//------------------------------//
// Part 2 - Chapter 5: Enough is Enough 
// Story: Office Love 
// by Flutterpriest 
//------------------------------//

When the last thread breaks, there’s a certain amount of relief that accompanies the knowledge that something has broken beyond repair. You never have to worry about gently nursing whatever problem is facing you until it’s fixed. It’s over. It’s broken. You don’t have to try to fix it.

It’s easier to just throw the clothing into the drawer.

You scroll through listing after listing of jobs in Manhattan. All the while, you can’t help but think of things that set your mind racing. 

Everything in your life felt like it was building to something. You can’t help but wonder if there was some sort of singular event that should have changed everything. If one little choice was different, could all of this have been avoided?

This was supposed to be a simple little startup job.





You stepped into the room wearing your best suit. The tan pony across the desk rose as you stepped in. 

“You must be Anonymous.”

“Was it my human form that gave it away?” You asked gently. The question was what you used as a screener to see if this job accepted non-ponies. Hyppogriffs were still marginalized and Yaks chose not even to live in Equestria. Humans? Well, there’s been more than a few interviews you’ve had that ended as you walked into the room.

“Not at all!” Brand responded. “It must have been the size of that huge head as you walked through the door. Your intelligence test scores were off the charts.”

“Really?”

“Take a seat. How was the ride in from Ponyville?” 

“Well, Long. I had to take the red-eye but I’m feeling pretty good now.”

Brand chuckled and shook his head.

“Well, you’d probably need to find a place around here when we offer you this job.”

You sat back in your seat. 

“When?”

“Give it a week to fill the paperwork. This step is a formality. I want you on my team.”

“Your team?” You asked.

“Accounting isn’t huge but we do well for ourselves. The company landed a huge investment so we’re hiring like crazy to meet the output we’d need to make this job work. We’d need you to watch our numbers like a hawk.”





Growling under your breath you rise from your seat and pace about your office. You should have known better. You should have seen all of this coming. You begin to open the drawers to your desk, looking at the personal belongings you’ve sorted into there over time. You’ve had this promotion for six weeks. And everything has gone to absolute shit. In fact. You’ve only been working here for a little while longer than that.

You pull out one of the pictures of you and Brand having a drink on your first day. The same one he has framed on his desk. You can’t help but feel pissed off looking at it now. Is this what this company does? Butter them up with enough responsibility and flattery then drop all the bad stuff right as you’re in too deep to consider something else?

You spent so long working on the layoff project yesterday that you think back to what he said. Some project for a client that if it goes well, we’ll be okay. But if it doesn’t. 

“Two faced shit.”

You throw the picture in the trash and keep sorting through the desk. You pull out a tape recorder. 

Oh shit. This thing.





He told me that I could record my office. It didn’t matter to him. So the quickest way to get Fluttershy fired was to catch her in the act.

It may have only been her second day. But even if she behaved herself in your bed the previous night, you couldn’t give her your full trust yet.

You put the recorder into your desk. Setting it to the slowest speed, you smiled and waited for her to slip up.

Hours went by.  Days even. Then, you had your plan. 

Three gentle knocks rung from your office door. The sound was like a Post-Traumatic attack. But you knew this was going to be it. The recording tape was fresh. The batteries were fresh.

“Come in,” you called to the door.

Fluttershy ambled inside. 

“Miss Fluttershy, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, U-uhm. Well I made you some coffee, sir.”

“Perfect! Come in, sit down.”

She comes inside and sits down in front of you, handing you the coffee. 

“How are you liking the office over the cube?” She asks. “It seems almost… confining. All walls with no window outside.”

“It’s not so bad. These cups of coffee always seem to perk my day up.” You say, taking a sip.

And there it was. 

“In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Fluttershy, you’re making me really good coffee. I can’t believe the break room coffee tastes this great.” 

She blushes and looks away for a moment. 

“Well, I always knew you liked your coffee in Ponyville and I did a little research-” 

“In fact,” you cut her off. “I did a little research. “

You reached into a drawer and pull out the styrofoam coffee cup you got from the break room. 

“And it sure seems like what you’re bringing me every morning isn’t what everyone else at the office is getting.”

You raised an eyebrow and Fluttershy openedher mouth slightly in shock.

“See, If I take a sip of this stuff from the break room. Cream. Two sugars. Like what you bring me. It tastes different. See, taste them for yourself.”

You put out the mug and the styrofoam cup in front of her.

She looked at the two glasses then back up to you.

“Anon…”

“Fluttershy,” you say leaning in, closing the distance, applying pressure. “If you’re keeping a secret. You need to tell me now.”

She sighed and looked down.

“Well, it was going to be a surprise, but I have a small coffee machine at my desk and I brought the beans you used to like from Ponyville when I came here. I thought it would be a nice little touch.”

You looked down at the mug she brought you.

Oh. So that’s why it’s so good.

“Even you have to admit the coffee here is bad,” she said.

“It is bad.”

A silence fell between the two of you.

“So you aren’t drugging me?” You said in dumbfounded surprise.

“No,” she said. “Clean slate, remember?”





After that, you stopped recording her. It was only fair. You throw it back into the desk and sigh. 

Coming to Manehattan was supposed to be a fresh restart for you. And it just seems like even though all of the circumstances changed, you’re in a whole different set of stupid problems. 

A knock at your door grabs your attention.

“Come in,” you say half heartedly.

“Hey Buddy!” Says the chipper voice of Brand. “Looks like the 650 plan went over great.”

You glare up at him. 

“There were two plans.”

He shrugs.

“I guess there are some that are selective listeners and some that are selective readers. If it were me, I would have taken the 400 plan.”

“500,” you correct him. 

“Listen,” he says. “This place is about to get ugly in about thirty minutes. Let’s grab some lunch and chat. I wanna talk about our next steps forward.”

You look to the computer, then to him. The list of job searches were still open, as well as your resume.

He nods gently.

“I’ll pay for lunch. Just hear me out before you make any hasty decisions. We’re friends, right?” Brand asks.

You almost quickly say yes. 

As much time as you’ve spent in Manehattan, Brand has shared details about his life but only ever at work or after work. Everything has been tangentially related to work. Brand is a work friend he doesn’t give a shit about Fluttershy, Autumn, or Mulberry. It’s about the business.

“Fine.” 





The two if you sit down at Red Apples, a simple little hayburger joint a few blocks away from the office. Time seems to pass like a blur as the two of you made your way here. The guilt has been weighing on you like a cancer.

The waiter sits the two of you down. 

“Two ciders, please.”

The waiter nods and trots off.

“We’re still working, right?” You ask.

“A cider or two won’t kill anypony.”

Your mind goes to Mulberry. Hopefully she wasn’t hiding in her apartment, lost in the sauce. Between being fired from her job and Copper assaulting her, she was essentially at rock bottom. She had to either start climbing out of that pit, or…

No. She’d climb out. 

“What do you want to talk about,” you ask, getting right to business.

“You see,” he says. “Right there’s the problem. You’re stressed. I can see it. Everypony can see it. I put a big load on you yesterday and I apologize for that. I can tell you’ve been going through a lot. But there’s a certain point that you can’t just wear your heart on your sleeve all the time.”

“Heart on my sleeve?” You ask.





Autumn stretched on your couch and yawned deeply. Today she was sporting a pink sweater. The day before, her signature green.

“I saw Mulberry at the hospital over lunch,” she said. “Sounds like they’re going to let her out next week.”

“Yeah?” you respond, pulling a stir-fry bag out of the freezer. “That must mean the stitches are holding well.”

“Must be,” she said. “Hey, could you turn down the thermostat? It’s hotter than Tartarus in here.”

“It’s, like, 72 degrees. That’s completely normal,” you teased. “Why don’t you take off your sweater for a change?”

She paused and sat up. 

“Well, I like it cold,” she said.

“And I think you should just take off your sweater,” you said, putting a pan on the stove.

“Can you turn down the damn heat?” She barked sternly.

You paused and turned to her.

Her eyes looked wounded and you realized that cooking dinner was not important at that moment.

You stepped away, turned down the heat and sat down beside her.

“What’s up?” You asked.

She sighed and looked down.

“We’re officially… a couple, right?” She said.

“Well, that’s what I’ve told our whole two friends.” 

“I… need this clothing. It’s important to me. I almost never, go without.”

You nod. 

“And I respect that”

“No, listen-“ she growled. “You don’t… get it.”

“I want to get it” you say. 

“My mom and I left my dad when I was a kid. He did… a lot of things. Then I came to Manehattan. And then that Stallion.”

She trailed off. Her eyes seemed focused on something far off in the universe.  Her hooves tremble around the bottom hem of the sweater.

“I don’t… want to pressure you to-“

“If we are going to be together, Anon, we need to know the truth about each other. Keeping secrets is the first step to everything falling apart.”

She took a deep breath and pulled the hoodie off over her head. 

Nudity in Equestria wasn’t a sexual or taboo thing. Most ponies just wore clothing to help stay warm or make a fashion statement.

Down the length of her two front hooves were two wide, lightish brown scars where her fur couldn’t grow back correctly. 

“I screwed up, Anon,” she said. “I wasn’t in a good place. And I’ve had a lot of therapy over the years to try and… un-mess myself. But I’m still a mess.”

A silence fell between you and her as she looked away from you

“I was a hopeless mess,” she said. 

Hearing the word that you described the two of you as in an affectionate way made a part of your soul leave your body. 

“So, I wear the sweater so that I don’t… wear my mistakes on my sleeve.”

“Is that why you always wear your sweaters to bed when you’re over?” You asked.

She nodded quietly.

You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close. Her fur was soft, softer than her sweater honestly. You pull one of her hooves up to your face and kiss the soft in-sole.

“I love you for who you are now. And I love you even for what happened in the past. It helped make you who you are right now.”

Tears well in her eyes. 

“I was so stupid,” she said, pulling herself into you.

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s going to be okay.”





“Sometimes you just gotta keep your emotions in check when you’re at work,” Brand says. “Otherwise the ponies will start talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask frustratedly. “Get to the point.”

“Listen, I’m not stupid, Anon.” Brand says. “I’ve covered for you. I helped you keep your job, and even the secretary since you asked for her to stay. I heard the tape you left on your desk and know you were trying to find ways to kick her out. The long lunches as you’ve flirted with mares that only brought stress into your life.”

The two ciders are set in front of Brand. He puts a hoof on top of one and pushes it your way. 

“I’m telling ya. These mares gotta go. I can fire Fluttershy. And I threw you a bone yesterday to get out of being with the other mares.”

An anger rises in your throat.

“Brand. What made you think I didn’t want to spend time with my friends outside of work?”

He blinks.

“And come to think of it. That tape was in my desk drawer.”

He sighs and leans back. 

“Brand,” you sit forward, glaring at him. “You better start fucking explaining yourself.”

He looks up at you, clearly hurt.

“That day, at the bar. You mean, you didn’t feel something?”

“That day at the bar?” You respond. “What the fuck are you-“

Then you remember. The ex that heckled him.

“I thought I was doing you a solid.”

“And I thought you were doing something else,” he said flatly. 

A silence fell between the two of you.

“Well that’s it. I’m fucking done here,” you rise from your seat.

“Sit down,” he says.

“Why the fuck shouldn’t I? I’m done. I quit.”

“You quit, and I will black list you with every company I can send an email to in Manehattan.”

“Fucker,” you growl. “I’ll take my chances.”

“And I’ll fire your little friend.”

That’s what stops you. You remember what she said yesterday.

”Anon... I don't have anything to go back to.”