//------------------------------// // Sore Loser // Story: The Bodybuilder // by Crayonpaste //------------------------------// When that bar came down on you, you knew you could've been squashed like a bug when it happened. But thank God you totally lucked out, and had that screw there to stop the bar from crushing your neck. Well for the second time that night, you totally lucked out again. One of the gym's employees came onto your floor to double-check all the equipment and wipe it all down one last time, only to find you gasping for breath under one hundred and fifteen pounds of solid iron. Unluckily for you, it was that same super buff, bodybuilder woman at the front-desk who rescued you, and called your dad to pick you up. He showed up twenty minutes later, having to have missed a really important meeting for his business to check up on you. As glad as was to find out that you were still alive, you could tell he was still very annoyed, and there was even a hint of disappointment in his voice upon hearing that his son nearly killed himself on his first day at the gym. You also went to the E.R. for the first time in your life, but the only real injuries the doctor was able to find was a small muscle strain on your left tricep that should heal in less than a week. However, both you and the doctor knew that the biggest injury you had at that night that wasn't some muscle, bone, or an organ, but your ego. Your ego that's now all but nonexistent. It's now eleven, and you're sitting in the car with your dad, having just gotten out of the E.R. and you're both heading back home in the pitch-black darkness of the night. "Dad...?" It's been around fifteen minutes of pure silence in the car, and you finally break it. "I'd really appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this, alright?" "Only on one condition..." He replies, keeping his eyes on the road. "Tell me, Anon.......why the fuck did you not get a spotter?" This was the first time, you saw your dad openly swear in front of you. It would've been funny, if he wasn't dead serious right now, but still; you try your best to suppress a laugh. "I...I wanted to just work out alone..." You answer. "You know...so nobody could judge me for not knowing how to use any of the equipment, or how much I lifted; that's all." "Then why the hell did you choose to bench press?!" Your father groans, slamming his head against the wheel, and accidentally letting off the car's horn. "You could've done a MILLION other things, Anon! You could've done dumbell presses instead, and worked the same exact muscles! Or you could've done linear jammers if you still wanted to work shoulders! Or deltoid raises! Or-" "What the hell even are those things?!" You throw your arms up in outrage, only for your left one to shoot with pain. "Or you also could've skipped shoulders, and done biceps!" Your dad continues to ramble on. "Or like-" Your father interrupts himself; he takes a deep breath, and calms himself down. Probably because he knows ranting on, and listing random bicep workouts that you never heard of isn't going to do anybody any good. "My point is, you NEVER bench press without a spotter, Anon." He says, turning his eyes back on the road. "You could've died on that thing." "Oh believe me, I know." You reply through gritted teeth. "I know...." ****** The next day at school, your body's still feeling the aftershocks of your little bench press incident; you had an awful night's sleep, thanks to your arm, and that same arm is still barely even usable right now. You don't know what's worse; your arm, or Ms. Harshwinny's upcoming history test you have next block that you didn't study for at all. But hey, maybe you could use your arm as an excuse to get out of it? Knowing her, she's probably not, but it's still worth a shot. Who knows? Maybe every now and then, the planets align, and Ms. Harshwinny will actually show a little empathy towards her students, and it could very well be this day! But until then, you're stuck in second block, doing Mr. Discord's stupid physics packet that's going to be homework if you don't finish it in class. Ironically, the problem is asking you how many joules are required for a man to lift a 150kg weight up five inches. Just looking at the drawing of the stick man lifting the weight on your worksheet reminds you of yourself, and makes you want to cringe. After staring at the same problem for like five minutes without making any progress, you just skip the problem, and go for another one; you'll do that one when you get home. So....A man is lifting a 210 kg weight, and is unable to lift it 5 inches to rack it back up again. If he has already lifted the weight 2.5 inches, how many joules does his spotter need to expend to help the man rack the weight? "Fucking seriously?" You huff, looking at the problem. You then turn the page, and the next, realizing that every single problem on this worksheet has something to do with working out. Is Discord messing with you again? Is he? He has to! This can't be a coincidence. Sighing in frustration, you stoop down into your desk, and begin watching the clock; looks like someone's going to be staying up late doing physics homework tonight. After what seems like a lifetime, the bell finally rings and everyone makes a mad dash towards the hallways, some leaving behind their packets on their desks. You're about to leave the room, until you're stopped by a soft voice behind you. "A.....Anon?" You turn around, and see Fluttershy. If you're not mistaken, isn't she one of Applejacks' best friends? She is, isn't she? "Oh hey, Fluttershy." You smile. "I didn't see you there." You kind of never see her though, to be honest. Fluttershy's one of those really shy girls who never talks during class. You feel like she's always somewhere in the same room as you, but you can never seem to find her because she's so quiet, and seemingly turns invisible in crowds. In fact, you never knew you even had Physics with her until now. "Fluttershy?" You raise an eyebrow, confused. Her arms crossed like she's either cold, or hiding something; you can't tell. "Did you call me, Fluttershy?" "Oh!" She jumps up in surprise. "I......uhmmm......I...I...saw your arm was hurt..." "What was that?" You put a hand to your ear. "I didn't hear you." "I said I just saw your arm was, Anon." She repeats herself, this time at a volume your ears can actually pick up. "Is it okay?" "Oh, this?" You look down, at your bandaged left arm. "Nahhh, it's all good. In fact, I nearly forgot something even happened to it, you know what I'm sayin-" The second you mention it, your arm starts throbbing with pain all the sudden as if to purposely troll you. Fluttershy just cringes, as she sees you clutch your arm groaning. "What happened?" She asks, now genuinely concerned with you now. "I uhhhh...I was just working out yesterday, and I hurt myself." You say, making sure to spare the details; but you're sure that if anybody else was in your shoes, they'd do the same. "Yeah...I just pushed myself a little too hard, that's all." "You work out?" Her head perks up, looking surprised. "I...I didn't know you went to the gym..." "Yeah, I've been going for a while now..." You lie. "Probably almost a year by now..." "It doesn't look too bad..." Fluttershy says, looking at your arm. "At least you weren't that guy everyone at my gym has been talking about..." "What guy?" You raise an eyebrow. "I go to this really nice gym in downtown Canterlot called The Forge." She says. "One of my friends who work there told me last night she had to save some guy who nearly died doing bench presses because he didn't have a spotter!" "Dang..." You put a hand to your chest. "What kind of idiot benches without a spotter?" "She said he looked like someone who was new though, so I don't think it's really fair to call him 'stupid'." Fluttershy says a little defensively. "We were all beginners once, and they should be helped; not made fun of." "Yeah...good point." You nod your head in agreement. "Well, I've got a History test next block, and Ms. Harshwinny really doesn't like it when I'm late, catch you later!" "Hope you feel better..." Fluttershy waves as the two of you take off in opposite directions. You turn a corner, losing sight of Fluttershy and immediately pull out your phone, and go to your Memos app. 'Never wear last night's gym clothes again' You type as you make your way to Ms. Harshwinny's classroom. ****** You tap your feet with a mixture of nervousness, impatience, and optimism, waiting for the last five minutes of Ms. Cherilee's class to be done. There's only five minutes left, but holy hell does it feel like it's been five hours. Usually, class with Ms. Cherilee never feels this long, so it's probably just the anticipation; the anticipation of what you're going to do immediately after class. Ms. Cherilee's lost you long ago; hell, you don't even know if she's speaking English anymore. The only thing your senses are focused on right now is the girl sitting two seats in front of you. The blonde-haired beauty who always wears a stetson hat, and has emerald eyes that always seem to catch your eye in the hallway; even if you're trying not to stare, you always find yourself doing so. In a moment that seems like an eternity, the bell finally rings, and all the students bolt out. You do so to, in pursuit of her, but then stop at her desk, and see her hat lying on her desk. She dropped it in her hurry to get to her next class. "Awesome." You smile. Now you have the perfect opportunity to talk with her, and seal the deal. You gently hold the side of Applejack's hat, and walk outside the door, only to nearly walk into Applejack the second you leave the room. "Whoa!" The two of you shout in unison. You nearly fall backwards, but you quickly grab the door handle, and pull yourself back. "Geez...sorry about that, Anon." Applejack chuckles nervously, spotting her hat in your hand. "I just remembered I left my......hat...in the room..." "Yeah, I was about to try and get it back for you, but..." You extend your hand forward. "Guess I beat you to it." Applejack laughs, taking the hat from your hand. "I appreciate it, Anon. I'm glad this school's got good people like you, Anon." "Yeah." You nod, smiling back at Applejack. "That hat looks expensive; I'd hate to see you lose it. Especially since everybody's getting ready to buy dresses, and suits, and everything for the Fall Formal that's coming up..." "Oh yeah!" Applejack's head perks up. "It's in three weeks, ain't it?" "Three weeks, and two days." You correct her. "Heh, someone's been keepin' track, eh?" Applejack smirks playfully. "Ya got someone in mind?" "Actually, I do." You chuckle, taking a confident step towards Applejack. "You see......" Here it comes, Anon! Don't muck this up! You roll your shoulders back, give your temples a quick massage, and take a deep breath, feeling the oxygen rush into your brain and clear your mind. As you do all this, Applejack simply stares at you with a look of confusion. "I've actually had you in mind, Applejack." You smile, pointing at her. "How would you feel about going to the Fall Formal with me, Applejack?" Normally at this time of the day, the halls of Canterlot High School are about as quiet as a zoo. You've got the consistent hum of copy machines and printers spitting out papers, hall monitors shouting and chasing skaters who cruise down the hallway on their boards, kids talking to each other about the scores they got on their last Biology tests, and there's always that one guy who blares his obnoxiously loud rap music on his phone; the kind with the super annoying auto-tune singing that's completely overdone and makes the singer sound like a girl. But this time, it's like all that typical noise just disappeared, and isn't there anymore. It's just you and Applejack. "A...A...Anon?" Applejack stammers, a crimson blush forming on her face. "Wh......what did you just ask me?" "I asked if you'd like to go to the Fall Formal with me." You repeat yourself, smiling. This time, entire hallway actually does go silent. Some students ignore what you just said, and continue walking to their next class; most of them have frozen in place, and are staring at the two of you. Hell, even a teacher stopped dead in his footsteps to see what's going on. Time itself has come to a halt and only continues when Applejack opens her mouth. "Gosh...I......I'd really hate to do this to you, but..." She frowns. "What's wrong?" You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "You gotta work at the farm that day? Do you-" "No, that's not what I mean." Applejack cuts you off. You watch as she takes a deep sigh, and looks at you in the eyes. "I......I just can't see us goin' to the Fall Formal together...ya know?" A foreign feeling quickly begins to infect your body. It feels like...nothingness. Like a part of yourself just disappeared entirely without trace. You can no longer breathe; you can't feel your pulse anymore, and worst of all, you can no longer look at those beautiful green eyes with any sort of confidence anymore. "I...no offense Anon, but..." Applejack begins, avoiding eye contact with you. Or is it you just avoiding hers? "I've been livin' on Sweet Apple Acres all my life. I'm a farm girl Anon, and I sure as heck don't plan on changing that anytime soon." "I can't be with someone like you." She continues. "I...I want-no, I need to be with a man, Anon. Someone who can hold their own out on the range! Someone who doesn't have more skin and bone than muscle on him! Someone who can run a mile without lookin' like a half-beaten mule! I......" "I get it." You reply, closing your eyes. You dare to open them, just to get one last look at those emerald green eyes, and turn away. "I understand...see you later, Applejack."