Floor Can't Have Nice Things (FIN)

>After a long and noisy slurp, you smile, satisfied.
>You hug a warm earthenware bowl to your breast, chopsticks in hoof. Inside, delicious ramen with poached eggs and green onions. You should publish your seasoning recipe, but you're still thinking about opening up Denver's first ramen stand.
>Blue light from your monitors bathe you, your work for the night finished earlier than you anticipated. The concept of you having work still brings a smile to your face.
>You, Floor Bored, worked. You can support yourself.
>For a long time, you thought you wouldn't make it this far, but here you are. Who knew that coming to Earth would finally get you your cutie mark?
>A power switch, the 1 within the 0, hugged your flanks. Your calling in life was software engineering, and you were none too shabby.
>Your remote work contracts let you snuggle up underneath your comforter in your spinny chair, NND open playing J-Pop on one screen with your IDE, documentation, and Stack Overflow on the others, ready to tackle anything any everything your clients desired.
>You minimize the windows and consider what you should do with your time tonight, curly noodles slowly disappearing between your lips.
>You sliced this winter season's lineup and boy howdy what a load of trash it was. Then again, you didn't feel like tackling your backlog. You need something light and fluffy after marathoning Ideon.
>As you scroll through fansub blogs, a ping from the speakers and flash on the taskbar catches your attention.
>Your ears droop. Anon's online. A quick glance at the system clock confirms, yup, his insomnia is acting up again.
>You move your mouse over the chat client's icon and let it hover there. Were you ready to deal with this tonight? Was there any chance you weren't going to message him?
>You sigh. You wish this double negative would make a positive, but you already know how this will turn out.
>Trepidation sinks in as you stare at the text box.
[ping]
>[Pong.]



[Bad dreams?]
>[No dreams. Ceiling was more interesting.]
[You know she's out of your reach.]
>[And the Floor is always supporting me, I know. You need new material.]
[I work with what I've got.]
>[Sure you're not a mule?]
[Jackass.]
>You're betrayed by a smile. The routine is comforting, even if the specific frame of time it occurs within is erratic and increasingly, disturbingly, frequent. You know that smile'll be gone by the end of this conversation, but you've not given up that maybe, this time, things will be different.
[Joking aside, I am here if you want to talk.]
>[What makes you think I have anything to say?]
[We do this dance every time, Anon. We've worn a groove into the carpet.]
>[We made this tradition together and I'll be damned if I'm going to stop it now.]
[No, I'm pretty sure you're the only reason this tradition is alive. Don't you think it's time to pull the plug and just talk to me without the BS?]
>[You're the only reason this tradition's alive.]
>It takes a while for you to respond. You mute your music. You've given up long ago trying to find good tunes for this conversation. Listening to anything calm or soothing frustrates you, and you know you get bitchy when you pull out the J-Core. Ah, he's typing.
>[How was your day?]
[Finished early. Eating ramen. Deciding if I want to watch slice of life, haremshit, or slice of life haremshit. Pretty average so far. You?]
>[Laid in bed.]
[And?]
>[And what?]
>Your ears flatten. You finish your bowl, sucking down the broth before setting it aside. You wipe your mouth against your arm before pulling yourself closer to your desk.
[That's all?]
>[Yup.]
[How long?]
>[Fuck if I know. This morning?]
>You check the system clock again and frown. It's very early morning Friday.
[It's Friday. So an entire 24 hours you just laid there?]
>[Guess so.]
[What were you thinking about?]
>[The usual.]
[And you didn't message me at all, the entire time.]
>[You'll move on someday.]



[I won't.]
>[That's what they all say.]
[Who's they?]
>[Low blow.]
[I'm being serious. I'm not making fun of you.]
>[Still hurts to be called friendless by a pint-sized alien.]
[I didn't mean it like that. Asshole.]
>[That's the idea. You're stubborn, but you'll give up eventually.]
[Why do you act like this?]
>[It's in your best interests to not be involved with me.]
[I decide what my bests interests are, not you.]
>[You should take advice from experts. And, as an expert in Anons, I'm the worst specimen to become involved with.]
[You can't call yourself an expert with no evidence backing your words.]
>[It's amazing how someone can be willfully ignorant of the self-evident.]
[Can we drop the sarcasm and have some real-talk for a sec?]
>[I don't know, *can* we?]
[Fuck's sake, please be serious for 5 minutes.]
>[Oof, sorry, bitter and jaded sarcasm's booked for the next eternity. I can maaaaybe squeeze you in after the collapse of space and time as we know it.]
[PLEASE!]
>[Yes, mom.]
[...]
>[May I leave now, mother dearest?]
[Fine, fuck you. Asshole. I'll BBIAW.]
>[Take all the time you need. Even if you never come back again. Nix even, especially.]
>You push yourself away from the desk. Your comforter bundles up on your spinny chair as you slide off of it and stretch, bones popping. You bite your bowl and take it into the kitchen.
>You weren't the old Floor Bored anymore. You tried to keep things tidy. You always bathed at least once a week, even!
>And you knew that if somepony who was as big of a loser as you could pull herself together, then Anon could, too.
>You couldn't have done it alone, though.
>Your friends, Taka and Moondancer, convinced you to give Earth a shot after the portals opened.
>And they gave you all the support they could. They went to lengths beyond what even the Princess of Friendship herself would.
>Honestly, you owe them your life.
>You know, without them, you'd still be an aimless, anhedonic NEET. Or worse.



>You stand at the sink, putting the ramen bowl in the small side and rinsing it out with the nozzle. You make it squeaky clean and set it out to dry on a dish rag and dismount your stool. You were going to move into a home made for a pony-sized occupant one day.
>Actually, you had been looking into... interspecies home plans. They were expensive, and the options limited. The portals only opened, what, a year ago?
>Has it already been a year?
>You stand still and think. You look around. Your very own apartment, that you're paying for. A fridge filled with fresh produce, that you eat and cook yourself. You can go outside and buy your own groceries, although you prefer night shopping because you still didn't like crowds.
>You've come so far in six months.
>And you know Anon would, too. He needed somepony to be there with him. For him. And you wanted to be that somepony.
>Your heart constricted at the thought. A painful shortness suffocated your lungs.
>You needed to be that somepony.
>Anon was your first human friend here on Earth. He seemed to enjoy your company, teaching you things about Earth. He taught you about anime, how to pirate it, and even watched it with you. He carried you in multiplayer games, back when he would play them with you. His dark humor was so refreshing compared to what you had back in Equestria.
>And, being honest, you felt a kinship with him. You were both NEETs at the time, you still living by Celestia's good graces in some rat-infested studio apartment. You bonded over that shared experience.
>He knew what the pain felt like. How your mind tormented you, replaying every little thing you had done wrong. How you hated your worthless self.
>But when you started getting better, he grew distant.
>And then he started actively making distance.
>And you hate it.
>You hate it more than you hated yourself back in Equestria.
>The thought of losing him tears from the bone.
>Maybe you do need to make more friends.



>No, that's Anon talking.
>You smack yourself in the face with a hoof. No, it's not ANON-Anon talking. It's his... demons. He doesn't actually want to lose you. You begin walking back to your room.
>But maybe he thinks he already has lost you. Maybe he thinks that, because you got better, you can no longer be his friend. That the connection is severed, that you're going to leave him behind.
>Even though you've tried your best to keep your friendship, this last month is straining you to a breaking point.
>A breaking point you've pushed others to before.
>You two might not be identical, but you know what he's doing.
>At least, you hope you do.
>The alternative to him pushing you away, testing your friendship, the reason for him cutting off his last attachement to...
>You shake your head. No, don't think about it.
>With a weary sigh, you hop back into your chair and spin to face the computer. Anon hasn't said anything since his last message fourteen minutes ago.
[Are we done being childish so we can have a genuine conversation?]
>[You're still here?]
[Of course I am. I say it every day. I. Am. Here. For. You.]
>[Didn't ask you to be.]
[You didn't need to. That's what friends do. Be there for each other.]
>[We're not friends.]
[We are.]
>[Never were, and never will be.]
[That's shit and you know it. We used to hang out for twelve hours a night. Now I can't even get you to play a quick match.]
>[You're a novelty that's worn out its welcome. I'm bored of you now.]
>You slam your hooves on the desk. You try to form words in your head, but you can't. You keep slamming the desk.
[WE. HAD. SOMETHING.]
>[You thought we did. I played you like a damn fiddle.]
[Why won't you let me love you?]
>You bury your eyes in your hooves. The frogs catch your tears before they slide down and soak your fur. So frustrating. You want to scream. But it's 4 AM, and you don't want to get another complaint from your neighbors.
>[You can. It's just unrequited.]



[I fucking know it isn't. I know you feel something for me. I know you do.]
>[This cold and twisted heart hasn't felt since it resided in a babbling toddler. You are not going to be the one to thaw it.]
[We used to talk. I could hear it in your voice. You like me. And you could hear it in my voice. I liked you. I love you. I *love* you. How many times do I have to say it for you to understand?]
>[I hear you loud and clear. I just don't feel the same way.]
[You bought me games for my birthday.]
>[I bought you memetic trash as a joke.]
[And we laughed our asses off together when I streamed it for you.]
[And then I got you crappy VNs for your birthday, and we MST3K'd them for days.]
[We used to spend our time together, really together.]
[We just wanted to be around each other.]
[I still want to be around you.]
[So, no, my love isn't unrequited. It's mutual.]
>[So what if it is?]
>You stare at the screen, dumbfounded.
>This is the first time he's ever...
[So what? So what!? What do you mean?!]
>[I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An Anon's faithful 100%.]
>[Even if I did love you—which I do not— so what? Why should I act on those feelings?]
>[What right do I have to love someone?]
[Everypony has that right...]
>[No, no. Every'pony' does not. Some of us are monsters. And some of those monsters know they are monsters. And some of those monsters, that know they are monsters, know better than to inflict themselves onto anyone.]
[You're not a monster, Anon.]
>[You don't know me.]
[We've been friends for almost an entire year. I've told you things I haven't even told my IRL friends. I know you've told me things you'd never tell anyone else.]
[And I've spent entire days being with you.]
[I do know you. And I love you.]
>[No, you don't. You don't know me. You don't know what I'm really like.]
[I don't know the real Anon that can recite entire scenes from any mecha anime, literally any mecha anime?]



[I don't know the real Anon that told me about how he used to dream of becoming a veterinarian when he was a little kid because he wanted to pet dogs all day?]
[The real Anon that, even when he was being an asshole over voice, still had my back in every match?]
[That helped me start learning Japanese?]
[The real Anon that was always, ALWAYS ready to talk with me about my day? That reached out to me when I was feeling like I wanted everything to end? That stayed up with me, talking about how much we hated the world and all the normalfags in it, until I settled down enough to sleep?]
[That real Anon? That jackass with a heart of gold Anon that I know and love? The one that can make me laugh, feel cared for, feel giddy about? I don't know him?]
>[Nope.]
>You try to flip your desk, but fail. The screws you installed last week have proven themselves time and time again.
>A sound investment. Screws were much cheaper than monitors.
>After you strain hard enough to nearly injure yourself, you punch out your reply with red and blurred eyes.
[Tell me about the real Anon, then.]
>[You really want to know?]
[Yes.]
>[Don't say I didn't warn you.]
>Answers. Finally. Answers.
>[This is the real Anon.]
>[The one insulting you, driving you away. Hurting you. That's the real Anon.]
>[Anything I did before was just a front. This is how I really am.]
>[I'm venomous. I'm hateful. I'm a disease on this planet, and I would not wish myself upon anyone.]
>[I hold grudges, I am petty, I am a parasite.]
>[I know you've heard me screaming at my mother before. You've heard it when we got physical. When I hit her. Because she wanted me to get a job.]
>[I have a short temper. I'm over-emotional and reactionary. My fuse is so short I explode in your hands with but a spark. I have arrest records for assault from back when I still went outside. Because someone laughed at me when I spilled water on myself. Someone that bullied me back in middle school.]



>[I'm myopic and unmotivated. I saddled my father, who had his wages garnished to keep his job, with thousands in student loan debt and a report card with straight F's because I rathered to waste my time grinding in WoW than make anything of myself.]
>[Every time someone tries to help me, I attack at full force because I don't want to admit that I've chosen to be a living piece of shit. I don't want to burden someone with my existence.]
>[You deserve better than me.]
>[So what if I love you?]
>[So what?]
>[I know better than to listen to that part of my brain.]
>[I know  my parents deserved better. I know that you deserve better.]
>[And if you aren't going to accept that, I am going to force you to accept that.]
>[By any means necessary.]
>You stare at the screen.
>You lower your head and curl up in your chair, ears almost fused to your skull.
>Everything hurts.
>Oh, Celestia, it hurts.
>It hurts.
>You know where it comes from.
>You were there, once, too.
>But having it laid out is too painful.
>Too many memories.
>You stay there for a while.
>It may have been a minute.
>Maybe an hour.
>When you finally lift your head, you don't see any new messages.
>That's good.
>You don't want to read the old ones.
>You peck out a reply.
[I don't care if I deserve better.]
[I don't care if you'll hurt me.]
[I want you.]
[I want to help you.]
[Let me help you.]
[Please.]
[I want you in my life.]
[Anon? Are you there?]
[Please, say something.]
[I need to know that you're okay.]
[Please.]
>You stare at the screen.
>You wait.
>Time is immaterial at this point.
>There is only you and Anon.
>And you will sit here until Anon responds.
>So you sit.
>And you sit.
>And it starts to hurt.
>And you sit and it hurts.
>Morning breaks and you sit and it hurts.
>Lunch passes and you sit and it hurts.
>Night falls
>and you sit
>and it hurts.
>Anon is typing...
>Your eyes light up.
[You're okay!]
>[This is Anon's mother...]
>...