//------------------------------// // 1. Inertia // Story: Shadows and Regrets // by flamevulture17 //------------------------------// [Chapter 1] [Inertia] Monday February 24 Like all other days, the sun's powerful rays showered down over the earth to give the landscape a warm embrace for all walks of life to absorb. Without it, life could not exist, without it, the world could not flourish the way it did, with all its beauty and ugliness working in seemingly perfect balance. Across the American Midwest, however, that warm embrace was especially hot, extremely unusual for that time of year, ruthlessly squeezing the energy from even the most potent of living creatures and the most adapted of motionless plants. Most people would blame climate change and the rest didn't care and went about their lives. St. Louis is said to be the gateway to the West, a port city of the great Mississippi river that stood proud with its unique and iconic arch of silver. To Andrew Fera, it was nothing special. Off in the suburbs of the city, he couldn't be any more right. With and the dull designs of the houses on the quietest of side streets, bland and boring were words that could not do him enough justice. To add to that, the heat was almost unbearable, but nothing the body wasn't built to handle. The only way to counter it was a nice blast of cool air from the greatest invention ever, air conditioning. Andrew dragged his feet along the pavement of the sidewalk as he waddled down his street on his way home from school. What a perfect way to spend a hot day on a winter month, sitting inside a classroom, reading out-of-date science books and controversial English novels in the name of public education. Of course if anyone knew anything about school, it was only ever useful when you liked it. Approaching his ultimate destination, Andrew mentally berated himself for not bringing a water bottle with him. Dehydration was one enemy too strong for him to defeat. He just had to hold out long enough until he got to his doorstep. Another minute outside was another minute of hell. Andrew started to feel light-headed and dizzy. His jeans and t-shirt sagged while the hoodie tied around his waist came loose every few strides. It just wasn't his day. After a weekend lacking productivity, it just had to end. He rather enjoyed his free time without an agenda. Finally reaching the porch of his home, Andrew fiddled with the keys in his pocket until finding the right one. Slipping it in the slot, he finally gave in and dropped to his knees as the door swung open, completely out of breath. Without taking time to take off his backpack, he crawled to the stairs directly in front of him and Andrew flipped on his back to lean at the base of the stairs. The brief relaxation relieved the strain of his dying muscles that screamed in agony, leaving his body in an exhausted heap. With his arms numb from the heat, it took some effort to move them again without a resurgence of aching pain. For several minutes, he sat there wishing he could lay there for eternity never to be disturbed again, but the sound of blunt footsteps from above brought him from the brink of death. “Do you always have to over exaggerate like this?” The sound of that voice was like dunking his head in a bucket of cool water. He felt better already. Clearly knowing the answer was a yes, Alex stepped over Andrew's slumped form and headed for the kitchen to get a drink. The exhausted teen immediately snapped up as his younger brother left him alone, forcing every joint in his arms and legs to pop. “I'm up! I'm up!” he said, flailing his arms. “Get me a soda, too, will ya?” “I'm not getting a soda.” Alex called out from the kitchen. “Toss me one anyways. I'm dyin' over here.” Alex smirked, amused by his brother's typical comedic reaction to eighty degree weather. It's not even that hot outside. He opened the fridge and grabbed a Snapple for himself and Dr. Pepper for the starving boy on the floor. He returned the same way he came and tossed—quite literally—the soda can right on top of his brother. Andrew was slow to catch the incoming soft drink, bouncing it of his wrists and sending it impacting his face. “Ouch.” “Hehe, you said toss it,” Alex laughed again, unsure if was appropriate to. “I didn't mean literally,” Andrew replied. “It was still funny though.” Andrew smiled. “Your aim is getting better.” Alex rolled his one good eye, and blinking profusely with his dead one. Andrew picked himself off the ground awkwardly and opened the can without careful thought. All of a sudden, the soda can nearly exploded in his hands, a plume of fizzling bubbles shooting out the top like a geyser. He immediately covered the top of the can with a palm before the liquid got in his eyes, letting the excited carbonation die down. By the time it was finally over, Alex couldn't help but laugh harder this time. His laugh was short lived after seeing the disappointed expression of his brother drenched in sticky cola. Instead of ignoring it and rudely heading upstairs, he grabbed a towel from a nearby closet and handed it to Andrew. “You gotta be more careful,” said Alex as his older brother wiped his face clean. Andrew said nothing, as if the relatively small accident was some sort of traumatic event. In fact, the sudden surprise brought a vivid memory above all others, snapping him out of his moderate mood. All he could do was frown and breath heavily. “You okay man?” Alex asked. Andrew had forgotten he was there, turning his head slowly. “What's wrong?” Andrew inhaled, then sighed. “I don't know, I guess was just scared, that's all.” “It's just coke, it does that all the time.” “Yeah, but this was different.” “Different, how?” Alex's curiosity shot up. Andrew hesitated before answering. Unsure of whether to outright say what had occurred to him that shook his mind, what struck him most was the fact that he had forgotten what day it was. “What's today?” he said. “Today? Monday.” “No, the date?” “Um, the twenty-fourth I think. February. Why? Is that why you freaked out? You forgot the date?” Andrew closed his eyes for more than a moment. How could he have been so clueless? He's been so distracted lately that it had never occurred to him of the most significant event in his life. He pinched his nose and spoke. “Do you remember what happened on this day?” “Yeah, I woke up, went to school, suffered, and came ho-” “That's not what I meant.” How could his brother forget as well. “I can't believe it's been a year.” “OH! You mean...” Alex snapped wide at the realization. “Oh wow, it HAS been a year! How could I forget?” “Then why did you?” “I don't know, I guess it's been a long day. School's been beating me up all day.” You have nooo idea, was Andrew's mental eye roll. It was then that a silence fizzled, allowing him to think about that day one year ago. It seemed so far away, but at the same time it felt so close. For something of that magnitude to completely alter his understanding of what's possible and absolutely redefine what he felt about his friends and family. To think his life was just like any other one minute, and the next minute he transforms into unicorn-pegasus with no good explanation how. For the months that followed the event, he couldn't sleep. He'd lay awake at night. Pondering. Speculating. Hoping. Hoping that someday he'd find the answer the what happened and why. It was so unexpected. So weird. “I'm going upstairs,” echoed a voice right next to him as the beat of footsteps stumbled up the stairs to the second floor. Andrew hardly noticed Alex leave. Hell, he even forgot that his brother right beside him the whole time. All he could do was murmur to himself. Andrew stared straight ahead, not a care in the world. The dry, sticky soda on his skin was of no concern anymore, only the brief contemplation gluing his eyes into space. He took a sip of his soda, and laid back against the first couple step at the base of the stairwell. A little moment of recollection and relaxation couldn't hurt, he was too burnt out to move after all. After about several minutes—which was long enough to hear his thoughts in the silence and regain his strength—Andrew got up and followed after his brother, leaving his half empty soda can where he lay seconds earlier. - - - Later that night... “What did you put for for number eight?” “Um, I got C.” “3 grams of salt? Now way, you did the math wrong. It's A, 6 grams of salt. What about number fourteen?” “D.” “You're really bad at this, aren't you? How do you get nitric acid from a selenium sulfide solution?” “I like how it sounds.” “Well your preference on what the answer sounds the best is not helping. You know what, I'm not even going to ask you for number twenty.” Andrew was listening to his two friends Steven and Peter hash out their answers for a take home quiz for their chemistry class via Skype call on his laptop. Since they were in the senior class now, they agreed to take the same classes before year's end when the fate of college could separate them. Andrew tried to convince each of them to take advanced chemistry instead of physics, but were all too reluctant to agree. Though, he didn't give up, eventually persuading them to accept on the grounds that he help them pass. Now Peter was having a hard time struggling with his quiz while Steven was busy guessing the answers without a care in the world. Andrew said not a single word since they called him up after logging on to Skype an hour before midnight. His face drooped in boredom as solitaire and waited for it to end already. “What about you, Andrew?” Andrew shot his head up. “Huh?” “What you get for twenty?” Peter asked. “I don't know.” A pause ensued as a quiet static bleed from the speakers. Andrew didn't even notice Peter finally stop talking, he was too busy losing every solitaire game he played. “Are you even doing the quiz?” “No.” Andrew could clearly hear a grunt from the other end of the line from Peter. Steven, on the other hand, let out a chuckle. “Why am I even friends with you guys?” Peter barked. Andrew abruptly stopped playing his current game after hearing that question. “What did you say?” He asked in a dangerously serious tone. One part of him knew he was joking, but another part could help but feel like it was a genuine question. “Come on guys, help me out here, this thing is due tomorrow.” Peter begged in an agitated fashion, not making the situation any better for himself. Andrew could not come to terms to what Peter was hinting at. Yes he's a little loud and yes he says things before thinking about them, but this was an all time new for him. He couldn't tell whether he was being serious or just plain crazy. “Why would you say something like that?” Andrew growled through the built-in microphone of his computer. “Look man, I'm sorr-” Peter was cut off as his connection was disconnected. Andrew had kicked him from the call. “What did you do that for?” Steven objected, knowing all too well what just happened. Andrew didn't answer, staring at his computer screen with an indignant scrunch and an audible breath. Lately his mood has gone all over the place and he did a poor job of hiding his anger at that point. “Andrew?” “What!?” he exclaimed. “You alright?” Steven muttered with caution, hoping not to set his friend off the rails. Andrew sighed forcefully. “I'm fine.” “I know that's not true.” “What do you care.” Before Andrew could end the call as he so desired to, Steven spoke up again. “Does this have something to do with that day a year ago?” Andrew's heart skipped a beat. With his cursor hovering over the 'end call' button, seconds away from kicking Steven off his computer. “Do you want to talk about it?” He narrowed his eyes over that red button that would postpone his problems for the day. “How's your brother doing? It must be hard to lose vision in your left eye.” That virtual red button mocked him with it's ultimate power. The power to end this altogether. “I know you weren't there, but Peter, Dale, and I helped to save Alex.” Andrew moved his index finger closer to clicking his mouse. No mercy. “You're lucky. I wish I had a brother. Alex seems like a good guy and I know you think it was your fault, but don't blame yourself for what happened. It was no one's fault. It was just a freak accident, nobody knows how it happened. What's done is done and you need to learn to pick yourself up and let things go, man. I can see in class that you seem distressed, sometimes happy, but mostly down. Yeah, mostly down. I don't want to be the one to call you out on it, I left that to Dale, but I'm asking now. Is everything alright? It's okay if you don't want to tell us everything, just don't lie to us.” … Steven wasn't much of a talker, even less so when talking about anyone other than himself. He was usually laid back, not terribly smart, and full of himself to the point where wearing sunglasses at night would make him look cooler. This was also a new, bu strangely the opposite of Peter's attitude just a minute ago. It worried him. A deep breath was all that he needed to keep his strength up. Steven was right, he wasn't going to tell him everything. At least, not yet. “I'm fine.” *click* If only his friend knew the real story. After ending the call on Steven without a proper answer, the static vanished, replaced by stillness. All he could do was sit there in silence. No thought. No movement. No nothing. Andrew closed solitaire and slapped his screen shut. He slowly twirled in his chair and pushed himself to the center of his bedroom. The darkness of the hour poured through the windows, but the light of his desk lamp painted the walls with a yellow tinge that fought back. What was once a sight of the accident where Alex was nearly killed that day, the entire room felt unfamiliar once again. Not long after the incident, it had been stripped of its contents for carpet replacement, then new redwood shelves were added and the walls saw a new coat of paint. His room used to be turquoise. It was white now. Blank white. White as the moon. Even the smell was different. He didn't like it at first, but had gotten used to it within a week. A cross between iron and ashes. Andrew sank further in his chair, raising a hand to his temples for comfort. He turned his head every which way, looking at every edge and corner of the room hoping to remember more of what happened in more detail. The worst part was that the memory was fading over time, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's had enough. He didn't want to get too distracted by the past, he still had that chemistry test to complete. He still had all night to get it done. Spinning around, Andrew flipped open his computer again and decided to play more solitaire to kill time. He wished something would relieve him of the intense boredom and nagging nostalgia that never seemed to leave him alone. *ping ping* A message popped up on his Skype chat box. It was Dale. Call me, it read. Andrew thought of whether or not he should. He wasn't in the mood after what Peter said. Then again, Dale is his best friend. He would never say as stupid as that. A guy who got his act together and looked on the bright side of things. He was his most reliable source of support, taking the opportunity to cheer him up whenever he felt down in the dumps. Kinda like he was feeling now. … Well damn. Andrew dialed up Dale's Skype number and waited. Curse logic, why must his human brain do that to him all the time. Not two rings later, the connection was established to Dale Larsen across airwaves. “Hey man, what's up?” Dale's voice echoed through the cascading static. Andrew waited without a word, slumping back in his seat. “Hello?” Andrew's mood hadn't quite improved, even after hearing the voice of his best friend. With two hands, he rubbed the stinging pinch from his eyes. For him to stay up that late on a school night was becoming a normal thing, one that he wished hadn't developed into a habit impossible to break. “Andrew?” Dale repeated. “Talk to me, man. Don't tell me you turned into a unicorn again.” A nervous laugh escaped the impatient teen at other end. Andrew finally looked up from his expressionless gaze. Trying to recover his cool from earlier, he continued to have trouble getting it out of his head. At least he didn't have to remind Dale of the significance of this day. “I know you're there, I can hear you breathing.” That was clearly not true. Andrew tried to be as silence and absent as possible. He couldn't even hear his own breath, but he could smell it. Chicken strips and ranch dressing, with a hint of Dr. Pepper. “Should I walk over to check you're still there?” Andrew leaned back and closed his eyes to stretch. He couldn't let Dale talk to himself all night. “Dale?” he whispered. “There you are buddy!” Dale shrieked quietly. “For a minute there I thought I was talking to myself.” “You were.” “Aw don't be like that, where's your sense of humor?” Apparently Andrew had misplaced it somewhere. “You still have one, don't you? Hehe.” “Could you maybe talk less?” Andrew sputtered. He was so close to banging on the desk out of annoyance, one snap short of frustration. “Okay geez, I'm sorry, you're acting weird again. Does it have something to do with the past? Ya know, last year?” “Yes and no.” Andrew managed a meager sign. “I mean... it's Peter.” “Ha, what he do this time? Put ice down your shirt.” Dale chuckled at his own joke. All in all, it was something Peter would do. Being the funny guy in their circle, he's done crazier things in his time as reputation showed as class clown. When he wasn't in the midst of a prank, Peter was a hard dude to read. “He questioned our friendship.” Dale stopped laughing and cleared his throat of all humor. He shared half the concern. “Was he joking?” “I— I don't know,” Andrew stuttered. “Come on, you know him, he's just messing with you. Don't let it get to your head.” Little did Dale know, that's exactly what happened. “But what if—“ “Don't!” Dale retaliated. “Don't do that to yourself. Just give it a pass.” If Dale could see his friend now, he'd see a mellow mess of a teenager shaking his head at a crisis of merit, the kind common for people his age. “We'll deal with it later. So what are you doing now?” “Nothing important.” “Great! Why don't you come over.” “At eleven-thirty?” “Why not, you seem like you need some cheering up. I'm free to talk all night.” Andrew imagined semi-perfect teeth behind a cheeky smile from his enthusiastic friend. He considered the offer for a second. Maybe he did need a pep talk, plus it'd be a cool idea to retell the story of his visit to Equestria with Dale again, even if he didn't believe him, still. “Fine. I'll be there in five minutes.” It took less than that to walk down the street to Dale's house. “I'll be waiting.” Those were Dale's final words before ending the call on his end, leaving Andrew to the silence he so longed for. He shut down his computer and readied his backpack of his school work just in case. One last thing. Andrew shuffled under his bed for his duffel bag, the contents of which remained untouched since the incident. It was kept as a reminder, having waited all this time to revisit the things that accompanied him to another world. Part of him was afraid of some unseen equine disease, running the risk infection, but after a year, his fears fell flat and fell hard. The other part was premature nostalgia. Andrew stuffed the bag in his other bag and threw it over his back. He tied his shoes, grabbed his keys and jacket, and turned out the light. Leaving his room, he stopped by his parent's room to notify them of his future whereabouts before leaving the house. Both his mother and father agreed to let him stay over if need be. He wasn't planning on it. Right at the top of the staircase, he looked over to Alex's room. Considering the thought a second, Andrew found himself walking to his brother's bedroom door. A few slow knocks later and long wait later, the door creaked open and stayed that way. Through narrow opening, Alex peeked out at Andrew. “What?” he said groggily as if he was sick. “I'm going to Dale's house. You wanna come with.” A pause left Andrew nervous again. “I'll pass,” the boy finally forced out before closing the door. Andrew sighed and spoke quietly. “I'm sorry.” He turned to descend to ground floor and leave through the front door into the night. He could swear he saw a tear form in his brother's left eye, the scar that reminded him of his regrets. Alex would never see through his left eye again and neither of them still could accept it. It really must be hard for him. Andrew promised to find a way to make it up to him. He didn't care how, but he's been doing such a poor job of keeping his vow in exchange for personal grief. For now he'd put aside his thoughts of Alex to spare him from further guilt and focus on something else. It was freezing outside, probably full forty degree cooler than daytime. Amazing and deadly how temperature behaves, heeding to no one and huffing its savage evil upon Andrew's face. A subtle reflection of his own fears appear to manifest with the weather. Strange. Everything is different, but he felt like nothing has changed. For the next few minutes, all he could think of was Lyra.