>Sure, it was supposed to be another day of hanging out with Dash and the gang.
>Sure, you could’ve been out there with the best of them, laughing it up and making jokes about the upcoming play, Groundhog Day, living it up like you usually do.
>But, being Anonymous, you just had to go and fuck that up.
>Instead here you are, in a poorly lit and somewhat damp janitor's closet with a freshman crying her eyes out in the corner.
>Dog-earing your book, you glance up at the door with a small sigh.
>A solid escape route, if there ever was one, as the underclassman is more preoccupied, what with her sobs echoing throughout the damp room.
>A part of you really wants to pull that door handle and walk away, not wanting to deal with more nonsense from underclassmen, but you take a moment to reconsider.
>You’re Anonymous, and you’re not one to abandon people when they need it most.
>Be the change you want to see, right?
>Setting your novel aside, you take a moment to focus on the little white freshman, of whose name escapes you…
>Wait, shit, she’s also focusing on you, her once-furious sobs now reduced to a mild sniffling.
>The smeared mascara gives way to a pair of light blue eyes that try desperately to focus on you, though the constant downpour of tears doesn’t make that an easy task.
>The freshman tries wipe her eyes clear yet again, though she eventually gives up and returns to her fetal position in the corner, sobbing all the while.
>Shit.
>Grabbing a tissue box out of the usual cabinet, you make your way in front of the unfamiliar freshman and wait there for a moment.
>There comes a pause in the crying as she tries to stifle her sobbings to get another look at you, now realizing that you’re right in front of her.
>Offering her a lopsided smile, you extend your arm and offer her the tissue box.
“Sup?”
>Her eyes widen as she looks at you, seemingly in disbelief if nothing else, but she eventually forces her eyes downwards to the tissue box.
>”T-thank you, d-dear…” she says between sniffles.
>Her voice is quivering, yet it still holds a certain poise and maturity that’s beyond even the seniors, and indeed some of the staff, within CHS.
>You idly wonder if she’s a transfer from that Crystal Prep Academy Celestia keeps rambling on about.
>She gingerly takes a handful of tissues before blowing loudly into them.
>Sensing that she’s going to be at this for quite a while, you set the box down besides her before fetching the trash can and placing it nearby.
>And so she continues on with cleaning her tears and mucus away, though you’re feeling more than a bit awkward, what with just standing there and all...
>Fuck it, once more into the breach, dear friends, once more!
>Slowly do you take a seat next to the freshman, deciding that the only wrong action was inaction.
>She stops for a moment to stare at you, wide eyed with tears still streaming, but soon remembers that she has more pressing issues.
>You wait patiently for her to finish, the minutes seeming to drag into hours as you both sit there, unsure of the other and wondering exactly when she’ll be done crying.
>Just as the box is nearly emptied, however, she takes in a few shallow, if not steady breaths.
>...And she’s quiet!
>Small victories make up the war, right?
>”S-sorry…”
>She hugs her knees a bit tighter, not wanting to meet your eyes, though you can’t exactly blame her for that.
>You shrug in response, a slight chuckle escaping you.
“It’s all good, Mallow, just kind’a scared me when you ran in, ya’ know?”
>She sniffs before looking up at you.
>”M-mallow?”
>Nodding, you gesture widely towards her.
“Like a marshmallow, ya’ know?”
>Her eyes focus on you, slightly narrowing.
>”Am not a marshmallow...”
>A small pout comes after those mumbled words, but that’s still progress towards cheering her up.
“Aw, c’mon, I think it suits you just fine!”
>Her eyes, while still moist, don’t seem to be dripping as she offers you another look.
>”How?”
>Oh, now ain’t that the challenge?
“Well, uh… you see… uh, shit, nobody usually questions my nicknames…”
>Shrugging, you offer her another cheeky smile.
“Had to think of something, not knowing your name and all.”
>She seems to sober up at that, sniffing again before hastily trying to redo her hair.
>You chuckle at that, though you also make to stand while you’re at it.
>When she’s done fixing her hair, of which is leagues above anyone else’s at CHS, freshman or not, you offer her helping a hand up.
>She hesitantly takes if before dusting her skirt and blouse off, trying to make herself as presentable as possible.
>”Terribly sorry about that, dear, I am Rarity, though I wish it were under better circumstances...”
>Again with this whole ‘dear’ thing.
>Makes you feel as if you’ve been teleported to the land of chads and gingivitis.
>You give her a somewhat cocky smile nonetheless.
“Name’s Anonymous, though people just call me Anon.”
>She tilts her head a bit at that, idly studying your face for a moment.
>”You’re a… junior, yes?”
>Well hot damn, seems your reputation exceeds you!
“Sounds about right, why?”
>She shakes her head clear, trying to put on a face that wasn’t anything but sad.
>”N-no reason, dear…”
>Shrugging, you begin to make your way over towards the sizable desk and chair that make up nearly a quarter of the cramped janitor’s closet.
>How she didn’t notice you when she ran in, you’ll never know.
>Gesturing for her to follow, you take a seat on the desk while lazily patting the spot besides you on the table.
>She hesitates at first, eyes darting between you and the door, but she eventually follows and sits next to you.
>Her nervousness is almost tangible, though that doesn’t deter you from wondering about which icebreaker would be best.
>She’s not too athletic looking, nor does she have the looks of a bookworm...
>Eh, fuck it, you decide to start off with something neutral.
“So what brings ya’ to Canterlot High, Mallow?”
>She fidgets a little, beginning to spin her thumbs around one another to help calm her nerves.
>”Sad to say, parents moved town… said they wanted to get out of the big city.”
>She scoffs before shaking her head.
>”What a joke…”
>Huh, seems you’re getting a bit close to the problem at hand.
>Once more, friends, once more!
“You not like it here?”
>Rarity seizes up, but only for a moment.
>That’s all you need to confirm some suspicions.
>”Nonsense, dear, this place… has it’s benefits, I suppose.”
>The only other lie that you’ve heard with a more forced delivery is, “Love you too.”
>You raise only a brow at her words, slightly pursing your lips to the side.
“Is old man Shivers giving ya’ a hard time?”
>She blinks at this.
>”No… well, not especially, but that’s besides the point.”
>Nodding, you rub at your chin.
“Surprised, he’s usually a dick to freshies… What about Mr. D? He staring at you for a few seconds too many…?”
>She shakes her head again, scooting the chair closer so that she may use it as a footrest.
>”Nothing of the sort, dear.”
>She gives a sigh and rests her forehead on her knees.
>”It’s… well, it’s a bit more than just a few people.”
“Oh?”
>She gives a weak nod.
>”Oh, dear, it’s like you wouldn’t believe… Honestly, it’s a rollercoaster from start to finish, just trying to get from class to class.”
>She groans while sitting upright, beginning to gesticulate madly.
>”It’s always either, ‘Oh Rarity, that makeup looks absolutely dreadful!’ or, ‘Oh, don’t you really have anything else to wear, you expletive?’”
>Rarity huffs again before continuing on.
>”Oh, Anonymous, it’s absolutely ghastly what I have to deal with! Absolutely ghastly, I tell you!”
>Ah, now you get it.
“Wouldn’t doubt it, Mallow, heard the Freshman Class is chock-full of contentious little shits.”
>You run a hand through your hair but stop halfway through the action, her words clicking in your mind.
>Taking a moment to look at Rarity’s dress, you raise an eyebrow before speaking.
>...
>......
>”Wait, why’re they talkin’ shit about you dress?”
>Anonymous takes a moment to gesture towards your outfit, a confused smile on his face.
>”Hell, I’d go so far as to say that it’s the best one on campus… better than all that skin tight shit everyone wears, at the very least.”
>Eyes going wide, you reply before even thinking.
“Yes, exactly! Honestly, what are those girls thinking, dressing all promiscuous-like? They’re teenagers, if even that.”
>Nodding and giving out a small chuckle, Anon is quick on to reply.
>”Honestly, where the fuck is society going? Like, just the other day I was at the soccer game, yeah? Saw a five year old in booty shorts.”
>What!?
“NO!”
>Nodding, he continues with a stifled chuckle.
>”And, after that? All the girls from our school either came in booty shorts or yoga pants, no in-between.”
>T-the monsters…
>You knew they were misguided miscreants, but this…?
“Please remind me to never attend any extracurricular events, dear.”
>He gives out a hearty laugh at that, though it quickly turns out to be contagious.
>You’re soon forced to give out a little giggle, much to your initial protest, though by the Lord does it feel good to laugh again.
>He ceases his laugh just enough to playfully smack your shoulder.
>”Guess I shouldn’t tell you about what that one freshie did way back when to get Celly to ban dress up days?”
>You honestly don’t want to know, as you already can take a solid guess, but you nod nonetheless, morbid curiosity taking over.
>“Six inch skirt. Nothing. Under.”
>You feel something coming up…
“It’s quite rude to lie to a lady, Anonymous…”
>Much to your horror, he only chuckles and shakes his head.
>”I’m being dead ass, you can ask Dash about it if you wanna’ have someone confirm it.”
>Dear Lord.
>He’s actually serious.
>Covering your mouth with a hand, you feel like you’re going to hurl.
>This school is unholy.
>You quickly deduce that gasoline is the only cure.
>”Oh man, if you think that’s bad, wait ‘till you hear about the time Hamata—”
>You reach out with your off hand and place a single finger against his lips, silencing him.
“Dear, another word and I’ll dye your letterman a fine lime.”
>He holds up two placating hands at this, and you near-immediately accept the ceasefire.
>You need a moment to hold in what little food you have in you.
>Ugh.
>You really do dread this school.
>You wish you were back in Maneh—
>A dull ringing tears you from your thoughts.
>Said dull ringing also makes your stomach churn with pure fear.
>Time for fifth hour.
>If Anonymous was in a hurry, he doesn’t show it, as he merely looks at you with an amused eye.
>”You alright there, Mallow?”
>Shaking your head to rid it of the fear within, you take a moment to nod and force a smile.
“Fine, dear…”
>His raised brow tells you that he sees right through you.
>You chuckle nervously, looking off to the side.
“I may or may not dislike fifth hour especially…”
>His head tilts a bit to the side at that.
>It’s then when you remember that you need to get changed out, and that means heading half-way around campus to use an unoccupied restroom.
>Your travelling group loved to make fun of you when you changed, so you usually changed out during the last bit of lunch to avoid the humiliation.
>Nearly jumping off of the desk, you quickly make way to the door, opening it and beginning to make your way—
>”Hey, talk to you later?”
>Blinking, you temporarily forget about the potential risk of humiliation as the voice rings in your head.
>Turning to return his gaze, you offer a genuine, yet nervous, smile.
“Certainly, Anonymous!”
>While taking off down the hallways, your eyes slowly begin to widen as traces of a true smile grace your face for the first time in weeks.
>You’ve finally made yourself your first friend at Canterlot High, haven’t you, Rarity?
>...
>......
>”So where’d you run off to yesterday, dumbass?”
>You shrug in response to the young woman, holding up a finger as you take a lengthy drink out of your water.
>You really wish that the gang would have found the whole “ass” nickname a bit stale by now, but they’re all still amused at it, and so you play along.
“Wasn’t really feeling it, jackass. Needed to be alone for a bit, ya’ know?”
>Rainbow Dash gives you an uncharacteristic look of worry, her head slightly tilted to the side.
>”You lemme’ know if you ever need to talk, alright?”
>And just like that, you remember why you get out of bed every morning.
>Smiling, you give her a nod.
>She returns the look before slugging you in the arm, of which only stings for half a minute.
>”See, Singsong? I don’t hit that hard, dumbass here didn’t make a scene outta’ it.”
>The somewhat lithe and charismatic junior looks at her with a look half-mixed with mirth and embarrassment.
>Singsong isn’t all that much to look at, as some notable friends, take Tree Hugger for example, even go so far as to call him a failed abortion.
>Lord only knows why Dash took such an interest in him.
>He takes a moment to stop eating whatever garlic-infused dish he’s eating today to look up at you two.
>”You just didn’t hit him as hard is all.”
>You and Dash share a conspiratorial look, neither of you believing his bullshit for a second.
>You both look back to Singsong, then back at each other, this continuing on for several seconds until...
“Aren’t you like a black belt, or some shit like that, smartass?”
>Funny how your group decided to dub him “smartass” despite his grades being well below average.
>As said junior pouts slightly, however, you catch sight of something in the background, just beyond Singsong’s green head…
>It’s that verbose little bundle of poise and wit, Rarity.
>She’s… sitting alone in the far corner, looking down with a dejected face at her meal.
>Well, at least there aren’t any tears in her eyes…
>Jesus, Anon, that’s probably the worst, “Well at least X” that you’ve ever thought of in your life; get your shit together.
>Rubbing your neck, you zone out of whatever nonsensical-bullshit excuse Singsong has for a moment as you wonder exactly what to do…
>Nodding silently to yourself, you take a good look at those sitting at your table.
>Four in total, yourself included, but none of them are the malicious sort.
>Sure, Grizzly has a nasty tendency to think with his balls, as does Singsong when he’s not around Dash, but they’re not the type to cause up a stir any.
>Hell, you’re pretty sure that Dash would even welcome a fellow freshman into the group, if even for just a day.
>Must get pretty weird sitting with four juniors at every lunch, after all.
>Snapping your fingers to get the attention of the table, of which you absentmindedly note was busy discussing the correct pronunciation of “epitome”, you smile as they silence themselves and look to you with inquisitive eyes.
>Being the eldest of the shitheads always had its benefits.
“So what’cha all think’a that freshie over yonder, Rarity?”
>Heads turn to observe the young woman in question, though you’re met with varying degrees of indifference.
>”Eh, she’s another nobody freshman,” Singsong says with a shrug before returning to his meal.
>Shrugging, Grizzly continues to stare at her for a moment longer.
>”She’s hot tho’.”
>Singsong turns and looks at the dirt-lipped junior flatly.
>”She’s like, what, fourteen or fifteen?”
>Another shrug is his response.
>”Age is just a number.”
>You, Dash, and Singsong all share a somewhat disgusted look, but eventually shake off the thoughts.
>Looking at Dash expectantly, you’re met with a small shrug and an even look.
>”Eh, really quiet in class, sits next to chameleon eyes all the time. Stereotypical shy girl.”
>Taking a small drink out of Singsong’s drink, of which is a fucking V8 of all things, she raises an eye at you.
>”Why?”
>Shrugging, you gently rub at the traces of a stubble on your chin.
“Met her yesterday, turns out she’s a really chill kid… Kind’a like yourself, but a lot more verbose.”
>She tilts her head slightly to the side, biting her lip while looking off to the side.
>”Means she likes to use a lot of verbs, as opposed to nouns and other such things.”
>You give Singsong a deadpan stare before breathing in and facepalming.
“You dumbfuck, you’re thinking of “verbal.” Verbose means to be overly wordy.”
>He shakes his head at this.
>”Anon, read a book before you—”
“Nigga, I got a fucking dictionary in my backpack, twenty dollars your bitch ass is wrong.”
>There’s a sour look on his face, though he doesn’t dare shake your now proffered hand.
>...Das rite, bitch.
>The table soon returns to regular chatter, the tards talking about something akin to their usual bullshittery.
>Namely whether or not all of you were going to go hiking tonight.
>Letting your eyes drift, however, you find yourself stealing glances at the lone freshman that continues to all by her lonesome.
>You remember your first days here back in freshman year, being very much in the same position, only worse.
>You were often forced to go and reside within the library during lunch and indulge yourself in some fantasy readings, wishing desperately to be someone else.
>Be the change you want to see, right?
>Finishing the last bite of your apple, you make to stand—
*BRRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG*
>Oh, son of a bitch.
>You offer her one last look, only to realize that she’s already done and gone from her seat.
>Man, way to go, Anon…
>Rubbing the back of your head, you pick up your things before heading out with Singsong and Grizzly out to fifth hour before saying bye to Dash.
>Wonder if you’ll see Rarity at all again today.
>You can’t just leave her like she is, after all.
>You know all too well what kids in her position tend to drift to when things look glum.
>...
>......
>You are…
>Well, it’s not like it really matters.
>Slut, bitch, attention whore, it’s all the same.
>Get called that leagues more than your actual name anyway.
>Taking a moment to touch up your makeup with help of your locker’s mirror, you give out a weary grin.
>At least the day’s over, now you can go home and sleep away your worries.
>Kind of wish your friends from the east would return your texts, though…
>Doing up your hair, trying to make sure that it’s just right, you nod a moment after and close the thing.
>Books held close to your chest, you turn to—
>Oh!
“Anonymous, dear, you half-scared me to death!”
>He slowly raises a brow at this.
>”You didn’t even see me making faces in your mirror?”
>...What?
>He nods, smiling at your somewhat baffled expression.
>”Was doing it for, what, three minutes straight?”
“Y-you surely can’t be serious, dear…”
>He folds his arms, gently rubbing at his stubble.
>Silence is your only response, telling you all you need to know.
>He breaks this silence quickly enough, though, and gives your shoulder a smack.
>”So how was your day, Mallow? Good, I hope?”
>His smile is the first one you’ve seen directed at you today, save for your parents’.
>Quite the refreshing change.
>Taking a moment to flick your hair and swat away some imaginary troubles, you speak with as much a modest tone as you can muster.
“About as well, all things considered… but what of you, Anonymous dear, how’s your day been?”
>Gesturing for you to follow, you presume to the parking lot where everyone either gets picked up or drives off, he grins.
>You follow without a moment’s hesitation, finally glad to have somebody to talk to.
>”Eh, kind’a shit, but that’s to be expected at this point, what with people always being contentious shits and all.”
>You can feel a number of scornful looks tossed your way as you continue down the hall, though you’re somewhat used to it at this point.
>Besides, you’ve got yourself a friend now!
>Smiling up at him you can’t help but remember those words that have helped you get through today…
>”Hell, I’d go so far as to say that it’s the best one on campus…”
>You stop for a moment to think if it’s sad that some passing compliment from a junior is enough to make your day?
>”—etty good, right?”
>Oh, drat!
>You’ve gone and spaced out again…
>Nodding nonetheless, you shoot a look up at Anonymous, a nervous smile stretching across your face.
“Absolutely!”
>He absolutely beams at that before shooting you a thumbs up.
>”Sweet, knew you’d like it!”
>Opening the door for you, among a number of other juniors and underclassmen, Anon gives farewells to near everyone who passes.
>Seems like Anonymous is quite the popular man, there being only a few that pass him that don’t offer some kind words or nod of acknowledgement, and those are generally the shy ones.
>You momentarily muse the thought about asking Anonymous for help with your little predicament…
>He seems to be an honest and kind man, his actions already having proved as much, though you can’t help but feel like the meeting was done entirely out of pity.
>Before you can dwell on that thought, however, he’s back at your side, grin still present.
>”Guess I’ll see you Monday, then?”
>Oh, it’s Friday?
>Thank the Lord.
“Certainly, Anonymous, though I wish we had more time talk.”
>Biting the inside of your cheek, you mentally reprimand yourself, instantly remembering one of the things that mother taught you.
>A lady should never seem desperate, no matter the situation or reason.
>Anonymous takes this in stride, reaching into his pocket and producing…
>A notepad and pen?
>He scribbles something down before tearing off a page and handing it to you.
>”If you’ve ever got any questions about CHS, or about anyone on campus, hit me up.”
>Glancing between the proffered note and Anonymous’ eyes, you can’t help but feel a reddening of your cheeks.
>Maybe CHS isn’t all too bad after all.
>...
>......
>It’s kind of hard to stuff any more of the stuff down, but you somehow still manage.
>Probably because you’ve skipped dinner in light of tonight’s impromptu night hike into the middle of bumfuck nowhere in the woods just east of town, but that’s besides the point.
>”This isn’t half, Dashy.”
>Said freshman nods, a proud smile on her face as she too enjoys the fruit of her labor…
>Jambalaya of her labor?
>Eh, you don’t fucking know.
>All you do know, however, is that this is the life.
>Friday night, out in the countryside, chowing down under the skies by a campfire, of which is surrounded by the gang.
>Sadly, however, the recent meal accompanied by the exhaustive day of marching through the woods…?
>You’re pretty damn exhausted to say the least.
>Sitting up from your rock, you reach out towards the dirty cooking pot and utensils that’ve been used.
“Alright, ya’ shits, finish up, I’m gonna’ clean up before calling it a night.”
>The gang gives out a small groan of increasing discomfort at the prospect of having to finish their meals a little quicker, but, before long, an assortment of plates and frisbees—the best ad hoc plates you could ever imagine—lay in your hands.
>Pulling out a flashlight in your off hand, you slowly begin to make your way to the creek, of which is some seven or so minutes away, just a bit southeast of camp.
>The walk is nothing to really take note of, but the sound of merriment and revelry behind you makes a few ill thoughts creep in.
>Why’d it get fun soon as you left?
>Try as you may, you’re unable to rid yourself of the nagging thoughts, themselves latching onto your brain and refusing to let go.
>Doubt has a way of permeating your everyday life like no other.
>Eventually finding your way to the creak, you begin to clean with water and hand, not too much caring about anything at all, save for what the gang was talking about.
>It passes without much trouble, and before long are you back in camp.
>Setting the pots and such down by the fire, you make off for your tent, giving a last wave to the folks around the fire before settling in your sleeping bag.
>You were asleep before you even had time to get comfortable.
>...
>......
>The dream is one of bliss.
>You and Em Dash were back at home, before your move into the shitty little apartment that you now share with father, and you were hard at work critiquing his latest novel.
>Man, that little shit sure loved to write…
>Or, well, at least he used to.
>Still hurts that you never got to say goodbye to him.
>The dream, however, is cut short by the sound of a rifle discharge no more than ten feet away.
>Eyes wide, you look around in a panic, though are alarmed to see that, not only are you alone in your tent, but that the campfire is nowhere to be seen through the thin fabric of your tent.
>Scrambling for your sidearm, you check the safety on the thing before springing out of your sleeping bag, taking a moment to clear your eyes before noticing that there are a number of panicked voices, some angry, some frightened.
>Among those voices you can hear the gang, and more importantly, you can hear Dash’s voice, an unusual amount of fear in it.
>Nodding to yourself, you chamber a round as silently as possible before undoing the tent’s zipper and all but jumping out of the thing.
>Brandishing a flashlight at four immediate figures, of which were barely covered by bits of moonlight before, you see three familiar faces, followed by one that’s foreign.
“Fuck’s going on here!?”
>You don’t point your sidearm at him, per se, but you keep it at your side in a half-ready position.
>The young man, no older than you at a glance, shakes his hands pleadingly.
>”H-hey, I was just holding it, he said it wasn’t loaded!”
>The teal man shakes his head and points rather blatantly at Grizzly, of whom slowly bends over to pick up…
>And it’s then when a holy anger overtakes you, your eyes now focused on the pudgy man who checks the bolt, to which a still smoking case ejects.
>That rifle is a great many thing, but the most important thing about it?
>You had let Grizzly hold onto it, himself being the second most knowledgeable person within the gang to know about firearms.
>Flicking on the safety of your sidearm, you holster if before making your way over towards Grizzly, yourself shoving his shoulder when you get near.
“Did you fucking forget to check if it was loaded?”
>He huffs, not looking you in the eye…
>Sure enough, you point your flashlight towards the interior magazine of the bolt action rifle, and, sure enough, there lay another fresh round below, ready to kill anyone at the blink of an eye, much like the previous one fired.
>Speaking of which…
“Pat yourselves down, make sure you aren’t hit, it’s a .22, small as shit round!”
>None of them dare question your orders, but you shove Grizzly again a moment after tearing the rifle from his hand.
>Setting the rifle down beside the fire, alongside your pistol, you shove him again, though he’s a bit more prepared for it this time.
>The flashlight has been discarded, only now vaguely providing some light to the ground, as you’ve dropped it at this point.
“You fucking idiot, what’re you doing?”
>Much to your surprise, however, there comes a retaliatory shove, one which you didn’t expect.
>It caught you off guard and sent you back a foot or so, but you right yourself before falling on your ass.
>”I didn’t do shit, he’s the one who decided to squeeze the fucking trigger!”
>Finding yourself up in his face again, you fake him out with a feint of a shove before kicking a foot out from underneath him and pushing him down towards the ground.
“And who gave him the fucking gun to begin with?”
>You gesture towards the man, of whom is standing there, though you can’t exactly make out the details of his face under the moonlight.
“Matter of fact, why the fuck would you even invite him in here? Somebody could have fucking died here, Grizzly, and it would’ve been your fault!”
>Almost growling down at the useless sack of fat, you crack your neck.
>He deserves to have the shit beat out of him, no two ways about it, as his mistake was unacceptable; a life could have ended tonight because of his negligence.
>Another part of you wants to just spit on him and take your firearms back to your tent, being done with the whole night, yourself already content in knowing that you’re calling off this whole thing early.
>Or maybe, just maybe, you could try and calm down for a moment?
>...
>Fuck it, he’s not worth it.
>Mumbling a slew of curses at nobody in particular, you ignore the world for a moment, making your way over towards your tent.
>A moment later do you return to the four, your face partly illuminated by the cigarette placed firmly in the corner of your mouth.
>You see Singsong help Grizzly up with a proffered hand, a flashlight of his own within his grasp.
>As you approach, however, you notice the newcomer proffering your previously discarded flashlight back to you.
>Nodding, take the thing back and get a good look at the man.
>Teal skin, blonde hair, a working man’s five o’clock shadow…
>Holy shit!
“Is… is that you, Zephyr?”
>Flashing the light back at yourself, you can see a look of recognition and relief overcome the senior’s previous look of fear.
>”H-hey, it’s… I know you, you’re one of the juniors!”
>Well then, this was unexpected.
>You can then see his eyes flicker towards your cancer stick, and so you shake your head.
>Where are your manners?
“Want one?”
>You quickly produce the pack and proffer the thing to him, to which he looks at it with a bit of incredulity.
>Eventually, though, he gives you a lopsided smile.
>”Hell yeah, little dude!”
>Gladly does he take one, and so you light his without a second thought.
>At least you’ve finally met someone who doesn’t demonize your most recent pastime.
>As you both take a moment to think about what just happened, there comes the pleasant sight of Dash finally getting the fire up and running again.
>It’s just then when you realize how tired you are.
>Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you curse again before shaking your head.
“Zephyr—”
>”Call me Breezy, little dude.”  
>Taking a moment to eye him warily, you silently scoff before taking the cigarette out and flicking away the ashes.
“Breezy, mind telling me just what in the fuck happened here?”
>Returning to your cigarette, you lift your eyes from the fire up to Grizzly.
>He’s still visibly pissed at you, though he bites his tongue as you trade glares.
>”Well, now that’s a very interestin’ story, little dude, but, luckily for you, you’ve got the best storyteller this side of Canterlot.”
>He then looks about, a small smile on his face as he searches for something…
>”Wouldn’t happen to have any cool ones, would ya’? Been weeks since I’ve had one.”
>...
>......
>You’re scared out of your mind.
>Not that that’s unusual or anything, but it’s still something to keep your eyes wide open, your form slightly shaking in its bedroll.
>You really wish Zephyr would come back.
>You really wish you hadn’t gone on this camping trimp anymore.
>You really wish you didn’t hear that gunshot off in the distance…
>W-what if he’s hurt?
>Blinking, you start with a jump and scramble for your jacket.
>Even if you’re scared, even if you want to do nothing more than cower in a ball, wishing it were all over…
>Well, there’s a little saying your mother always said whenever Zephyr does something stupid.
“Family sticks together, no matter what.”
>Scooping up Angel Bunny in your arms, you make way out of your and Zephyr’s tent, only to be temporarily blinded by a light shone your way.
>The comforting voice of your mother then comes to wash away any fears you once had.
>”Fluttershy, sweetie, are you alright?!”
>She rushes to your side and pulls you into a tight embrace, one of which you return as best you’re able to, what with one arm holding angel close.
“Yes, I’m fine… I-is Zephyr with you, though?”
>This is met with silence by your mother, her eyes wide as she ceases the hug.
>”Wait, he’s not with you…?”
>Gulping, you slowly shake your head.
“H-he said he needed to use the potty…”
>”Oh dear…”
>She looks behind her, your father’s rather lanky figure now apparent and lit by the full moon’s light.
>You internally groan.
>This was supposed to be your special time away from CHS, away from everyone calling you a death camp survivor…
>This was supposed to be the time where you could be happy.
>...
>......
>Hmmm, as it turns out, Zephyr met your gang completely by accident.
>The shits were having a little stroll out by the stream, and they happened to see someone taking a late-night leak into said stream…
>Dash decided to sneak up on the poor bastard and scare him half to death.
>After Zephyr nearly had a heart attack, the four began chatting in earnest, so much so that they eventually invited Zephyr back to camp.
>You can piece together what happened after that.
>Nodding one last time, you flick the butt of your cigarette into the fire, a slow hum coming from your throat.
“Sorry the fucker didn’t check to make sure it was loaded, despite, ya’ know, that being the first thing you should fucking check!”
>You make sure to raise your voice just enough that it’s heard by the man opposite of the campfire.
>Your eyes don’t get to observe the reaction, however, as you’re far more interested in Zephyr’s response.
>Said teal man merely shakes his head, taking in another long drag from his fag.
>”Nah, little dude, it’s all good, ain’t nothin’ that can scare ol’ Breezy!”
>Raising a brow, you give him a deadpan look.
>He completely ignores this, a proud smile on his face as he continues to finish off his cigarette.
>”You seemed ‘bout ready to piss yourself back there, Breeze.”
>Singsong’s quip gets a small chuckle from the gang, yourself included.
>Pulling out another cancer stick, you smile derisively while gently pointing at the bravado-filled friend.
“And you weren’t? Shit, man, looked like ya' pissed yourself!”
>Rainbow and Singsong abstain from laughter, but Zephyr joined in their place.
>Resting your face into a palm a moment longer, you give out a short yawn.
>Man, it’s getting pretty late…
>Doesn’t look like the rest of the group shares that thought, though, as they’re all as wide awake.
>Zephyr in particular looks like he’s just chugged a bit of coffee, what with the random looks he gives when he thinks you’re not looking.
>Well, you can either call it a night and be more prepared for the hike up Hurricane Hill, of which will definitely be exhausting…
>Or you can decide “Fuck it” and stay up with the rest of the lads, and maybe see what Zephyr’s got planned?
>Shrugging, you take another cancer stick from your pack and light it up, enjoying each little bit of nicotine that rushes into your system.
>No point in going camping if you’re not gonna’ stay up with the gang and make memories, eh?
>That doesn’t stop you from resting your eyes while laying your cheek into an open palm, however.
>For a while, you all seem to enjoy the calm night for what it is: peaceful.
>For a while, you feel as if all the conversation that might be had between a random senior and some juniors may have already been had.
>That train of thought is broken when Zephyr rubs his hands together excitedly.
>”So, any’a you little muchachos ever partied before?”
>Silence fills the camp for a moment, though Dash is first to reply.
>”’Course we’ve partied before, who d’ya think you’re talkin’ to?”
>This earns her a small chuckle from Zephyr.
>”I’m not talkin’ about your dinky little meetups where you all just go to mommy’s house and watch Bubble Guppies.”
>Opening your eyes, you see him shake his head, almost zealously so, as a wry grin finds its way onto his face.
>Reaching for a pocket from his admittedly all too skinny jeans, he produces a…
>Roll up cigarette?
>Raising a brow, you blow out a puff of smoke at the man.
“Already got cigarettes, mate.”
>Shaking his head, Zephyr takes a moment to swipe your lighter and light it up.
>”Little dude, try this and tell me if you really think that it’s some’a that weak ass tobacco stuff.”
>A challenge, eh?
>You don’t really care about what the others will think, as only Grizzly would be the one to do stuff like this with you, but you’re more than pissed at him.
>Taking the little thing, you raise it to your lips, noting the mischievous smile on Zephyr’s face all the while.
>Singsong, however, speaks first before the thing comes to your lips.
>”Uh, Anon? Maybe probably not a good idea.”
>Turning to the young man, you give him a lopsided smile before leaning in towards him, chucking your previous cigarette into the fire.
>Doing an overdramatic sniff, you pull back with a violent cough.
“Dude, for a virgin, you absolutely reek of pussy.”
>A small chuckle from Grizzly and Zephyr is had, but there comes yet another interruption to the scene as a new voice hollers out from just behind you all.
>”Zephyr!”
>Nearly jumping out of your skin, you hop up while clasping the joint tight in your hand, smothering the flames quickly enough.
>Turning to observe the new figures, you are forced to squint to make out three distinct bodies, though the flashlight in one’s hand quickly proving more than blinding.
>Must’ve been a military-grade flashlight, because, fuck, it hurts!
>”Uh… Pops, mom? What’re y'all doin’ here?”
>Well, guess that solves that.
>The three figures then step into the light, Zephyr slowly making his way to the three, to which his mother, or at least you presume the woman to be his mother, bounds over and seizes him in a tight hug.
>You turn to the gang, of whom look as confused as you do.
>You all share a shrug before turning back to the newcomers.
>She seems to mumble kind words into the young man’s ears, holding him in a bear hug like no other, but you decide to ignore them for the moment being.
>Looking to the two others, you get a good look at the father, one who has a hairdo that holds an uncanny resemblance to soft swirl ice cream and shares Zephyr’s teal color, and also a glimpse at the little head poking out from behind said father.
>Soon as you meet the child’s eyes, however, she hides behind her father’s back.
>Raising a brow at this, you take one last glance at Zephyr, of whom is still quite preoccupied, before taking a step forward towards the teal man.
>His face, while initially cautious, soon puts on a disarming smile as he realizes that his son is well enough, and gives you a nod.
“Hey, what can I do ya’ for?”
>The teal man nudges his head towards Zephyr breeze, of whom is trying to get his mother to stop stop crying.
>”Hello there, uh, sorry to barge in on ya’, but we just were scared half to death about where Zephyr went to, what with that gunshot…”
>He looks to you, a look of concern as he looks you up and down for any signs of harm.
>”Nobody’s hurt, right? Please tell me everyone with you is all right…”
>Shaking your head, you chuckle at the man’s soft nature.
>Admittedly enough, though, you have to honestly struggle to hear him, which is a bit of a pain.
“Nah’, we’re all right, thanks for asking.”
>You look at Zephyr, another chuckle leavings you as you see his mother giving him one last backbreaking hug.
“Sorry about stealing your boy, we more or less happened across him by complete accident, but it’s actually quite a funny story…”
>Turning back, you offer an open hand to the man, a normal look of confidence overtaking you.
“I’m Anonymous, by the way. Glad to meet ya’.”
>Hook, line, and sinker.
>His smile is bright as he reaches out to grasp your hand.
>His shake is… rather pathetic, and this is coming from someone who hasn’t lifted in nearly a month.
>Hell, you’re pretty sure that even Vinny has a better handshake than this guy, and she’s built like a fucking twig.
>Like, did this guy just get back from some Jåskelan P.O.W camp or wh—
>”Just call me Mr. Shy, nice to meet you.”
>Nodding, you give his hand one last squeeze before taking a step back.
>Just as you do, however, a small yawn stops you for a moment.
>Said yawn turns out to be contagious, as Mr. Shy gives out a rather high-pitched yawn that’s, quite frankly, adorable…
>Wait, no, it’s coming from that little one just behind him.
>Catching sight of the young one yet again, you raise a brow at the sight.
“Would your daughter happen to attend Canterlot High, Mr. Shy?”
>A wave of mild surprise flashes across the aging man’s face before he steps to the side, allowing you to confirm your suspicions.
>Well, you were able to confirm them for a split moment before the freshman scooted behind her father yet again.
>Mr. Shy chuckles before looking behind him and mumbling a few inaudible words, a small smile on his face when he turns back to you.
>”Sorry, Anonymous, little Shy’s a bit nervous when it comes to new folk.”
 >He nudges the young woman behind him forward.
>”C’mon, sweetie, you should know Anonymous, right? He goes to Canterlot High too!”
>Slowly, and ever so slowly, does the little body behind Mr. Shy emerge, though you’re more surprised at the small rabbit clutched in her arms than anything else.
>Her voice is wavering at best, and downright terrified at worst.
>”H-hi…”
>Aaaaaand she’s hiding behind Mr. Shy again.
>”Heh, sorry about that, Fluttershy’s terribly… well, shy.”
>You both share a chuckle at that.
“Yeah, kind’a noticed, what with her always being the meek one at school.”
>Rubbing your chin, you look off to the side.
“Hell, don’t think I’ve even heard her speak, much less hear her name…”
>This elicits another nudge to the small one from her father, much to her chagrin.
>”C’mon, sweetie, go on and introduce yourself.”
>On second thought, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
>Her distress is almost tangible as she looks up at you, blue eyes slightly trembling under the situation’s pressure.
>”I’m… Flut…”
>Her voice trails off at the end, so you can’t help but rub at the back of your neck, the little butter stick giving you a vicarious sense of awkward.
>Deciding that it’s best to keep things quick, you nod and put on a warm smile.
“Nice ta’ meet’cha, kiddo, and that’s a pretty cute rabbit you’ve got there.”
>A trace of a smile forms on her face as she looks down at her pet.
>”Y-you think so?”
>Nodding, you take a moment to yawn before replying.
“‘Course, it’s downright adorable, though he does look a bit spooked.”
>The thing is staring straight at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
>This gets the young woman to smile a bit more, though you’re still slightly miffed at not getting her na—
>”Well, sorry to cut this short, Anonymous, but I think it’s best that we all head back.”
>He nods at you and your group, that warm smile still on his face.
>”Terribly sorry to interrupt you all at this hour of the night, and thanks for watching out for Mister B.”
>There are waves shared between your two groups, though you make sure to approach Zephyr before he leaves, offering him a handshake.
>He looks at your hand weirdly, though you don’t dare drop the gesture.
>You take the split second of contact to cram the blunt into one his, admittedly far too tight, jean’s pockets.
>His eyes flash recognition before a smile finds its way onto his face.
>”Mind if I visit ya’ll tomorrow?”
>Not really thinking about what the others would have to say, as you already know that two of them are major pussies when it comes to having any sort of fun, you nod and slap him on the shoulder.
“We’ll be waiting, though we intend to head out pretty early for Hurricane Hill, so best hurry your ass up.”
>Nodding, he slowly lets go of your hand before jogging back to his group, of which head out back towards their camp…
>Just as the figures leave earshot, though, you turn towards your tent and slowly make your way inside, leaving the rest of the gang to their own machinations.
>They’re probably still pissed at you, so it’s best to get what little sleep you can get while the moon’s still up.
>Making sure the firearms are at your side and properly unloaded, your impromptu pillow, the Mk. 1 bicep, serves you well in transporting you into the ethereal dreamscape.
>...
>......
>Normally, you’d hate the fact that you were an early bird when it came to waking up, but the situation’s a bit different, what with you being in the great outdoors and all.
>Feeling like a prom night dumpster baby that’s been eaten alive by rats, you do eventually rise and curse at just how early it is.
>Fuck, man, the sun’s barely even gone up…
>Groaning, you load the pistol’s magazine before holstering it and throwing the rifle sling over your shoulder.
>Ain’t no way these two fuckers are leaving your sight after last night.
>Hopping out of the tent with your camping gear on, which consists of some generic camouflage wear that your father used to wear when he used to go hunting with his friends, you quickly get to work cooking breakfast.
>It’s nothing special, what with your cooking capabilities being similar to that of a shoe, but the oatmeal still looks good enough when you finish topping it off.
>The air is crisp, with just enough chill of winter biting at your exposed flesh to remind you of the months to come.
>It’s due to snow in the next couple of weeks, but that hasn’t deterred your group at all.
>It’s only the start of October, and snow usually doesn’t start to fall around here until the beginning of November.
>Just when you’re about to light up another fag, however, you can hear the gentle sounds of people stirring from sleep.
>Namely the sound of Dash groaning, which is followed by slew of popping joints.
>She eventually pops out of her and Singsong’s tent about ten minutes later, herself wearing the usual.
>Grizzly and Singsong probably loved the shit out of the tightness of it all, but you were always made uncomfortable as hell whenever she decided to dress “casually”.
>Always with the yoga pants, always…
>Not that you’ve ever sexualized other people, far from it, but to look at Dash in that light?
>Hell, it’d be like trying to look at dad’s ass and going, “OOOO YEEE, DAS IT MANG!”
>Shaking the thoughts away, you give the young woman a small wave and a tired smile.
“Sleep well?”
>She makes her way over towards the campfire before beginning to do some aerobic stretches, no doubt for her whole “soccer thing.”
>”Ugh, it was like sleeping on a bed of nails, Non, like, you would think that it’d be a bit comfortable with, ya’know, a sleeping bag under you?”
>A rather manlike groan escapes her lips, a staple from the young woman when in anger or distress.
>”But, noooooo, everything hurts!”
>Chuckling, you busy yourself by making her a plate of the good goop.
“Eh, you’ll get used to it, trust me on that one, just keep on at it.”
>When she finally finishes her stretches, she takes a seat beside you on the log.
>”Thanks, Non.”
>Soon enough, though, Grizzly and Singsong are birthed from their tents, the two even more worse for wear than last night.
>They do take to the food with a smile, though, so that’s a small victory.
>While the group is busying themselves with that, you take initiative and begin to pack up your tent, setting Grizzly’s stuff outside and in a little pile as you go about your task.
>You’ve gotten pretty good at this, what with all the old trips you used to take Em Dash on to Hurricane Hill while teaching him about wildlife and letting him get inspiration from the sights for his writing.
>The tent is down within twenty minutes and packed neatly away in it’s bag, of which is now joined up with the rest of your bags.
>The thing’s more than a bit heavy, sure, but a man doesn’t get strong through doing nothing.
>...But now’s not the time for moving camp, the fuckers are just getting done eating.
>Collecting up the dirty wares and whatnot used for eating, you head off in the direction of the creak, returning only ten minutes later with an armful of clean utensils and plates.
>Your watch tells you that it’s barely eight.
“Alright, little ones, let’s get a move on, haven’t got all day.”
>They all obey without protest, each grateful for the easy start to the morning, though that’s come at a cost.
>You’re more or less tuckered out at this point, and you’re running low on cancer sticks.
>Today’s going to be a long da—
>”Hey’o, little dude!”
>Shiiiieeeeet.
>Turning, you offer the teal man a wave.
>”Sorry about my peeps last night busting in like that, but you know how it goes…”
>He points at himself with a smug smile, pearly whites showing.
>”Parents gotta’ protect the goods, ya’ know?”
>This… No, wait, he’s dead ass serious.
“Pffft, you wish, gayboy.”
>Taking a load off on a log beside the campfire, you yawn into your hand.
>”Oh, what, you think I’m not great, just like all the others?”
>The dramatic pose he takes gets a chuckle out of you, but not much else.
>”When will the world realize the beauty of mua, the beauty that is Zephyr Breeze?”
>You shrug at this, seeming to get why this guy usually gets such good spots at CHS’ theater program.
>He genuinely sounded like a faggot during that, as opposed to the funny egotist he was last night.
>”But, uh, little dude?”
>You look up at this.
>”My old folks are going to get going pretty soon, we’re heading up towards Hurricane Hill a bit early, what with us having Flutter Butter around and all.”
>...
>Processing.
>Processing…
>No items match your search.
“Flutter Butter?”
>He waves this off dismissively.
>”My little sis, the yellow string bean? About yay high, antisocial, got pink hair like some anime chick, ring a bell?”
>It takes you a moment of staring, but a lopsided smile soon forms on your face before a chuckle escapes your lips.
>Smacking him on the shoulder, you nod at him.
“Yeah, I remember her… but we’re also heading up to the hill soon as these fuckers get packed, so maybe we’ll see you there later?”
>Zephyr gives out a smile before offering a high five goodbye.
>”Sounds like a plan, and maybe we can pick up where we left off when it’s time to make s'mores?”
>There’s a lopsided smile from the man, one in which you can’t help but return.
“No promises, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it’s tempting as all hell.”
>You make to stand before slapping his hand.
“C’ya later, gayboy.”
>A light chuckle escapes you both as he slaps you on the ass upon hearing your nickname.
>”You know it, little dude.”
>And, with that, he leaves off back towards his own camp.
>As he walks off, though, you can’t force yourself to remove that small smirk on your face.
>Man, what a faggot.
>...
>......
>Needless to say, the day is filled with dread.
>Sure, it’s supposed to be a nice, calming Saturday and all, but you’re left dreading your return to the place.
>Canterlot High, why must you exist?
“Oh, Opalescence, what is a lady to do?”
>The little angel, bless her heart, purrs just a bit more into your scratching hand.
>Nodding, you take a moment to yawn and snuggle the little ball of fluff further.
>She’s one of the few things that can reliably keep your mind off of it all.
>This is one of your more recent hobbies, sad to say.
>Sitting in your room, locked up with Opalescence, the lights off and flat screen playing favorite shows of old on repeat.
>There’s a bit of a disturbance in the usual white noise that comes from said flat screen, though, and so you open an eye to see what’s the matter.
>’Are you still watching Hamta—’
>”Hey, Rarity!”
“WAHAHAHA!”
>Starting with a jump, you kick off the sheets and make an attempt at standing…
>Your feet get caught on the comforter, and the rest is history.
>A groan escapes you as you rub a sore forearm while grovelling on the carpet, though a little giggle coming from in front of the television draws your attention.
>Slowly standing, your eye the young gremlin warily with hands now on your hips.
“Sweetie Belle, what have I told you about sneaking into my room?”
>There’s a moment of silence as she taps her lips for a moment, genuinely trying to remember.
>”That it’s not very nice, and that a lady should always knock first?”
>You raise a brow at her, expecting her happy demeanor to fall when she realizes that she has slipped up…
>And you wait…
>And wait…
>A groan escapes you for the umpteenth time.
>Breathe in, breathe out, Rarity...
>Putting on a smile, you make your way over to her, those green eyes looking up at you with genuine joy.
>It gives you a vicarious bit of happiness, and so you lean down and pinch at her cheeks.
“And just what does my wittle Schweetie Bewwe want from Wawity?”
>She giggles at this, which you find out to be infectious.
>Sweetie Belle is the one of the few people who can get a smile to remain on your face for more than thirty seconds, and you’re infinitely grateful for it… or, at least when she actually cares to act like a proper lady in training.
>You let go of her precious cheeks before gently running a hand through her beautiful hair, of which may or may not make you subconsciously jealous.
>”I’m bored!”
>Placing a hand back on your hip, you gently tap at your chin before looking off to the side, eyes searching for an answer.
>You already know what you’re going to do, but that inquisitive look in Sweetie’s eyes is just too cute to pass up.
“Well, can’t have that now, can we?”
>Picking up the covers from off the ground, you gently pat at the comforter.
>You pout when you realize that Opalescence has left, your that thought quickly leaves your mind when you see Sweetie clambering up and onto the bed before wrapping herself into a cocoon of blankets.
>The smile on her face is enough to make every worry in your mind melt away.
>Giggling and booping her on the nose, you begin to make your way out of the room.
“I’ll be back presently with some popcorn, Sweetie, do feel free to start the next episode.”
>At least you’ve got Sweetie.
>She may be a bit… childish at times, but you’d be lying if you were to say that you don’t love her to death.
>...
>......
>Is… is she gone?
>Waiting a moment longer, you scramble out of the bed and take a peek out of the closed door.
>...The coast is clear!
>Smiling wide, you scuttle towards the nightstand before grabbing the brick of a phone.
“Ehrm… Pyramid shape and then into the top left…?”
>A few tries later, and you’re in.
>Grinning, you make your way back onto the bed and wrap yourself in the covers to the point which the only light you can see is from the phone.
>Sure, mom and dad may have bought her lie, but not you.
>You’re smarter than them.
>You know boys and girls can’t be just friends!
>...Or, at least that’s what Scootaloo says.
>Shrugging, you open up the contacts list and begin to scour for… whatever Rarity said his name at dinner was.
>...
>......
>It’s kind of amazing, really.
>You’ve had your tent already set up and gear stowed away for a good ten minutes already, and yet the rest of the gang is still recovering from the day’s journey.
>Hell, it wasn’t even that bad.
>You expect better out of Dash at the very least, what with her wanting to be captain of the soccer team and all.
>Checking your phone, you confirm two things.
>One, that you’ve still got no bars.
>Two, that it’s no later than nine.
“Well, fuck this, ain’t waiting all day.”
>Plopping in a smoke and grabbing the rifle from beside your seat, of which was a very comfy rock, you make your way towards the edge of camp before calling out.
“I’m heading out to the hill, should be five minutes north of here if any’a ya’ wanna’ follow. Should be a pretty good sight tonight, would recommend it.”
>You’re met with a series of shrugs and noncommittal grunts, to which you shake your head at.
>And with that do you take your leave from the exhausted trio of tards, flashlight in hand as you idly hope to see Zephyr again.
>Hopefully he hasn’t smoked it all without you.
>...
>......
>This…
>This is nice.
>Far better than nice, in fact, as it’s probably the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks.
>You and Sweetie are completely rapt in the show, your hands lovingly fixing her hair and removing knots all the while.
>You two used to always watch this program together when it used to air.
>It was her favorite show, and you were often tempted to say the same.
>”Boss and Bijou sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
>Two sets of giggles erupt from the ensuing chaos on the screen, memories coming back of a better time.
>A time where you didn’t dread weekdays and actually had friends to talk to everyday.
>Sighing, you slowly cease your fixing of Sweetie’s hair and rest your head atop hers.
>A totem pole of marshmallows, as a certain someone would put it.
>Humming, you pull her into a semi-tight hug.
>She seizes up at that, which makes you look down at her with a worried eye.
“What’s a matter, Sweetie?”
>Her hands dart down, followed by a familiar ‘click.’
>”Nothing!”
>Slowly tightening your hold on her, you force her to meet your eyes before replying.
“Sweetie, what do you have in your hands?”
>...
>......
>As was expected, the sight from Hurricane Hill is fucking beautiful.
>A full moon lights up the sky like no other, giving off a sight that all but demands your immediate attention.
>You stand there for… God knows how long, staring up at the moon and remembering days past at this very location.
>Sucks that Em Dash isn’t here to pester you about some bullshit-nonsense idea he has for his latest story, though.
>Man do you miss that little shit.
>Shrugging, you make your way up to the crest of the hill, taking your time all the while.
>You take a moment to sit down on the crest with legs dangling over the edge, not really caring about the untimely death that would certainly come if you shifted a foot in just the wrong direction.
>You chuck a nearby rock off the cliff, and, as expected, you’re unable to hear it hit the bottom.
>The scene is really too much for words, as Em Dash once said.
>Can’t really put into words the gentle breeze on your face, the grass between your hands, or the breathtaking sight of the the full moon.
>Maybe you can try calling mom again, see if she’ll pick up this time?
>Eh, it’ll probably be two rings before being sent to voicemail again, but here’s to hoping!
>Your somber thoughts, however, are soon interrupted by the sound of merriment and boisterous laughs off to your right.
>Glancing over your shoulder, you can just barely make out a few warm bodies huddled around a large campfire, of which is accompanied by a large camper van.
>You can already make out the sound of Zephyr’s boisterous voice, but you can’t really be bothered to pay too much attention to that.
>Just before you, some fifteen feet away to the right, sits someone that you’ve nearly forgotten about, someone whose face is only illuminated by the cigarette placed firmly between her lips and the moonlight from above.
>It’s a bit of a hard face to make out at this range, but you’re able make out two details
>There’s a familiar aviator’s coat and purple-tipped hair, of which makes your mind run rampant with sudden memories of the woman.
>No two ways about it, that’s—
*BZZT*
>The fuck?
*BZZT*
*BZZT*
*BZZT*
>Alright, phone, ya’ can fuck right off now, thank ya’ kindly.
>Pulling out the thing and setting it to silent, you sit there for a moment, staring at the piece of metal and plastic.
>Seven new messages.
>All from a new number.
>Wait, speaking of which...
>Incoming call from 602…...
>Blinking, you spare another glance at the former acquaintance to your right, only to see that her eyes are now locked firmly on yours.
>She makes to stand from her impromptu seat over the ledge, and it’s then when you feel a pang of panic.
>Accept the potential call from God knows who, or do you go and call out to the friend from days long since past?
>The call can wait, your opportunity to talk to her can’t.
>Shoving the phone in your pocket, you scramble to stand and give a somewhat frantic wave while making your way to the old friend.
“Hey, Gilda! Gilda, hey… Wait up!”
>You know she can hear you, but she continues to walk away, ignoring you all the way.
>This gives you some cause to pause, as she was always one to instantly pull you into a noogie with a few endearing insults…
>You shake your head clear of such memories and finish making your way to her side.
“Gilda, hey, it’s Anon, remember?”
>You’re now walking beside her, and her yellow eyes focused on the trees ahead of you both.
“The little sophomore that you always called “shithead”, ring any bells?”
>Sounds of Zephyr’s group grow are slowly replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead by the night’s wind, though this gives way to the sound of Gilda grumbling something under her breath.
>Taking one final drag out of her cigarette, she flicks it the thing off in a random direction before blowing out a few circles.
>She looks your way with eyes that hold only suspicion and malice, her voice holding an edge that she usually reserved for the invalids and rich kids.
>”What’dya want, kid?”
>She doesn’t dare to stop, and so you two continue on to… God only knows where, your flashlight lighting the path as you go.
“What…?”
>You’re more than confused at her blatant hostility and lack of warmth for an old friend, but you quickly shake off the sinking feeling in your gut.
“Gilda, it’s me, Anon, the little green shithead, remember?”
>You put on a small smile while reminiscing about all the time spent together.
“I was that little guy that’d always be at your beck and call…”
>You try and put on a brief impersonation of her somewhat gruff voice.
“‘Hey, shithead, I’m thirsty, chop chop!’ or how about, ‘Shithead, go get the crew, we got a problem.’”
>That only gets a mild scoff out of her, to which you tilt your head at.
>She hasn’t returned any of your calls after she had graduated earlier this year, so you’re at a complete loss as to what’s wrong.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me that you haven’t forgotten about lil’ ol’ shithead?”
>You offer her a playful smack on the shoulder, to which she responds with a full-blown one to the back of your skull.
>It stings like hell, yes, but the response you get afterwards is all worth it.
>”Of course I haven’t forgotten, dumbass.”
>Those words have a certain layer of softness to them, of which gets you to smile.
“Then why ya’ ignoring me, boss?”
>You speed up your walk to get slightly ahead of her, looking back with an overdone look of fake sadness and a droopy bottom lip.
“You’re killin’ me here, boss, first ya’ don’t return me calls, then ya’ flat out ignore me when we happen to meet by freak ch—”
*THUD*
>Landing on the ground with a smack, you grovel amidst the dead leaves and grass for a second.
>Cursing, you look at exactly snagged your boot.
>You have to squint and use the moonlight, though, as your flashlight seems to have fallen out of your grasp and turned itself off in the fall.
>Gathering yourself, you lean in towards where your foot was to see an upturned root.
>Rad, just fucking rad.
>Making to stand, you get about halfway up before pain shoots up your leg, forcing you to fall to a knee.
>Nearly toppling over and back into the grass, you groan a little before beginning to curse up a storm, your hands slowly beginning to caress your shin.
>You take a few steadying breaths before looking up, hoping to see a helping hand up from Gilda...
>You can just barely make out her familiar form disappearing further deeper into the woods.
>Mustering your voice, you call out to the old friend.
“Hey, boss, wait up!”
>She doesn’t even look back.
>Grunting in effort, you manage to hop up on one leg before pulling out your rifle and using it as an ad hoc walking stick.
“Boss, I, uh, I think I sprained my ankle!”
>You stare hard at her form, only to realize that you’ve been looking at a tree.
>Naturally, you panic.
>Scrambling for the flashlight underfoot, you lose your footing once more and fall, though the pain is negligible as you scour the forest floor for the torch.
>When you finally find the thing, you’re forced to smack it several times before the batteries finally work.
>Flashing the thing in Gilda’s last known direction, your wide eyes are met with the sight of encircling trees and foliage.
>Every direction yields a path more gnarled than the last, each one making you want to throw up with the anxiety of the situation steadily rising.
>Mustering your courage, you call out into the night.
“Boss, hey, boss!”
>The gentle chirping of crickets is the only response.
>Gilda wouldn’t just abandon an old friend, just like that, right?
>Your breathing gets a bit shallow for a moment, but you quickly make to call out again.
“Boss?”
>You two used to be like blood.
“Boss?”
>You shared your first beer with her.
“Boss?”
>You and her always had each other’s backs during each and every fight she would drag you into, no matter the odds.
“B-boss?”
>She was the one to console you when mom took Em Dash up north and when dad began getting violent.
>Your desperate voice is met with no reply, only the dull echo of your words bounding out for miles to come…
>A lone tear slowly falls to the earth, itself soon followed by countless others.
>...
>......
>It’s been, what, six hours of waiting?
>You glance up at the alarm clock again, checking the time as four thirty in the morning.
“Sweetie, you’ve ruined me…”
>You’re met without a reply, obviously, as you’ve long since set the little devil off to her room.
>You had half a mind to unleash unholy wrath on her the moment you read exactly what she messaged Anonymous, but reason prevailed within your mind, and there was a distinct lack of anger when you had dealt with her.
>Looking back to the phone, you begin to read the first of Sweetie’s messages again.
>”hey, anoneymouse, this is rarity :D”
>No matter how many times you’ve read that opener, you can’t help but cringe at it.
>She had his name RIGHT at the top of the screen!
>Ugh.
>Steeling yourself, you force yourself to reread all of them, one by agonizing one.
>”im bored, whatre you doig”
>”my sis doesnt believe that i have a boyfriend XD”
>”can i have pics?”
>Groaning, you idly bite at your nail for a moment before continuing.
>”like of your face”
>”or maybe abs. im not picky X3”
>”plz?”
>Ugh.
>Breathe in, breathe out…
>You have one friend in all of Canterlot High, and then comes along Sweetie Belle…
>You’d be laughing if you weren’t so unsure about the situation.
>Of course you’d sent a message or two after you’d discovered what Sweetie was up to, and so you continue reading.
>”Anonymous, dear, I’m terribly sorry about that. My little sister, Sweetie Belle, you see, she managed to get ahold of my phone while I was away.”
>Damage control, along with your heart rate, was at an all time high when you wrote that.
>”You’ll have to forgive Sweetie, as the little rascal can be more than a handful at any given moment when you don’t keep an eye on her.”
>It was a little after that when you reasoned that calling Anonymous was the best course of action.
>You’d simply explain what had happened rather than have him read the messages and get the wrong idea…
>As expected, he didn't pick up.
“I’m ruined, I say, ruined!”
>And with that do you let your head go limp, the gorgeous thing smacking back into your pillow with a dull thud.
>Maybe you can afford just a moment of resting your eyes.
>It’s not like the messages were even left on ‘Read.’
>Yes, that sounds wonderful…
>...
>......
>It’s a bit weird, really.
>You sometimes have the weirdest fucking dreams, but this one was a bit… surreal.
>Is that even the right word?
>Ethereal, maybe?
>...
>You slowly rub the sleep from your eyes and shove the empty cans off, of which there are plenty.
>You were never good with words, particularly the long ones that your wordy friends would always use.
>...Oh hell, who’re you kidding, you only had one friend that blabbered on as much as he did and used fancy words that you never really knew.
>Little shithead was in your dream last night, that’s what you’re trying to say.
>You can’t really remember much about the dream, but you can remember that it was sad.
>Grumbling,  you make to stand before heading outside of your tent.
>Getting yourself brushed and flossed under the bright morning’s sky, of which you give a good finger to, you kick open your cooler before taking stock...
>Five beers, and only five beers.
>Funny how twenty seven seemed like such a big number at the time.
>You pick up a nearby and empty can before finding the sleeping body of Lorica Hamata.
>The lazy fuck just rolls over after the can bounces off of his head, the can rolling over to join the small circle of cans that surround him.
>Cursing silently at the old friend, you take the beers out of the cooler before heading over to your truck.
>Stuffing three of them under your seat, you put one in a pocket of your aviator’s coat while cracking open the other.
>You idly begin to make your way to Hurricane Hill as you drink the piss water.
>It’s the only place you can get a signal, and you’re more than eager to see if Shining texted back.
>...
>......
>Ugh.
>UGH!
>Why can you never get a good night’s rest?
>You are Rainbow Dash, and you feel like you’ve slept on a bed of sharp rocks.
>You force yourself out of your warm sleeping bag before much longer, your spine cracking all along the way.
>Once you wake up, you can never really go back to sleep.
>Kind of like whenever Non wakes up halfway through the night and isn’t able to go back to bed.
>That random thought gets you wondering about the guy.
>He never did return to camp last night.
>Sure, Grizzly was more than a bit worried about what happened to him, but you and Singsong got him to calm down soon enough.
>Non had two guns on him, and he’s already proved that he knows damn well how to use them.
>Getting dressed and getting the morning rituals all done, you step outside of your shared tent before nearly being blinded by the morning’s bright sun.
>...Huh, the smell of a well-made breakfast usually wakes you up way before the sun’s that high up.
>Cracking your back and beginning your morning stretches, you idly look around the camp.
>The campfire’s cold, two tents still stand, and the food is safely suspended from a nearby tree branch, exactly where you left it.
>But there’s one thing that makes your eyes widen.
>Non isn’t out here.
>He’s the early bird of the group, always up first thing in the morning to cook breakfast for everyone when you all go camping, no matter the season or weather.
>Hell, he’s even hunted small game for breakfast, if only just to see all your faces when seeing the stuff primed on skewers.
>Undoing the zipper of Non and Grizzly’s tent, you take a peek to see that only the later is sleeping within.
>Frowning, you decide that today’s warm up would be a quick jog up Hurricane Hill.
>Maybe he just fell asleep under the night’s starry sky?
>That’s all you can hope as your light jog turns into a sprint, paranoia running rampant as you think about what could’ve happened.
>...
>......
>You should probably head back to camp.
>The others will be waking soon, and they’re going to need a bit of food to get their lazy asses up and running.
>...Not that you would particularly like cooking up the meal, but it’s pretty much your obligation at this point.
>Someone’s gotta’ be the adult of the gang, even if they always end up bitching when X isn’t “just” right.
>After all, you’ve got to make her happy.
>From what you’ve heard from Grizzly, her days aren’t exactly all too bright, what with her current relationship and all.
>Hell, he even told you that you two are some of the only reasons that she even smiles anymore.
>Rubbing some sleep from your eyes, you shift slightly from your seat.
>Man, wish you were that close to Dash where she’d tell you these types of things.
>You’re pulled from your thoughts, however, by the sound of voice that makes your heart nearly stop.
>”Holy shit… Anon? Anon, is that you?!”
>You jump at the familiar voice and nearly lose your balance off the edge of the cliff, but you steady yourself at the last moment.
>Turning to look at the newcomer, of who you already recognize from the voice, you’re met with a pang of fear and doubt as you lock eyes.
>Gilda, with eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, stares down at you with eyes full of shock.
>A nice bit of juxtaposition as opposed to her blatant anger last night, but you’re still much more than cautious.
>You try to scramble back onto your feet as she runs over, but you’re far too slow.
>You’re hoisted up and into an almost spine-crushing hug before you can even blink, yourself being spun around several times before being held tight.
>Sure, you remembered her as being the strongest woman you’ve ever met, but you nearly shit yourself when you feel just how solid those arms are.
>They’re like fucking steel.
>You try and wriggle free, hell, you even try to push yourself off of her, but it proves futile.
>And, as you look at her face, of which is nearly buried into your shoulder, you can just make out the sound of her laughing happily into your jacket.
>You stare at her for a moment, utterly dumbfounded at the sudden change of character.
>Shaking your head, you blink at Gilda before slowly relaxing in the grip, your mind racing to try and figure out what to do.
>Do…
>Do you hug her back?
>Despite the odd bending of your spine and the complete lack of air in your lungs, you can’t help but smile, if only slightly.
>It’s been a long while since anyone’s hugged you, and even longer since someone actually meant it.
>You realize that your arms have a mind of their own and are now latched firmly around Gilda, but that doesn’t bother you.
>Far from it.
>Memories come running back of the woman… of the Gilda who you spent countless hours shooting the shit with after school… of the woman who, dare you say, acted like a big sister all those years ago.
>All too soon, though, the tight embrace ends and you are pulled into a chokehold, a set of knuckles finding their way onto your scalp before the noogie commences in full force.
>You both laugh like idiots at this, and you go along with it for old times’ sake.
>Her voice is one of unabated joy as she speaks between giggling fits.
>”Long time no see, eh, shithead?”
>You take a moment to stop and blink at this, though you bite your cheek for a moment.
>You make to reply, but you remember that you can’t breathe fully in this position.
>Remembering how you used to try and deal with the chokehold back when you two were like blood, you drop down onto your ass, hoping that she would release you.
>Gilda, however, is adamant with her grip.
>You tug hard down at her arms, which forces her to come toppling to the ground beside you.
>Wriggling your neck free from her grasp, you try for a moment to find your footing and make to stand.
>When you do finally stand, trying hard to not put any form of pressure on your bad ankle, you turn to Gilda, of whom is now looking up at you, a playful smile on her face.
“Long time no see…? Fuck’re you talkin’ ‘bout, what about last night?”
>You slightly tilt your head at her, your smile now morphing into a grimace.
>It’s Gilda’s turn to slowly tilt the head, a look of, ‘Are you retarded?’ overtaking her.
>It disappears as quickly as it appeared, however, and she kicks your legs from out under you, to which you fall to the ground with a smack.
>She’s straddling your chest before you even have time to process the pain shooting up your leg.
>”What’cha mean, kiddo?”
>You want to curse up at her confident look as your legs writhes, but you can only mutter a few curses while baring your teeth.
>She raises a brow at this before looking back at your twitching leg.
>”Oh, you got a boo-boo or somethin’, shithead?”
>Groaning, you give her a gentle push.
“Twisted me Goddamn ankle, boss, remember?”
>Her face turns a serious shade of worry at this, herself all but jumping off of you.
>”Oh shit, are you alright?”
>She takes you by the arm and helps you to stand, to which you gladly accept, but she doesn’t stop with her questions.
>”Do you have it wrapped up? What happened last night? Were you out here all night?!”
>She places one of your arms over her shoulder for support, to which you accept.
>As for her questions…
“So you don’t remember?”
>She shakes her head, her eyes filled to the brim with anxiety and fear.
>”Sorry, Anon, I was blasted outta’ my Goddamned mind, downed way more beer and pills than I should’ve.”
>...Oh.
>Well that would explain it.
>She always was an angry drunk, and you doubt that the pills helped her any.
>”Please tell me you’re alright, Anon.”
>Nodding, you speak with a somewhat low voice.
“I, uh… it was pretty rough, thought you hated me, or some shit like that…”
>She looks down to your ankle.
>”Aw shit, don’t tell me that I…?”
>She gives out a sigh of relief when you shake your head.
“Nah, got snagged on a root when I wasn’t looking, but you were there.”
>You offer her a rueful look, but one that you can’t help adding a bit of scorn into.
“Called out for ya’ God knows how many times, but you just… kept on walkin’.”
>You rub at the back of your neck, unable to meet her eyes.
“I’ve just been out here ever since then, thinking about life and all that stuff.”
>Just as you make to shrug weakly, however, you’re given a tight squeeze.
>”Shit, Anon, you know that it’s always the drink talkin’ and not me, right?”
>She gently shakes you, a hopeful smile on her face.
>”Hell, I’d sooner stab a bitch rather than be a dick to my favorite underclassman.”
>There’s a moment of silence, to which Gilda forces out a chuckle.
>”You know that, right?”
>...
>You want to tell her off, and yet you also want her to hug you again and not let go.
>It’s a box of mixed chocolates, to say the lea—
>”Oh.”
>The both of you are pulled from the cathartic moment by the sound of a voice.
>A voice that’s scratchy and devoid of all emotion.
>Just behind you two stands Rainbow Dash with arms crossed and a distant look on her face.
>She takes a moment to shake her head before turning heel and slowly retreating back into the treeline, yourself able to hear her scoffs and angry words from here.
“Uh, Dash? You alright there? Dash, hey, Dash?”
>Silence is her only reply.
>Furrowing your brow, you slowly turn to Gilda, completely and utterly lost.
“Fuck’s wrong with her?”
>Gilda offers only a shrug before slowly reaching down with her free hand to grab something from her pockets.
>”Bad blood between me and her.”
>The fuck?
“Ah.”
>You let the silence hang before it’s interrupted by the gentle opening of a canned beverage.
>Gilda takes a long swig out of her beer, her face now sullen and resembling the one from last night.
>Clicking her tongue, she shakes her head slowly, not daring to meet your eyes.
>”Can you make it back to your camp, shithead?”
>Nodding, you make to stand on your own.
>Gilda’s hand, once firm and around your shoulder to keep you aloft, is limp and falls to her side.
“Yeah.”
>Pulling out your ad hoc walking stick, you stand there for a moment, unsure of exactly what to do.
>Gilda, however, sneers before slapping you on the shoulder.
>”Don’t be a stranger, shithead.”
>You slightly tilt your head at this.
“Maybe if you answered my calls sometime…”
>She takes another drink before waving this off.
>”Yeah, yeah, sorry about that, been busy.”
>She turns around and walks to the edge of Hurricane Hill, herself stopping just short of the edge.
>You, however, let your head droop as you begin to walk off, mind a mess of what to think of the old friend.
>Just as you’re about to break the treeline, however, she calls out to you.
>”Hey, Anon?”
>You stop dead in your tracks, your head slowly turning to get a look at the her.
>”I’m sorry.”
>You…
>You don’t know what to say.
>Nodding, you disappear into the trees and leave the woman to her thoughts.
>...
>......
>The rest of the morning is passed in silence.
>The group scarfed down the breakfast you hastily threw together, but you abstained from the morning meal.
>You need to think about just what in the hell happened, and you’re given plenty of time to do that as you wash the pots and pans with hand and water.
>There’s no set of words to describe exactly what you’re feeling right now, as it’s all so…
>Conflicting.
>Several parts of you each want something else.
>There’s that one bit that wants to go ask Dash what’s wrong, and then there’s that part that wants to go apologize, despite you doing nothing wrong.
>There are several other parts that each want to go jump off of Hurricane Hill and be done with all this bullshit nonsense, but you silence them easily enough.
“Fuck me.”
>”And you call me the gayboy…”
>Jumping up from your squat over the secluded pond, you have to stop yourself from chucking the half-cleaned pot at the cocksucker’s head.
“Zephyr, you sneak up on me like that again, and, I swear to God, I will shove a fucking pineapple up your ass.”
>He chuckles at this, making his way to your side before glancing down at the assortment of unwashed pots and plates around you.
>”Dish duty, huh?”
>Grumbling, you pop back into your squat before finishing this one pot.
“Yeah, I’m pretty much the worker bee of this shitshow.”
>You growl and spit off to the side.
“Always getting looks because I’m keeping the shitheads to a good fucking schedule…”
>You begin to scrub a bit harder.
“Always getting shit thrown my way because I’m telling the two retards not to break shit wherever they go…”
>Before you can even realize what you’re doing, the pot bounces up from the sudden throw against the rocky ground, the clang of the impact echoing in your mind.
>Zephyr gives out a low whistle at that.
>”Dude, you totally wrecked that pot.”
“Fuck off.”
>You stand and approach the pot before giving it as hard a kick as you can muster, to which the thing goes skyrocketing to the other side of the pond.
“Useless piece of shit.”
>You have half a mind to do the same with the remainder of pots and such around your feet, but you’re torn from your thoughts a moment later by the sound of a lighter.
>Sneering, you turn to see Zephyr taking a long hit out of a joint, to which he smiles widely at you.
>Blowing out a few circles, he gently turn the things over in his fingers before handing it to you.
>Fuck, man…
>Do you take the peace offering, if only for a few hits?
>Maybe this is a good opportunity to calm down…
>Do you even want to calm down?
>Honestly, you feel like beating the shit outta’ someone right now, but you take the joint before you can act on that impulse.
>Placing the thing loosely between your lips, you suck in as hard as you’re able, resisting the small urge to cough the acrid shit out.
>Handing it back to him a moment later, you hold up a single finger as a grimace forms on your face.
>Counting to ten, you exhale it all with a sigh.,
>A small smile forms on your face as Zephyr slaps you on the back.
>”Pretty good, huh, little dude?”
>You can’t really explain it, but you can’t force the smile off of your face.
>In fact, it keeps on growing.
“Guess ya’ could say that.”
>You feel… light.
>Finding a comfy-looking rock, you take a seat, to which Zephyr follows and sits besides you.
>He eyes you with a broad smile.
>”You look like hell, little dude, no sleep last night?”
>You shrug, eying the joint all the while.
“Oh man, lemme’ tell ya’...”
>...
>......
>Today has been quite nice, despite Sweetie’s little… mishap last night.
>Sure, you’ve been checking your phone near-constantly, but that’s besides the point.
>You’re Rarity, and you’re having a good time.
>Quite a good time indeed!
>No, wait, you sense a disturbance…
>Looking up, you read the text yet again.
>’Are you still watching Ed, E—’
“Ugh.”
>Of course you’re not watching it.
“A lady needs her background noise, lest she realize the sorry state that she’s in.”
>Putting the show back on and retreating back into your cave of blankets, you sigh as the comforting sheets fall in around you.
>Poise and reserved as you are, you can’t fully ignore that growing sense of doubt that rises a moment later.
>Yet another weekend wasted.
>No dresses done, no inspiration found, nothing.
“Disaster...”
>Checking the time, you grimace upon realizing the horrid truth.
>8:49 PM.
“Ugh!”
>You want more time to waste away.
>More time to be anywhere but school.
>...
>Hmm...
>Maybe if you spend all night resting, but not sleeping, that would give you time to think about what to do with your situation?
>That sounds splendid.
>Anything that puts more time between you and school is splendid.
>...
>......
>Surprise, surprise, forth hour is just as bad as the rest.
>You are Rarity, and you are alone in the front row of history class.
>You’re also quite confident that you’re one of the four or so students that actually take notes during Mr. Shiver’s lectures.
>Even if you’re not that interested in history, it’s still vital for a lady to have a proper grasp on—
*Fwick*
>Ow.
>Rubbing the side of your head, you look right to, unsurprisingly, see that your peers now find the board very interesting, smiles on their faces all the while.
>Typical.
>Looking down to see what exactly hit you, you see a poorly constructed paper airplane on the ground.
>Shaking your head, you reach down to grab the thing before leaning over to the trash can…
>Only to see Mr. Shivers eyeing you warily, to which you smile nervously before disposing of the thing.
>”See me after class.”
>...Great.
>Well, such is the life of Rarity.
>The most you can do is give a deflated sigh before resting your forehead on your textbook, trying desperately to ignore the sniggers of those behind you.
>Truly, life is hell.
>...
>......
>“What’cha readin’, Non?”
>Blinking, you shift the screen of your phone to let Dash have a quick read.
”Separatists are gaining ground in Jåskela, just captured Norråbo of this morning.”
>Her eyes lack any sort of recognition at your words, so you continue on.
“Second largest manufacturing city in Jåskela, pretty damn important.”
>She slowly nods, reaching idly for her sandwich.
>”The, uh, royals are the good guys, right?”
>Oh, for fuck’s sake…
>You’ve explained this to her at least eight times.
“No, Dash, the separatists are the good guys, they want to oust the royal family and establish a representative dem—”
>”Oh yeah, huh?”
>She takes a bite out of her meal before shrugging at you, a smile on her face.
>”Whoopshs.”
>Shaking your head, you sigh before returning to your phone.
>When you do, however, you’re able to catch sight of someone familiar.
>Someone white, purple, and all alone at her table.
>A part of you cringes upon remembering the fact that you never had time to return her messages, but another part of you wants to return to your article out of shame, as you instinctively want to avoid the situation.
>But, then again, you do more or less owe her an apology.
>Making to stand, you leave your untouched lunch behind and begin to make your way over to her.
>She doesn’t look up from her food until you’ve taken a seat beside her, to which she jumps, a small yelp coming from her.
>Once she realizes that it’s you, however, she places a hand over her heart and takes several calming breaths.
>”It’s not kind to sneak up on a lady, dear.”
>You chuckle and smack her on the shoulder, just now noticing how exhausted she looks.
“Well hello to you too, Mallow.”
>Her face softens at that, all traces of shock now gone as she adopts a small smile.
>”Oh, yes, where are my manners? How are you, dear Anonymous? I hope all was well in your weekend?”
>...Now that is a very good question.
>Rubbing your chin, you wonder about exactly what to tell her.
>Sure, you could just say the bland, “Fine, you?”, but that’d be a massive fucking lie.
>You could tell her about your freak meeting with Gilda, the encounter with Zephyr and your ensuing shenanigans, or about another freshman that you happened to meet, of whom is oddly absent from the lunchroom.
>Decisions, decisions…
>Eh, fuck it.
>Clapping your hands together and giving them a mighty rub, you smile down at the freshman.
“Have I got a story for you, Mallow!”
>You can’t help the growth in your smile as her eyes light up.
>Heh, wish you had that effect on more people.
>Despite the amount of details and tangents you soon find yourself going into, she remains completely focused on you, smiling and nodding when appropriate.
>She even gasps and puts a hand over her mouth when you go over the negligent discharge, herself almost frantically asking if everyone was alright.
>You wave off her worries and run a hand through your hair.
“Nah, luckily everyone was alright, though there’s another funny story behind that…”
>And so you begin to retell the interesting tale of Zephyr Breeze: aka the local faggot.
>She was especially surprised when you told of the blunt he produced, but doubly so when you told her of your acceptance to the stuff.
>You’re more than a bit pleased at her lack of displeasure for your actions, as she’s more curious than anything.
>”What inspired you to accept such a deal, dear?”
>You shrug, idly rubbing the back of your head.
>That’s a bit personal, but you’ve got an itch that she’s a trustworthy type.
>Shy people are slightly more trustworthy than their normal counterparts, but only just so.
“Eh, why bother getting up in the morning if you’re not living, ya’ know?”
>You nudge your head her way.
“Like, what gets you up in the morning every day? Doubt it’s this shithole we call CHS.”
>She seems somewhat taken aback by the sudden attention, but soon hums while tapping her cheek with a lone finger.
>”Hmmm, I suppose it would be my dresses.”
>You raise an eyebrow at that, but she quickly clarifies.
>”Sorry, dear, poor wording. What I meant to say is that I more or less design, create, and, when I’m lucky, sell dresses… When I’ve the proper inspiration, of course.”
>Huh.
>Giving a nod, you smile and start off with a slow clap.
>This gets another blush out of her, to which she gives off a flustered giggle before waving you off.
>”It’s nothing, dear, just a hobby that I’ve had for several years now.”
>You can only chuckle at that, your clapping coming to an end.
“Obligatory modesty and all’a that bullshit aside, that’s really damn cool. Got anything on hand that ya’ could show me?”
>Rarity’s eyes remain on the ceiling, a smile on her face all the while.
>”Well, just maybe…”
>She then goes to pull out her phone, to which you give out a low whistle.
“Damn, rich white girl over here.”
>”Hmm?”
>You nod at her phone.
“Antoinette lookin’ ass over here, your dad a lawyer or some shit?”
>She seems to grasp your meaning, another bashful smile overtaking her.
>”Oh, heavens no, he’s a professional football coach.”
>...
>Your lips go thin as your smile vanishes, though she doesn’t even notice.
>She’s not serious, is she?
>”Anonymous, dear, is everything alright?”
>Shit.
“Oh, uh, yeah!”
>She stares at you for a moment longer before returning to her phone, to which she flicks through a seemingly endless gallery, up until…
>”Oh, here, tell me what you think, dear.”
>She hands you the thing and scoots next to you, leaning in as she points at the finer details of the dress.
>And, by God, is it something of beauty.
>You can’t exactly name what style it is or any of that fancy shit, but you can definitely see the purpose of it all.
>It’s some sort of wedding dress, that much is certain, and the twists and twirls of the fabric are a sight to behold.
>Honestly, it’s like something out of a princess movie, but it actually looks quite comfortable, to the point where walking at a brisk pace wouldn’t leave the wearer liable to slip and break her neck.
>Giving out a low whistle, you hand her back the phone and smack her on the shoulder.
“Holy hell, Mallow, rich white girl and now you’re some sort’a prodigy with dresses and shit?”
>”Oh, please, it’s nothing… And I’m not rich, Anonymous.”
>Rolling your eyes with a smile, you shake your head.
“Yeah, sure, and that Cadillac that your dad pulled up in last Friday?”
>She raises a finger to protest.
>”Well, you see, there’s a very good reason for that, there was a sale and—”
“And it costed forty grand, I’m guessing?”
>She hesitates for a moment.
>”Thirty two and a ha—”
“Oh my God, bour-ge-ois scum!”
>”Am not!”
“See, see?! Exactly what a bourgeois summbitch would say when the gentle laborer sees his invisible shackles of economical and social imprisonment.”
>She’s now wearing another bashful smile, and you’re wondering if she’s just going to be in a state of perpetual blush when around you.
>”Anonymous, dear, please, people are looking…”
>You glance around, only to see that there are only a handful of fleeting looks being tossed your way.
“Pffft, they’re just fellow workers that’ve been subjected to your tyranny for far too long, Antoinette.”
>Her hands are more or less covering the entirety of her face at this point, to which you have to stifle a chuckle.
>”Dear…”
>Oh, this is too easy.
“D’awww, wittle Wawity all embawessed at some wandering eyes?”
>”Anonymous Unknown, I’ll have you know that I come from a completely middle-class—”
“Privileged bourgeois.”
>”Anonymous Unknown, must I beat this lesson into you?!”
>You wait a moment before replying, grinning wide at the flustered look that she throws at you, her hand half-raised and ready to smack the back of your head.
>There’s a moment of silence, one in which you quickly break by letting out a small chuckle.
>The blush on her face grows every moment as you grin at her, the embarrassed pout on her face all too adorable to ignore.
“Do what you must, Rarie Antoinette, for I have already won.”
>Her eyes narrow just a bit more, her cheeks filling with air.
>Letting her hand hang in the air for a moment longer, Rarity shakes her head before looking off to the side.
>She keeps her attention focused off of you for a moment before returning her eyes to you, a weary smile on her face.
>”If I’m Antoinette, then you’re  Marat.”
>You raise a brow at that.
“Oh, so now I’m some invalid stuck in a bathtub for the rest of my days until I get stabbed by some random bitch?”
>You hum for a moment, idly rubbing at your chin.
“Uh, that’s… that’s an interesting proposition you’ve got there, Ant—”
>Her grin grows to the point of becoming a smug smile.
>”Oh, can’t handle a little bit of your own medicine, darling?”
>You purse your lips at that.
“I’m the one who nicknam—”
>”You are Marat.”
>You raise a brow at her cheeky smile.
“Anonymous.”
>”Marat.”
>Oh boy.
>You have a feeling that this isn’t going to drop anytime soon, what with the growing mirth in Rarity’s eyes.
“Anonymous.”
>”Marat, dear, who’s this ‘Anonymous’ fellow that you keep talking about?”
>She takes a small sip of her water, pinkie raised all the while.
>”Another bourgeois who needs to have his head roll, hmm?”
>You gingerly rub at your forehead.
>Nobody’s ever tried to give you a nickname that you didn’t approve, much less an underclassman that wasn’t Dash.
>Best change the subject.
“So, uh, yeah!”
>You point a finger to the sky, a small chuckle escaping you.
“Met someone else on my trip, someone that’s pretty chill and that’s also a freshie.”
>She takes a moment to consider your response, though it’s then when you notice that she’s chewing.
>Huh, so she actually can eat.
>”Oh, and who would that be, dear Marat?”
>You’re not sure why, but that name is kind of pissing you off.
>Not to the point where you’d say anything just quite yet, but enough to drain most of your mirth.
“Trust me, you’ll love her… short little thing, quiet as all hell, and is a really chill person from what I’ve seen.”
>You grin, shooting her a nod.
“Ever meet Fluttershy?”
>She purses her lips at that.
>”Hmmm, can’t say I have, spare any details?”
“About as tall as yourself, pale yellow skin, bubblegum hair, kind’a lanky?”
>Rarity takes another bite out of her sandwich, her brows furrowed as she tries to remember the face.
>”Hmmm… yes, I think I remember her, though we’ve never spoken.”
>You nod.
“Yeah, she’s the stereotypical antisocial girl, was kind’a cute, now that I think about it... hid behind her dad for a little while.”
>You both share a laugh at that, and so you go into detail about your brief talk with Fluttershy, meeting Mr. Shy, and your little encounter with Gilda.
>You were sure to leave out the details about how you stayed up all night thinking and how you sprained your ankle.
>Her face brightens as you retell of Gilda’s joy upon seeing you and the bit of wrestling you two did.
>”My my, the mighty Marat brought low by a lady, for shame…”
>You shake your head at that, chuckling at it all.
“Ya’ wouldn’t be saying that if you ever met her, boss is fuckin’ jacked, yo.”
>You roll up the sleeve of your letterman and flex.
“Used to be a reserve lineman for the football team, max I could bench was about one fifty, and the summbitch could still kick my ass any day of the week.”
>You grasp around your bicep and make an expanding motion with the following sound effect.
“Like, it’s the type of person that you’d look at and think, ‘Oh, they don’t look strong,’ before promptly getting laid the fuck out.”
>Shrugging, you roll your sleeve back up and look to Rarity, only to discover that she’s busy coughing her lungs out, nearly choking on something.
>You offer her a few hard pats to the back, of which go a long way to helping her clear her throat.
>Taking a drink and taking a moment to compose herself, she eventually looks your way.
>”Forgive me, Anon, dear, wrong tube and all that.”
>Nodding, you take a moment to yawn and rub at your eyes.
“All good, Mallow, just try an—”
*Bzzt.*
>Not this shit again.
>Reaching down for your pocket, you turn the thing only to be greeted with a screen clear of any notifications.
>”Sorry, dear, seems I must cut out little meeting to an end, what with fifth hour rapidly approaching and all.”
>Shit.
>Rarity’s already getting up from her seat and grabbing all of her trash.
>You glance over at the nearby clock before raising an eyebrow.
“We’ve got ten minutes ‘till, Mallow.”
>She raises a brow at this as her smile adopts a layer of smug.
>”It’s a lady thing, Marat, far too advanced for you mere mortals.”
>You raise a finger to protest, but you decide to drop it.
>If dad’s ever taught you anything, it’s that you do not, under any circumstances, argue with a woman.
“Well, alright, c’ya later then?”
>Her eyes dart to the side, but only for a moment.
>”How about tomorrow, same time?”
>That…
>That sounds pretty good.
>Nodding, you give her a small smile.
“Sounds good, Mallow, c’ya then.”
>The smile that she shoots you is so large that you think that she’s going to pull a muscle.
>She gathers her stuff quickly enough, however, and leaves you to your thoughts with a final wave goodbye.
>Yawning yet again, you find a comfortable position on the seat before resting your eyes.
>You really regret staying up all of last night texting Dash about the upcoming play.
>...Oh, who’re you kidding?
>You don’t regret that one bit.
>But you really are exhausted, and with that do you feel everything turn weightless as you transcend into the ethereal dreamscape, if only for a few minutes.
>...
>......
>Well, as it turns out, fifth hour went about as well as it usually does.
>By that do you mean that it was absolutely DREADFUL!
“Ugh.”
>Slumping down a bit further into your seat, you begin to scribble down some nonsense while pretending to pay attention to Cheerilee's lecture.
>You’ve already completed your homework, as the assignment was more than simple, but it seems that most of the class is still struggling with the basic mathematics.
>Business as usual.
>At least you get to sit in the back of sixth hour.
>Here you get to be bored, but at least you’re not having miscellaneous things thrown at the back of your head…
>Just as you begin to twirl your pencil, however, you let your eyes stray to the left and right.
>To your left there sits Rainbow Dash, her usual seat taken by one of her friends.
>To your right sits Fluttershy, herself always sitting in the back row.
>You’ve never really tried to talk to either, but now's your chance, if you so desire…
>The only reason you’re really considering this is because of Anonymous’ high value of these two.
>And, well, because you’re extremely bored after a day of, for the most part, getting spat on by your class.
>You lightly hum to yourself while mulling over the option of who to talk to first.
>Could be Dash, as she’s never been one to actually bully you.
>Chuckle at a few jokes, yes, but never one to throw anything or lob insults.
>And maybe getting on good terms with her would help you get to sit with Anonymous during lunch?
>The thought makes a small smile grace your lips.
>With Dash, you could possibly manage to feel your way into a group and actually find some friends.
>With Fluttershy, however, you could meet an actual friend.
>She’s a victim of the constant harassment too, you’ve seen it.
>Leagues less than your own, but bullying nonetheless.
>You could empathize with her and vice versa.
>...She’s also quite beautiful as well.
>You wonder how early she must get up to her her makeup just right.
>Hmmm…
>What’s a lady to do?
>Slowly setting down your pencil and sucking in a breath, you steady yourself while sitting upright in your chair.
>Adopting a small smile, you clear your throat as quietly as possible before gently speaking to the young woman.
“Excuse me, dear, but could I ask you a question?”
>She stiffens up almost immediately at your words.
>This gets your smile to widen a little bit, though you can’t explain why it’s so cute.
>It just is.
>Slowly, oh ever so slowly, does the young damsel turn to face you…
>You can’t help but cover your mouth in shock when she comes round, however.
>She’s…
>She’s absolutely stunning!
>The hair covering, those eyelashes, the skin of an absolute goddess...
>Hnnng!
>”Are… are you okay?”
>...Oh, right, you were trying to start a conversation.
>Fixing yourself, you try and brush off your blunder with a polite laugh.
“Oh, terribly sorry about that, dear, I just couldn’t help but marvel at you.”
>Her only visible eye slightly widens at this, but you continue on as a red tint slowly begins to overtake her cheeks.
“What with that perfect jawline, the wispy hair, the flawless skin… Oh Lord, tell me, how do you do it?”
>This catches her completely off guard if her wide eyes and slightly agape mouth are anything to go by.
>Her thin lips move and seem to form words, but you can hear only the idle chatter of the classroom in place of Fluttershy’s.
>Her smile, upon catching your slightly confused and expectant face, grows twofold before her small blush turns furious.
>...It's adorable.
>Stifling a small giggle, you gently reach out and place a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, where are my manners? Terribly sorry, dear, I’m getting ahead of myself.”
>Giving a quick nod of the head, you give her as warm a smile as you can, your hand giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"I'm Rarity, and believe me when I say the pleasure is mine."
>Much to your surprise, she visibly relaxes at this.
>It’s only then when you realize how absolutely tense the poor girl was.
>”Y-you mean it?”
>You have to strain your ears to hear her, but once you do…
>Well, let’s just say that your heart was warm when you held Opalescence back when she was but a kitty, but now?
>You heart absolutely melts.
>Maybe it’s the shock in her voice, or the genuine surprise in her eyes…
>But you can’t help but give out a smile at the sight, a slight giggle escaping your mouth.
“Of course, dea—”
>A pair of haughty sniggers just in front of you break your concentration.
>Blinking twice, you notice a pair of eyes flickering between you and Fluttershy, of whom gives out a small squeak before hiding behind her hair.
>You immediately recognize the young man as one Buggie.
>His thin lips form a lopsided grin, of which he shoots your way.
>”Oh, this is gold.”
>He stifles another chuckle before shaking his head, voice full of mirth.
>”But, uh, you two do realize that lesbians only belong in porn, right?”
>His friend sitting next to him can’t contain himself any longer as he plops his head against his desk, his muffled laughter coming out all too clear.
>His remark said and over with, he too bursts into laughter before slapping his friend on the back.
>Much to your relief, though, he turns back in his seat, laughter soon following between him and the friend.
>Letting out a breath you didn’t realize was being held in, you rub at the back of your head.
>Glancing about, your cheeks feeling all the hotter, you’re able to catch Dash’s eyes, if for just a moment.
>It ended as suddenly as it started, though, and those magenta eyes dart down towards her blank notebook, a look of shame overcoming her usually prideful face.
>Letting your eyes linger on the young athlete for a moment longer, you turn back to Fluttershy.
>The blush on her cheeks is even harder than before…
>You didn’t even think that was possible.
>Adopting a bashful smile, you try your best to meet her eyes before speaking in a hushed voice.
>”Terribly sorry about that, dear.”
>Guess you’re going to have to explain it all to her…
>Not like she doesn’t know.
>You’ve seen her teased and insulted, but not nearly as much as you.
>You choke down a sudden pang of regret.
>They wouldn’t target her more now that you’re talking to her, right?
>...Right?
>...
>......
>Ugh.
>UGH!
>Man, why can’t these things ever be easy?
>Clearing your throat, you try and meet his eyes, but only succeed in forcing them back down as you shift your weight from cleat to cleat.
“Uh, hey, Non?”
>Blinking, his head snaps from the sophomore and onto you.
>His voice is cheery as ever, though you can tell that he’s tired beyond words.
>”Hey, what’s up?”
>Non always snaps to attention when you called.
>You really wish you had that effect on more people.
>Shaking yourself from your thoughts, your eyes flicker between him and the somewhat-unfamiliar sophomore for a moment, hesitation clear in your voice.
“Can, uh, we talk for a moment?”
>Tilting his head somewhat at your request, Non nods before turning to his friend.
>”Can ya' give us five, Vinny?”
>The shorter of the two gives a nod before they share a high five.
>She has her phone out and earphones out before you can even blink.
>You’ll never understand why Non chose to befriend her, but it’s not your place to judge.
>”What’cha need, fam?”
>Keeping your eyes focused on the grass below your feet, you try to ignore the nearby sounds of your teammates preparing for the game.
>Gulping, you close your eyes before nodding to yourself.
“I, uh, I’m sorry.”
>This takes Non by surprise, his head tilting to the side as he hooks his thumbs around his belt.
>”Why, what’s wrong?”
>His voice, much like you expected, is full of concern and confusion.
>Finally able to meet those eyes of his, you fail miserably at putting on an apologetic smile.
>It probably looks more like he ran over your puppy than anything else.
“You know how I said that I’d sit next to Rarity in math and get to know her?”
>Blinking once, Anon lets out a breath of relief.
>”Oh, that?”
>A small chuckle escapes his mouth before he playfully smacks your shoulder.
>”Don’t worry about that, it was a stupid idea anyway, I know she’s—”
>Shaking your head, you lightly stomp your cleat against the grass.
“No!”
>His eyes widen at that, but you calm yourself before continuing.
“I mean… I’ve wanted to talk to her, yeah? She actually looks like a really chill person, but, uh, someone always ends up getting in the way.”
>Nodding, Anon rubs at his chin.
>”Yeah, she did mention a bully problem… got a name?”
>Blinking, you let your head recoil back a little.
“Huh?”
>”You got the guys name?”
>You…
>You didn’t expect him to be so... ready.
“Uh, yeah, the one that keeps picking on her is this real lanky lookin’ loser, has the school shooter hair goin’ on and has—”
>Nodding, Non gives you another smack on the shoulder.
>”I’ll take care of it, fam, thanks for letting me know.”
>Glancing up at him, you can’t help but notice the subtle change in his voice, as well as the look in his eyes.
>There’s a subtle change in his tone, the underlying exhaustion being replaced by something new…
>Something determined.
>Something that makes your spine shiver, if only for a moment.
>Non, as if to break you from your moment of hesitation, jerks his head to your left.
>”Coach is calling.”
>Nodding, you give him a wave as you run off towards the huddle.
>You can just make out his voice above everything else.
>”Good luck!”
>...
>......
>It’s kind of weird, honestly.
>Sure, you’ve done some shit to people before.
>Sure, you’ve sent people to the hospital after everything was said and done.
>But all those times?
>You were just following Gilda around, helping her out when things got out of hand.
>Not saying that you never stirred shit or instigated fights with a few hard-hitting words, but you never threw the first punch.
>Now, though?
>You’ve got quite the conundrum on your hands.
>Sure, you could just report it to Celestia.
>She’d listen to you, that much you’re sure of, but would that actually help Rarity at all?
>No, she’d just end up bullied harder for the near-guaranteed expulsion of Buggie.
>And that’s why you’re currently thinking of how best to—
*Thwack!*
“Mother f—!”
>Turning your head on a dime, you have to physically stop yourself from retaliating when you see who it is.
>Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head before scooting aside, a small look of annoyance crossing your face.
“...Douchebag.”
>The white sophomore produces a large smile at that before shooting you a thumbs up.
>Sitting down beside you, she takes a sip out of her travel mug before nodding along to the silent beat of her headphones.
>You pat her shoulder and tap at your ears, signaling that you’d wish to talk…
>To which she nods with another wide smile, doing a little shimmy in her seat to her unheard groove.
>...Oh.
>She thinks she can wriggle her way out of your insults?
>Hell to the no.
>Seeing as how giving her the bird would be all too simple, you rack your brain for all those countless hours you’ve spent studying that damn alphabet.
>After a quick minute’s thinking, you pat her shoulder again.
>Slowly, yet surely, you manage to spell it out for her with with clumsy movements and twists of the fingers.
‘Fuck you.’
>When she sees exactly what you’ve said, Vinyl looks up to you with a silent laugh.
>Taking a sip from her thermos with one hand, she shoots you the bird with the other, a smile on her face all the while.
>You playfully smack her hand out of the way with an exasperated, if not theatric, sigh.
>As you settle back down into your seat and get comfy, you notice that Vinyl is offering you a sip.
>It’s probably some hipster faggot shit, like that brown sugar water which these young girls love to mislabel as coffee…
>But you digress.
>And, besides, you are rather parched.
>Giving her a nod and mouthing your thanks, you take the thing before having a taste.
>...
>...Huh.
>Straight up cola, eh?
>Normally you’d be turned off by such a thing, what with how fat it usually makes fuckers that don’t watch their intake, but you’re far too lazy to go purchase a water at the moment.
>Taking a mouthful of the stuff, you hand it back to Vinyl before nodding again.
>You’re not sure why her thumbs up always gets you to smile... it just does.
>Putting your attention back onto the soccer field, your eyes scan the familiar place before landing on a certain freshman.
>...Oh, right.
>You were busy thinking about what to do with Buggie.
>You could easily find out where he lives, what with your connections to all the underclassmen.
>You’d tell him to stop, plain and simple, and warn him that you’d be coming if you ever caught wind of something like this again.
>Or you could always plant a little evidence in his locker before tipping off Celestia.
>...That would require getting ahold of Gilda, though.
>She was always the one to crack locks back in your glory days.
>Maybe she could teach y—
>The blaring sound of a whistle breaks you from your thoughts.
>Blinking, you glance to and fro to see people standing for the national anthem.
>Tapping Vinyl’s shoulder as to make her rise, you place your hand over your heart as your hand over your heart.
>As you chant the lyrics with all of the others, you know what must be done.
>You’re…
>You’re a lot of things.
>Prideful, resentful of invalids and the other, but you’re not stupid.
>You’re not about to do anything that might trace back to you, much less confront him and reveal your identity.
>No, you’re going to work from the shadows.
*Poke poke.*
>Hmm?
>You look down to your side, to which you see Vinyl looking up at you with a confused face.
>...Well, it’s actually pretty damn hard to discern what she’s thinking behind those glasses, but you can just make out the raised brow and tug of a grin on her lips.
>Oh, right, you’re still standing.
>Plopping yourself down next to the underclassman, you make way to pull out your phone.
>Scrolling through the contact list, you have to delve deep down before you eventually land upon one familiar number.
>’Boss.’
>You can’t quite help but smile as you begin to idly read messages that have long since served their purpose.
>’Hey shithead, I’m making a beer run, want in?’
>’Hey shithead, can you proofread this paper for me?’
>That one makes you chuckle a bit at the distant memories.
>She always came to you for help with papers, every month without fail.
>’Hey shithead, you down—’
>A rush of voices and cheers from around you tears you back into reality.
>Oh, right, soccer game.
>Glancing back up at the game and offering a cheer, you feign attention for a few moments before going back to your phone.
>Nodding silently to yourself, you begin to set the gears into motion while the message is formed at your fingertips.
>Buggie may not know it yet, but his life is already ruined.
>...
>......
>The game, much to your surprise, was neck and neck.
>It’s up until the last few minutes when your team gains a few crucial points do you finally settle down.
>You can barely speak by the time it’s over, your cheering having long since echoed out into the night’s sky.
>Making your way out of the stands with Vinyl at your side, you make way for the more energetic classmates to greet the victors.
>Standing off to the side, you glance down at the white sophomore with a smile.
>Seeing that her headphones are around her neck, you take the opportunity to tousle her hair.
>She swats off your hand with a silent giggle, to which you elbow her with a laugh of your own.
>A yawn soon interrupts the moment.
>Rubbing gently at your eyes, you rub some sleep from your eyes.
>Vinyl taps your in the stomach to get your attention before she begins to move her hands.
>’No sleep?’
>You can’t help the second yawn that comes after that.
“Yeah, was up all night reading about that shit up north.”
>She nods at this before taking another sip out of her mug.
>’What happened?’
>Beckoning her to follow, you make your way out towards the outlying border of the giant group amassing at the edge of the field.
“Separatists are gaining ground, just took over—”
>”Non!”
>Blinking, you turn to meet the smiling face of one Rainbow Dash.
>The sweat-drenched and proud freshman offers you a few playful jabs to the chest, to which all you have to do is hold her head back at an arm’s length.
>She can’t really reach you at that point, and so you two share a laugh.
>Releasing the little one, you grimace down at the sheer amount of sweat that’s adorned your hand after holding her forehead.
“Fuckin’ rad, yo.”
>Another few playful jabs are had as she giggles at your disgusted face.
>”So, what’d ya’ think, Non?”
>She snaps her fingers and points at herself with both thumbs.
>”Pretty good, huh?”
>Shaking your head, you wipe your appendage off on your pants.
“Eh, I mean, you only scored three times.”
>You turn to Vinyl with a shit-eating grin.
“Her norm is four or five, I think she’s starting to—”
*Thwack.*
>This faggot.
“Do you even fucking lift, mate?”
>Dash gives off an innocent shrug, now trying to adopt a casual look.
>Hell, she even starts to whistle nonchalantly.
>Another yawn comes out of you, to which Dash tilts her head at.
>”Guess you really are out of it, huh?”
>You shrug.
“Maybe.”
>Her face changes at this point, becoming one full of worry before she nods.
>”You should probably go get some rest, Non.”
>Rubbing your eyes, you nod.
“Well, uh, good shit tonight, c’ya tomorrow?”
>She nods before slugging you once more on the shoulder.
>That one actually stings, if only for a moment.
>”Count on it.”
>Giving her a wave, you turn on a heel before making your way out towards the parking lot.
>Only after a moment’s walking do you realize that Vinyl is still at your side.
>Oh, right.
“Got anyone here ya’ wanna’ go say hi to?”
>She looks up to you with a raised brow.
>Pondering this for a moment, she eventually gives you a ‘so-so’ hand motion.
“Alright, I’ll be waiting—”
>...Oh.
>Seems you’re being dragged off by the hem of your sleeve by one smiling Vinyl off towards the crowd.
>Her smile, if nothing else, quickly turns out to be infectious.
>...
>......
>Sure, you’ve driven to Vinyl’s place more times than you can really count at this point.
>But all those times were in broad daylight.
>Luckily for you, you’ve got more or less a functioning GPS that’s clinging around your chest.
>Vinyl would just point a certain direction whenever you seemed lost or pulled to a stop, and so you would nod before driving off into the night, the gentle purring of the bike serving as the only music you need.
>No less than ten minutes after boarding the familiar vehicle have you arrived at your destination.
>And, by God, does it look different at night.
>It’s another one of those upper-middle-class houses, two stories and all.
>Your mind is left wandering while you pull the motorcycle to a gentle halt in her driveway.
>Getting off and removing her helmet, Vinyl puts the thing in the vehicle’s side bag before jabbing her thumb back at her place.
>’Wanna crash here? Don’t want you falling asleep on the drive home.’
>Flicking your visor up, you raise a brow at her.
>Sure, you’ve been friends with Vinyl for two long years now, ever since she enrolled way back when, but she’s never offered this before.
>While you’re naturally smiling at such an offer, you can’t help but wonder why she’d offer tonight of all nights.
“You got drinks or something?”
>She only smiles before shrugging.
>Glancing about the rest of the driveway, you notice that Gooseberry, her sassy yet loveable mother, is absent tonight.
>Every time you’ve hung with Vinyl, you either end up completely wasted or angered at how slow you are to read and speak sign language.
>And you don’t think it’s going to be the later tonight, should you take up her offer.
>...No guarantees that you’ll be able to make it to school on time, if at all, tomorrow if you do, though.
>Rubbing at the back of your neck, you think for a moment about what to do.
>Shrugging, your small smile left unseen to Vinyl, you park the familiar vehicle before making to stand.
“Fuck it, I’m down.”
>Taking off your helmet and making your way to Vinyl’s side, you hesitate for a moment before accepting her high-five.
>The smile on her face is as wide like no other.
>Patting her back forward towards the front door, you let a small chuckle escape your parched throat.
>This oughta be good.
>...
>......
>’Are you still watching Samurai J—’
*Click.*
>And, with a distant hum, the television fades to black.
>Finally, some peace and quiet.
>Tapping your pen against your chin in mild thought, you shuffle in your seat.
>Ugh.
>Nobody ever told you that writing a journal would be so hard.
>...Well, to be honest, it’s usually quite easy.
>Most of the time you’re left with little else, save for apathy or sadness at the bleak situation at school, but now?
>Now you’ve got these conflicting feelings.
>Feelings of hope, joy, and fear.
>Fear that they would abandon you like all of your old friends.
>Fear that this was all just an illusion.
>Fear that you would wake up the next time he made you laugh.
>And trying to put these insecurities and baseless thoughts onto paper?
>Mom always said that it would help, but you’ve kept trying.
>You’ve always tried, no matter the troubles.
>Every day, without missing a beat, there is an entry.
>Now, though?
>You stare at the blank and empty page as a subtle ringing in your ears is accompanied by a dull pain in your head.
>Ugh.
>Why must nothing be simple?
>Rubbing at your temples, you let the pen go limp onto the desk before making to stand.
>Maybe some tea would help you write.
>...
>......’
>This…
>This is nice.
>That gentle warmth coming from the occasional drink.
>The gentle hum of the music that reverberates throughout your lightless room.
>The warmth of the sleeping man whose shoulder you’re resting on.
*Bzzt.*
>Oh.
>Of course.
>Nothing’s ever simple.
>You gently pull out your phone and make to turn it off, careful not to disturb Anon, but you then notice that you’ve no notifications.
>Oh, it was Anon’s.
>Making sure that the big lug is still sound asleep, you reach over into the letterman before picking out his phone.
>Having long since memorized his password, you raise a brow at what you see.
>’Message from Rarity.’
>...Oh boy!
>Smiling, you open up the message app before immediately going to take a photo.
>His face is lit up for just a fraction of a moment as the flash goes off, but you still have to stifle a drunken giggle.
>You may or may not have drawn a few things on his face…
>Hey, tradition dictates it!
>You don’t even bother reading her message before typing away and pressing send.
>’He’s a bit busy.’
>Having to stifle a yawn, your inebriated mind decides to turn off the ringer before letting the thing slide to the ground.
>Time for another drunken sleep.
>...Though you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t fall asleep with a content smile on your face.
>...
>......
>You hate a lot of things.
>Invalids, liars, and cowards, just to name a few.
>But sleep paralysis?
>Man, you loathe the everloving shit out of it.
>Sure, Hell knows no fury like a woman enraged, but you’re getting pretty close to that point.
>It’s been at least three minutes of your fingers twitching and eyes blinking, but, for some reason, you feel something.
>Something soft and oddly shaped that now lies on your face, as opposed to the bedding below the other half.
>Groaning, you’re grateful beyond words as the added stimulation finally gives your brain reason to fully awaken the rest of your body.
>Pawing at whoever it was that just landed on your face, you then curse as a few crumbs fall into your eyes.
>Grabbing the thing and sitting up in the bed, you blink rapidly at it with your good eye…
>Is…
>Is this a fucking Pop-Tart?
>It’s then when you hear the rare chuckle of one Vinyl, that pitch of voice all too familiar.
>As your vision focuses as you rub at your unfortunate eye, you reach over and lob a pillow at the young sophomore.
>Nearly being in tears, she’s unable to really see it coming.
>Her eyes go wide at this, but she quickly gathers her bearings and chucks it back.
>For some reason, you thought that she wouldn’t do that.
>For some reason, that was also the moment you raised the little treat to your mouth.
>A moment after the impact are you nearly choking on the first bite, your hand having forced the entirety of the thing in your mouth by accident.
>You can already hear Vinyl running barefoot through the halls by the time you clear your throat and have time to give chase.
>Shaking your head to try and rid it of the slight migraine that’s coming on, you grab the nearest, and largest, pillow available on Vinyl’s bed.
>This means war.
>...
>......
>”So, Fluttershy…”
>Perking up at your name, you shoot a nervous smile to your left.
“Y-Yeah?”
>”I’ve got to say, this is quite the spot!”
>Rarity takes a moment to glance about the library, a single finger lifted up to her smile.
>”Though, honestly speaking, I’m more than a little disappointed in myself for not thinking of this sooner.”
>You’re not sure why, but that makes you blush and smile.
>Hiding behind your hair, you shrug before mumbling something that you hope is audible.
“I, uh, really like it in here, if you haven’t noticed.”
>You take a moment to gesture weakly to your side, still wanting to hide the blush.
“Quiet, you get to study, and I can have Angel out!”
>Said gift from God looks up at the mention of his name, carrot still held in his paws as he munches happily at his lunch.
>Rarity smiles at your best friend before reaching over slowly and offering him a pet behind the ears.
>It’s actually pretty rare that Angel trusts anyone that much.
>Maybe he can sense how at ease you are around her?
>”Well, I for one—”
>”Holy shit, boys, we got two lives ones!”
>And then you hear it.
>The nasally laugh of not one, but several young men.
>You immediately recognize a few of them, and those few are enough to make you seize up.
>Oh.
>Oh God.
>You shouldn’t have invited Rarity to your lunch spot.
>They know where to find you.
>And now they’ve found her.
>Gulping, you wring your hands together, already having seen Angel run back into your backpack.
>Eyes glued to the table, you can’t help but shiver.
>You know what’s to come.
>You want to tell Rarity to go, that they’re more interested in you than her.
>You want to do something… Anything!
>”Can I help you?”
>Your blood runs cold as you hear Rarity’s voice, her sharp edge giving you more reason to cower than to feel safe.
>There’s a set of chuckles before a voice comes to answer her.
>”Yeah, actually.”
>His footsteps are met with silence up until he’s right by your side.
>You can’t muster the courage to look up at him, but you already know that he’s wearing that smile.
>It’s long since been burned into your memory.
>Planting a hand on the table and leaning over towards Rarity, he lets out another throaty chuckle.
>”Tell ya’ what, Mrs…”
>He flicks his head back towards his group.
>”Since this is our first time meeting, I’ll just ask for a little peek of the girls before bein’ on my way.”
>Top Notch’s words make your blood run cold, your eyes going wide as you look up at him in disbelief.
>You want to shout at him.
>You want to tell him that it’s over.
>You want to—
>”You’re joking, right?”
>There’s a moment of deafening silence before the thunderous clap of an open palm echoes throughout the library, followed by a dull thump to the ground.
>...
>......
>This…
>This is why you love these bastards
>”No way, really?”
>”Bullshit.”
>”Damn…”
>Underclassmen
>To anyone else, they’re finicky, frantic little creatures
>But to you?
>They’re like puddy in your hands
“No, I’m dead ass, seven times a day.”
>You smile at their faces of disgust and disbelief
>You’d learned well from your time with Gilda
>The best way to ruin someone’s reputation was to start off small
>”Ugh, how do you even… like, fuck, two on a really good day, but seven?”
>You shrug, taking a sip from your beer
“I know, man, I know, shit’s wack.”
>You continue to shoot the shit with the most influential sophomores, Valhallen and Flash Sentry the lucky souls, while shooting passing glances as passing pieces of ass
>”Thanks again for the invite, bro!”
>You offer a small shrug, eyes never leave the thicc woman with poofy, orange hair
“Should be thanking Zephyr over here.”
>You lightly pat said friend’s shoulder, making sure he’s not dead
>All he can do is turn his head and shoot you a goofy smile, slowly moving his fingers around
>”Is, uh, is he good?”
>You give Flash a dismissive wave
“Yeah, just took a handful of contin, he’ll be fine.”
>”If you say so.”
“Pfft, I’ve seen women take twice that and chase it down with fireball, he’ll be fine.”
>Eyes widening a bit, Flash nods
>”Not bad.”
>You nod as a low chuckle escapes your throat
“Yeah, Gilda was pretty damn hard when it came to that sorta’ stuff.”
>A moment of silence is followed after the two freshmen, the two giving you parting high fives before chasing after Watermelody
>Ah
>That feels good
>They believe you, and, from the giddy looks on their faces, this is the first ‘real’ party they’ve been to
>The two are bound to spread the shittalk of Rover far and wide, so all you’ve got to do at this point is sit down and re—
*POMF*
>You look left with a raised brow
>Vinyl, a drunken smile on her face, leans her head onto your shoulder before giving a sigh of relief
>No words, only a raised thumb
>You two share a smile and chuckle at that
>You give her head a pat before leaning back into the sofa, content with the warmth of a friend and the fact you did good
>...
>......
>The ceiling is black
>The ceiling is dark
>...No, wait, you see a bit of light
>Your red eyes, long since dried, glance left
>The window shows that it’s barely dawn, the sun rising just a sliver beyond the distant horizon
>...The music’s stopped
>Blinking, you slowly move your fingers, trying to get the things to wake up
>You’d been lying motionless for long enough that your body’s gone to sleep, your mind churning away the whole time
>Taking a while to stand, still dressed in your school clothes, you take a moment
>Angel’s still asleep in your arms
>Always lives up to his name, doesn’t he?
>Planting a kiss on his forehead, you set him down as gently as possible upon the bed
>Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you head to the door
>Mom and dad are out for the next couple of days, so you shouldn’t have to worry about meeting them in the kitchen
>Sure, there’s probably a dozen or so people passed out around the place, as always happens after one of Zephyr’s parties, but they’re always asleep
>Turning the knob, you grimace
>The pain from your stomach is dull, but it reminds you that you’ve not eaten since lunch
>...That brings back another wave of doubt and guilt that paralyzes you for a while
>You push the pain down and continue on
>You need your coffee
>...
>......
>This work
>This isn’t hard work
>It’s actually really damn easy, if not monotonous
>The blaring music, courtesy of the earbuds that you always keep handy, helps keep your mind off the repetitiveness of the motions
>Forward, back, forward, back, check if the stuff’s gone and the tile beneath clean as a whistle…
>At least this is the last mess in the kitchen
>You think that the final bit of disgusting was left in the upstairs bathroom in the form of a clogged shitter?
>Saved the best for worst…
>A few scrubs later does the last hint of the green disappear from the tile below
>You can see the bags under your eyes in the reflection
>It’s hard to not lay down on the comfortable floor and take a quick rest
>It’s actually too hard
>You’ve earned a little rest, eh?
>Of course you have
>...
>......
>You didn’t expect much from your day
>You expected to make up for yesterday’s skipped dinner
>You expected to sit in bed all day, trying to cope with the guilt of it all
>You honestly didn’t expect this, though
>”Morning, Flutterbutter.”
“AH!”
>Jumping what feels like three feet in the air, your ears are met with the familiar laugh of your brother
>”Gotcha!”
>He gives another laugh before turning back to the television
>He’s rapt within an instant, your flat look and huff going unnoticed
>You don’t have the energy for this
>Not without your coffee you don’t
>You shuffle to the pot, though you’re quite surprised to see it already half full
>Zephyr doesn’t drink coffee
>You glance about, wondering who could’ve made it…
>And, finally opening your eyes, you realize something
>You still have the energy
>Naturally you’d care about seeing the place cleaner that it was before the party started
>Naturally you’d care that Anonymous is passed out on the floor, a funny-looking girl with headphones sitting besides him
>You’d care about her shooting you a tired look and a wave, but not today
>Not without mug in hand
>You rummage around the cupboards, searching for your favorite mug
>After a minute you find it
>Setting the butterfly-lined thing down besides the pot, you gently pour the thing about halfway before getting the milk and creamer out
>Gotta get it juuuuust right…
>Grabbing a bar of honey and oats from the pantry, take a few sips of your drink before taking a bite
>Hmmm
>A bit too hot to be considered just right, but it’s still pretty good
>Where were you?
>...Oh, right
“AH!”
>...
>......
>”...”
“...”
>”So, where is everyone?”
>Your eyes continue to scan the room
>You’re about as confused as you are miffed
>Wait, what’s that word even mean?
>You know Anon used it yesterday and you Googled it—
>Anon!
“You sure Anon isn’t here today, Sing?”
>Singsong, the only other one at your usual table, nods
>”Have first and third hour with him, haven’t seen ‘em.”
“Ugh.”
>You clap your hands together, taking in a deep breath
“He said he would come watch the soccer game tonight…”
>You shoot Singsong a look
“You should really, really come too, you know?”
>A small smile slowly forms on his face, followed by a quick pat to your head
>”Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
>R-really?
“Promise?”
>”Promise.”
>...
>......
*BRIIING!*
>You wonder what he’s been up to
*BRIIING!*
>He didn’t visit during lunch or after class last week…
*BRIIING!*
>That’s so unlike him
>”Hello?”
>Ah, there we are!
>His voice is groggy, gruff, and muffled by a short yawn
>Leaning back in your seat, you chuckle
“Well hello there, Anonymous, sleep well?”
>”What?”
>There comes a ruffling sound
>Probably just getting out of bed
>Then comes his voice, muffled but clear as he pulls the phone away from his face
>”What’s the time… Vinny, what time’s it?”
>”...”
>”Aw SHIT!”
>Vinny?
>You suppress a chuckle at that
>You always saw the two sticking close, but you never guessed…
>Awww, they’re going to make SUCH a cute couple!
>You’ve got to tell Lulu
>Soon the ruffled noises come back
>”Moving, thanks!”
*BEEP!*
>Chuckling, you shake your head
“No problem, Anonymous, no problem…”
>You take a moment to sip from your milkshake, courtesy of Lulu’s excursion during lunch
“Someone’s got to take care of you, after all.”
>Your smile turns melancholy as you take a moment to think
>It’s been, what, a month and a half since his mom up and left?
>And from his talks, sometimes ranging from a few funny exchanges to in-depth talks going on for several hours, have only confirmed your suspicions
>He needs you, lest he fall into a state of disrepair like his father
>Handy, oh Handy…
>He’s lucky to have two sisters that care about him nearly as much as you do
>...
>......
>Maybe they were right
>Maybe this isn’t worth it
“I wanna’ die.”
>You could be back at Zephyr’s place, sleeping like a baby
>But here you are, half-asleep in homeroom—
>”Don’t let Cranky catch you napping.”
>Slowly opening one eye, you take note of the freshman sitting beside you
“It’s fine, he doesn’t care.”
>You hear a drawn-out ‘Tsk’ from the girl
>”He gave some other guy detention for sleeping yesterday, sooooo—”
>You shake your head, returning to the ad hoc pillow you’ve made out of your letterman
“Cranky is my nigga, he doesn’t care, bacon headass.”
>”...”
“...”
>”......”
>Enjoying the silence, you slowly begin to drift into that sweet state between consciousness and the ethereal
>”Uh, name’s Sunset Shimmer, not bacon headass.”
>You grumble
“Yeah, sure, just wake me up when homeroom’s over.”
>Silence reigns king for a few moments
>”I guess.”
“Thanks, bacon.”
>”...I hate you.”
“You sound just like my parents.”
>You get a small chuckle from that before a light shove stirs you
>”Shut up, dumbass.”
>A small curl pulls at the corners of your lips before you settle deeper into the pillow
>...
>......
>Coffee?
>It can wake you up, given that it’s piping hot and black
>Being late to an event?
>It can work too, but only somewhat
>Watching your favorite athlete compete on the field below?
>Now that’s a real pick-me-up
>”Glad you could make it, sport!”
>Blinking, you meet the grinning and well-fed man that is Bow Hothand
>Even with his age showing in the slightly-greying hairs, the old marine’s fist moves before you can react
>The love tap to your shoulder may have just been that, but it still stings like hell
>You two share a laugh at that as you offer him a tap of your own
“Glad I could make it…”
>You take the empty seat besides him, returning Windy Whistle’s wave and smile while you’re at it
“Wouldn’t believe the day I had, sir.”
>He raises a brow, offering a challenging smile
>”What’cha got, kiddo?”
>You chuckle, idly going to rub the back of your neck
>As long as you knew the old man, a friend of dad’s while he was in the service, you knew him as one to not particularly like… recreational use and underage drinking
>You decide to leave out the details of your own merriment in last night’s party
>Though you definitely tell him about the morning spent cleaning up, even how you accidentally walked in on Tree Hugger and—
>”Christ, you kids are too wild…”
>Bow takes a moment to chuckle, rubbing his stubble all the while
>”Way back when, we didn’t even think of…”
>Aaaand there he goes again
>You doubt you’re going to hear the end of it
>At least by the hour’s end you’re not
>You patiently nod and smile, the first of many
>...
>......
>You know…
>It’s not the goal that matters, not in the end
>No, none of that really matters
>What matters is what happens after the game
>Those smiles and hugs from your friends and loved ones…
>Now that’s what gets you onto that track every day
>But, now you’re feeling something
>Something like a hollow feel from the pit of your stomach
>Sure, your parents were the first and foremost that you always hugged right afterwards
>Surprisingly, Singsong was here, and so he was second
>But there’s someone missing
>Someone that’s been there since your first game at the start of the year…
>Someone that even recommended you to go to tryouts for soccer and even introduced you to several of his friends already on the team…
“Uh, Sing, where’s An—”
>You can just make out the familiar letterman
>Nobody else really wears those thing anyway
“Anon!”
>Wiggling your way through the rest of the team, all of whom are embracing their loved ones after the close defeat, you run your way to his side
“Well hello to you too, dumbass!”
>When he turns, though, you regret rushing up to him
>His eyes hold that certain air, that look that he’s only given before getting into fights beside Gilda
>Pulling his phone down from his ear, he gives you a curt shake of the head
>”Something happened.”