//------------------------------//
// You 
// Story: Four of One 
// by Divide 
//------------------------------//

You




My day is completely and utterly filled with nothing but staring at a blank wall. I do not understand how the idiot does it: He ends up staring at this pathetically bare and uninteresting wall for hours on end, with no care for who visits us or what is happening beyond this godforsaken room.

Ah, but perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. My name is Leth, and I live an intolerable existence.

'But what is so intolerable about it, Leth?'

Thank you for asking. Why, my life is a living Hell because of who I am boarded with and the predicament that we are currently facing. You see, I am the only one here with a sense of urgency—that is, the only one with any sense of urgency who sits in the driver's seat with any regularity. The rest of them should be relegated to backseat driving: I harbour an extreme dislike for them, but wishing their pathetic little aspects away is nothing but a fantasy.

And unlike a fantasy, I am living a nightmare. White-washed and padded walls. A concrete ceiling, painted white, but with not enough paint to cover the small but prevalent holes. Moderately blinding and headache inducing fluorescent lights that shine with a piercing—you guessed it—white light.

Everything is white. I am absolutely exhausted and worn-out by this hue-less colour. I would give nearly anything for a nice, neutral grey or a common beige.

'Why would you not wish for another colour, Leth, such as blue or green?'

First off, let me thank you for refraining from using the same first word in the beginning of your question twice in a row. People who do that aggravate me beyond words.

Pertaining to your question—the reason I do not enjoy any of the more 'vibrant' and 'life-like' colours is because the idiot steals them all. Without knowing it, he has taken all colours and tones from me. I doubt that he is even aware that he embodies greed as well as all the other useless traits.

Oh well. Do you see me complaining about it? I thought not.

Now, on to—

Knock-knock.

...

Excuse me for a moment: I have company, the first that I will have spoken to in a very long time. Chance is fickle, and I have been on the receiving end of its capricious nature for quite a while. I assume that it's only fair for the scales to eventually balance out.

Fair. As if life were fair.

"Enter," I say, then cough directly afterword: my throat feels extremely dry. I suppose there was no reason for it to be used recently; the angry one only mutters and snarls, and the idiot mostly hums his gregarious tunes. Hardly exercise for the vocal chords.

Whomever is on the other side of the door pauses, seemingly surprised: they must be expecting one of the others to be in control. I smile wryly. Like it or not, they are in for a conversation with yours truly.

After the moment's hesitation, the heavy bolts are pulled aside and the white door swings open soundlessly, revealing two silhouetted pony-shaped forms. They walk in, revealing themselves, and I can feel my muscles start to ache as my grin expands: I recognize both of my visitors. Although they look grey to me, the Stetson hat on the earth pony and the hairstyle of the pegasus are both dead giveaways: Applejack and Rainbow Dash have come to see me.

I decide to play a little game with them, to check if they are on the tips of their toes—hooves. Blasted ponies: the nuances a different biology plays in language still catches me, on occasion.

With a purposeful jerky motion, I turn my head to stare at the two ponies directly, giving them my best unblinking stare. I am certain that with my already twisted smile prevalent, my ploy is complete.

"L-Leo?" asks Rainbow Dash, her tone a combination of hope and doubt. "Is that you?"

I say nothing, and continue burning a hole into them with my unending stare.

Quietly, but not in a low enough voice that I could not hear, Applejack says, "Ah don't think that's Leo. This might be somepony new."

Oh, how I abhor that southern drawl. It did not make any sense before, and it still does not now: Why was this atrocious accent relegated solely to the Apple family, and not to any other ponies? Her mannerisms of speaking, combined with her 'truthfulness' and lack of true personality make her my least favourite out of the six ponies that, for whatever reason, continue to visit us.

"I must be losing my touch," I say with disgust, making both ponies jump. "Once upon a time—I loathe that term, yet it still applies—I could have convinced the supreme ruler of Equestria that I was the idiot, and she would be none the wiser. Instead, my ruse falls apart before you two. How far I have fallen."

Their looks of curiosity change to poorly disguised contempt. "Oh," sighs Rainbow Dash. "It's you."

"I have a name, you know. Or have you forgotten? I apologize: Perhaps I will use smaller words to better suit your intelligence level." I flash Rainbow Dash my trademark smile, and she nearly loses it then and there.

"Easy there, Dash," Applejack says in a placating tone while simultaneously holding Rainbow Dash with a foreleg—the pegasus looks ready to pounce upon me. If she was a dragon, gusts of fire would be roiling out of her nostrils. "Remember that they all share a body: No matter how much ya'll hate one of 'em, they all pay for it equally."

I chuckle darkly. "Oh, yes. We all pay."

With shakes of their heads, Applejack and Rainbow Dash turn to leave.

"Where do you think you are going?" I call.

Rainbow Dash pauses and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes are burning with pain, hatred, and loss. She says with a dead voice, "Home. We're going home. There's no reason for us to visit with you here.

"Maybe if you would go away, things would get better," Rainbow Dash continues. Her voice begins to rise in volume. "I know that you're part of the problem, Leth. I know it's you whispering defeat in his ear. Hay, for all I know, you're the one who broke him in the first place."

She shuts her eyes and looks away, but not before I see the tears running down her cheeks. How adorable.

Applejack consoles her, and together they move towards the exit. Right before they slam the door shut, I say something that he would say commonly, in his voice.

"Have a good day, Dash."

The door closes with a resounding clang, and the locks slide into place, enclosing me once more. I briefly ponder the loss of conversation, but I get over it quickly.

I have myself to communicate with.

'You do?'

I smile.

Of course: After all, it is just me, myself, and I.

If only my hand—hoof, dammit!—didn't ache with searing pain, I would almost be comfortable...