Trowel (Garden Anon) Pt. 2

>You sit in the dim bathroom stall.
>It’s been about 20 minutes, and the hot water is coating the mirror and shower door in a thin film of shower sweat.
>You continue to sit down, holding your head.
How could this have happened? Why now?
>The water slides down the drain. You watch it.
>Why is this happening to you? What does Fluttershy see in you? You certainly don’t see anything special in her.
>Is she jealous? Of Twilight? Of You?
>It’s too complicated. Deep down you knew it was a bad idea to let your guard down after what she did to you; you knew she’d be back.
>She just seemed so…innocent. You have a terrible knack for reading feelings.
>Through the walls you can hear Fluttershy doing something in the other room.
>Who knows…maybe she’s looking for paper and markers to write out an apology card.
>No, that can’t be it; you don’t own any cardstock.
>Maybe she’s trying to kill herself…
>…or waiting to kill you.
>You turn the valves off and get off the shower floor.
>As you wipe your face you look at the cloudy mirror.
>Maybe if Fluttershy does try and kill you, you can write a note to the police on the mirror.
>You raise your finger to it and start to inscribe a capital “T”, but instead draw a series of squiggly lines upon realizing how stupid the idea is.
>You slip on your dirty clothes once more. There’s no way you’re going to risk changing with her in the house.
>You lower the chair from the doorknob and place it aside.
>One final breath before you face her…it could be your last.
>Exhale and open the door simultaneously; this is it.
>To your astonishment, Fluttershy is nowhere to be seen.
>A relieved sigh escapes your mouth.
>The cluttering sound persists. Hesitantly, you decide to investigate it.
>You slowly creep into the kitchen to the source.
>Fluttershy’s ears perk up as you step on a squeaky floorboard.
>Her mane whips as she turns around to see you standing in the kitchen doorway, slightly dripping.
>”O-oh hello, honey. D-dinner’s almost r-ready, Anonymous.”
Dinner?
>Well this isn’t what you were expecting at all.
>Fluttershy is wearing your apron. It’s too big on her and drags on the floor as she scurries to prepare the meal for you.
>You hate to admit it, but she looks cute in it.
>Maybe you’d like her more of she wasn’t, you know, insane.
>Your brain is filled with so many strange things. Finding Fluttershy here really set you off balance.
>She sets the hot food on your small table with her mouth.
>She throws off the apron and fixes her hair to be more presentable for you before sitting down.
>”R-ready, honey?”
>Fuck.
Uhhh...
>You panic. Think of an excuse!
I need to…uh…get a chair.
>You only have 2.
>You walk at a snail’s pace to retrieve the makeshift doorstop from the bathroom.
>While in the bathroom, you contemplate locking yourself inside and trying to find a way to call for help.
>Sure you could probably take her on yourself, but that’s not your style.
>Plus, how would you smooth things over with Twilight if she found out?
>You don’t expect anyone to believe you that sweet, innocent Fluttershy drugged you, tried to rape you, broke into your house months later and then cooked you dinner and that’s why you beat her up.
>No…because that’d be…
>Absolutely insane.
>You return to the table, chair in hand.
>Fluttershy gives off a joyous aura as you scoot into place and look at the food placed before you. You wish Twilight knew how to cook.
>In fact, it all looks delicious. There’s stuffed mushrooms, a steamy vegetable casserole, a bottle of wine, and a warm apple cinnamon pie cooling on the stove.
>This is all so elaborate.
>You’re afraid to upset her, so you give her a forced smile as you start to eat.
So…Fluttershy…when did you have time to make all of this?
>You feel stupid for not noticing it on your way inside.
>”Oh Anonymous, I had plenty of time to make dinner for you. I-in fact, I’ve been here e-every day since my birthday. I always have food ready f-for you…j-just in case you ever came back to m-me…”
>You are stunned. She’s so committed to you; too committed.
>You’ve been back to the house only twice since moving to town. It’s sheer luck that the two of you didn’t cross paths sooner.
>A forkful of food hovers near your mouth. You are afraid to eat it; remembering what happened the last time you accepted foodstuffs from Fluttershy.
>She looks at you.
>You look at her.
>It feels like you’re disarming a bomb; tense, sweating, nervous, and frightened more than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
>Just then, Fluttershy announces something.
>”Oh, Anonymous! I just remembered something! I went through all of your s-songs on your little music machine…”
>Oh god…what’s coming?
>Fluttershy produces a small speaker and plugs in your iPod.
>”I found this l-lovely song for us to listen to while we enjoy our f-food…”
>She struggles to scroll to a song using her hoof. Eventually, she locates it and plays the track.
>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Tj4u9p8pCc
>The eerie music echoes into the empty house.
>You continue to hold the forkful of food to your mouth.
>”A-aren’t you going to eat m-mister?”
>You ponder the question as you stare at her. Then at the speaker. Then at the food. Then again to her.
> Your heart races along to the pounding drum line.
>What is Fluttershy trying to do? A few months ago she was knocking you out to have sex with you, and now she’s feeding you an extravagant meal.
>Your brain seems to shut off from the over-calculation of possible scenarios.
Fluttershy? Are you going to kill me?
>Yeah. It’s off.
>Her fork clanks as it hits her plate.
>”Why ever would I do that…?”
>She extends her hoof on the table top in an attempt to hold your hand, but you retract yours to the safety of your lap. She follows action, lest she look needy.
>”…I love you, An-nonymous…”
>Silence. The music continues.
I don’t think you understand the situation, Fluttershy. I already have a girlfriend…a wonderful girlfriend.
>A devastating blow to her, indeed.
>You continue in a monotone voice while staring through the table.
We are just neighbors, or, we were. I live with Twilight now. I just came here to get some clothes and my tools.
>Finish her.
 I don’t know a single thing about you. You seem nice to me, but…the things you did? It’s pretty unforgiveable.
>You motion to the speaker.
Why did you even pick this song anyways?
>Futtershy stumbles and stutters, visible shaken from your verbal defense.
>”I-I-I j-just thought it would be r-r-romantic…with the strings and everything…w-would you l-like to d-dance?”
Well no, I wouldn’t.
>Stand your ground, Anonymous. Don’t give in.
>Tears well in Fluttershy’s eyes.
>”Fine.”
>She hops down from her chair and starts to walk away.
>Great job asshole.
>The guilt returns, even as you try hard to fight it.
>You get up and walk over to her.
Fluttershy, wait.
>She hangs her head and looks at you. She isn’t crying, but you know she wants to.
This just has to stop. You have to be more grown-up about this.
>You rest your hand on her shoulder to reassure her of your words.
I’m going to be moving away from here soon…
>Your statement pushes Fluttershy over the edge. Her tears begin to stream down her face.
>”N-no, An-nonymous! You can’t j-just leave me! Not like this!”
>Her hoarse words and cracking voice rattle you deeply. She care so deeply for you…for all the wrong reasons.
>You instinctively hug here for comfort. It doesn’t mean anything to you, you just want her to calm down so she can eventually leave and you can get back to Twilight and your normal, Flutter-free life.
>This relationship is a mess.
>”I get it now…”
>She looks at you with her droopy eyes.
>”…Sorry for all of this. I know you don’t like me like that; or at all. I’ll just go now…”
Fluttersh-
>She walks out of your hug and heads for the door.
>What are you supposed to do? You’re in a tough position.
Fluttershy…? Where are you going?
>She opens the door; the harsh storm wind blows her mane back.
>”I’m going home, Anonymous. You can go back to Twilight’s when the storm dies down.”
>There is an eerie coldness in her voice now. Like something snapped.
>Somehow, you feel utterly confused. It’s obvious that Fluttershy is jealous of your relationship with Twilight; but…
>Holy shit. This is just too much for you.
>You watch her take a couple steps outside as the rain flattens her mane. She stands there…motionless for a few moments.
Fluttershy…?
>She looks back at you.
>”You aren’t my boyfriend. I’m not your girlfriend. We aren’t together.”
>Maybe now she gets it. You hope.
>You feel like you need to say something.
So…do you still need a gardener?
>She’s silent. What a stupid, irrelevant thing to ask.
>She walks off into the cold afternoon towards the setting sun and her home.
>You get up from your kneeled position on the floor and shut the door.
>What the fuck is going on in Ponyville? Is everyone going insane? Are you?
>You pace the room wondering why you feel remorse for letting Fluttershy walk away.
>On one hand, it’s great to be alone and be able to get back to your own life.
>But seeing Fluttershy again just…
>Everything that happened between the two of you is a secret you planned on keeping between the two of you forever.
>Maybe that needs to change.
>Maybe the weight will finally be lifted from your conscious if you tell Twilight what her friend has been up to.
>It’s worth a shot. You’re confident she will understand the situation if you explain it.
>Fluttershy will only deny it though.
>The storm rages harder that before.
>That grey mare must be behind it. Rainbow Dash said there was only supposed to be a few showers.
>A streak of lightning ignites the room in white light.
I guess I’m staying here tonight.
>Twilight would understand. No need to tell her about your “house guest”.
>No. Actually, there is a reason now.
>It’s time to take a stand against Fluttershy’s reign of terror on your psyche.
>If you’re as serious as you say you are about Twilight, she deserves to know the truth.
>You love her.
>It’s getting late. There’s nothing left to do but go to sleep.
>You head to your bedroom and shut the closet that Fluttershy was in.
>You grab your iPod and scroll through it.
>To your surprise, Fluttershy made a playlist titled “Songs for My Baby <3”.
>All love songs.
>The conflicting feelings return once more.
>You just want it all to stop.
>You crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling. This time you’re alone at least.
>Tomorrow you’re going to march straight to Twilight’s with your clothes and tools and explain the whole mess to her.
>Hopefully she takes it well.
>God, you really hope so.
>You close your eyes and try to enjoy the pitter patter of the rain drops.
>Your mattress has a smell.
>You can’t place it.
>You inhale deeply.
>Grass. Bananas. Dirt.
>Fluttershy.