//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three: You (Don't) Have a Choice. 
// Story: Making It Work 
// by Perfectly Insane 
//------------------------------//

I stared at my phone for what felt like an uncomfortably long time, but what was likely only a minute or so. Every neuron in my brain had been expecting Fluttershy to say no, even if I had hoped she’d say yes. Now that she had said yes, what was I supposed to say? 

Pinkie never gave her answer… What if she said no?

Eight? Fluttershy said, calling me back to reality.


I leaned forward, responding a lot faster than I probably should have. Are you sure?
 

Anxiety made its return as I watched her chat bubble pop up and down. I think so, came her reply. At the very least, I’m willing to try it. If it’s ok with you and Pinkie, that is. We’d have to talk about it, of course. 

Yeah, of course. Do you want to call sometime, or just wait until Friday? 

What exactly did she want to talk about? Thinking about it, I didn’t recall Fluttershy and I ever talking about relationships at all. I couldn’t even say what she wanted out of one. Marriage? As beautiful as she’d have looked in a wedding dress, it might not even have been something she’d be interested in. Kids, on the other hand, were something she’d almost certainly have wanted. 

But would I? While I’d dated, none of the relationships had had any long term thought put into it. I'd just never thought I’d be in one that had the potential to last. Pinkie and I hadn’t talked about it either. What if she doesn’t want kids but Fluttershy does? 

I really have to learn to ask more questions about stuff before going through with them. 

I’d rather wait until Friday, if you don’t mind. Actually, speaking of Pinkie. 

She kept typing for a while, like she was trying to think of how to phrase something. Maybe Pinkie had a point about texting being really impersonal; it’s hard to tell the tone of what someone’s saying, and there’s no body language to go off of. 

Can I ask a favor? You’re absolutely free to say no: I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time. 

I’m not exactly a busy guy, Shy. I’d be happy to help you.

Well…

Instead of staring at the phone screen and waiting for her text, I stood up and opened the window. It wasn’t nighttime quite yet, still an hour or so before then. It was the enjoyable time between day and night, where the sun was setting and the moon was just barely visible in the sky. 

To this day, I found it just as breathtaking as when I first saw it. My favorite time of day without a doubt. 

After the party yesterday, Pinkie hasn’t talked to any of us. She hasn’t responded to any texts or anything, and I’m really worried it has something to do with what we talked about. Do you think you could check on her? She’s never done this before. 

That does sound off. Why me though? I don’t even know her address or if she’d be cool with me just showing up like that. 

I don’t believe she’d have a problem with it. The others don’t think anything is wrong. She did mention at the party that she might be busy tomorrow, but something about her smile last night just… bothered me. Maybe I’m just worrying myself sick over nothing, but I can’t help but think something is wrong. 

Pinkie always made time for her friends, or would at least text back to not worry them. Hearing her not respond at all was worrying. However, maybe her friends knew her better than I did. While I like her, the only things I know about her are from the various topics we’ve talked about. Her friends have spent more time with her; I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff to learn. 

Although, hearing Fluttershy worried about something made it hard to say no. She’d probably struggle to fall asleep thinking about it. It’s not like I have much else to do, anyway. 

I can probably swing by depending on how far it is. Can you shoot me the address?

_____________________

Pinkie’s house was much larger than I thought it’d be, and also closer. About a ten-minute walk, which could have been faster if I didn’t drag my feet a little. It was two stories and well maintained; her dad must have been the type who mowed as soon as he had the excuse to. 

With a deep breath and a quick once over, I knocked on the door…which opened pretty much instantly, to my surprise. It was a woman I’d never seen before, wearing a spiked sleeveless leather jacket over a white t-shirt, along with ripped jeans and boots that looked uncomfortably big. She had a couple of piercings, and I could make out the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under her shirt sleeve.

Even her yellow eyes and short, grey hair were completely different from Pinkie's. I wondered for a moment if Fluttershy had sent me the wrong address or something. 

“You’re not Fla—” She bit her lip, glancing away as she crossed her arms. “Uh… The usual pizza guy." Her eyes narrowed. "Who the fuck are you?” 

“Uh,” I glanced over her shoulder. For a moment, I thought I spotted someone peeking around the corner, then darting as soon as I saw them. Though that may have been my imagination. “I’m Eight. Does Pinkie live here?” 

“Eight? What, do you have seven siblings named One to Seven? Weird-ass thing to look into your baby’s eyes and name them,” she remarked, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, she lives here. Are you another one of her friends or something? She’s not gonna sleep with you, y’know. She’s not that kind of party girl.” 

“What? No, I don’t want to—” I stopped myself, knowing that I’d just be giving into her provocation. “Fluttershy’s worried about her and asked me to make sure she’s ok; that’s all. Can I see her if she’s here?” 

She visibly recoiled, narrowing her eyes and almost grimacing as she tapped her finger against her elbow. “Oh, she’s here. Just hasn’t left her room all day. I’m not sure if she wants to see anyone, but hey, if you want to try, go ahead.” 

As she stepped aside, I hesitantly walked in, only to be halted by her iron grip around my shoulder. Every inch of my body told me to get away as far as possible, even if I couldn’t. It felt like if I tried to get out of it, she’d rip out everything she had a handle on. 

“If you hurt her,” she leaned in, whispering into my ear. “I’ll break you. Get me?” 

“Yes ma’m.” I said in a pathetically high-pitched voice, my fragile masculinity shattered by the absolute terror she instilled. 

“Good. She’s up the stairs and the first door on the right.”

She let go of me with notable reluctance before shutting the door and plopping onto the couch. I expected her to watch something on the TV. Instead, she just turned it on a blank screen with a light static noise and picked up a book off the coffee table. 

I decided to not further question her. 

While walking up the stairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched by somebody. It was hard to ignore, as much as I wanted to. Probably just my paranoia at work, but I could have sworn I saw a girl with long hair hanging poking her head out just around the corner. 

“Pinkie?” I said in a hushed tone as I knocked softly on the door, keeping my gaze on the corner. “You in here? I’m kind of a tad freaked out.” 

“...Eight?” 

If it hadn’t been so quiet in the house, I wouldn’t have heard her voice. It was so…empty, totally lacking of that near contagious pep. I almost didn’t even register it as hers.

“Yeah, Fluttershy was worried about you and wanted me to make sure you were ok.” 

“Fluttershy?” I vaguely heard the sound of shuffling. “I guess I didn’t do a good job then, huh? Well, you can tell her I’m ok.” 

“Are you though?” I pressed my ear against the door to try to hear her. Everything she said came out so meek and flat, making me more worried with each word.

“...I will be, eventually.” 

“That’s—” I placed my hand on the doorknob, considering just opening it, or trying to if it’s not locked. I shook my head, deciding against it. That would be a total breach of her trust. If she wanted me to see her, she’d open the door herself. “—not exactly reassuring, Pinks. Please, at least let me see you.” 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

“Pinkie, please. I want to help. I promise, however you look right now, I won’t judge.” 

There was that same shuffling noise, but much closer this time. I was fairly certain she was standing just on the other side. 

“You can’t really help judging; it’s something your brain does automatically as a result of evolution. It’s like trying to not think of something.” she explained. “But, I appreciate the sentiment.” 

I was speechless for a moment. Then, a clicking noise came as she unlocked the door, followed by the sound of her dragging footsteps. 

“You can come in.” 

Her voice was distant again—she'd likely gone to the other side of the room. I found myself semi-nervous as I rested my hand on the door, mind racing at what could be on the other side. Pinkie didn’t seem the type to care about her appearance that much, so why would she bothered by me seeing her now? 

I gulped as I turned the knob. The door made a grating, squeaking noise as it opened and closed behind me. 

The inside of her room was nearly barren of any light. Even the shades on her window were closed. I could just make out the bright coloring of the walls, and some of the hearts and pictures strewn about. At least her bed was comfortable to sit on. 

Pinkie herself blended into the darkness eerily well, sitting in a corner of the room and lacking her usual color. That pleasant pink had faded almost to gray; her usual curly hair had fallen flat, resembling a silky curtain instead of cotton candy. It covered her face so much that I could only see her eyes, which were dull, too, and devoid of their usual sparkle. 

What unnerved me most was that she wasn’t even looking at me, but at a sandwich sitting right in front of her, staring at it like it was going to grow legs and run away at any moment.

“So,” I started, the tension in the room uncomfortably thick. “Do you wanna…tell me what happened?”  

“What makes you think anything happened?”

“Well,” I was so used to seeing Pinkie’s expressions when we talked; not seeing it was jarring. Combined with her voice, I had to keep reminding myself that this was Pinkie. “This isn’t exactly in character for you. If there’s something you need to talk about, I’m here.” 

She glanced at me for just a moment, then back to her sandwich. That response bothered me a lot more than just a ‘no’ would have. 

“Is…it because of the Fluttershy stuff?” 

“No,” she stated without an ounce of hesitation. 

I rapped my fingers against her bed, trying to think of another straw to grasp it. “Did something happen at the party last night?” 

Pinkie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and tightening her arms around her knees. “No. The party was fine.” 

Her voice cracked, just a bit. I didn’t know if that meant she was lying about the party, or she just didn’t want me to keep asking. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure if I should keep asking. The last thing I wanted to do right now was push her. 

That being the case, what was I supposed to do? Just leave her to stew in whatever was bothering her? I couldn’t in good conscience do that, especially not when I told Fluttershy I’d make sure she was ok. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I left and she didn’t get better. 

“Was it,” I fidgeted on her bed, sharply inhaling. “Something I said? I’m sorry if—” 

“It wasn’t anything anyone did!” Pinkie shouted, getting to her feet. She peered at me; her face morphed into an agonizingly angry sneer. Her arms hung rigidly to her sides, hands clenched into fist that rocked. 

“No one said or did anything to me. No one died, no one left. I didn’t fail a test or get a mean text or see something sad on TV. Nothing happened. In fact, I should be happy! Everything’s going well; I have friends and family who love me. All my parties are great. Nothing’s wrong! Nothing's…” her lips trembled as she let out a wry laugh. “Wrong. I…I just feel like this, for no reason. I hate it so much.” 

“I…” My mind was blank. It was like everything had frozen except for us, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. No matter how much I wanted to.

Pinkie flinched, turning away from me and bringing her hands to her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that." Pinkie sat back down on the floor after letting out a muffled sob. “It’s frustrating, and I’m just tired. So tired.” 

“I…I didn’t know.” I finally managed to stutter out. “I can leave if you want.” 

She sat there in silence, awkwardly rubbing her shoulders with a downtrodden expression. “I don’t know what I want right now. I hate being around people when I’m like this, but…” She trailed off, leering at the sandwich, like it had somehow scorned her. “Maybe talking for once will help.” 

“For once?” My eyes widened as I leaned forward. “You’ve never told anyone?” 

“No, why bother?” she retorted with a sardonic scoff. “They can’t help me. Especially when I don’t know why it happens. They’ll want to try, then they’ll fail. They’ll feel bad, and I’ll feel worse. It’s enough of a burden for me to bear. It doesn’t need to be anyone’s problem but mine.” 

“Pinkie…” My heart practically sank straight into my stomach. My throat felt tight as I tried to speak. “How long have you been dealing with this?” 

“A few years. It’s only happened a couple times, but it usually lasts the entire day. Sometimes longer.”

“Have you considered seeing someone?” 

I was just saying the first thing that came to mind; this was way out of my depth. Having conversations about various topics was one thing, but mental health wasn’t something I ever thought I could help with. As much as I wanted to help her, I didn’t know how. 

It was a feeling of helplessness I’d never felt before, and I hated it.

“Of course, I’m not dumb,” she snapped at me, immediately regretting it as she cringed. “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help,” she muttered as she returned to her fetal position. “I’ve considered it, but I don’t think it’d be worth it. Either I’ll get medication that won’t work or that I’ll become dependent on to function. Or, just maybe, I’ll unload everything and they’ll give me advice on what to do. Telling me that it ‘gets better’.” 

Pinkie buried her head in her knees, leaving just a small slit to see through. “Which is bullshit. It doesn’t ‘get better’, you just learn to deal with it. I’m dealing with it like this; I’d rather not waste my time and someone else's when this works.” 

“So, you just sit in your room all day staring at a sandwich when you get depressed? What about your plans for that day?”

Everything I was saying risked setting off a metaphorical landmine, and probably came off as insensitive as it sounded. Maybe I should have paid more attention to those melodramatic scenes in the late night soap operas. At least then I’d have a rough idea of what to say. 

“I can usually tell when things are going to get bad a few days before. I kind of…” She bit her lip, briefly clearing her throat. “Like the day off, in a weird way. As for the sandwich,” Pinkie reached forward, placing her hand on the plate. She grabbed it like she was going to pull it towards her, but instead shook her head as she pushed it farther away. “I’m aware how this sounds coming from me, but I don’t actually like needing to eat. Food itself and enjoying all kinds of candy and pastries is great, yeah. Sometimes, though, I find it more trouble than it's worth. When I get like this, I don’t want to do anything. So,” 

It took me a moment to realize what she was implying.

“You…don’t eat anything?” I asked, though I already knew the unsettling answer.

“Yeah, it…” she paused, biting her lip again. “It strangely gives me a sense of pride. My body keeps telling me to eat something, but I don’t want to. So I put what I need most in front of me, and I keep saying ‘no’. It helps me feel a bit of control. Just a tiny bit, but it’s enough.” 

“That—” What was I even supposed to say to that? The longer I stayed there, the more I think I could only say things that would make her feel worse. “—can’t be good for you. I ju—” 

“I know it’s not good for me, ok? It just…” she reached over to grab something; a small, green stuffed alligator with oversized eyes. She clutched  it to her chest. “It helps. That’s all that matters right now; getting through it however I have to.” 

“I…I don’t know what to say, Pinkie. I really don’t.” 

“Maybe,” she pulled it closer to her chest, hands shaking as she clutched it. “There’s nothing you can say.” 

“But…I want to help you. I—” 

“You can’t!” she screamed, glaring at me with tears at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t you get it? Nothing you say can help! It’s like a rock tied to my chest that gets heavier with each heartbeat; sometimes, just breathing seems like too much. I’ve cried so much. I barely have the energy to speak, so all I can fucking do is think! Think about how my friends would feel if they found out, think how much of a burden I’d be! Or, hey, better yet, why not start thinking about stuff I can’t do anything about!” 

She shot up, wearing a crooked smile on her face as she cried. I wanted to get up and hug her, say whatever I could to make her feel better, but she was right: there was nothing I could say to help. I could only sit on her bed and listen. 

“All the people in poverty or who are suffering, or how many people who get mistreated every day because of stereotypes. All these movements come too late. I want to help so many people, but I can’t! Any attempt at change would take too long, or maybe even worthless. Sometimes, humanity’s so cruel, Eight. I know there are good people in the world. It’s just really hard to remember that sometimes. I…” her words caught in her throat, chin trembling like it was getting gradually harder for her to speak. “Hate the way I think sometimes. I like making people happy, making them smile and laugh. I try so hard to understand each person I meet, and it hurts. I-I just, can’t…”

She gradually ran her hands up the side of her head, gripping her hair like she was going to pull it out. A disconcerting guttural sound slipped past her lips; somewhere between a hollow laugh and a sorrowful weep. 

It was agonizingly grating to hear. 

“I don’t know if I like anything about me, Eight. Am I being sincere? Is everything just an act and this is just the result? Is this who I am? I don’t know.” 

She stood just a few feet in front of me, standing in her heart pajamas and crying. Pinkie, who had always seemed the happiest person I knew, was miserable. Her smile was infectious, always waiting for me in the library to talk about whatever she felt like that day. It felt like we’d never run out of things to say.

Now I had, when words were what I needed most.

“I…I like you, Pinkie.” I whispered as I got to my feet. “It might not be what you want to say right now, but it’s all I’ve got. I like a lot of things about you; your smile, your sense of humor, especially the way you think. I’ve never talked to someone like you, really. Our conversations in the library were some of the things I looked forward to most; they felt pretty sincere to me.” 

“...you’re just saying that.” she whimpered, looking at me with half closed eyes. 

“Yeah, and I’m meaning it too.” 

I took a few steps until I was inches away from her. She didn’t back away, only tensing up. I wanted to reach forward and touch her, but I didn’t want to risk doing anything that might make her worse. 

“Even if you don’t like who you are, I do. So does Fluttershy, and so do all of your friends. It might be hard to remember that sometimes, but it’s true. And…” I rest my hand on her shoulder, making it obvious what I was trying to do so she could stop me at any time. “You’re right. Nothing I can say can help you; I can’t help you, no matter how much I want to. Despite that, I want to let you know I’m here for you. It’s not like I have a life. Though I doubt that’ll make you feel better at all.”

“It doesn’t, really. But,” she wiped her face, gently taking my hand and holding it in between hers. “Thank you. You could have just left at the door, yet you came in any way. I appreciate it, it means a lot to me. Even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. I’ll get better, I promise.” 

“Then you’ll get bad again, right?” 

Pinkie pursed her lips, clenching my hands to the point of being a little painful. “Yes. it always will. I’ll get better, then at some point, I’ll get bad again. Sometimes months apart, sometimes days. I don’t like it either, Eight. Maybe at some point I’ll try to get help. Right now, I just want to deal with it myself. Ok?” 

I opened my mouth to retort, closing it just as quickly. “Ok. do you want me to leave?” 

She closed her eyes, kissing my hand and then letting go of it. “Please. Having someone to listen to helped, but being around others like this is harder for me. I promise, if I think I can’t handle it, I’ll call you.” 

Her smile was already beginning to falter; Pinkie couldn’t even keep eye contact with me. I wanted to stay, hold her, tell her whatever she wanted to hear. None of those things would help her, I couldn’t help her. If I stayed, I would just keep stumbling over my words and making it worse. 

At this point, leaving was the only thing I could do to help.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” I remarked dejectedly, turning away from her and making my way to the door. Some part of me hoped she would grab me by the sleeve, tell me that she changed her mind and ask me to stay. 

She didn’t. 

Pinkie’s sister was still laying on the couch, reading a book I couldn’t make out the cover of. As soon as I opened the door, she grumbled something under her breathe.

“What?” I asked as I turned to her. 

“I said:” she lowered her book, leering at me with an annoyed glare. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, dickwad. Now get the fuck out of my house.” 

For a second, I wanted to retort with something. Just as quickly realizing how bad of an idea that would have been. I left the house, taking a few steps away from it and setting my back against a tree; gradually sliding down it onto the floor as I pulled out my phone. Fluttershy had sent me a message or two. 

Are you ok? I shouldn’t have asked you to go out so late.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard, mind blank at what I should say. The truth? No, then I’d have to explain what happened with Pinkie and that would just worry her more. I couldn’t leave her on read, either. I don’t like doing that to people in general, especially to Fluttershy.

I guess I had no choice but to lie.

Yeah, I’m fine.