The Artist

by P-Berry

Chapter 7

Fresh Coat … hated me.

That was the last clear memory I had for quite a while.

I don’t remember falling to my knees in front of her door, more out of sheer hopelessness than sadness. I don’t remember eventually making my way back home, knowing that nothing would await me there but an empty apartment with a neglected drawing pad. I don’t remember stumbling into my hallway, collapsing on my sofa, and lying there for … well … for longer than what would have been healthy, really.

The following days were all just one massive blur to me. I lived off what little food was left in my fridge, continued to more or less successfully ignore my drawing pad silently collecting dust, and pretty much didn’t do anything other than lying on my sofa day and night, wallowing in self-pity, wishing I was back at my parents’ place, long before I had to deal with things like work, feelings, or mares.

I was homesick, heartbroken, and on the verge of bankruptcy.

Mother of Celestia, it wasn’t a good time back then. I hated Fresh Coat for rejecting me like this, hated Manehattan for making us meet in the first place, but most of all I hated myself for being so damn stupid!

Seriously, all I had to do was join her in the shower all those weeks ago. We would have fucked, fallen in love, had a hundred foals, and lived happily ever after, right?

Right?

Well, in retrospect I see how ridiculous that sounds, but it were exactly these thoughts that were holding me awake those nights. Thinking about what had happened, what was going to happen, but most importantly what would have happened if…

If I hadn’t met her in the first place; if I had accepted her offer for shower sex; if I had waited for her to get back to me after waking up in the hospital; or if I simply hadn’t opened the door that fateful night at Cinnamon’s place.

I would be happy; she would be happy. It would all be good now.

But it wasn’t. I was feeling shittier than I ever had, being all alone, condemned to live a life as a loveless loner because I had squandered my chance with the only mare that had ever truly liked me.

Really, I had hit rock bottom. And it wasn’t nice.

But Celestia damn me if I wouldn’t do it all over again in the blink of an eye.

Because as much as those days devastated me on both, a mental, but also a physical level -spending days on your couch and eating nothing but junkfood isn’t that healthy- they ultimately led to things ending the way they did.

And boy, with how they ended, I surely was in no position to complain.

But first things first, it was a Thursday afternoon, exactly four days after I had last spoken with Fresh Coat, when I was once again lounging on my sofa, thinking about how much I hated myself for the twentieth time, when I noticed something.

From that angle at the very end of my sofa, I could look through the doorframe into my hallway. And there, situated right next to the door, hanging from a nail I remember all too well driving into the wall, I suddenly found a purpose.

Slowly, my eyes never leaving the object, I arose from the sofa, slowly making my way through my pearly white living room and into the hallway, where I stopped in front of it.

'Paradise - by Fresh Coat'

Looking at the painting that had basically saved me all those weeks ago, I could feel the cogwheels in my head begin to turn.

Slowly, carefully, I leaned forward, placing two hooves on either side of the painting and carefully taking it off the wall.

Gradually, the dots in my head connected, and I could feel the weakest of smiles appear on my face as a literal lightbulb lit up over my head.

Yes, this wouldn’t cause her to suddenly fall for me.

And yes, I probably had blown all my chances I had ever had with her.

However, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t put my time and efforts to good use and help out a struggling artist.

Right?

---

About an hour later, I was back on the streets of Manehattan after what felt like an eternity spent isolated in my apartment. Rolled up and hidden safely in a saddlebag on my back, I was carrying the reason why I had come here.

Lifting my head and looking around, I scanned the surrounding businesses. I was in a fairly decent neighborhood, with parks and small stores on either side of the road. And to my very relief, up ahead I spotted the entrance to what still looked like a rather fancy restaurant.

Breathing out a sigh of relief now that I had gotten the way here right, I tried to clear my thoughts, getting my words out and ready.

I had to recall to myself a couple of times that this was indeed not some elaborate plan to get Fresh Coat back, and that I was indeed just trying to do a service for an underappreciated artist - a friend, at best.

So why couldn’t I drown out that little spark of hope in my mind that told me that she would simply take me back after all this?

Really, I didn’t know. And I tried not to think too much about it. Get things done now, worry about my own feelings later.

With that resolution in mind, I banned the beige unicorn mare from my mind as good as possible and stepped towards the door, only for it to be opened as somepony stepped outside.

Only by containing myself could I hold back a surprised gasp.

It took me a few seconds -longer than I would care to admit- to once again realize that the light cream-colored unicorn mare was indeed not Fresh Coat, but the pony I was here for. Her formal waiter’s uniform had been replaced by … well, by nothing. She wasn’t wearing anything, which, at least to my eyes, made her look even more like Fresh Coat.

“S-Silver Platter?” I asked as she came walking through the door, lifting her head as she noticed me.

“Oh hey, uh … Blank Slate, right?” she asked, her face lighting up a bit more than what must have been normal for most ponies, “How ya doing?”

I couldn’t contain a bristle as my mind once again blindly assumed it was Fresh Coat talking to me.

“I’m … I’m good.” I managed to reply, “Actually, I’m here because I wanted to talk with you. … Ask you a favor, actually.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

“It’s, uhm…” I hesitated, tilting my head into the direction of the makeshift parcel I was carrying with me, “It’s a bit of a longer story. Could we go inside?”

“Sure!” Silver Platter replied unhesitatingly, prompting me to go inside with a gentle motion of her head towards the door, “We’re doing some renovations at the moment, but as long as you don’t mind some … paint…” she fell silent just as I had opened the door and peeked my head inside.

My breath caught in my throat.

Right ahead of me, her back facing me, focused on painting the dark red wall in front of her with a light cream color, she was.

Fresh Coat. In all her glory.

She was back in her everyday apparel - her mane dun in a big bun, the trashed ballcap sitting atop her hat, and that casual, easy-going grin on her face that had rendered me speechless so many times.

Hell, I could feel my legs going weak just from seeing her.

And this time, I was sure, it was not because her painting-stance revealed her still impressive backside.

“Back again, Silver?” I could hear her ask without turning her head, “I hope you got that new bucket of paint, I’m almost out.”

Mother of Celestia.

I could feel my legs wanting to give in, breathing becoming shallow, and heart pounding like crazy.

Just … just from hearing her voice, I would feel myself want to … want to-

I held back a gasp as I was grabbed by a hoof and pulled back outside before Fresh Coat could spot me.

“Hey!” Silver Platter hissed a bit sharply, “I said, it might be better if she doesn’t see you. I wasn’t there to see what happened between you two, and I’m in no position to judge, but I know her, and I know it’s better to leave her alone at certain points.”

I looked at her blankly, only slowly recovering from what still felt like a minor heart attack.

“So what’s up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I, uh…” I muttered, my mind still absent, until I shook my head and focused on her again, “Uh, yeah. About that favor…” I hesitated, my mind bringing out last-minute doubts about whether this was a good idea. But looking at the curious glance at Silver Platter, I knew that pulling out now would probably only cause trouble.

So I slowly, hesitantly, slipped off my saddlebag, placed it on the ground in front of me and opened it.

“You said you had a thing for art, right?” I asked without looking up from my bag.

“Uh, yeah.” Silver replied, a little confused, as she spotted the scroll in my bag, “Why’d you ask?”

“I … have something I was hoping you could help me with.” I explained as I pulled it out, stripping off the rubber band used to keep it together, “I have this … painting, which I’m hoping to get out there.” I unwrapped the painting, presenting it to her, “Is there any chance you … you know … know someone?”

“Oh?” Silver Platter said, cocking an eyebrow, her look resting on me, “I didn’t know you were an artist. Cinnamon said-”

But she fell silent as she finally lowered her glance, and her eyes took in the picture I was holding up.

“Wait.” she said sharply, her eyes widening in surprise, “Where … where’d you get that?”

“I … bought it.” I said, giving her the elevator pitch of how I bought the painting at that art fair a few years back.

“That…” she stuttered, her eyes blinking with disbelief, “That’s Fresh Coat’s!” she declared wide-eyed, and for a moment I was afraid she’d accuse me of stealing it. The cream-colored mare closed her eyes, reflecting, “I saw it hanging in her room like … five years ago. That was one of the first things she's ever painted. She always seemed pretty proud of it, but then all of a sudden wouldn’t stop saying that it’s crap and eventually just said she’d tossed it.”

I nodded, listening to her explanation in attentive silence.

She smirked, nodding into my direction as I re-wrapped the painting so as to not get any dirt on it. “Kinda funny that it ended up with you though. But how come you-”

She silenced, her eyes widening abruptly as she seemed to count one and one together. “Oooh.” she said, looking at the restaurant’s entrance door next to her, “Ooooooh.” she repeated herself, looking at Fresh Coat’s painting, before her gaze finally came to rest on me and she produced another one of these smug grins, “You’re a fox, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing what she was on to. “Look, it’s not what you think it is. I know I’ve blown my chance with her, and she said herself that there’s nothing I could do for her to take me back, but…” I sighed, feeling my heart sink. “Really, I just want to see her happy. She’s got talent, and deserves better than to spend her lifetime painting random idiots’ homes. ... No offense.”

A moment of silence passed as Silver Platter just looked at me, and slowly, a smile formed on her face. “You’re a sweetie. You know that?”

I could feel my face turn red at that. “I … I just want to-”

“It’s alright.” Silver Platter cut me off gently, “I’ll see what I can do.” she said, taking the wrapped painting off my hooves with her magic, “But I can’t make any promises.”

“Alright.” I replied briefly, “Just … please don’t tell her I was here. I don’t want to seem like a creep.”

“No worries.” Silver said, finally producing a smile, “I’ll make sure she won’t notice.”

“Thanks.” I said, finally managing to smile as well, “I owe you one.”

---

A few days later, walking into a small diner sitting aside one of Manehatten’s busiest main roads came a fully restored-looking, smiling unicorn mare with a ballcap.

Taking a deep breath of the lightly waffle-scented air, Fresh Coat smiled, and walked over to one of the stalls with a spring in her step, humming a happy melody as she sat down.

It didn’t take longer than a few moments before the head waitress came walking from behind the counter and stopped in front of her, a casual smile on her face.

“Hey Fresh.” she greeted her customer and friend briefly, “How are things?”

“Hey Cinnamon!” Fresh Coat returned the greeting gushingly, a cheerful smile on her face, “Sure has been a while, huh? Feels like forever to me! Anyway, I’m doing good. Great, actually. I’m doing great! I’ve never felt better!” she assured her friend, grinning broadly.

The mature mare silently looked at the widely grinning Fresh Coat for a few moments, then gave a sigh, closed her eyes and shook her head.

“What?” the still smiling unicorn mare asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Fresh, please.” Cinnamon said dryly, shaking her head again, “You’re better than that.”

“What are you talking about!?” Fresh Coat asked, seeming legitimately confused now, “I told you I’m fine! I’m doing better than ever!”

“Fresh Coat.” Cinnamon said again, a little more determined this time, and lowered herself onto the bench opposite to her. Locking eyes with her, she asked, “How long have you known me now?”

Raising an eyebrow but still not stopping her grinning, Fresh Coat tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? I’m fine, I told you!”

“Fresh Coat.” the waitress said again, her voice getting sterner, her eyes never leaving the grinning unicorn mare. “Listen. I was there when you were born. I changed your messy diapers, I watched you take your first steps, I walked you to your first date!” she explained, gently knocking her hoof on the table to underline her statement. Pausing for a second to let her words sink in and gaining nothing but a confused look from Fresh Coat, she continued, “So don’t think you can fool me. Don’t even try.”

Shaking her head, Fresh Coat wanted to protest, “B-but I’m-”

“Quit it.” Cinnamon cut her off sternly, “I can read you like a book, Fresh Coat. Hell, any idiot could see that you’re in denial!”

“I…”

“Look…” Cinnamon said, rolling her eyes, “Let me break it down for you. I can tell a mile off that there’s something eating away at you. And if you wanna talk about it, I’m right here.”

“I…” Fresh Coat said again, her smile slowly vanishing and a look of desperation more and more spreading across her face, “B-but I’m fine! I’m telling you, I’m-”

“Let me say that again.” Cinnamon added slowly, almost menacingly, “You can either talk about it, or get your sorry butt outta here.” At her friend’s appalled look, she added, “I’m serious. I want to help you, and I’m always here if you want to talk, but I can’t stand watching you sit here, trying to fool yourself.” She knocked her hoof against the table again, “So spit it out, or get outta here.”

“I, uh…” Fresh Coat muttered, hesitating, fidgeting with her hooves as she fought with herself, but then let out a heavy sigh and looked down. “I … I’m not okay. This whole thing with Blank, it’s just…”

She gave a brief sigh, looking up at Cinnamon with begging eyes, but gaining nothing but a nod and a brief, “I’m listening.”

“I mean … he hurt me.” she admitted ruefully, “But … but I still can’t stop … thinking about him. I mean, he came to apologize to me, and I sent him away, and I was sure it was the right thing to do, but ever since then…” she gave an exasperated sigh, her face turning red, eyes wetting, “He just … just won’t get out of my head!” she paused for a second, looking up at her friend, who just nodded with an understanding look.

“I mean, what if sending him away was the wrong decision? What if I ruined any and all chances I might have ever had with him? Or what if I … hurt him like … like he hurt me?” she cut herself off, quickly shaking her head, clearing her thoughts, “I mean, I like him, I really, really do, and I’d love to be together with him, but … but what if he’ll … he’ll …”

She cut herself off, her tearish eyes seeking contact with those of her seating partner.

“Hmm…” Cinnamon said after a brief moment, giving a reflecting sigh. Then, finally, she looked up. “Wanna hear my advice?”

“Yes!” Fresh Coat affirmed with wide eyes, her face lightening up, “Yes, please.”

“Alright.” the waitress replied, taking in a short breath, “There’s only one thing you should do at this point, and I can promise it’ll make things a lot easier.”

“What is it?” Fresh Coat asked with a hopeful look.

“Get your head out of your ass!” Cinnamon snarled, seeming legitimately angry for a moment. Fresh Coat flinched, looking at her with eyes widened in shock.

“I’m serious!” the mature mare confirmed, “He loves you and you love him! It’s that simple!" she proclaimed, knocking her hoof on the table, "All you gotta do is…” she clenched her teeth, “Just do it! Quit fussing around! He won’t be here forever!”

“But … but what if he’ll-”

“Yes, what if he would!?” Cinnamon countered fiercely, seeming fed up with her friend’s whining. “You’d be down for a few days, eat a tub of ice cream and then get back to your hooves. Heartbreaks happen, breakups happen. How many ponies here in Manehattan do you think are heartbroken right now?” she shook her head for a brief moment, her eyes widening as she continued, “But what if he won’t!? What if he’s the one for you!? What if, in forty years, you’ll be looking back to this day and thinking ‘Well golly, I shoulda listened to that old hag instead of just burying my head in the sand and pretending everything’s fine all those years ago!’ What are you gonna do then, huh?”

A moment of silence passed, and Cinnamon calmed down before she locked eyes with Fresh Coat again and added, “You can’t turn back time, Fresh Coat. Trust me, I’ve made my fair share of bad decisions in my lifetime, and still, if there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s that we only regret the things we don’t do. Because, even if a no might feel like a punch to the face for a second, it’s still better than having uncertainty eat away at you for years on end.” she closed her eyes, giving a brief sigh. “Trust me, that was a hard lesson for me to learn.”

Another moment of silence passed. Fresh Coat continued to just stare at her friend in awestruck silence as the mature mare slowly composed herself again and started another attempt. “Look, just imagine what would happen if he’d come through that door right now with another mare by his side. How would you react?” she asked with a sinister look.

“I … I don’t think I... “ Fresh Coat stuttered, a look of worry forming on her pale face. “I … I think I’d…”

“Yeah. You’d hate yourself. You’d hate yourself for not doing what you could have done when you could have done it!”

“And … and what am I supposed to do?” the painter asked cautiously.

“Hell, after all I just said, do I really need to tell you?” Cinnamon asked with a serious look, “Go get him!” she shouted, pointing a hoof at the diner’s exit door. “The longer you wait, the smaller your chances will be. So don’t squander it! Get yourself out there, find him and make amends!”

Still visibly baffled, but stunned by her friend’s commanding tone, Fresh Coat hesitantly obeyed, arising from her seat.

“Go!” Cinnamon shouted again, making Fresh Coat give a short jump and briskly walk over to the door.

“T-thank you…” Fresh Coat muttered timidly as she slowly opened the door.

“You can thank me when the two of you are married.” Cinnamon retorted dryly, but couldn’t contain the thinnest of smiles on her face. “Now go and get him!”

---

This was it!

Yes, this was it!

This was destiny. This was the point in her story when things would take a drastic turn; when she would come back to the pony she loved; when he would take her into his arms, kiss her, and make it all okay.

She would see Blank Slate - hug him, explain it all to him. She would apologize, he would apologize. He would embrace her; hold her tight; tell her that everything would be okay.

And he would be right. Because with him by her side, she was sure ... she was positive that it’d all be okay from now on.

Yes, this was the point. The point where her ... where her very own, personal happy ending would begin.

At least, this was what she kept telling herself as she lay in her bed, sobbing, burying her face in her already tear-stained pillow.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn't go and see him.

Because he didn't love her.

At least not after she had sent him away.

Finally something she was sure of.

Hell, she could still hear the sound of his heart breaking as she had shut the door on him. Why; why in the world should he give her another chance?

Just to think ... if he would come back to her, asking for a second chance ... hell, she'd probably knock out two of his teeth. One for leaving her standing like this, and another one for having the audacity to come crawling back to her after all he had done!

A shudder ran through her body.

She had gone from sufferer to punisher. The mental image of her sitting in her room, devastated beyond repair the day after her almost-wedding was now replaced by one of Blank Slate in a similar situation - only that now she was the villain of the piece.

She had sent him away; she had broken his heart ... and she would be the one to blame if he'd jump off a skyscraper tomorrow.

Fresh Coat clenched her teeth, another shudder shaking her body.

That thought had struck a nerve.

But all this … all this had been wishful thinking; from the very beginning. The mere thought that somepony could be having these kinds of feelings for her … it was just plain stupid! All this was stupid!

Who could love somepony like her, anyway? Hell, past experiences had shown all too clearly how utterly incapable of being in a healthy relationship she was! For crying out loud, her fiancé had left her standing in front of the altar; if that wasn’t a clear sign that she just wasn’t destined to find love, then what was?

She sobbed again, her hooves digging into the mattress.

Fuck! All this was just … so unfair! Why did life have to be so goddamn hard!? She never asked for this! Any of this! It all used to be so easy!

When had she gone from being that cheerful, motivated and confident art-student to … whoever it was that was lying in her bed right now?

When had it all began going downhill?

She closed her eyes, taking in a long, deep breath, then opened them again, looking up at her ceiling.

Oh Celestia, what she’d give to have somepony to comfort her now. A … buck, maybe? Someone who had moved here not too long ago. Maybe a certain type of … architect?

Fresh Coat cringed, her face screwing up as the memory of Blank Slate returned, and she was once again reminded that ... well, that he was gone.

No, not that he was gone. That she; she and nopony else, had sent him away when he had come to apologize.

And she was the only one to blame for being alone now.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over on her bed.

Truly, words could not express how much she hated herself in that second.

However, as fate willed, it was in exactly this second that the telltale sound of a knock on her door echoed through her apartment, and made her ears perk up.

---

A couple of days had passed since I had met up with Silver Platter.

Now I was back in front of that all too familiar apartment door, tightly holding on to the small, white envelope I had found in my mailbox earlier this day. Having opened and read it the second I had seen it, I had to contain myself not to jump with joy at the message that was inside.

And looking up at the door ahead of me, I knew I was hoping for a similar reaction from the pony I was about to face.

Of course, there was a chance this would only make things worse, but even in that case, I cherished a little bit of hope that, after that, it’d be over once and for all; that she’d be off my mind for good after one final rebuff.

But I shook my head. Positive thoughts was what I needed; no more doom-mongering until I had received a clear no from her.

With that, I slowly raised a shaking hoof, and knocked against the door. My heart rate had increased gradually, and I could feel it reach a new high point as I heard steps coming closer; steps that already sounded a good bit … healthier than those I had heard the last time I was here.

For just a second, I felt my mind overwhelmed with doubts just as the steps stopped.

I … I couldn’t do this! She would hate me! She … she would never take this the right way! She would refuse me; she would-

But just as I was about to turn around and make a run for the exit, the door slowly slid open, and looking back at me was a Fresh Coat that looked only marginally better since last time I had stood here. Her appearance didn’t look quite as unkempt anymore, though that empty look and the weary eyes were still there.

This time however, I was partly surprised, partly relieved to see that, upon seeing me, her face didn’t turn into a grimace of annoyance or disgust, but merely one of surprise, as her eyes widened dramatically, and she stared back at me like a deer in the headlights.

“B-Blank?” she stuttered disbelievingly, seeming to hardly believe it herself.

“L-look, hear me out please! Please!” I sputtered out, her mere presence still managing to baffle me after all this time. “I promise I won’t bother you for long!”

“W-what … what are you…” she muttered, seeming to have trouble speaking, “What are you doing here?”

Again, I was expecting her to turn sour and kick me out any second now, but she still seemed like she could hardly believe that it was me standing here.

“I … I…” I stuttered helplessly for a few moments, before finally producing that white envelope and holding it out to her in a trembling hoof in a vain attempt to play it cool. “I ... I got this in the mail the other day. T-thought it might interest you.”

Still wide-eyed, Fresh Coat looked at my outstretched hoof for a long moment, then back up to me, and for a second I was worried she might not want to participate in whatever games I appeared to be playing with her and simply send me away.

However, I gave a mental jump of joy as her horn lit up, and her magic took the envelope from my hoof. “I … I … you…” she muttered as she opened the envelope, pulling out the paper inside, “I … I was just about to … to..."

She slowly fell silent as I watched her eyes travel over the thick, fancy piece of paper. Of course, I had read it before, so I knew what it said.

It seemed Silver Platter had really made an effort for her cousin. The letter confirmed that a small art gallery -whose name I kept forgetting- in lower Manehattan had received my submission, and would be more than happy to display it for the general public - a small financial reward included. It also said that the gallery will gladly have a look at any further submissions from this still unknown artist, should she ever want to share more of her art with the world.

I watched the disbelief on Fresh Coat’s face gradually vanish, replaced by confusion as she read the letter a second and third time, then looked back up at me, as the confusion was replaced by even more disbelief.

“What did you … did you…” she muttered; her look went back to the letter, then the penny finally dropped and her eyes widened - of course, she knew there was only one thing I could have submitted.

“No.” she gasped unbelievingly, “No you did not.”

Despite my nervousness as I couldn’t anticipate her reaction, I couldn’t help but allow the smallest of grins form on my face.

“I did.”

“You … you did…” Fresh Coat gasped again, shaking her head with what I hoped was disbelief and not anger. “I … I … I can’t-”

“I do care about you, Fresh Coat.” I said, gently so as to not overwhelm her, “I know you have potential you’re not using, and I want to see you out there.” I swallowed, feeling my mouth going rogue as it continued to talk without my mind’s blessing.

“We both know that painting walls isn’t what you’re meant to do. You have potential, and you’re not using one bit of it right now.” I bit my lip, trying to stop my mouth from saying that next part, but it was already too late.

“I care a lot about you. I know you think I don’t, but I do. And it’s tearing me apart seeing you squander your life doing something you don’t want to do just because somepony may have once told you that your art is bad. There will always be critics, but the worst you can do is stop drawing because of them. That’s not what being an artist is about!”

A short period of silence followed as my words faded, and I shook my head, finally getting a hold of my mouth again.

“Really, that’s all I wanted to tell you.” I said briefly, looking at Fresh Coat who was still looking back at me with a thousand-yard-stare, her breathing ragged and shallow. “You told me to follow my dreams, no matter what, during that night at the bar, now I’m telling you to do the same. You only have this one life; don’t waste it doing something you don’t want to do.”

With that, I had said all I wanted to say, and slowly turned around. I didn’t know what she would think of me now, but I had done what I wanted to do - my conscience was clean.

“B-Blank.” I could hear her weak, trembling voice speak up behind me, and turned back. What I saw was … surprising, to say the least.

Fresh Coat was crying. And assuming grandpa’s lessons in Mares 101 hadn’t completely failed their purpose, I was sure these weren’t tears of anger or pain she was crying.

“I … I…” she gasped between more and more sobs breaking forth, “I’m so sorry! I … all this time you’ve been trying to show me- ... and I just … just …” she fell silent, losing herself in muffled sobs.

A few moments of silence passed, and I was fighting with the desire to go ahead and give her a hug - by all means, it seemed and felt like the right thing to do, but knowing Fresh Coat, that might just end up dooming whatever it was I was working towards here.

However, a few seconds later, Fresh Coat finally got a hold of herself again, wiped her face with a hoof, and looked back up again.

“I’m … I’m sorry. I … lost myself a bit there.” again, she shook her head, taking in a deep breath, “It’s just that … I was just about to see you and…” she gave a sigh, hesitating for a moment before gently shoving her door wider open with a back hoof.

“I ... really think we should- … I mean, I would like to talk. ... W-with you.” she said, timid like I had never seen her before. “C-could you- … I mean, would you like to … come inside?”

Author's Note:

Hitting the home stretch!

Comments

[The Blessed One]

You know, for all his flailing and indecisive actions, I have to give Blank Slate the medal for courage. The guy has no quit in him, and even when he thinks he does, his subconscious won't allow it to stand for very long. It actually very impressive to watch his character development more and more, which the fact that it isn't finished doing so this far into the story shows how deep his soul really is. (And how amazing his Author is )

Fresh Coat's reminds me of my older sister at some points... Bleh. It's like Cinnamon said: You'll only regret what you don't do. You get hurt by your ambition? So what! The only time a mortal can really fail at anything in life is when they stop trying. Be it love or war, (And those two have a remarkable amount of similarities for how different they supposedly are) you can't let a single defeat stop you from trying again, no matter the pain or fear of another failure.

But, I'm rambling now. Getting closer to the end here is bringing out my retired reviewer personality. I guess what I wanted to say overall was how brilliant the character development has been here. I don't think I've ever seen better then this, and I've seen a lot. Not only that, but this fiction has had a very good moral to it, it taught a lesson as much as it told a story whilst still being that, a story.

I was going to save my praise for the end, but this chapter really just brought out everything good you (And Donut early on) have done with this. This has been a pleasure to read, P-Berry, and thank you very much for finishing it.

[Interdimensional cable34]

Wooop!

[P-Berry]

8559448
Fair enough. If I remember correctly, including the painting was added as a rather spontaneous idea shortly before we finished that chapter. I agree that having Blank Slate mention it before would have been a nice addition, though.
As for 8565718 Yeah, I agree that sort of confrontation is quite a cliché in literature (and any other form of media, really), but frankly, it just seemed like the most obvious choice on how to disrupt whatever confrontation was going on between Blank and Fresh Coat, seeing how she was just about to dump him.
8560240
Man, you just keep brightening up my day with every comment you leave. I'm not even kidding.
I'll try to keep this short, but I'll admit, I'm a little surprised myself looking at how far this story has come. Hell, I never thought we could pull of a sequel to The Painter (as seen in a a message I sent to MadDonut a bit more than a year ago), but well, here we are, looking at what I consider to be one of the most serious and deep stories I've ever had the pleasure of working on.
But seriously, everyone who likes this story should go ahead and thank MadDonut for coming up with the subject of a sequel (and kicking my lazy ass too many times to count) in the first place.
I'm working on the final chapter at the moment, but looking at the expectations it needs to live up to, I feel like editing might take a little longer.
But once again, thank you so much for your kind words!

[Grif_Bladefeather]

i still; have to point out considering she has the details the 'he hurt me' line is selfish and hollow, kinda wish cinnamon had been mare enough to point it out.