//------------------------------// // 2. The Pony with the Stylish Frames (not me) // Story: The Scandalous Secret of High Style // by thedarkprep //------------------------------// 2. The Pony with the Stylish Frames (not me) Rain hit the ground in heavy droves as I dug through the trash. I had already found a few cardboard boxes to make myself a shelter for the night, but none of them were big or sturdy enough to shelter me from the downpour, so I kept looking, digging through the refuse for something, anything, which could offer any form of protection. I turned my attention to another trashcan, opening it to find a few newspapers. They were slightly wet, with the ink running down the paper, but that didn’t matter. My bones, were chilled beyond belief and these papers would still provide some warmth when stuffed into my jacket, even despite their dampness. As quickly as I could, I began stuffing the newspapers into the available space between my jacket and my fur, a task made more difficult by my hunger. Sure, there was the constant growling in my stomach and the pain that came along with malnutrition, but this was a pain I had grown quite accustomed to as of late. This pain had only gotten worse as my stomach seemed to begin eating itself for survival, much like how my lack of nutrition ebbed away my muscles, making each movement more difficult. Now, however, there was the constant feeling of being close to fainting. I figured this could be attributed to the lack of nutrition as well, or to the lack of sleep... or to the lack of hope. Regardless of the reason, I always felt tired and in constant danger of falling asleep. And yet, I knew I couldn’t. To fall asleep was to die, and I couldn’t die just yet, regardless of how much I would like to. So I kept grabbing newspapers, despite the pain in my stomach, the aching of my joints, and the atrophy of my bones. A flash of lightning soared through the sky, illuminating the area enough for me to catch a look at my reflection in a nearby puddle. I was so skinny now that each bone seemed to pull through the skin. I had easily been able to see each rib, each femur, each notch on my spine. “A model’s envy,” I muttered, offering my mirthless laughter as a response to my horrible joke. That’s all I had now, my bad jokes and my imminent death. I shook my head in annoyance as I, with great effort, pulled out the last newspaper, almost dropping it as I read the cover. Tranny Infiltrates Canterlot Fashion Industry! Public Seeks Action! Tear mixed with the rain as I struggled to control my emotions, but it was too much. At this point I was exhausted mentally and physically, long past having crossed my limits. I collapsed, crying into the surrounding puddles,the newspaper falling as well, making most of the familiar print unreadable. And yet, between the parts that I had memorized and the parts that had were still legible, I could still make out the article. There was a public outcry today demanding the immediate resignation of one of Photo Finish’s top stylists after news that said pony was not in-fact a mare, but rather a cross-dressed stallion, hit the mainstream. In response, Photo Finish Inc. has released a statement issuing a public apology for their oversight and an assurance that the issue will be dealt with, adding that had they been aware of Cotton Candy’s real gender, swift action would have been taken. Despite this public statement, stocks for Photo Finish Inc. continue to plummet, as the public takes to the streets, voicing their disgust. “I cannot believe this,” Hoity Toity said. “I mean, this pony was in constant contact with my models and none of us knew. I am shocked and disgusted, yes, but my models are outright distraught. I mean, can you imagine what could have happened to them?” “The way I see it, we have to make a statement,” Uppercrust told reporters. “This pony was a role model to many and a very prominent figure, and now we find out that not only is she a compulsive liar who lied to us all, but she is a he? We cannot have someone with this illness be out there for others to idolize. It is not enough to fire him, we have to make sure everypony understands that this is not just unacceptable, but reprehensible.” Princess Celestia has declined to comment on the situation at this time, but it is rumored that she is gathering a unit of guards to apprehend Cotton Candy in response to crimes against basic decency. And yet, some argue that would not be enough as… I could not keep reading. With a loud wail I wept like I had never wept before. “I’m sorry,” I yelled. “I didn’t mean to be this way, I wish I weren’t. But please.. make this stop… I’m sorry.” A large lightning strike illuminated the sky again, followed by a resounding crash. I bolted up, tears still streaking across my face. However, I was no longer wet and freezing. In fact, I was home. “Sorry about that, these cups are way too fragile!” I turned to look towards the kitchen where the voice had come from, but I was unable to see the pony who had spoken. Not that I needed to, of course - with that accent there was only one pony it could be. As the shock of my rude awakening wore off, I became instantly aware of my giant headache, which made it a bit hard to get my bearings on what exactly had happened. Looking around, I noticed that I had apparently fallen asleep on the couch, that someone had put a blanket over me, and that I had apparently been drinking, the last of which meant that something bad had happened. I tried to piece together the events from the previous day, but I ended up coming up blank, as no matter how hard I tried, not one memory resurfaced. “I know I was the fashion show,” I mumbled to myself. “But I can’t remember anything after that, not even how I got home.” I continued to sit there and think, oblivious to the mare that had joined me from the kitchen. “Well good morning Sty!” she exclaimed. “I hope my mishap in the kitchen didn’t wake you. Also, I owe you a teacup.” I could say a lot of good things about Photo Finish’s voice, but that list would not include her ability to speak at an acceptable level of loudness, especially on a morning such as this one. “Do you have to be so loud?” I asked, covering my ears. “You’re not helping my hangover.” I couldn’t know for sure because of those glasses she always wore, but I could swear that she rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, right, I cannot imagine what type of hangover you must be dealing with,” she said sarcastically. “A whole beer! You must have been quite wasted.” She then went up to the solitary beer can sitting on the living room table. “Oh, my mistake,” she said, picking it up. “Half a beer.” Yea, there was no mistaking the eye roll and the raised eyebrow. “Leave me alone,” I said, laying back down. “I’m a lightweight; that was more than enough.” “Come eat some breakfast at least,” Photo Finish said. “You’ll feel better with some food in your system. You’ll feel even worse if you don’t.” I couldn’t argue with that logic, despite really wanting to. “Fine, fine,” I said, getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. “Bagels, tea, and fried hay? Not bad for a breakfast,” I exclaimed, sitting at the kitchen counter, Photo Finish sitting beside me. A soft silence coursed through the house as we ate, save for the sound of chewing or the occasional rattle of a cup or plate which would have been rather peaceful, if not for the question nagging in the head. “So, as much as I appreciate the breakfast,” I began as I finished my meal, “You don’t normally make a habit of breaking into my home. Is something the matter?” Photo Finish shrugged as she took another sip of her tea. “When you first didn’t come back to the fashion show, I didn’t think much of it. I figured that you were out having fun with that blonde pegasus I saw you leave with. But when you didn’t come back for a few hours, I ended up getting worried. You never do well in those types of social situations and since you didn’t come back at all, I assumed something bad happened,” she said. “Since I found you sleeping on your couch next to a half empty beer, I’ll assume I was right to worry.” And just like that my memory clicked into place, with each scene from the previous night playing behind my eyes. In a blur I remembered the fashion show. First, I remembered the wonderful walk I took and the conversation I was a part of. Then, I remembered the closeness to another pony, a closeness I had longed for more so than even I realized. Finally, I remembered Cloud Kicker. My thoughts stopped there, replaying the various expressions Cloud Kicker had worn throughout the night: the playful grin, the sensual smile, the hurt stare. I sighed in annoyance, angry at myself for letting any of that happen at all, and for not letting it continue. I was unsure of which was worse. “Hey, you know I was kidding about you being anti-social, right?” I looked up to meet the very worried gaze of my boss, and internally cringed as I tried to figure out how long I had been spaced out for. “I know” I said finally, deciding that I was probably not lost in thought long enough to cause serious concern. “Sorry, I was just remembering things from last night.” “Care to share?” she asked, to which I shrugged. “Not much to say,” I responded. “I went to the castle gardens with the pony you saw me with. We had fun, we talked, then we got… intimate. And then I remembered what I was doing. I freaked out and ran away.” I sat there awkwardly for a long while before she responded. “So you got intimate with a pony?” she asked. The question caught me off-guard, causing me to blush slightly and nod slowly despite being annoyed about that being the detail she picked up on. And then I waited for a response. “That’s wonderful news!” she exclaimed. “Granted, running away before the real fun was probably not the best thing, but foal steps.” For a second I almost gave in to the impulse to bring my hoof squarely upon my face. After all, it would have covered the massive blush on my face on top of showcasing exactly what I thought about my boss and her priorities. And yet I somehow managed to fight it, instead taking a deep breath before talking. “I almost gave up my secret,” I said wearily. “I almost ruined everything because I was lonely, because I was attracted to that one mare. Everything I’ve worked so hard to hide could have been revealed. I still can’t believe I was so stupid.” I hung my head, feeling a large number of emotions weigh on me. Photo Finish scooted closer to me, a foreleg touching my shoulder, which caused me to prepare for the hug she was about to give me. Then I fell to the floor as she pushed me off my chair. “What was that for?!” I yelled from the floor. I looked up to see my boss’ face, which was currently set in a very amused smirk. “You were being dumb,” she said simply. “I fixed it.” “What are you talking about? You didn’t fix anything! You pushed me onto the floor. I’m lucky I’m not hurt.” She raised her hoof up to her glasses, adjusting them. “The way I figure, you’re no longer calling yourself ‘stupid’ and moping around,” she said, using her hooves to do air-quotes for emphasis. “You’re also not going on about how you have to keep your secret at the expense of being close to others. The way I see it, I fixed things.” She turned back to sip from her tea as I continued to glare up at her from the floor. "Look, I get that you don’t think my secret is that big of a deal,” I said, “But it is. If anypony were to find out, they would-“ “Bah,” she exclaimed, interrupting me. “They would what? Turn on you? Gossip? Let them. You’re better than that. Besides, they wouldn’t be able to lay a hoof on you. I would make sure of that.” “They would ask for my resignation, my entire career would be ruined,” I said. My point was answered by rather stern glare. “Are you implying that I would fire you?” The question stopped me in my tracks. No matter how panicked I became, or how irrational my thoughts could be, there were a few unyielding truths upon which I could always count on - truths that I would never challenge. “You don’t always make all the decisions,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “What if they-“ “Do you think I would let anyone in my company get away with making that suggestion?” she asked interrupting me, a steel like edge coloring her voice. “Do you think I wouldn’t intervene on your behalf?” “No,” I said hesitantly, unable to answer with anything else. She had been the one to find me, to help me present as a mare, to give me a home and a career. And she did it all knowing exactly what I was. “Good,” she responded. “And never forget that.” “But they could boycott,” I said, not feeling like letting the argument die just yet. “They could stop giving you jobs and slander your company because you refuse to get rid of me. Even more so if they found out how much you helped me become myself.” “Then they miss out on my art,” she said, shrugging. “To be honest, I kind of wish that would happen. It would make it easier to see who was worth doing business with.” She took another long sip of tea as I took in my defeat, aware that there was little I could say at this point to change her mind. Still, it felt good to know that she would stick by me if need be, even if she had to make me feel like an idiot each time she showed it. “Still, it’s your secret to keep. Not mine,” she said, adding under breath, “Dumb as it may be.” “Leave it to her to make a fuzz and then brush it off like it was nothing,” I thought, a smile forming on my lips while I made my way back to my seat. As I sat back up, Photo Finish grabbed one of the envelopes from my daily mail pile and placed it in-front of me. “What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I haven’t read it,” she said, after taking a deep sigh. “But from the address I would figure that it’s from your mother. I figured since we’re talking about you keeping your secret, there was no better time to give you this.” I couldn’t help but smile at first as I heard the way she had pronounced the word “mother”. Just the sheer amount of venom packed into those two syllables was enough to cheer me up. It was something I found it endearing, especially considering that she had never asked me to call her mom. She had found me living on the streets off of the scraps I could find and she gave me a home, food, and shelter. Through the years she helped me live my life as a mare, and she has been looking out for me much like a parent would ever since. And yet, she never adopted me or asked me to call her mom, never giving an adequate reason for either, not that I really tried to get one out of her. Maybe she didn’t like the title, or maybe the thought of having a daughter was too awkward for her but, whatever her reasons, it never got in the way of how she treated me or of the distaste she showed whenever my biological mother was mentioned. To me, it showed that Photo Finish was aware and accepting of her role in my life, despite the lack of titles, and that meant more to me than she would ever know. Still, the warmth of the moment could only last for so long, especially considering that I still had that letter to deal with. With great hesitation I opened the envelope addressed to Cotton Candy, taking as long as possible to unfurl the letter held within. Sure enough, my happiness faded as I read through the letter, to the point that all I could do was grunt and sigh in anger and exasperation by the time I was done with it.. "I take it was from her then?” Photo Finish asked. I nodded. “Oh, good,” she said, bitterly. “And what does she want now?” “Same thing she always wants,” I said with a shrug. “She wanted to make sure my payment would not be late like it was last month when we had that bank error. Other than that, it’s the usual threats.” I heard an irritated snort coming from my boss. “And this is exactly why you need to stop hiding. They should not have this much power over you! To think that they’re blackmailing you like this, giving you all the proof you need to get them arrested, and that you are doing nothing! It’s… it’s...” “It’s fine,” I finished for her. “I make more than enough money to pay them off and to live comfortably.” She stood up, pacing for a bit before standing on two legs and motioning around my house. “It’s not fine, Sty!” she exclaimed. “For the amount of work you do and the amount of money you make, you should be living in the center of Canterlot or in a small mansion close to work where you could relax and enjoy your earnings. Instead you live in a one bedroom house in the outskirts of the city while the ponies who left you a foal to die hungry and alone enjoy your earnings. It’s not right!” Her shout echoed through my house, filling the emptiness with her anger. My composure slipped as memories from my foalhood came back, made all the more vivid by my most recent nightmare, meaning it took me a while to calm myself enough to speak. . “I know,” I said once I regained control of my emotions. “I know it’s not right. I know I should have them arrested for blackmail, but doing so would tell everypony what I am. I can’t risk that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Until I can though, this is a price I’m comfortable paying for their silence, even if it means living on only half of what I make.” She took off her glasses and walked to the other side of the table, sitting in front of me. I expected to see anger in her eyes. I expected her to yell at me about how dumb I was being. I expected many things. Instead, all I saw was sadness in her eyes and all I heard was a sigh filled with such heartache, that it resonated through my body. “Do what you want,” she said softly. “It’s your life and your money. Just know that I want to see you happy, and that it pains me to see you go through this because you’re afraid that they will not understand.” I reached out and held her hoof in mine. “I know,” I said. “Thank you.” The ‘mom’ was implied. We sat there in a comfortable silence for a while longer before either of us spoke again. “So, tell me about this mare,” she asked, putting her shades back on. I looked through the rest of my mail, placing my mom’s letter within the stack, before responding. “Not much to tell,” I responded. “As I said, we walked to the garden, she got close, I panicked. Not much more than that.” “You were gone for hours,” Photo Finish said. “You must have learnt something about her.” I took a deep breath, realizing I wasn’t going to get out of talking. “Well, her name is Cloud Kicker,” I began. Photo Finish ‘s features shifted for a split second, in what I was sure was recognition, but she quickly regained her stoic expression. “What else?” “Well, she works as a part of the Ponyville weather team where she lives,” I responded. “She used to be in the military like the rest of her clan before moving away. She has a baby sister… hm.. what else? Um.. She likes sunsets. Oh, and she’s very forward.” “Yea, I bet,” she said under her breath, chuckling as she did so. “So, when’s the next date?” My blush returned full-force, with my groans being masked by the sound of me hitting my face on the counter. “There is no second date,” I managed to mumble through the impact. “And why not?” “Because I ran away and left her in a garden,” I said, raising my voice a bit more than I meant to. “I just told you how stupid I felt for letting her close to me like that. I don’t even know if she ever wants to see me again after the way I treated her.” “Wouldn’t taking her out on a date be a good way to make up for it?” she asked. “Why do you want me to date her?” I asked, feeling irritated. “If you know anything about her, which I assume you do, then you know that she doesn’t ‘date’ anyway. She just hooks up with ponies and leaves them.” “But she made you happy,” she pointed out with a knowing grin. “She made you happy and you let your walls down. I want that for you, even if just for a night.” Something in her voice gave me pause. I thought back to the garden before everything went wrong, remembering the happiness I’d felt, the comfort, the closeness, the intimacy. “Maybe I should give it another go,” I thought to myself. Before I had even finished my thought, however, I happened to glance back down at my mail. The unopened letters hid my mother’s threats from my eyes, but not from my mind. Memories and nightmares flashed through my thoughts. “No, I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t risk it my secret like that again..” I could almost feel her rolling her eyes at me that time. “Whatever. It’s your life,” she said. “So what are you going to do about her? From what I hear she does not give up easily on mares she likes.” “That’s easy,” I said. “She mentioned she was only here for the weekend, which started yesterday. All I have to do is avoid her today and tomorrow, which should be easy enough to do since we have those private fashion shows on both days. Then it’s just a matter of forgetting about her.”