>You stop your bike and check your clipboard for a second.
>Yep, this is the place.
>Not that there's many other apartment buildings to mistake in this place, but better safe than sorry.
>You kick the stand out and get off, sifting around the basket in the back.
>Though it doesn't take more than a second to find the packages you need.
>The big ass tank that's been weighing you down is supposed to get dropped off here.
>Finally.
>Checking the box, you make sure it's got the same address.
>Apartment number four, going to a 'Floor Bored'.
>The box is emblazoned with a little caduceus logo, and labeled as something for asthma.
>Your eyes trail over to the big tank of Argon sitting in the basket.
>Immediately, you connect the dots.
>Well, the two dots you have.
>But...
>Staring at the two items, you shake your head.
>No, this is Equestria!
>Land of friendship, harmony- fuckin rainbows and stuff.
>You doubt the ponies here would ever...
>Shaking your head clear, you heft the tank up, grab the box, and hold your clipboard under your shoulder.
>It's just one small bit of stairs until you end up where you need to.
>Apartment number four, yeah, it's the right address, alright.
>You ring the doorbell and wait silently, your head swimming with thoughts.
>Your focus comes back with the sound of muffled hoofsteps nearing the door.
>There's silence for a moment, then it opens slightly.
>It's practically pitch black in there, but you can spot a TV, part of a coffee table, and junk all around it.
>Then your eyes trail down, and there's a hooded figure before you, standing on two dirty, off-white hooves.
>"Y-yes?"
>You shake your head again and fix yourself.
"Ah, delivery for a, "Floor Bored"?"
>"Y-yeah."
>You set the stuff down, then hand her your pen and clipboard.
>When she places it on the floor and sits down, you see the rest of her body, which are all different shades of white, but none of them clean.

>Her mane hangs out of her hood as she writes.
>It's a jet black color, long, and greasy, obviously from lack of any washing.
>You glance for a second, and notice that she has no Cutie Mark.
>But she's so old...
>-Well, young by mare standards, but you've seen very few kids ever go without a Cutie Mark for long.
>...So she hasn't found her special talent, in a world brimming with happy ponies who already know their purpose in life.
>That's...
>She looks up at you, holding the pen and clipboard in her mouth.
>Through the darkness of her hood and the long mane, you see two emerald green eyes peering up at you, with a look you can instantly recognize.
>It's the same one you used to see in the mirror everyday for years.
>Tired, lifeless...
>Lonely.
>You notice under her eyes that there are bags, probably from all the sleepless nights and the countless hours she's been up.
>For a mare her age, that definitely shouldn't be there.
>The instant you lock eyes, she looks away and lowers her head, so that her mane covers her eyes.
>You glance at the two items on the ground.
>An asthma kit, and a tank of inert gas.
>There is no doubt in your mind that you know what this is for.
>You take the clipboard and pen from her, then set it on top of the tank.
>Without another thought, you get on your knees, and you pull her into a hug.
"You're not alone. It'll be okay."
>For a second, she's completely stiff and silent.
>Then a sniffle comes out of her, and the first tears fall.
>"I-I..."
>You hold your grip a little tighter, just to show you're here.
"I know what you're thinking. This... it isn't the answer."
>Her hooves wrap around you a bit more, too.
"I know how it feels to feel alone. To feel without a purpose..."
>She just continues to stutter and gasp, shaking in your arms like a leaf.
>She clutches onto you like you're about to disappear.
"Don't worry... I'm here for you now."
>Wracking with sobs, she buries her head under your chin.

>You can just hear it in her.
>Years and years worth of despair.
>Exhaustion, tired of everyone, tired of being tired.
>And fear, maybe of the future, the unknown, or even you.
>You whisper sweet nothings into her ear, and rub her clothed back gently.
>Old emotions come back, and you can practically feel what she's feeling.
>After a bit of sobbing, you pull away from her a little.
"Look at me."
>Slowly, you see those big green eyes of hers looking up at you again.
"You are worth something."
>Tears start to form, and she shakes her head.
"Yes, you are."
>You hug her again, her hooves eager to cling back onto you.
"You're not worthless. You just haven't found what you're best at, yet."
>Pausing for a second, you decide to think about your own words, the possible consequences of it.
>But you've always been a faggot whiteknight at heart.
"I'm here to help with that. I won't standby and leave you like this."
>She whimpers and scoots herself closer to you.
>Guess you really were spot on with the feelings.
>Exactly what you're saying right now, was everything you wish someone else would.
>But, that was partially your fault, too.
>You stayed isolated, never went anywhere, never did anything.
>Nobody could care if they didn't know you existed.
>And seeing the state she's in, she clearly has been doing the same thing.
>You guess it's just luck that you happened to be on this route today, get this package.
>Or who knows, maybe it was meant to be?
>But one thing for sure, you're going to be here for this pony.
>You've been pushed to the brink before, you're not just going to let it happen to someone else.0
>Not when you know you can help.
"I'll pay back what you spent on this stuff- hell, I'll pay double."
>You feel your own breath get shaky as the whole situation weighs on you.
>It's like you're holding yourself.
"J-just, please, don't do this to yourself. Let me help you."
>She subtly nods.
>You can't help but smile.
>You're not going to let her down.
>You won't.

>
>You jolt up with a snore.
>For a second your mind is blank and fuzzy.
>Then you recognize the ceiling above, and where you are.
>Getting up, you look at your bed.
>Completely empty, save for you lying on the edge of it.
>And you're tired, as always.
>Sleep too much, you're tired, sleep too little, you're tired.
>No distractions, sleep at a normal time for normal hours.
>Still tired...
>Sitting up, everything from your dream comes back.
>But it felt so real.
>You know you felt his arms around you, you just know it.
>There's no way that was a dream.
>With the regular soreness and knots in your back, you push yourself off of your bed and walk out of your room.
>Your hoodie lies on the couch, just where you remember leaving it.
>But that doesn't prove anything...
>With hope in your heart, you hop over to your front door and open it.
>In front of you, there's two boxes, one big, another small.
>In an instant, you feel it all turn around.
>With one last shred of hope, you open the big box up.
>A small, red tank is staring back up at you.
>You can feel a dull pain in your chest.
>A shiver rolls down your spine, and you merely stare at the package for a moment.
>It wasn't real.
>Even then, this thing wasn't in a box, and it looked different.
>So that WAS a dream...
>Heh, well, of course it was.
>The mail-delivering alien, just going on and hugging you like that?
>Calming you down, letting you cry on him...
>Of course it wasn't real.
>How stupid of you to even think it was...
>Moving from the ground, your eyes make their way towards the two boxes.
>Another shiver rolls down your back.
>Of course it wasn't...
>You're not in some happy story or movie.
>This is real life.
>And here, nopony knows you exist.
>...And none of them will care.
>Your posture sags, and you shiver yet again.
>With the last bit of strength you have, you stack and drag both boxes inside the apartment, then into your room.
>Well...
>This isn't going to set itself up...