Big Mac and Shining Armor sat side-by-side on the porch of Sweet Apple Acres, the evening sun casting long shadows over the apple orchard. The summer air was warm, and the distant buzz of crickets created a lazy backdrop. Big Mac, wearing his usual plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, leaned back on his hands, taking a deep breath. Shining Armor, still in his crisp, military academy uniform after a long day, was grateful for the quiet, relaxing moment.

“Long day?” Big Mac asked in his typical, slow drawl, glancing over at Shining Armor, who gave a tired but warm smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Shining replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Drills and paperwork. You wouldn’t believe how much they make you fill out just for training exercises.”

Big Mac chuckled softly, his deep voice carrying easily in the warm air. “Sounds like you could use a break. Some time away from all that.”

Shining Armor nodded, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “That’s why I come here,” he said. “Being here… it’s different. It’s quieter. Feels like I can actually breathe.”

Big Mac nodded in understanding, the silence between them comfortable. They’d been friends for years, and neither needed to fill the space with meaningless chatter. They had a rhythm—Shining with his tales from the academy and Big Mac with his simple, steady wisdom from the farm.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in shades of orange and pink, Shining leaned closer, resting his head on Big Mac’s shoulder. For a moment, the world felt perfect—just the two of them, a quiet porch, and the promise of the stars above.

Big Mac didn’t say a word, but his hand found Shining’s, fingers intertwining as the first stars appeared in the twilight sky.