t, at least, not for another few minutes of drunken sobbing and singing snippets of songs, before she lifted herself off her haunches and slowly stumbled away again. Rumble was at the end of his rope. If she didn’t-

And as soon as he had thought it, Scootaloo’s aunt had stumbled into a house.

A sigh of relief passed Rumble’s lips. He glanced around, and realized that he was in very unfamiliar territory. Ponyville wasn’t a town that had a bad side, but Rumble was pretty certain that the old quarter that he had managed to follow the drunken wretch into was worse for wear. The houses around him were all garish colors, former glories now faded. The one that Scootaloo’s aunt had stumbled into happened to be an odd, dark-teal color, with a purplish trim. Two stories, very square sort of house, old and seemingly held together by spit and prayers.

Rumble could see why Scootaloo didn’t want ponies to know where she lived.

The gate creaked as he pushed it open. His ears perked up as he heard a familiar sound.

Sobbing.

Scootaloo’s sobbing.

><><

The stairs creaked beneath his hooves, but the aunt had fallen asleep long ago.

Scootaloo’s house was an unpleasant place to be. What lights hadn’t burned out long ago were dim, orange shadows of their former glory. The wallpaper peeled off in several places, the paint chipped, stale colors on stained walls. The smell, though, was the most overpowering part. The entire first floor was a grundgy mixture of various liquors. Rumble named as many as he could in his head; whiskey, cider, wine, beer… It smelled of it all at once, not that he knew what any of it smelled like. The only things in his ears were the creaks of the stairs, the snores of the aunt below them, and the gentle sobbing of the filly Rumble knew that he loved.

Only because he had to.

He followed the sound to the door of what Rumble assumed was Scootaloo’s room, and put his hoof against the door. But while his conscious screamed at him to enter, something else nagged at his brain. The same thing that had nagged him all those days, weeks, maybe years before. So much had changed over those past few weeks that they had felt much longer. He was different. And the nagging could tell him anything, and he wouldn’t listen. It told him now what he risked walking in there. Scootaloo had threatened to beat him up if he told anypony, and he had gone and done worse. Rumble couldn’t go in, unless he had a death wish.

He didn’t. He just needed a plan.

He pushed open the door.

Her room was an absolute mess. Papers and plushies alike were strewn about the floor. Stains from various liquids, most of which Rumble, thankfully, could recognize, covered the room from wall to wall, leaving small dry tufts in the scratchy, dust carpet. Pencils and pens and crayons seemed to fill the tiny space. It was like a miniature landfill, although it most certainly smelled better. The bed was the cleanest thing in the room, the Wonderbolts sheets faded, a shuddering form curled up underneath them. It stopped the shuddering and crying when the door opened with a loud, distinct creak, making Rumble wince at its frequency. It was the creak that made him stand in the doorway as Scootaloo shot up to accost the intruder.

Tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes, and Rumble had to fight to stay composed himself. Her eyes were filled with mixed, confused feelings. At one moment, they were nothing but hate, at another, they were filled with delight. Her mouth fluttered open and shut as she tried to come up with something to say.

“R… Rumb… Rumble, what… Why are…”

Rumble took in a deep, shuddering breath, then hopped up, gliding over to the bed. He jumped upon it, and held Scootaloo tightly to him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered shakily.

“Ruh… Does this…”

“Scootaloo, I’m so sorry, I did something really, really, really fucking stupid, and I don’t know what to do, and… I…”

She put a hoof against his lips, the tears still in her eyes, but a smile playing on her lips.

“Rumble… It’s okay. I know it… Me being…”

The eyes closed, and she pushed her head against his chest.

“I know it was a lot.”

“Y-yeah,” Rumble replied, trying not to think about the events the night before. Or was it a few nights before? How long ago was it...

“So you love me?”

The words were said so shakily, so full of hope. Rumble swallowed.

“I… Yeah, Scootaloo. That’s why… I need to tell you something. I did something really, really dumb-“

“Shhh,” she said, putting the hoof to his lips again. “You already said that. Just tell me.”

Rumble suddenly didn’t feel like telling her.

His stomach fell to the bottom of his gut, and pain shot through his entire digestive system as his gut did twists, turns, corkscrews. He couldn’t tell her. Something told him it was too big of a risk. She would absolutely kill him if he told her-

“Scootaloo, I… Dinky… I was looking.”

He felt like an idiot. Scootaloo, thankfully, seemed a bit unfazed, although Rumble could tell that her teeth gritted together for a second.

“Of course you were, Rumble. She’s got a bubble-butt like her mom. It’s hard not to loo-“

This time it was Rumble’s hoof that came up to Scootaloo’s lips.

“No, I… We went to see a movie, and… Well… I… It was…”

He could feel the smile fade beneath his hoof, a smouldering look coming across Scootaloo’s face, and Rumble swallowed his words. She pushed his hoof away, looking into his eyes, and fear powered through his veins.

“What did you do, Rumble?”

Rumble shut his eyes and looked away.

“…I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t tell you…”

The look hardened, and Scootaloo pressed her snout against his.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me, Rumble.”

“I really shou-“

“Rumble, you better tell me right fucking now!”

“I raped her!” Rumble blurted.

Scootaloo’s expression became neutral.

For what seemed like hours, there was monumental silence. Scootaloo’s eyes, already moist with tears, seemed to fill up even further, as betrayal returned to her emotions, and Rumble, once again, felt like an idiot. He should have never gone to the movies. He should have never watched Dinky’s butt. He should have never, ever thought that he could love Scootaloo, because he did, but now it was too late.

She hated him. He could tell it in her eyes.

She hated him and loved him at the same time.

“You didn’t,” she finally said.

Rumble cleared his throat.

“I really wish I did-“

He couldn’t get out any more. The hoof connecting to his jaw cut off whatever confession he was going to make.

As Rumble held his jaw, wondering where the hoof came from, Scootaloo turned around. The many days of Applebucking cutie mark searching with Applebloom had paid off. Rumble was winded by a massive double-hoof blow to his gut, then he was bowled over by another hefty buck to his face, his ears ringing. He tried to scrabble to his hooves, but Scootaloo stood on top of him, holding him down by the wings, her teeth gritting audibly. She raised a hoof and gave Rumble another blow to the face, the raised the other and repeated the procedure. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, mingling with blood from his nose, Rumble crying out in pain with every blow.

“You!”

A bash to the side of his face.

“Didn’t!”

She was possessed. Rumble was beyond the point of resistance. His front hooves hung uselessly over his chest as he gave a small grunt every time a hoof came down, blood leaking from the side of his mouth, his eyes already blackened. Everything in his face hurt. He was still out of breath.

This was what he deserved.

Scootaloo slowed her blows, her small, violent tantrum coming to an end, tears dropping from her eyes as she sobbed incessantly.

“You… You wouldn’t, Rumble, you couldn’t… It… You… We… It can’t…”

Rumble simply let out a shuddering groan, rolling onto his side as Scootaloo let him go, rushing out of the room.

This was what he deserved.

She came back with a towel, pulling on his foreleg to turn him over again, wiping up the blood and tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so…”

Rumble just groaned again, holding the towel to his wounds.

“Rumble… We… I do love you, it’s… Rumble…”

She fell on top of him, pressing her face into his bloodstained chest, shivering, and Rumble shut his eyes. For some reason, he felt like sleeping. He hadn’t really lost that much blood, so it probably wasn’t that. Maybe it was the pain. Everything throbbed. His gut felt like she had made it explode, his face was one big throbbing mess. Everything hurt. Everything throbbed. She most definitely had broken something.

He just needed to sleep.

And so Rumble drifted off, with a sobbing filly on his chest, and the scars of the serious beat-down she had promised covering his face.

><><

He dreamed of Scootaloo.

They were running from something.

He hoped he never had to find out what.
