Prologue, 3rd POV

Prologue:

He was absent today. Her best friend was gone for the day, and Fluttershy couldn’t be sadder. She had her five other friends, and she held them ever so dearly to her heart, but she had nearly no classes with any of them. The only one she had with any of them was in math. Her friend Twilight Sparkle sat behind her to the right. But it’s math; the class Twilight was always the most into. When they talked, if ever, Twilight would be mostly focused on her studies.

The bell rings, cutting off Ms. Cheerilee’s lecture. The math teacher quickly scrambled to mention the test in a few days. Fluttershy let a small smile grace her cheeks as she nodded in understanding. She had always been a sort of favorite of Cheerilee’s. Fluttershy placed her pink bag over her back and put her chair on the desk. She proceeded to leave the classroom.

As she walked through the halls, she listened in on some other conversations. She’d been raised not to eavesdrop, but the students were talking so loudly anyway; she couldn’t ignore if she tried. They talked of the latest football game, of relationships, and their stuuupid parents. Suddenly, Fluttershy felt a rumble on her left thigh. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was him. Her best friend. She quickly opened the message.

“Out yet?”

“I just got out.”

She sent the message and put the phone in her jacket pocket. She was always fascinated by the current technology. She was raised on much more traditional ways of communicating; letters, wall-phones, or traveling to the person. She was certainly jaded to modern tech. The front doors finally came into sight and Fluttershy could once again see the light of the spring day. She stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. This was always Fluttershy’s favorite season. The cool air, the new baby animals, all of it was simply amazing.

Fluttershy walked back to the school wall. She turned to face the road and leaned against the red brick. Most days, she’d walk a half-mile to a nearby parking garage where she waited for her mom to get off break. But today and tomorrow, her mom had to work a different shift, meaning she had to pick her up from school. She’d drop Fluttershy off at home, then get to work. Now she just had to wait a few minutes for her mom to get here.

The phone buzzed again.

“Sweet. You still coming to my place tomorrow?” Fluttershy smiled. She always loved going to his house. He had a certain. . . air about him. Like nothing could weigh him down. Like he could always persevere. He was like her friend Pinkie Pie if he was a whole lot more reserved. He always found a way to make Fluttershy laugh so hard she’d cry. He always found a way to make her smile. To make her feel good. To make her enjoy his company.

And he did it all without saying a single word.

He was mute. But hell if he wasn’t one of the happiest people Fluttershy knew. He had his moments, like last week, when his cousin Raindrops’ boyfriend cheated on her. He threatened to pound the guy into the dirt. He gets serious when he needs to be.

“Definit,” Fluttershy began to type. She was interrupted by a hand reaching into her view and snatching her phone away. She half expected to find her friend Rainbow Dash in front of her. She liked to do that from time to time. But sadly, it was not her friend. It was Sunset Shimmer, the biggest egotist in the entire universe, as far as Fluttershy was concerned. She had the biggest smuggest grin on her face.

“’Sup Flutters,” she said with lidded eyes. Fluttershy slid down the wall a tiny bit.

“U-Um. . . Nothing,” she said, nearly whispering. “C-Could I have that back please?”

“In a sec. I’m just curious.” Shimmer leaned against the wall and bumped Fluttershy’s shoulder. She flicked her thumb over the screen a few times. “‘You wanna go see that movie Thursday?’ ‘Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’” Shimmer said in a squeaky voice, doing her best impression of Betty Boop. “‘You still comin’ over to my place tomorrow?’” Fluttershy blushed harder and sank down more. Shimmer started to laugh. “Oh my god! You guys are totally doing it! Ha!” She let out a few more barks before standing in front of Fluttershy, her shadow casting over the pale girl. “You little skank. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. No one. Likes. You. He’s usin’ you, Flutters. Face it. You’re worthless.”

A tear formed in Fluttershy’s eye. “I have lots of friends. . .”

“What, like, five?” She flicked her thumb a few more times. “Where are all the texts then?”

“I don’t text them often. . .” Once again, Shimmer began to laugh.

“You are so worthless! You and your little mute butt-buddy better stop with the whoring. You’re making everyone throw up. Your stupid face was bad enough.”

The bus a few feet away started up and the doors closed, the last students piling in. Shimmer chuckled and began to stroll over to the bus.

“You won’t be needing this, will you?” And with that, she flicked the phone under the bus and walked into the school. Fluttershy watched in horror as the big yellow machine moved forward, her phone disappearing under the tire. As the last bus rolled away, she ran over and retrieved the silver device. Only a few scratches were on it. The tire must have nudged it to the side, just barely missing it. Fluttershy thanked god.

Tears still in her eyes, she pulled up her hood. Looking up, she saw her mom’s small red minivan turn into the parking lot. Her phone vibrated once more.

“Flutters?”

That tear rolled down her face as she pressed reply.

“Maybe.”

If Only, 2nd POV

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If I Could

“. . . So, if you take the probability of Y into account, you will find the answer to X. But before that, you must factor in the probability of blah blah blah math stuff yadda yadda yadda. . .”

You struggle to keep your eyes open as Ms. Cheerilee lectures you and the class about some stupid math crap. To be honest, you couldn’t follow it if you tried, so why bother trying? You currently lie with your head in your semi-folded arms on your desk. Your eyelids feel as though they weigh a hundred pounds each. Every time you try to sit up and at least look like you’re paying attention, the world proceeds to spin and darken, leaving you to lie back down.

Doesn’t everyone hate Mondays?

It’s last period, but you still feel like it’s five a.m. The fact that you’re still getting over a nasty cold from yesterday isn’t helping. You look over to your right. Your friend, Twilight Sparkle, listens intently to the lecture. She always had a fascination with math. And science. And history. Literally an obsession with school itself, for reasons you could never understand. To your left is your cousin Raindrops. She gazes out the window, her mind obviously elsewhere. Of course, her mind is almost always elsewhere. Behind you is the leader of the sports team, Spitfire. In front of you is a long, soft pink head of hair that belongs to the girl named Fluttershy.

To be honest, your little crush for her was never really. . . well, little. Ever since fourth grade, you’ve harbored a secret love for her. How could you not? She’s one of the sweetest, kindest, most caring people you’ve ever had the immense pleasure to know. You've been friends with her for a while now, sometimes meeting up to have lunch, or go see a movie; things good friends do. She puts others before herself every minute of every day. She tends to those in need, and offers to give further support to those who aren't. Thing is, she’s also one of the quietest, shyest people you’ve ever met. Most of her downtime is spent at home, either sipping tea or something or tending to her many animal friends. She’s as pale as a ghost, due to not spending a huge amount of time in the sun. She has a short, meek frame, due to not having the opportunity to work out or be active much. She often hides behind hoods, or her long angel-like hair. She seems to enjoy your company about as much as you enjoy hers. Well, maybe not that much, but still. She lets out a good laugh when you’d do something comical, or tell her a funny joke.

Of course, you don’t exactly ‘tell’ jokes like other people.

Reaching into the pocket of your jacket, you pull out your small notebook and pencil. Opening the book, you see conversation after conversation in writing, all your dialogue.

Flutters
“He did what?! Ha!
It can’t be that bad.
Oh really?
Then I’m glad it worked out for you.
Lol.
That. Was. Awesome! I really can’t wait for the sequel.
I'll see ya later. I gotta go see Raindrops.
For sure.”

Raindrops.
“You’re joking.
You’re not joking, are you?
How long did he say?
What?!
Where is he?
Yes I am, Rain. He can’t treat you like this.
All I want is to protect you.
I’m sorry.”

You remember these conversations like they just happened. The first one was at the movies, when that one giant robot movie came out. It scared poor Fluttershy half to death, but she seemed to enjoy it by the end. The second was just afterwards. Raindrops’ boyfriend of two and a half years was found to be cheating on her with some other girl. Sunset Shitter or something like that. You wanted so badly to put that jerk in the dust, but she didn’t want it to get out of control.

You weren’t always mute. When you were nine, you were in a horrible accident involving a Timberwolf. Your vocal cords were damaged beyond repair. The doctor said it would take a miracle for you to talk again.

Of course, it wasn’t really an accident. As a kid, you were disobedient. If someone told you to do something you would do the exact opposite. “Don’t touch the vase.” “Don’t be rude to strangers.” Don’t go near the Everfree Forest.” You were a complete jerk too, looking back. If someone was weaker than you, they were going down. When you lost your voice, you were teased. You were bullied for years. That’s when you met Fluttershy. When you were cast into the loser’s table at lunch.

Fluttershy raises her hand to answer an unheard question.

“Um… Forty-seven?”

She’s been trying to talk more, get more involved in school. Her overall participation grade was down the crapper, so she wanted to try and get that up. You dearly hope that answer was right, for her sake.

“Uh, almost. You seem to have forgotten to carry the two,” says Ms. Cheerilee apologetically. Fluttershy lowers her hand and ducks down. A few snickers are heard from across the room. Ugh… Them. The group of boys who constantly pick on poor Fluttershy. Honestly, you can never figure out what their deal is. They always laugh at her tiniest of failures. Even just now, slightly slipping up on an unimportant math question. What is the deal?

Looking up at the clock, you see just how close it is to 3:00. Just about a minute and a half and that majestic bell will ring. Ms. Cheerilee wraps up her lecture and bids you all a wonderful rest of the day. The students, nearly by instinct, put up their chairs and throw on their jackets and backpacks. You slump your heavy black bag over your shoulder, not bothering with the straps, while Fluttershy slowly slips her yellow backpack on, careful not to bump anything with it. You take a step forward, tap her on the shoulder, and offer a small smile. That was your way of saying ‘Hey.’ She gives you a sad smile in return.

“Hi.” She looks up at you and notices your new expression, one of curiosity, sympathy, and caring. “It’s nothing. Just. . . Just a long day,” she says after a sigh. “Um. . . I. . . I can’t come over to your house today. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to, it’s just that, my parents wanted to see me for something a-and. . . I’m sorry. . .” You offer another smile, telling her that it’s fine. She simply smiles back. Fluttershy would often go to your house after school. For whatever the reason, she always seemed to enjoy it there. Perhaps it’s because she’s always so lonely at her own home. Sometimes, you entertain yourself and think it’s because she totally digs you.

Wishful thinking.

The bell rings, and you exit the school with Fluttershy close behind. She heads down the opposite path towards the close-by parking garage her mom picks her up at, and you head down the path to yours, offering a wave she weakly gives back.

Later. . .

You stare into the mirror. Your shirt is off, but your jeans are still on. You stare intensely into your reflections eyes. Opening your mouth wide, your stare into the back of your throat. You close your mouth and clear your throat. Taking in a large amount of air, you open your mouth wide again. You force all of your energy into your stomach, then your chest, then your throat. You hope so much that your voice projects outward, but all that comes out is a throaty choking sound and a squeak. You retract and cough vigorously. After a few barks, you gaze into your reflection again and touch the front of your neck. You’d do this often with your downtime.

You’ve been silent for far too long.

Supper’s been eaten. Xbox has been played. Shower’s been taken. Homework’s been done. All in that order. You lie in your bed, ready to head to sleep. But before that, you unlock your phone and scroll to Fluttershy’s name. She often tells you how much she loves texting, mostly because she finds it so odd. Like how one’s grandpa reacts when they have a texting conversation with him. She responds to basically every single one of your texts. Hell, she even responded to a spam text from some company. She was mostly sheltered from most forms of technology for the longest time, until high school even. Hell, she didn’t have internet until she was thirteen. Poor soul. She got her first phone last year for her birthday. An IPhone 4 that you personally bought for her. If she’s gonna start, she’s gonna start right!

“Hey,” you text to her.

. . .

“Flutters?” you text again after about five minutes.

. . .

Weird. She always responds. Maybe her phone’s dead. She does tell you she keeps losing the charger. Maybe whatever her parents had to talk to her about had to do with her phone. Whatever the reason, you’ll see her tomorrow. In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never, never missed a day of school. She won perfect attendance more times than Twilight has. Not once have you seen her absent; it’s pretty stunning.

With that in mind, you roll over and go to sleep.

The Next Day. . .

You haven’t seen her all day. Not once. For the first time since you’ve known her, Fluttershy’s absent. It’s currently last period, and school ends in about fifteen minutes. Today was a study-day, a day to prepare for the quiz tomorrow. Everyone else, except those annoying boys, are studying hard. Ms. Cheerilee is one of the nicest teachers you’ve ever had, but man, if her quizzes weren’t the most challenging…

You slowly look up from your paper to the empty seat in front of you. Huh. You almost forgot that Octavia sits in front of Fluttershy. Speak of the devil; her image worms its way into your brain. You rest your cheek on your fist as your eyes look over the notes without actually looking. In reality, you see a slightly crumpled, heavily doodled-on piece of paper, but in your mind, you see her.

You see that same old fantasy. A setting sun on the left, a rising full moon on the right. A small hill on which you and her lay. Bordering the soft green hill is a vast meadow, with a few mountains in the far distance. A dirt path is at the base of the hill, where your black, flame-patterned chopper sits. A low hanging oak tree under which you both slumber. Your right hand holds her right hand. She lays softly on your left arm, her cheek buried in the crook of your shoulder. Her smooth skin against your bare chest. Her free arm unconsciously stroking your rock hard abs.

And then the bell rings.

As you look around, you see everyone’s chairs are up and everyone is piling out the door, except for Raindrops, who waits patiently for you. You quickly lift your chair onto the desk and swing your bag over your shoulder.

You and Raindrops walk along the sidewalk, to the crossroad. To the right, the path to your house. To the left, the long path to Fluttershy’s. Perhaps she’d be fine with a little visit? She must be really under the weather to miss a day of school. Raindrops turns to you.

“You comin’?” she asks, nodding toward the right path. You stare down the right path for a moment, before nodding toward the left. “Ah. Gonna go see your girlfriend?” A furious heat enters your cheeks, causing Raindrops to laugh. “I’ll see ya at home. Don’t take too long, lover boy!” she exclaims while skipping down the path. You so desperately want to call out to her, but obviously, can find no such luck. However, something odd does happen.

A slight grunt, high pitched, but noticeable.

With a hint of voice in it.

Wide-eyed, you stand in place for a brief moment, before shaking your head and beginning down the two mile trek to Fluttershy’s house. You take out your phone and scroll to her name.

“Hey. I’m coming over, if that’s alright. Be there in a bit.”

Almost immediately after sending, your phone vibrates. Did she even read it? The message is long, and begins with your full name.

“Thank you for being the best friend you could be. You’ve made my life so much better, and I can’t thank you enough. You in particular, have made my life that much easier. I know you see me as nothing more than a friend, but I just thought you should know that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you. I’m so sorry for not telling you, but I was always so nervous. Recently, constant bullying and teasing and harasssing have made thimgs so much hardeer/ I hope you can understamd my motives..

Thank you so much. For everything.
-Fluttershy.”

No.

NO!

You throw down your bag and start to run. You throw off your jacket to lighten your load anyway you can. You sprint as fast as you can down the street, whizzing by various people who look to you in shock.

She can’t do this.

Your feet feel light as they tap the ground, one after the other. Your entire body feels as light as a feather as you run faster than you’ve ever run before. The people on the street seem like mere blurs as you sprint past them. After a few moments, your breath begins to deepen. But you ignore, it; for it’s not important right now.

She just can’t do this.

You’ve been sprinting as fast as your legs could move. They’ve long since started to ache, but that’s not important right now. You’ve passed the city limits and the forest is now visible. You run off the street and onto the small path into the woods. The trees are more blurred than the people were. You nearly trip on stray branches several times, but you force through them. A branch catches your shirt and tears off a good chunk of fabric from your side, slightly cutting through skin. You yelp a little and hold your side until the stinging goes away.

You won’t let her do this.

There’s a clearing in the forest. A wide open clearing. The smell of freshly cut grass enters through your nostrils as you run into the yard. You meet the road again as you sprint into the driveway, devoid of cars. You jump clear up the four steps and come to a grinding halt. You allow a single second to catch a little bit of breath. Turning the knob violently, you force the door open, nearly breaking it off the hinges. You bolt into the house until you come to the threshold of the living room. . .

. . .just in time to see her lift the bottle of rat poison to her lips.

“FLUTTERSHY!!”

She jumps a foot, and you sprint over to her, slide a bit, and rip the bottle from her hands. She stumbles backward a bit, and you notice her bloodshot eyes. Swollen, and wet from what looks like hours of sobbing. Her beautiful, stunning oceans for eyes reduced to red, bloodshot messes. Her hair is a wreck. Various strands of pink locks twisting and turning in sharp directions. Frayed, split ends down the length of her once beautiful long hair. Her clothes are nothing more than thrown-on pajamas, wrinkled and twisted around her meek, fragile body.

You drop the bottle, rush over, and wrap your arms as firmly, yet gently as possible around her shaking form. She simply freezes as you squeeze her. Other than her violent shaking, she’s completely still. Everything in the room is dead silent, aside from your rapid breathing. Your lungs feel like they weigh a hundred tons each. Your skin feels like sandpaper. Your legs feel ready to fall off at any moment. Fluttershy’s arms hang off her shoulders, still shaking. Your throat hurts, your tongue is numb, and your jaw aches. You want to tell her to think this through, to never ever do anything like that again.

But all that comes out is a grunt and a quiet squeak.

Fluttershy’s breathing soon becomes sporadic and rapid. She squeaks ever so quietly as her arms come up to embrace you. Her fast breathing turns into quiet sobbing. She squeezes you as hard as possible and cries into your shoulder. You can feel her hot tears on your shoulder. You close your eyes tight and bury your own head into her trembling shoulder.

You got here in the very definition of the nick of time. One more second and she would have downed the lethal liquid and ended her own life. If you were but a second later, you would have been too late. You would have failed. You would’ve killed Fluttershy. The image of her slowly sickening and grey body worms its way into your subconscious. The image of her wasting away, the poison taking its intended effect on her already weak body. The image of the life in her beautiful teal eyes fading away into nothingness.

You open your eyes to remind yourself that you saved her. That you got here in time.

You saved her life.

Fluttershy’s shoulders constantly bounce up and down with each sob she lets out. After a few minutes, which feels like a few eternities, words start to form in her cries.

“I’m sorry. . . I’m so sorry. . . I’m so sorry. . .”

You begin to slide your right hand up and down slowly, stroking her back, comforting her in what’s probably her lowest low. This only seems to make her cry harder, but you don’t stop. As the moment begins to slow down, you notice how deathly cold it is in here. Your pores swell up into rigid goosebumps. Fluttershy’s embrace hardly helps. If it were any colder in here, you’d see your breath. As your hand reaches up to Fluttershy’s shoulder, you notice an excessively damp bit of fabric. And you notice how blurry your vision is. You’ve been crying as well. It’s hardly a shock, and it was actually sort of expected. You’re not the crying type. But when your best friend in the whole world; the one you love with all your heart threatens to wipe away her very existence. . . Who can blame you?

For a moment, you imagine a world without Fluttershy. If you were too late, what would that mean for you, and for everybody else? Her parents would be nothing short of devastated. How would they react, knowing you could’ve saved her? Would they hate you forever? Or would they applaud you for trying? What about her other five friends? Twilight. . . She hasn’t been known to get extremely emotional. But her outlet is locking herself in her room. If one of her best friends in the world were to be killed, there’s a good chance you may never see her again. She’d lock herself in her house, be an absolute shut-in. Twilight’s strong, but there’s no telling how long she could be in there.

Rarity would most likely go into an absolute depression. She’s a drama queen to begin with, but if her closest friend (as the two are, in fact, the closest friends out of them all) were to die, she might consider doing it herself. She probably wouldn’t, but she’d be pretty close. Being the diva she always was, she would continue to think of ways to keep herself in line. It might even keep her from tending to the needs of others.

Rainbow Dash would probably mourn by spending her time alone, not talking at all. She’d still go outside, play sports, and work out, but she’d be the most antisocial of the bunch. Her tomboy exterior would build up even more, making that shell a million times harder to crack.

Applejack would mourn heavily at first, but act as though she’s over it in just a couple weeks. In her line of work, getting emotional isn’t really something she can afford. She’d push it in the back of her mind, pretending like it never happened. She may be the most honest person you’ve ever met, but something as devastating as Fluttershy’s death could alter the lives of anyone. Anyone.

Even Pinkie Pie. Her usual bubbly and ecstatic behavior would flip a full one-eighty. She’d let her hair down. She’d wander the streets and the halls as if she didn’t have a goal, or a purpose. She’d throw a couple parties like she always does, old habits and all that, but they’d lack that one element. Laughter. Her entire laughing demeanor would fade away. Pinkie’d laugh no more. Applejack would tell lies. Rainbow Dash would be untrusting and untrustworthy. Rarity would think of herself and how to get back to her glory days. Twilight would no longer be capable of speaking to anyone or making any new friends. The magic would all be gone.

And what about you? You wouldn’t be able to go on. Either you’d live the whole rest of your life in the epitome of despair and depression or you’d off yourself eventually. You’d no longer smile. No longer function. No longer be able to move. To breathe. To see. After a while, you’d just decide to give up. There’d be no moving on. There’d be no letting go. And definitely no forgiving.

If you came in a second later, you’d never. . . NEVER forgive yourself.

You’d blame yourself for not standing up for her more in the face of those damned bullies. You’d blame yourself for not being able to save Fluttershy’s life. You’d blame yourself for not being able to mend your friends’ bonds. You’d drive yourself beyond insanity with guilt. You’d attack those closest to you. You’d lash out at those only trying to help. You’d blame yourself for Fluttershy’s death. She’d be dead because of you. You’d be convinced that Fluttershy died by your hand. That you killed Fluttershy.

You blink a few times as reality floods back to you. That would be the very definition of hell. That wouldn’t compare to any problems you had before that. But it hasn’t happened, and if you’ve anything to say about it, will never happen. You did save her. She’s alive. She’s safe now. Whether or not she’s sound is yet to be seen. But you’ll try your very hardest to make sure she will be.

Her sobs slowly start to become fewer and further between. You rub her back a few more times and slowly lean away. Your eyes met hers and she sucks in another shaky breath. Her lips tremble a few times as she begins to speak.

“I-I . . . Y-Y-You t-. . . You said m- . . . my name. . .” You pull her into your shoulder again with a soft ‘Shhh. . .’ She sighs, a quiver still in her breath. Your right hand finds its way to the back of her head as your left continues to rub her back. For the longest time, the two of you stand there in utter silence. You slowly start to rock her back and forth. The embrace you share can be described as nothing less than warm. Fluttershy’s hugged you many, many times before. She’s told you that she loves hugging almost as much as she loves her animals. Each time was magical, a moment you never wanted to end. But this one feels different. It feels as though you’re beginning anew. No matter how hard either of you try, your relationship will never be the same. You may move past this eventually, you may try your damnedest to forget about this, but it won’t change a thing. Fluttershy tried to commit suicide, and that’s not something you can forget about.

You push her forward ever so slightly toward the couch. She takes a step back and lowers herself into the sofa. You sit next to her and take hold of both of her hands. She stares at the ground. Her beautiful eyes look even worse than they did before. Her sniffles aren’t soft and petite anymore. She’s trembling harder than ever. Her eyes flick from place to place on the floor. They make their way to your foot. She follows your leg up to your conjoined hands. Her eyes widen slightly as she notices the sticky red liquid on both of your fingers. The side of your shirt is slightly stained with blood from when the tree caught you.

“Y-You’re. . . Y-You’re. . .” You lift your clean hand to her cheek. Her eyes meet yours. Your hand grazes up her arm. You notice the goosebumps dotting her fair skin. “Here,” she starts, “I-I’ll get you cleaned up. . .” She begins to stand, but you grab her arm. She looks back in confusion. Closing your eyes, you shake your head ‘no.’ After a moment, she sits back down, and you stand up. With a subtle hand motion, you signal her to stay put. She closes her eyes and lowers her head, shaking even more.

The more you start to think about the blood on your side and hand, the more the cut starts to sting. You look down and lift up your shirt partially as you walk up the stairs. Ooh, that is a nasty one. Some peroxide and a bandage should be fine, but it’ll hurt for a while. You come to the oak door at the end of the hallway, the old familiar one with butterfly stickers on it. Fluttershy’s room. You open the door and turn on the light. It’s as cold in here as it is everywhere else. Fluttershy’s pet rabbit, Angel, runs around quickly in his large cage until he makes eye contact with you. He stands up on two legs, and gives you an expression that seems to plead for help. He knows. That rabbit always seemed oddly human-like. You give him a smile and a small nod that assures him that his owner’s fine. He slowly retreats into the small house in the cage, but not before giving you something that looks like a smile, and something that sounds like a sigh. Walking over to the bed, you begin to hear a strange noise. An odd buzzing, as if something were vibrating. You stop at the foot of Fluttershy’s bed. Looking down, you see her favorite blanket. It certainly is soft. One of the softest blankets you’ve ever felt. It’s also very pink. Very pink. In fact, Fluttershy’s whole room is very pink. Like a typical teenage girl’s room. There are posters of some movies you’ve seen together on the walls, a big mirror on a white vanity, and a big stack of books. You take a quick peek at them. Romance novels.

Wait.

You think back to Fluttershy’s text to you. What she said. She’s always had a crush on you? A heat rises in your cheeks. Fluttershy’s always had a crush on you. And you were too blind to see it.

With a shake of your head, you expel those thoughts. They’re not important right now. What’s important is that Fluttershy’s freezing down there. You grab the blanket with your clean hand and roll it into a ball, which you tuck under your uninjured side. After you do this, you notice what had been making those buzzing sounds. It’s her phone. And it’s vibrating like crazy. You pick it up and unlock it. Forty-seven unread texts and twenty-two missed calls from Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Applejack. There’s a note on her bedside table too. You read only the first line.

“Dear mom and dad. . .”

The rest of the paper is no doubt full of thanks and goodbyes. Some spots are a darker gray, from tears that fell from her face. You grimace and turn around. You turn off the lights and close the door.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear Fluttershy’s heavy breath, shaky and bitter. You walk into the living room to see her curled up into a ball on the couch. You walk over and unfurl the blanket. She notices you and straightens herself out a bit. As gently as possible, you lay her favorite blanket over her shivering body. As soon as the blanket touches her, she curls back up. Reaching down, you tuck the edges of the blanket under her shivering legs and stomach. “Thank you,” she says in a near whisper. You offer a gentle smile and lay a hand on her shoulder. She closes her eyes and thanks you again. You rub your thumb on her shoulder a few times before standing straight again.

You flick the light of the bathroom on and close the door. With a sigh, you lift your shirt over your head and throw it on the ground. Looking in the mirror, you see how messed up you are. Your hair is weighed down by sweat, stuck to your scalp. You have sweat running down your cheeks and neck. The left side of your stomach is covered in dirty water, probably from running through a puddle or something. You have dirt on your face, along with a few minor scratches. Whew, lotta trees.

But the part you focus on is your right side. There’s a lot of blood staining your stomach and ribs. And more is oozing out of the wound. When you got hit by that branch, you figured it’d be a small cat-scratch, not an open wound. Jesus. . .

You open the medicine cabinet and pull out a bottle of peroxide and a roll of gauze. You take a small wad of gauze and put it over the top of the bottle. You flip the bottle over, letting the medicine pour into the gauze. You flip it back over and position the wet gauze was over the cut.

This is gonna suck.

You bring your hand down on the wound and scrunch up your face at the terrible stinging. You'd curse if you could. The entire length of the cut burns and stings at the same time. Each individual cell burns as you apply more pressure. Your cheeks involuntary puff out and you let out a few rapid breaths. After a few more seconds, the pain begins to die down, and eventually it becomes no more than a dull numbing. You suck in a large amount of air, puff out your chest, and slowly release.

You take a couple large square Band-Aids from the shelf and apply them over the gauze and the cut. You look down at the terrible patchwork. Well, no one said you were any good at being a doctor. You walk over to the cupboard after placing all the supplies back in the cabinet. You take out a red washcloth and turn on the water. After a minute or so, the water turns warm. You wet up the cloth and bring it to your face. As you scrub the dirt away, you take your phone out of your pocket. Huh, you could swear you threw it down when you began to run over here. You have a single message from Twilight.

“Get to fluttershys now”

They must all be on their way. That’s good. Fluttershy needs her friends right now. You press reply.

“She’s fine.”

Send.

You look up at the mirror. That should do. You look a hell of a lot cleaner. You rinse out the washcloth and soak it up with warm water again. You pick up your damp shirt and put it back on. As you step out of the bathroom, you turn off the water and the light. As you step into the living room, you see that Fluttershy is still lying calmly under her blanket on the couch. You take a few steps toward her. She looks so peaceful, despite all that she just went through. With a slightly closer look, you notice that she’s fallen asleep. You kneel down next to her and lift the washcloth to her face. She stirs slightly as the warm cloth touches her skin, but she remains unconscious. You sigh as you wipe away her tears.

You hear the door open. “Fluttershy!” You stand up and hurry to the door. Rainbow Dash shoves past you as you shush her. Her eyes are slightly pink and her face is damp. She storms into the living room and gazes upon Fluttershy’s sleeping form. “. . .Is she. . .?” she starts as her eyes widen. She looks up at you and you shake your head. She sighs a heavy sigh. “Good. . . That’s good. . .” She strides over and plops onto the other couch. She puts her forehead into her hands with a quiet “Jesus. . .”

You walk over and sit next to her. She looks over at you and notices the tear in your shirt, along with the Band-Aids and blood stains. “What happened to you?” You give her a shrug in response. She returns her face to her cupped hands. “How’d she do it? I mean, how was she going to?”

You lean over and pick up the bottle of rat poison off the floor. Some of it had spilled out onto the carpet, but that’s unimportant. Dash looks at you as you place the bottle on the coffee table. The bottle is dusty, the bright yellow now dim and droll. Obviously, it hasn’t been used for a very long time, perhaps years. Dash sighs and leans back. “You got here just in time didn’t you?” A nod is your response. She raises her fist, pointing her knuckles toward you. You smile and bump your knuckles against hers. “Nice.”

You and Dash sit on the couch in silence for the next few minutes. You spend your time staring at the sleeping girl across the room. Her shoulders rise and fall as she sleeps her pain away. It’s going to be difficult, these next few weeks. There may be a long period where neither you nor Fluttershy talk much. How could things go back to the way they were? No matter how long either of you live, there’s no forgetting this. You can act like this never happened. You can take a blood oath to never speak of this again, but the memory will still be there.

You hear the door open, quieter and slower this time. Two figures come into view. Twilight and Rarity. Followed by them are Fluttershy’s final two friends. Applejack and Pinkie Pie. Applejack has an honest face of worry. Pinkie is bouncing slightly up and down nervously. Rarity shoots you an extremely distraught expression. Twilight looks less worried, but worried all the same. You give her a small nod.

“She’s fine,” Dash says, nodding toward Fluttershy. Rarity walks around the corner to see Fluttershy sleeping peacefully. A long sigh escapes her lips. She kneels down and rubs her best friend's shoulder a few times. She walks over to the recliner and plops down onto it, resting her head in her hands. Pinkie rushes over and kneels down next to the sleeping girl. She holds her ear up to her chest. After a moment, she sighs loudly in relief. Twilight turns to face you.

“When did you get here?” she asks you. You lean forward, reach back, and pull your notepad from your back pocket. You go to look at it, but notice it's crinkled and damp. You heave a long sigh.

“Just in time,” Rainbow Dash cuts in, giving you a smile. “Thanks, bud.” A smile is your response. Twilight walks around the coffee table and sits between you two.

“Really,” says Applejack, “We cain’t thank you enough.” She leans toward you and puts her hand on your shoulder. Her eyes are filled with nothing but gratitude. You can only smile in return.

“Yeah!” starts Pinkie, “You must have gotten here in the nick of time!” Your smile grows just a little. A tickling sensation washes over your throat and you cough violently into your fist.

“You alright there?” says Applejack, sitting in a leather chair next to a desk. After a moment, you nod. “You sure? You were coughin’ perty loudly.” You nod again. A bit of movement on the couch catches your attention. You watch as Fluttershy slowly opens her eyes. She rubs her shoulder a couple times, and takes a subtly surprised expression. She calms down again, but her eyes widen again as she sees all of her friends in the room with her.

“Oh. . . Hi,” she says in a near whisper. She sits up straight, allowing Pinkie to sit next to her. She rubs her eye a few times.

“Hey,” says Twilight.

“Fluttershy,” says Rarity, finally speaking, “Why did you do it? What drove you to take such action?” She looks at Fluttershy with hurt in her eyes. Her mouth is slightly open as she looks in disappointment to her best friend. Fluttershy returns a look of guilt and sadness. A realization has hit her just how much she hurt her friends.

“I. . .”

“I told you, Fluttershy,” says Rarity, “We are always here for you. We always have been. Anything you need to talk about; we’re always right here.” She leans forward, a pleading tone in her voice. Fluttershy simply continues to stare at her. She looks around the room at all of her friends, who give her similar looks. She looks at you longer. She looks at you with pondering eyes. Her eyes widen ever so slightly as she seems to realize something.

“I-I. . .” she looks from face to face, and tears well up in her eyes. Pinkie Pie puts her hand on Fluttershy’s shoulder as she hunches over. “It’s everyone at school. . . They all make fun of me. . . Th-they. . . call me worthless. They say I’m a waste of your time. . .”

“C’mon, Shy,” starts Rainbow Dash, leaning forward, “You know better than to listen to those losers.”

“I try,” says Fluttershy, softer now, “I try. . . so hard. I try to get them out of my head. I do what you all taught me to do. To keep my chin up and assert myself. But. . . every time I do. . .” She rests her face in her palms. You can only watch as Pinkie rubs her back as she sobs into her hands.

“Aw, it’ll be alright now, Fluttershy,” says Pinkie, a warm smile on her face, “We’ll make sure those bad people don’t mess with you anymore.”

“It’s. . .” Fluttershy starts, only slightly calming down, “It’s not alright. I-I. . . I still feel like a waste of space.” You open your mouth to protest, but of course, nothing comes out. If only you could tell her how much she means to everyone. If only you could tell her how special she is to you. You look to your left and right. Your vision settles on a large notebook on the coffee table. It’s her dad’s notebook. It’ll have to do. You grab a pen and flip to a free page.

And you begin to write. Your vision is focused on the paper, so you only listen to the conversation.

“You’re not a waste of anything, Fluttershy,” says Twilight, “You’re one of my very best friends. You were one of the first people I met since I moved here. You’re the kindest, sweetest soul I’ve ever met.”

“Ah think ah speak fer everyone here, Shy,” says Applejack. You can hear the shuffling of fabric on leather, “when ah say we wouldn’t know what to do without ya.”

“You’re just as important as the rest of us!” you hear the high pitched voice of Pinkie Pie exclaim, “You have your friends! You have your momma, poppa, and auntie and uncle! You have your cousin!”

“You have so many people in your life, dear,” starts Rarity, “who would be devastated if you suddenly went away. So many people love you, Fluttershy. You simply cannot let the words of a few lowlifes get you this down!”

“Yeah,” exclaims Rainbow Dash, “When life gets ya down, just get right back on the horse! I have a saying. When you’re flying high, you just gotta keep flapping your wings. If you don’t, you’ll fall. You just gotta stay strong.”

There is a long pause. You pen starts to slow in its writing and you look up. Fluttershy has tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are wide as she looks around the room. But she doesn’t look as miserable anymore. She looks as if her spirits have risen a little. You look back down to your paper.

One, two, three, four more words. Period.

You look at Twilight and hand her the notebook. She dons a slight look of curiosity as she looks down at the paper. A small smile forms on her face as she begins to read aloud.

“Fluttershy,

I’ve known you for most of my life. We’ve always been there for each other. Through the ups and downs. Through thick and thin. We took care of each other when we were sick. We watched movies, went to the mall, had sleepovers, and so many things that best friends do. I couldn’t think of spending a day without you. Today, when you weren’t in school, I was nearly miserable. We’ve grown so close to each other that I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t become very attached to you.

You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. You’re caring. You’re smart. Before I met you, I was unstable. I was a complete nobody. A bully. When I lost my voice, you were there for me when no one else was. When you sent me that text today, I felt that if I didn’t do something, I’d lose you forever. And if I lost you, I wouldn’t know what to do anymore. I wouldn’t have a purpose anymore. Fluttershy, you give me a purpose. You give me a reason to keep on keeping on. Without you, I would’ve given up a long time ago. So with all of this, there’s one thing left to say. . .

I love you, Fluttershy.”

You had been looking down at the floor for the duration of the message. When Twilight concluded, you lifted your head and looked at the people in the room. After a moment of shock on her face, Applejack smiles proudly at you, and tips her hat in your direction. Rainbow Dash winks at you as you look at her. Twilight has a tear in her eye and is smiling at you and Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie is bouncing up and down in her seat with a shocked ‘O’ plastered on her face. Rarity has her hands over her mouth and is looking back and forth between you and Fluttershy. She also has a tear running down her cheek.

Finally, Fluttershy has both of her hands over her mouth. Tears run down both of her cheeks and she’s breathing deeply. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. Her chest moves back and forth quickly.

“You. . . You. . . mean it. . . ?” she nearly whispers. Your smile growing, you give a full nod. You stand up slowly. It’s a short walk to the other couch. As you approach her, her chest seems to move more quickly. Each step you take seems to shock her. Pinkie moves away a bit, probably to give you some space. You are now a single foot away from Fluttershy’s seat on the couch. Rather than jumping onto her, or wrapping her in a bear-hug like all those stories, you simply kneel before her. She leans forward toward you. With the most sincere smile you can muster, you take her delicate hand.

“A-all this time. . . ?” Fluttershy squeaks out. You offer yet another nod. You take her other hand and caress them both gently with your thumbs. You see her lips tremble, her head tilt, and her eyes narrow as they are coated yet again in fluid. The corners of her mouth begin to rise into a smile. Her hands begin to shake as well before they’re ripped from your gentle grasp. You find yourself wrapped in a tight embrace, with a sobbing girl pressed against you. Words make their way through her cries.

“I do too! I love you too!” she repeats over and over. You bring your arms up to her warm back, still covered by her blanket. Her back and shoulders bounce sporadically as she sobs into your shoulder. After a few minutes of crying, you begin to worry she’s not just crying tears of joy anymore. You raise your hand to tap her, but she says something that lays to rest all doubts.

“You’ve made me so happy!”

From the other side of the room, you can hear Rainbow Dash’s high pitched voice.

“I’m not one for mush, Twi, but damn if that ain’t just adorable.”

Pretty Adorable

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Pretty Adorable

It’s been a few days since Fluttershy’s. . . incident. Her parents insisted she take a few days away from school. Her mother and father came into the house shortly after you confessed everything to her. Her father was already on his way home and her mother rocketed straight out of work. Who could blame her?

Friday. Three days since what you’ve taken to calling ‘the incident.’ It’s fourth period, right before lunch. Your history teacher, who you and your friend Soarin like to call ‘The Doctor’ rambles on about a funny story about a big blue box and a screwdriver. He had the class in a roar, but your mind was elsewhere. You’re trying your hardest not to think about your throat. It hurts like all hell. It burns from base to jawline. It stings your Adam’s apple. You’ve been coughing all day. Come to think of it, it’s been hurting like this since the incident. You would’ve asked to take a day out, but it’s Fluttershy’s first day in school in days. And there’s no chance you’re not going to be here.

Speaking of whom, you look over to your right. On the far-right of the room sits your new girlfriend. Her hair is cleaner and smoother than it’s been in a while, while still remaining partially messy. She wears dark yellow and pink pajamas and a brighter yellow hoodie, with the hood halfway over her head. She’s wearing gray sneakers instead of her usual white boots.

But she still looks adorable.

The Doctor says your names in his epic accent. Only now do you realize you and Fluttershy have been staring at each other for who knows how long. Her eyes widen a bit and she looks toward him, and you do the same. He speaks again in that epic voice.

“If you’re done staring each other down, class is over.” You look at the clock. Huh. Class has indeed ended. Thirty full seconds ago.

“Sorry, sir,” Fluttershy spits out. She stands up and grabs her books. You mirror her actions and approach the door. Stepping aside, you allow her to go first. A blush forms on her cheeks and she softly thanks you. You offer a smile in return. The roar of the students fills your ears as you enter the hallway. You and Fluttershy maneuver your way through the hall, trying your hardest not to touch anyone. God forbid.

Once you enter the stairway, the hall clears up, leaving only you, Fluttershy, and a few other people. Not too many students have lunch this period, and you were blessed to be able to share it with her. The second you reach the bottom of the stairs, you feel something warm touch your hand. Looking down, you see that Fluttershy’s hand has brushed against yours. Looking back up into her eyes, she looks away and hides behind her hair.

“Sorry,” she squeaks. With a smile, you extend your fingers and bring her hand in. A quiet ‘eep,’ sounds from her, but she quickly calms down. After a moment, you see her smile and slowly gravitate toward you. Soon enough, her shoulder is rubbing against your arm. Her body and hand are warm. In fact everything about her is warm. Her smile, her eyes, her touch, her very being is warm. Taking a leap of faith, you separate your two hands. This results in a confused and disappointed expression from Fluttershy. But it’s short lived as you put your arm around her opposite shoulder. She gasps quietly, but soon melts into you. Her face is one of pure contentment as she moves closer to you, warming your suddenly freezing body. With your thumb, you stroke her shoulder. This elicits a soft hum from her.

You and Fluttershy sit down next to each other at the table. She had told you she wasn’t very hungry. However, you skipped breakfast this morning, so it wouldn’t be wise to skip lunch as well. You stand and begin to walk into the kitchen area. The second your skin leaves hers, it begins to crawl with disappointment. You’re only going to be gone for a minute, but it still sucks.

You grab a chicken sandwich, an apple, and a strawberry milk. You squirt some ketchup onto the sandwich, and you quickly make your way back to Fluttershy. When you reenter the cafeteria, you see that most of the students have gotten here. Fluttershy stands before the vending machine, probably for the iced tea she always gets. You see the bill slide into the machine. Fluttershy places a finger on her chin as she debates what flavor to get today. Behind her, you see a boy approach her. He has a smile on his face. Nearly every day, he would sneak up and press the coin return button, just to waste Fluttershy’s time. You couldn’t explain why, but he just finds it hilarious. As he reaches out, you grab his wrist with your free hand and shoot him a look that says ‘Let the girl have a drink.’ He’s much shorter than you, and much thinner too. The odds are not in his favor to protest, and he knows it. He walks away grumbling. Looking back to Fluttershy, you see that she was completely oblivious. A smile crosses her face as her tea lands in her reach. Before she lowers herself, however, you lean in and plant a soft kiss on her cheek. All you see before you turn to the table is Fluttershy’s face contort into complete shock. With a smile, you walk back to your table. You find that your friend, Ditzy Doo, or Derpy as she likes to be called, has seated herself and is munching on her own lunch. As you place your tray down, you smile at her. She smiles back.

“Hey! What’s up?” she asks in her lower pitched voice. You shrug in response. “Me too,” she says, raising her sandwich to her face. Somehow, Derpy always seemed to understand you. Not only in that you’re both disabled in some way, but because she seems to know what you’re trying to say. Fluttershy shares this to an extent, but Derpy seems to know precisely what you’re saying. Unless it’s something very specific, like ‘Where are you going tomorrow?’ You and Derpy met in sixth grade, when she moved here. You became friends nearly immediately, seeing as how you’re sort of kindred spirits. Derpy’s eyes are. . . well. . . derped. While one stares at the ceiling, the other eyes the floor. As she’s described to you, it sort of mismatches the world, offering a fishbowl view on things. She used the term ‘bubbly.’ You were both made fun of when you met, so you instantly made a connection. Never in the ‘love’ way, oh no. More like in the ‘roommate’ kind of way. Someone who was just fun to be around.

Fluttershy sits next to you with the most intense of blushes on her face. She gives you a quick look and her blush seems to deepen. She looks down at her bottle of tea and fails to hide a smile and a giggle. You smile at this yourself. You rub her shoulder a few times before picking up your sandwich and taking a big bite out of it. Looking over to Derpy, you see a small smile on her face. You give her a slightly confused look, but your smile remains on your face.

“Did you finally ask her out?” she asks, her smile widening. You chuckle a bit and shrug as you look away. This was you trying to say ‘Sort of.’ You and Fluttershy share a look, before she looks at Derpy. She says what you tried to say.

“Sort of. Certain. . . situations led to it. And. . . if it’s alright with you. . . I’d rather not talk about it,” she whispers, lowering herself into her arms. She continues to eye her bottle of tea. She spins it around a few times with her finger. Derpy gives you a confused look. You slightly nod your head and raise your hand, silently saying ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She smiles and nods and returns to her eating.

The next few minutes are spent in silence. After downing your milk, you stand up and walk over to the trash can. You empty your Styrofoam tray into the trash, but bounce the milk box off the wall into it. As you sit back into your seat, you place your arm on Fluttershy’s back. This makes her jump a bit, but she quickly relaxes. She moves her body closer to you, so both your sides are touching. But she still leaves her head in her arms staring at her bottle. You see Derpy start to pack up her lunch and you notice something’s wrong.

Where’s her muffin?

You take out your notebook and write her name, followed by your question and slide it over to her. She reads it, taking a bit of time.

“Oh. Well. . . I got hungry earlier. . .” she says with an embarrassed blush and a scratch on the back of her head. You silently chuckle. She slides your notebook back to you. Looking back at Fluttershy, you see she’s still drolly looking at her bottle of tea. Then you look at your notebook and begin to write.

Fluttershy:
I love you.

You slide it over to her. She reads it and a blush comes to her face. She fails to hold in a smile. Instead of replying to you, she takes out a pencil. She scribbles a message down and slides the notebook back to you.

I love you too.

Now it’s your turn to smile. You think of a reply, but only one comes to mind. It’s beyond cheesy, but we can all afford to be cheesy at least once in our lives, right?

I love you more.

She reads this and chuckles. She writes down another message.

Prove it.

A smirk comes to your face. You put down the pen and tap Fluttershy’s shoulder. She sits up a little. She opens her mouth to question you, but you cut her off, by planting your lips softly on hers. Her eyes are open wider than you’ve ever seen them. Her face has gone from pale white to deep red. You smile through the kiss. After a moment or two, you move your head away. Fluttershy’s lips follow yours a bit before contact is broken. From the corner of your eye, you see Derpy chuckling a bit. Eye contact isn’t broken between you and Fluttershy. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and all that comes out is a high pitched noise that sounds like a cross between a squeak and a sigh. You raise an eyebrow as your smirk grows.

“I-I. . . I. . .” Fluttershy manages to squeak out. You lean in and point to your ear. She stutters a little more. “Did. . . you just. . .?” After a few moments, a smile forms on her face. “You just did. . . That was my first. . .” She giggles again and looks to her lap. She plays with her long hair, looping some locks around her index finger. For a few good moments, she simply giggles to herself.

Well, it finally happened. Your first kiss. It took damn near eighteen years, but you finally did it. And it was amazing. It certainly wasn’t how you imagined it. You always imagined it would be on a bridge or something, over a glistening stream, under a starry sky, the full moon between your silhouetted figures. But god damn if this wasn’t close enough.

“Y’know,” Fluttershy begins quietly, “You. . . still haven’t proven it yet. . .” Your smile widens after a moment of shock. You hadn’t expected that, but who are you to argue? As Rarity always likes to tell you, it’s rude to disappoint a lady. She looks up at you fully.

You take it much slower this time. You lift your hand, brush a few strands of hair from her beautiful face, and rest your palm gently on her soft cheek. She looks deep into your eyes, and you do the same for her. Her eyes are certainly one of the most captivating things about her. They seems to sparkle, no matter how dark the room is. They’re always wide and curious, as if taking in every detail of the environment. Their oceanic teal color could hypnotize you, and they have on several occasions. They seems to reflect everything beautiful in nature, as if they were formed by the rarest and most beautiful of emeralds. Her pale skin under your palm is as soft as a cloud, and just as fair. Her hair is somehow cool and warm at the same time. It’s just as soft as her skin, as if it were woven by the very finest of heavenly silk. There’s not a single imperfection about it. Not a knick or crook on her. All that you want right now is to be with her, as close as possible, feeling her body against yours. The warmth of her being soothing the coldness you suddenly feel within yourself. To feel her lips against yours once again.

So you make it happen. You lean forward, close your eyes, and press your lips softly against hers.

Her lips are just as warm as the rest of her, and twice as soft. You can feel her lips trembling just a bit, but it soon stops, as she moves in closer to you. Your limbs seem to move on their own as your hand moves to her upper back, and the other holds her soft, plush hand. You massage her fingers and palm with your thumb. You can feel her hands on your chest and shoulder. An extremely quiet moan sounds from her throat. Opening your eyes slowly, you see that she is enjoying it just as much as you are. You close your eyes again.

All good things must come to an end, however. You begin to move your head away, but her head follows yours a bit, before your lips separate. As she moves away, a long sigh comes from her mouth. A look of contentment is evident on her face, her eyes closed gently. You can only smile as she giggles to herself. After a few moments, she opens her eyes. Her smile seems to widen at the very sight of you. She leans forward a bit and rests her forehead on yours. A small hum is heard from her, before she turns away slightly. Putting a finger on her chin, she seems to be mulling something over. You tilt your head a bit.

“Mm. . . Nah, I still love you more,” she says quickly. A chuckle escapes from you. With a shake of your head, you replace your hand on Fluttershy’s again. She rests her head on her closed fist. Looking up at Derpy, you see that she’s grinning widely. You raise an eyebrow with a smile. She just closes her eyes and shrugs in a pseudo-innocent look.

Yeah. That was probably pretty adorable.

In the Rain

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In the Rain

The final bell rings and you let out a sigh of relief. You quickly put up your chair and throw on your backpack. Fluttershy had agreed to coming over to your house today. The students pile out of the room. You look back at Twilight, who smiles at you. You smile back. “I’ll see you later,” she says to you. You nod in return. She walks over to Fluttershy and begins to talk with her. You hear a female voice call to you. Looking back, you see none other than your cousin Raindrops.

“Fluttershy comin’ over today?” she asks you. You nod in return, unable to stave off a thoughtful smile. “Nice. I’ll be home later. Gonna do some studying at Colgate’s. I’ll be home around 4:30.” Again, you nod. Before you can turn to walk away, she grabs your shoulder. You look at her quizzically. “Hey, is she doin’ alright? I mean, is she feelin’ any better?” You look back at Fluttershy again. She and Twilight are wrapped in a caring hug. A content smile is on Fluttershy’s face. Your smile falters a bit, but remains nonetheless. Your gaze hangs for a few moments before you look back at your cousin. You give her a sincere nod. She smiles a bit before walking past you, patting your shoulder with a quick ‘love you.’

You look back toward Fluttershy, who grips the straps of her backpack enthusiastically, beaming up at you. You look up and see Twilight heading out the door. Your gaze meets Fluttershy’s and your smile widens. You grab her hand gently and walk out.
Fluttershy gives you a caring look before gazing back down the hallway. The smile remains on your face. Your thumb rubs the back of Fluttershy’s hand softly. Reaching into your pocket, you grab your IPod. You turn it on and flick to a song, before pausing it. You place one earbud in your ear and hand Fluttershy the other. She takes it and places it in her ear. You press play. Music was always something you loved. It let you escape from life’s daily challenges and stresses. You seem to share your music with Fluttershy a lot too. It’s almost every day you hand her the other earbud. Hell, after the incident, you and her spent an hour just sitting there listening to your music.

Fluttershy scratches her shoulder quickly, but winces as she does, giving off a quiet squeak. She doesn’t notice it, but you cock an eyebrow at this. She rubs the spot softly before lowering her arm. That was certainly odd. She didn’t scratch it that hard. She’s also wearing two layers of clothing over that spot. Huh. Probably a bruise or something. That rabbit of hers does like kicking her. Lord knows it likes kicking you.

You look back up and notice that you’re almost outside. The entire sky is a light gray and it’s drizzling a bit. Almost simultaneously, you and Fluttershy put up your hoods. A low rumble is heard from your pocket. You take out you phone. It’s a text from your mom.

“Fluttershy still coming over?”

You tap the buttons with your thumb.

“Yeah. We’re on our way”

A few moments later, she replies.

“Well, I’m going to your aunt’s for a while to bring her the cake. I’ll be home in about an hour or so. And try to get home before the storm starts.”

“K. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You return your phone to your pocket. Good. Some quality alone time with your new girlfriend. It’s about time too. You extend your arm and push the door open. You step out of the way for Fluttershy to get through. She quietly thanks you. You continue to walk toward the road. The rain is cold, and is starting to come down a little harder.

“Wait,” Fluttershy says, stopping in her tracks, “I completely forgot to text my mom. Is it alright with you if I. . .?” She holds up her phone for emphasis. You gesture in a ‘go ahead’ motion. She looks down to the device as it lights up. You look up to the sky. The rain was never really a problem for you. It calms you, puts your nerves at ease. You’re actually pretty thankful it’s drizzling now; your nerves had been quite racked as of late.

Suddenly, you feel a presence nearing toward you from behind. Slowly, you turn around. Behind you is the person you hate most. He’s always laughing in other people’s faces, including yours and Fluttershy’s. He’s always flaunting himself just because he can lift a few more weights than other people or play basketball better. Hoops.

“He-ey, Flutters! Ain’t seen ya round in a while!” he yells toward Fluttershy, who puts her phone in her pocket. She seems to quickly hide it for some reason, as if afraid he were going to take it. Sounds like something Hoops would do. As he nears closer, you get another look at him. His hair goes down in front of his eyes, yet somehow he can play basketball with ease. Oh, the gym classes you have with him. . . He actually used to be your friend, when you used to be a jerk. But the second you lost your voice, that all changed. The jock is about the same height as you, and slightly more muscular. His shoulders are small and weak looking however.

“Oh, um. . . H-hello, Hoops. . .” You sigh, take Fluttershy’s hand in yours again, and begin to lead her away.

“Hey, hey, hey, now, voiceless, what’s the rush? I just wanna catch up,” he says, walking up beside you and roughly slapping your shoulder. You let out a grunt. Okay, he’s a bit stronger than he leads on. “Maybe not with you, but with Flutters here.” You shoot him a look that could intimidate a bear. Sadly, this gentleman is much, much dumber than a bear. He sticks out his foot, catching your ankle. With a yelp, you land face first into the sidewalk. Though, you make sure to let go of Fluttershy’s hand, lest you bring her down with you. You hear multiple people laugh at your expense. You prop yourself up on one elbow with a wheeze that should’ve been a groan and bring two fingers to your nose. No blood. Good. Standing up, you turn around to see that Hoops has taken Fluttershy’s hand and is spewing out some form of nonsense. Fluttershy is covering her mouth with her free hand. She lunges forward and puts a hand on your cheek as you slump your backpack back over your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks quickly. You look at her and nod with a tiny smile. Just feeling her warm hand on your cheek makes you feel infinitely better. Suddenly, she’s jerked back quickly. Hoops looks at her with a large frown.

“Would you listen to me when I’m talking to you?!”

Your heart skipped a beat there. To think that he would treat anyone, especially Fluttershy like that. . . it’s just stunning. Especially considering what’s happened recently. It doesn’t matter if hardly anyone knows about it. Oh, how you want to tear this asshole a new one. If only you could say something. If only you could do something besides silently growl and clench your fists to the point of pain. You grit your teeth hard against each other. The rain is coming down slightly harder now. Now, your hair is stuck to your forehead and dripping down your face. Your black jacket is becoming more and more attached to your body. Your backpack is feeling slightly heavier.

Then it happens. You weren’t even listening to what the Hoops was saying, but apparently Fluttershy was focused on you. He did it.

“The fuck’d I just tell you?!”

His hand comes up and roughly slaps the back of Fluttershy’s head. She lets out a deep grunt, a sound you’ve never heard her make before. And knowing how hard he slapped your shoulder a minute ago? That must have hurt.

It happens in the blink of an eye.

Hoops is sprawled out on the ground, a heap of blue and white varsity clothing and brown hair. He’s groaning deeply. Slowly, he lifts himself a bit. He lifts his hand to his cheek, coughs a bit, and spits out something small and white, followed by something viscous and red. You take a few breaths. Your knuckles slowly start to regain feeling. Looking down, your knuckles are colored a light red and are slowly starting to ache. Your eyebrows furrowed, you look back to Hoops, who is starting to get up. You take a step forward, moving past Fluttershy, whose hands are firmly cupped around her mouth. Hoops stumbles to his feet.

“You little cunt.”

Straightening your back, you make yourself look as intimidating as possible. Hoops, meanwhile, lowers himself. He takes a few deep breaths, and lunges forward. As he comes toward you, you quickly move aside, grab his arm, and slam him into the ground. You kneel down, place your hand over the base of his neck, and press down.

Apply pressure here and. . .

After a moment, Hoops ceases movement. Fluttershy gasps, but relaxes a bit when she hears him start to snore loudly. You stand up straight yet again and look over to Hoops friend, who looks at you with fear. With a scowl, you nod to the unconscious dirt bag.
Ever so slowly, you turn to meet Fluttershy. The sight before makes you want to scream.

Fluttershy has one hand over her mouth and one hand on the back of her head, her wet hair coming through the spaces between the fingers. She looks at you with a look you can’t deduce. It looks like a mixture of sadness, shock, and fear. Tears stream down her face, mixing with the ice cold water raining down from the sky. Your shoulders drop. A realization comes to you of what you’ve just done. This is Fluttershy, the person who you know that is against violence the most. And you just put someone to sleep right in front of her.

If only you could say something to her.

All you can do is inch your way toward her, hoping she doesn’t run off, hoping she isn’t now afraid of you. You take a slow step toward her, then another. She doesn’t do much except stare at your feet. You are now right in front of her. You open your mouth to speak, you try so hard to project your voice, but it’s in vain. So you do all that you can do. You reach for your phone, open the notepad app, and write your message.

“Fluttershy. . . I’m so sorry. I don’t have any idea what came over me. I was just. . . so angry at him.”

She reads the message, but doesn’t say anything. She looks away. You write another message.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk. But when he hit you. . . I saw how much it hurt you and I couldn’t hold myself back.”

She reads this one, and looks up at you. She looks down at the ground. With a quiet sigh, you realize that it’s not going to work.

You’ve been together three days and you already blew it.

“Do you want me to walk you home. . .?”

She reads the message, looks away, and shakes her head ‘no.’ Your stomach churns, your heart stops, and your blood freezes. You take note of the rain. It’s really coming down now at a near downpour. She wants to walk home alone in this. Fluttershy isn’t a big fan of rain like you are, and she wants to walk home alone in this.

You blew it. Big time. She was finally yours. You had her. She loved you back. You were together. You shared your first kiss with her, and you blew it this hard.

You can only stare at her before slowly nodding, closing your eyes and taking a step past her. You don’t even bother locking your phone. As you begin to take another step, you feel a pressure around your arm. You open your eyes and turn around to see Fluttershy looking up at you. Without breaking eye contact, she takes your phone from your hand. She looks down and writes her message. After a few moments, she shows it to you.

“I still want to go to your house.”

You look up at her again, your eyes wide. You feel a smile forming, but quickly bury it, reminding yourself of the current situation. You feel the tickle of rain on your head and you finally realize your hood fell down. You slide it back over your head, knowing full well it won’t do anything at this point. Fluttershy turns as you begin to walk. She begins to walk alongside you. You put both of your hands in the pockets of your jacket. You consider reaching for her hand, why would she want to touch you after all that?

You stare at the sidewalk. Each step you take just makes you feel even more uncomfortable. You can’t help but see Fluttershy’s wet blue jeans in the corner of your eye. You try to think about her, but with those thoughts comes the reminder that it may not last. This is probably it for your relationship with her.

‘Why did you have to be so stupid?!’ you think to yourself. You grit your teeth together and close your eyes. All this work to be with her, to finally have her has gone down the toilet in just a couple minutes. All because of one dickhead and a petty personal vendetta. All these years, and you blew it. You lost control.
‘You could’ve just backed him down! Grabbed his collar or something! Let him throw the first punch!’

“I don’t hate you,” a quiet voice says, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. You look over at Fluttershy, who’s looking up at you. You look back down at the ground. “I know you think I do.” With your eyes closed, you continue to walk. You feel something grab your elbow and pull you to a halt. You turn around to see Fluttershy staring at you, a pleading look in her eyes. She quietly says your name.

“I need to talk here. I can’t wait until we get to your house.”

After a moment of staring, you look down and nod. Rain drips down your cheek and forehead. Your clothes are sticking to your thin frame. Puddles are forming under your feet. Fog is starting to roll in. Hundreds of water droplets hit the concrete sidewalk, but somehow, it’s no trouble hearing Fluttershy as she continues to speak.

“I understand why you did what you did,” she begins over the rain, “I know why you felt you did what you had to do. And I’m grateful.”

But. . .

“But you really scared me,” she says, shivering a bit. The wind begins to howl as it picks up. The rain is at a steady pour. No thunder has rolled, but you’re starting to get worried. You shouldn’t be out here in this. Neither of you should. Hell, you just got over a cold, and the last thing Fluttershy needs on top of everything is to get sick.

Nevertheless, you keep listening.

“I’d never seen you like that before. I’ve seen you at your worst and I’ve seen you at your best. But. . . Nothing like that. It really scared me.” You lower your head and stare at the ground. “I know you better than you know yourself,” she continues, “I know you’re not prone to violence. At least, not anymore.” For a brief moment, you think back to when you were a kid. Thinking back, you remember how much of a little dick you were. But you expel these thoughts from your head as Fluttershy continues. “But I need to know. I need to KNOW you won’t do that again. No matter what.”

You open your mouth. You tighten your chest. You lean forward. But nothing comes out besides a pitiful grunt. You stare Fluttershy right in the eyes as you try in vain yet again to speak. She stares right back with those emerald eyes. You close your lips, lower your head, and close your eyes.

“You don’t have to say it. Tell me however you can. I just need to know.”

You wait a moment before looking back up at her. She staring right into you, and it feels as if she’s looking right through you. You reach with both hands and interlock your fingers with hers. You slowly move your head closer to hers. You can smell her minty breath. Your gaze still locked with hers, you give a wide smile. You put all the love, care, and regret into it, and make a real effort to make her feel comfortable. After a moment, her lips curl up as well.

“I believe you.”

The two of you close your eyes, move your heads just a bit closer, and embrace each other’s touch in the rain.

Battle Scars

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Battle Scars

You and Fluttershy make it to your house in no time. You’re both soaked to the bone and freezing, but still content. You couldn’t be more relieved. You made amends for what happened as you left school. Will you get a call home? Definitely. Will you get suspended? Most likely. Do you care? Not in the slightest. Were you justified? Damn straight.

Fluttershy shivers a bit. You kick off your shoes and motion for her to stay put. She gives a small nod and you rush into the bathroom, grab a couple towels, and head back. You give Fluttershy the towel as she places her wet sneakers neatly next to yours. She thanks you as she takes a towel and begins drying herself off. You do the same. As she dries herself, you notice her taking a bit of caution around her right shoulder. After a minute or two, you and Fluttershy are for the most part dry, at least hair-wise. You look at her for a moment and smile, motioning toward your room in an over-the-top gentlemanly way. She responds with a giggle and a played-up curtsy, walking past you. You follow her.

Fluttershy very-well knew the layout of your home. You only have a one-story home, three bedroom, two bath. The third bedroom hadn’t been used in a half a year. The last time it was used was when your older brother came to visit for a few days when his house was being fumigated. You haven’t seen or heard from him since then.

You walk through the living room, throwing your backpack on the couch and turning on a lamp. When you came in, the house was pretty dark, due to your mom being at your aunt’s, and your dad, well, not being home in a month or two. Military and all that. You and Fluttershy walk into your room and you turn on the light and ceiling fan and throw your phone on the bed. You have a decent sized room. Nothing too special, but nothing to complain about. You walk over to your closet and dig through until you find a pair of pink and yellow pajamas. Fluttershy suggested a while back that you might as well keep them, as she does often come over unexpected. You hand them to her and grab your own night clothes. You turn around and begin to change. You can hear the shuffling of wet clothes sliding off skin behind you. You can see her shadow on the white wall. You can see the shadows arms come up and toss a wet clump of fabric into the hamper.

Oh, how you want to turn around right now.

But your years of discipline tell you not to, and you don’t. You simply continue to tie the drawstring of your blue night pants. You throw your wet t-shirt onto the floor and put on a loose grey one. As you do this, you hear a gasp behind you. Turning around, you see Fluttershy with her dry tank top on quickly cover her shoulders with the towel. A sheepish grin crosses her face. You stand up straight and tilt your head.

“I-It’s nothing,” she says quickly. Uh-huh. And you’re a talking pony. Fluttershy’s never really been a good liar. You nod to her shoulder. She keeps hold of the towel and sits down on the bed. “What?” You lower your eyebrows ever so slightly and sit next to her, crossing your legs on the bed. You tilt your head a bit more. She looks at you and immediately looks at the floor. You lean toward her, a pleading expression on your face. If something’s wrong, she needs to tell you. Let’s not forget what happened a few days ago.

“Like I said. . .” she begins, her voice growing shakier. The thunder continues to roll outside, and the rain clatters against the roof. “. . . It’s nothing.” You’re still not buying it. Taking a leap of faith, you raise your hand slowly. She doesn’t see it. You ever so slowly extend your arm toward her shoulder. You see her grip on the towel falter a bit. After a second, you place your hand on her shoulder. And when you do, she seems to shatter like glass. She lurches forward and begins to sob. Your eyes widen and you swing your legs off the bed and scoot by her side, wrapping your arm around her. Your other hand slowly strokes her arm. Words start to make their way through her cries.

“I-I’m sorry. . . I-I’m s-so so sorry. . .” Your eyes widen a bit more. Sorry? What could she be sorry for? Is this still about the people picking on her? Did word get out of the incident? Did one of them hurt her shoulder? Is that why she’s crying and hiding it?

“I-I wasn’t thinking. . .! I-I. . . I wasn’t. . . I didn’t mean to. . .”

You want to ask her. You want to ask her so badly what happened. You want so, so much to say something, anything to her, to comfort her, to console her, to tell her it’s alright, to tell her you love her. But all you can do is wait it out. All you can do is wait for her to calm herself down. You can only sit here and watch as she hopelessly apologizes for something you can’t even ask what.

“Sshhh. . .” is all you can get out. That’s all you can ever get out. That’s all you can ever say to people without a pen and paper or a phone. Because literally all it is is breath. You’re not even saying something. Why did you have to be so stupid? Why did you have to run into the Everfree like a fucking idiot?! If you had just shut your loud mouth and listened, you wouldn’t have gotten your god damn throat ripped out! You would be able to speak! To talk! To share your thoughts without taking a full minute to do it! Now all you can do is listen and watch as the girl you love sobs her eyes out for a reason you can’t even ask for!

“I didn’t mean it. . . I’m so sorry. . .!” She continues to weep into her hands. You pull her closer and hug her tighter. With a heavy heart, you slide off the bed and onto one knee. You shift so that you’re in front of her. Placing a finger under her chin, you guide her teary gaze to yours. She looks at you with reddened eyes. You place both of your hands softly on her cheeks. The look you give her silently pleads her to tell you what’s wrong. She starts to calm down after a moment.

“I-I. . .” she stutters, choking down the knot in her throat, “P-Please don’t hate me. . .” You shake your head ‘no’ and lean forward a bit. You push yourself up slightly and plant a loving kiss on her forehead. She sniffs once as you go back down.

“I-I. . . I-I hurt myself this morning. . . Pretty badly. . .”

Your eyes go wide. Your jaw drops slightly. Your shoulders droop a bit. You certainly weren’t expecting that. Quickly but carefully, you remove the towel from her shoulders.

And what you see horrifies you.

Her fair, pale white skin is discolored red from the horrible scars now on her shoulder. They make her once smooth skin rough and painful looking. There are at least eight or nine of them. Some long and deep, some short and tiny. As if she progressively got used to the pain. There is some dried blood stained into her skin, like she didn’t have the time nor the patience to clean it all. You stare up into Fluttershy’s eyes, pleading silently to know why, when, and how. Her eyes tear up yet again.

“I-I-It was. . . this morning. . . I wanted so badly to stay home. . . I didn’t want to go back to school. I wanted. . . s-so much to just. . . stay home and stay with you and not deal with all those people and not go back. . .” It was here that she broke down yet again. You pull up your chair so that you’re not kneeling in front of her. Once you’re level with her again, you wrap your arms tightly around her shaking body. Her body bounces lightly with her sobs. She takes in big gasps of air every once in a while. After a moment, she begins to calm down enough to speak through shaky cries.

“I-I would’ve waited for you. . .! I. . . I would’ve. . . would’ve waited for you to get back from school. . .! We could’ve just. . . we could’ve j-just relaxed and watched a movie and just be together. . .” You stroke her long, soft hair as she cries into you. Your eyebrows furrow as she cries. You hold her tight and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.

“I-I was thinking about a lot of things last night. . . I thought of what would happen when I went back. I thought for sure word had gotten out about what happened. . . I begged my mom not to send me back but. . .” You softly kiss the top of her head. Oh, man, what happened earlier really didn’t help. You still feel awful about it.

“I thought about som-me other things too. Like what happened a few days ago. Not about what I almost did. . . but. . .” You ease back a little and look her in the eyes, silently telling her to keep going. Her lips curl up as her breath shortens again. “You said my name.”

Oh. You suppose you did.

You forgot all about that. What with everything that’s been going on. The whole situation always plays over in your mind. Every night. Walking out of school, her text to you, the painful run over, the cut on your side (which has formed an incredibly itchy scab), bursting through the door, throwing the bottle of poison and grabbing Fluttershy. You always seemed to forget about that detail. You. . . You spoke her name.

“And it makes me feel so horrible,” Fluttershy continues, “To know how much I scared you. To make you do something that’s literally impossible. That you care so much about me. . .” Her pitch heightens to a near-squeak and she lowers her head. You place a hand behind her head and bring it in to your chest. She doesn’t sob, but she breathes deeply and heavily.

You spoke. And only now do you realize it. After nearly ten years you spoke.

. . .just in time to see her lift the bottle of rat poison to her lips.

“FLUTTERSHY!!”

It all seems so strange. Like a childhood memory you can just barely remember. It plays over and over in your mind. How could it have been done? It’s not a miracle. Miracles don’t exist. It’s not magic. Magic doesn’t exist. The doctor said that if you ever spoke, it wouldn’t be for maybe another few decades or so. So how could it be? You open your mouth slowly, take in a breath of air, and try to project your voice. Nothing comes out but a bit of breath and a squeak.

Why can’t you speak now? Why only then, when your energy was spent and your lungs were heaving? Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe. But even that sounds far-fetched.

But the subject at hand right now is your sobbing girlfriend. You snap back to reality to find that she is staring at you. She sniffles a few times as she sees you focus on her.

“I’ll never ever do that again. You mean too much to me. I won’t ever scare you again. I promise.” She leans forward and puts her forehead against your chest. You softly rub her back and shoulders, keeping wary of the cuts. You grab your phone from off the bed and open the notepad app.

“Have you told anybody else?”

You show it to her, and she shakes her head ‘no.’

“How bad does it hurt when nothing’s touching it?”

“Kind of. . . not really. Sort of like a numb feeling.”

“What did you use?”

“. . . A pair of scissors. I cleaned them off though. . .”

You sigh a bit, and keep writing. Her gaze remains fixed on the floor.

“How bad did it bleed?”

Fluttershy pauses at this one. She shifts a bit in front of you. You keep your gaze on her, looking her right in the eye. She bites her lip a bit as her eyes start to tear up again.

“. . . Pretty badly. . .”

You look at the ground and sigh slowly. Why? Why did she do it? What did she hope to gain by hurting herself this badly? It finally dawns on you the reality of what she did. How badly she was hurt. How far she went to prove a point. A point she easily could’ve told you about. It hurts you just to think about it. To think about her sitting on her bed. To think about her pushing the blade into her shoulder. Feeling how much it hurt, realizing how much it hurt, and keep going. To think she felt the blood going down, saw the blood, and just kept going. After everything you did for her. After everything you all went through. After all the times you told her it was going to be alright. After all the times you held her, stayed with her, cared for her; she still went and did this.

You stand up, wordlessly, and walk out of the room. You don’t want to take your feelings out on her. You don’t look back as you open up the back door and step out onto the back deck. The rain is still coming down with a vengeance, though you stay dry under the overhang.

Does she not take you seriously that much? Does she care about you that little?
No. Of course she does. Don’t even think like that.

You slam your hands onto the wooden railing, open your mouth wide, and let out a silent scream.

Time Heals All Wounds

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Time Heals All Wounds

Fluttershy’s eyes are hidden behind her long pink hair. You sit beside her, softly rubbing the warm washcloth over her shoulder, removing the dried blood that still remained. You make sure not to be too rough, lest you hurt her. Just feeling the bumps and crevices in her once flawless skin makes you feel horrible.

“Do you hate me?” Fluttershy says, barely above a whisper. It takes a moment to register what she says, but when you do, you look up at her in shock. You hadn’t expected anything like that. With a hand cupping her cheek, you shake your head ‘no,’ mouthing the words ‘of course not.’ You instantly draw her in to a hug, which she returns. She squeezes you a bit, seemingly afraid to let go. You mind her shoulder as you squeeze her a little back.

“Are you mad at me?” she whispers in your ear. You ease back a little so that you’re staring deep into her eyes, which have begun to glaze over again. You lean in and plant a kiss ever so softly beneath her eye. Moving back slowly, you shake your head once again. You move your hands down her arms and to her hands. Your thumbs lightly caress the tendons beneath her soft, fair skin.

“Can you do me a favor please?” Fluttershy asks. You raise an eyebrow and lean forward a bit. “Can you grab my phone from my jeans? Please?” You nod your head, give her forehead a quick kiss, and slide over to the spot on the floor where her soaked jeans lay. As you pick them up, you feel for which pocket her phone is in, and take it out. Placing the jeans back on the ground, you slide over to her and hand the phone over. She unlocks it and starts typing something. You place your left hand on her leg as she types. She turns the phone in her hand to show you the message. It shows a message about to be sent to her mother.

"Can I stay here for the night?"

You smile softly and get your phone from your jeans. You tap your mother's name and ask a similar question. After a few moments, the phone vibrates.

"I don't see why not. But the door stays wide open”

You silently thank your mom and nod to Fluttershy. She smiles and presses a button on her phone. After another few minutes, her phone beeps. She reads it over, smiles widely, and hops into your arms. Her arms squeeze you snugly and warmly. Behind her back, you type out a message. You show it to her after a minute or two.

"I'll take that as a yes then?"

Fluttershy giggles and leans into you. You lean in as well and soon enough your lips are locked again. You put your phone down and bring your hand to her soft pale white cheek. She lets out a squeak as your hand moves slowly to her neck. After a few moments, you open your eyes and pull away. She seems to be floating through space for a moment before she too opens her eyes. Her lips curl up in a warm smile and she brings her hand to yours. Your nod toward the bed, wordlessly asking if she wants to lay down. She nods to you and shifts herself so she’s laying on the bed. You crawl next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She huddles up next to you. She takes a blanket in her hand and looks up to you. You nod and give her a peck on the top of her head. With a quiet giggle, she sets the blanket over herself and you.

“I love you,” she says after a few moments. You smile widely and nuzzle her cheek. She giggles more.

“You know,” she says slowly, “It was kind of nice having someone stand up for me like that earlier.”

You let out a quick breath through your nose, huffing out a silent ‘Yeah?’

“It was weird to see you that aggressive. Usually you’re my big fluff ball.”

You chuckle through your breath.

“Where did you learn that shoulder thing? When you put him to sleep?”

You breathe out another chuckle and reach for your phone. You open the notepad and type:

“Star Trek.”

Fluttershy giggles again. She’s not as big a nerd as you are, but she knows a reference when she sees it..

“Ooh, my big strong Vulcan.” You wheeze out a longer laugh and hug her a little tighter. She giggles louder as well. She rubs her cheek on your chest and hums softly.

"So what now?" she asks a little more hesitantly. You look at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow. She sees this as a sign to elaborate.

“I mean . . . Where do we go from here?” That’s an . . . interesting question. You went through suicide, tears, blood, and scars . . . What now? After a moment or two to think, you start to type on your phone. She keeps her eyes on your face as you write out your message. After a few moments, you hand the phone to her. She reads it aloud, as per your instructions at the beginning of it.

“What now? Now we live our lives as if none of that ever happened. Now we move forward as a couple at our own pace. Nothing much has changed, other than a few maybe-scars. I’m sure those will heal too. It’’s said that time heals all wounds. I like to believe that. Now . . . we do what feels right.”

After her eyes scan the message again, she starts to smile. She places the phone down and nuzzles into you again.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You close your eyes slowly and place a hand on her shoulder. You move your hand up and down softly. You can feel her breathing on your chest. You can feel the softness of her body on yours. This is what you’ve dreamed about for so long. To feel a nurturing hand on you. To feel it caress you tenderly. To have that same hand attached to the girl of your dreams. The girl with the pink hair. The girl you’ve imagined like this for so long. The girl whom you never imagined would actually lay in your arms. The girl who you never thought would love you back. Her name sounds like the sweetest of melodies every time you hear it. The chime of each syllable tasting like maple on your lips. It tickles your tongue. It soothes your throat. It intoxicates you to the point of unbearability. You want to say it so badly. To taste her beautiful, wonderful name like you did so many years ago. Her name is that of which you’ve heard in your dreams, the name that you could hear over and over and over again.

Fluttershy.

You hear a sudden gasp and look down at the girl in your arms. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is agape. She’s looking at you with shrunken pupils and eyes as wide as dinner plates. You look at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Did . . . Did you just . . .”

You mouth the word ‘What?’

“You . . . Do it again,” she says, inching toward you.

What is she talking about? Why the sudden urgency? Do what again? You bring up your hands in a questioning manner. Suddenly, she’s upon you, her arms around your neck and her lips firmly on yours. You immediately melt into the kiss, but a question still rumbles in your mind:

Just what the hell is she talking about?

She breaks away from the kiss with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on your face. It could rival Pinkie Pie’s party-smile with ease. She immediately starts to stammer out of control as she gets on her hands and knees over you.

“You just- I can’t believe- How did you- Omygosh omygosh omygosh! We have to tell people right now!”

You plant your hands firmly on her shoulders. She calms down as you look deep into her eyes, but she remains ecstatic.

“Can you believe it?” she says, leaning in for another kiss. You place your finger on her lips and stare at her. She opens her eyes and looks at you. For a few moments you both stare at each other. She doesn’t seem to be getting what you’re saying, so you pick up your phone again.

“I’m really confused.”

She reads it over and looks at you quizzically.

“Really? You didn’t . . .” She speaks your name quietly, “You said my name. Just now.”

Your eyes widen. You quickly type on your phone.

“Are you sure?”

“I heard it clearly. Your voice was really quiet but I heard it.”

You look down into nothingness for a few moments.

“Try it again.”

A flood of confidence wells up inside of you as you think of what to say. A million choices run through your head, so you pick one that will stick with you forever. You pick what you will remember your whole life, what you’ve always been taught, and what you will forever firmly believe in.

I guess time really does heal all wounds.

Fluttershy smiles warmly and leans in again. This time, you don’t stop her. You let her lay upon you and warm your lips with hers.

It’s a feeling that won’t be forgotten.

The End.