(FR) Office Love - Part 2 - Chapter 3

https://www.fimfiction.net/story/203197/14/office-love/part-2---chapter-3-a-late-night

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Mulberry was fired from her job? The words register meaning, but when used in that sequence… don’t seem to add up. She’s been having such a terrible stroke of luck recently, between the hospital, the abuse, the alcohol, the heartbreak. It’s hard to look at it as the world conspiring against the poor pony. Or, worse, a different thought rings deep beneath the surface of your mind.

	That this is all, in some way, your fault.

	You bite your lip and look down to your water once more. The pit in your stomach isn’t the same ache that made you drool over that Caesar salad just moments ago. This mess is going to change everything. What will Berry do? What can you do?

	What do you even really know about Mulberry? For the longest time, she was just that mare who lived next door and kept to herself.

	“No, it’s fine, I can be over right after work,” Autumn says to her over the phone, her hooves on the table, eyes unfocused on anything tangible in front of her. “Yes, but right now, just focus on taking care of yourself. Breathe. … Berry, stop. Just breathe. Deep Breaths. There you go. It’s okay. Alright-- … I think that’s a good idea. … I’ll see you soon.”

	Autumn closes her phone and sets it on the table in front of her, staring at it as if it might come to life at any moment.

	“So?” you ask.

	“Well, Berry’s fired. She’s a complete mess. She wants us to come over after work to talk. She really doesn’t want to be alone.”

	“I don’t blame her,” you mumble, looking down into your drink. This just made things much more complicated. Berry doesn’t want to be alone. You’ve got to do overtime tonight or it’s your and Fluttershy’s jobs.

	I suppose this is why your job pays so much. The stress.

	“Well, when do you get off?” Autumn asks. “I figure I can head over there around four and order a pizza, or something. I can make sure she doesn’t drink too much. It’s not the right time to talk about how she uses alcohol as a crutch, but we can gently steer her away, you know?”

	“I don’t know. Maybe ten?”

	A short silence.

	“Wait, what?” Autumn asks. “Do you have to do overtime?”

	“Yeah,” you say. “The long story short is, we got a deadline to meet. Brand told me, well. Come work late  or don’t come back.”

	Autumn nods quietly and looks down to the table.

	“What do you want to do?” Autumn asks.

	“I [i]want[/i] to go care for Mulberry with you tonight. But, I haven’t even updated my resume yet, or even began looking for other employment. It’s a mess. The responsible thing to do is to get the work done and swing by for some cold pizza.”

	Autumn nods.

	“Are you…” Autumn freezes for a moment. Words catch in her throat and hold there. “Is it something just you gotta do?”

	You bite your lip. Honesty is the best policy. There’s no sense in beating around the bush.

	“Fluttershy will likely be helping me this evening,” you say flatly. “I’m not excited about it, but it is what it is.”

	You see a sort of light pale in her eyes, as if you’ve struck some sort of death blow to some silent hope she had.

	“I see,” she says. “And you’re okay with that?”

	“Until I can update my resume and find a new job, I don’t have much of a choice.”

	Just then, the tension in the air is broken by a mare who walks up to the table that you and Autumn sit at.

	“Is there anything I can get you two?” she asks, wearing a plastered on smile and a bit too much makeup to hide how tired she is.

	Autumn closes her eyes and shakes her head.

	“I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

	“Just,” you plead to the waitress, your thumb and forefinger rubbing your temples. “Give us a moment.”

	The mare trots away as Autumn spins the straw in her glass.

	“I know how you feel about Fluttershy,” you say softly.

	“How I feel?” Autumn shoots back. “Did you forget all the things she’s done to you before? And now that we’re dating… how do you think that’s going to make her feel? You’re literally putting your livelihood and job security into a project where she could crush it if she wanted.”

	“I don’t think she’d do that,” you say softly. “If she loses her job, she’ll have nothing left.”

	“I just,” Autumn sighs and shakes her head. “Promise me you’ll start looking for a new job tomorrow? This place… this situation isn’t going to get better.”

	“I know,” you murmur, grabbing her hoof from across the table. “I know.”

[hr]

	“Sorry, things at work are really bad, I’ll swing by later tonight.”

	Send. Hopefully Berry will understand.

	You shove your phone back into your pocket as you get into the elevator back to your office. You ponder to yourself if you have any headache medicine at your desk. Lord knows at this point you’re gonna need it. You have no sort of idea what’s going to happen tonight. If Fluttershy might use this moment to her advantage. But then again, your conversation with her this morning really gave you a lot of hope that this might work out.

	Maybe this can all have a happy ending.

	And, if you get a new job soon, then the rest of the plan falls into place neatly. Call Twilight. Fire Fluttershy. Then enjoy the new life you’ve made for yourself here. Heck, you could even ask Autumn to move in.

	The very thought running through your mind sends a wave of warmth through your chest. Yet, after the way lunch ended, you were left with a hunger in the pit of your stomach, as well as a boiling acidity. She hates this arrangement. Autumn doesn’t trust Fluttershy. Who wouldn’t? Given what she did to you before you left Ponyville. Despite coming onto you on that date you had with her.

	Does Autumn know about that? Should she know about that?

	It doesn’t matter. The main priority now has to be you. And you love Autumn. So step one is to get this night of overtime done. Step two is to get home, brush off the resume, and begin marking down where changes need to be made.

	The elevator dings loudly once it reaches your floor, and you head to your office. You arrive quickly, and notice fluttershy sitting inside, reading over papers in a small filing folder. You recognize it as the overtime work that Brand gave you.

	“Well,” you say, causing Fluttershy to jump. “What do you think?”

	“This is….,” she says, reading the pages carefully. “This is predictive statistics.”

	“Yeah,” you say, heading to your chair and sitting down.

	“We’re supposed to estimate how many ponies we need to lay off now in order to stem the bleeding?” Fluttershy asks.

	“Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s not glamorous work. The names aren’t included. So all we can do is think of it as numbers.”

	“Yes, but… How are we going to make this somewhat accurate?” she asks. “Predictive formulas get really complicated. And you need large datasets-”

	“We have access to the archives to get our dataset. We can estimate, even with falling revenue, what the safest options would be. I’ve got my old stats book around here somewhere that we can pull prediction formulas from. We just need to crunch, run, and rerun the numbers.”

	Fluttershy looks up at you, a pained expression filling her face.

	“We’re going to be the ones responsible for firing hundreds of ponies,” she whispers.

	You nod your head and pull a bottle of headache pills from your desk. You pull out three and down them. You set two in front of Fluttershy.

	“I know.”

[hr]

	There’s three types of overtime in the world of white collar work. The first is waiting. Waiting on someone else doing overtime to accomplish something, so you can do your task and go home. It’s the most common and one of the most miserable, because you frequently think of all the things you could and would rather be doing. Each second passes like minutes, and only grows frustrating the longer it goes on. The second is accidental. It’s rare, but when you’re so invested into a project, time flies, and next thing you know, you should have left half an hour ago. However usually that’s reserved for the lucky folk who actually like their job.

	This is deadline overtime. And it’s easily the worst. Every minute that passes not only brings to mind all of the things that you could, or would rather be doing, but it’s enforced by knowing what will happen if you don’t get it done. And that feeling keeps your head down. It’s why you put a piece of tape over your desk clock so you’d stop looking at the time and just focus on the work.

	Worse is when you make the mistake at looking at the names. Dealing with employee numbers is easy. It could be any of the ponies in this office. It’s just a number. But when you look at the names, it’s a different matter. Faces enter your mind. You are firing them. You are causing them to lose their job. You are the one who is going to make it harder for their family to have food on the table.

	Noon turns to three, turns to six. The office grows quieter, allowing you to focus, except for the occasional intrusion of Fluttershy for a number check or to bring you a few finished forms. You pause and sit up. The clock has a dull haze from behind the piece of tape, but it’s already growing dark inside. None of the  phones in the office are ringing, and the janitor stallion just took your trash.

	You’ve made a hell of a dent with Fluttershy. You could probably get this wrapped up in an hour or two, if you really kept at it and there weren’t any mistakes. And honestly? Fluttershy’s been working at your desk, and you’ve been working in your office. This… isn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. She hasn’t come onto you. She hasn’t given you any weird food or acted strange. It’s been all about getting the job done. It’s… professional.

	You rise from your seat and stretch your arms. Working for this long has done nothing but bad things for your back. You take a moment to stretch your legs and head over to Fluttershy’s desk. You need a form to keep going anyway. And, you know what? Why not order something for delivery? You’re gonna be here two-ish more hours anyway. Might as well get some food sent up.

	Fluttershy sits at her desk, pouring over notes and punching data into a calculator.

	“Hey, how’s the five-year analysis going?” you ask.

	“Well, mapping what our current five year analysis is easy. Then I had to measure it by cutting costs in uniform ways across the company versus removing costs from some of the more heavy spenders and just trimming the fat of the essentials. It’s coming along, but I need at least another hour.”

	“Do you like Neighponese?”

	Fluttershy pauses, then looks up at you.

	“Huh?” she asks.

	“Neighponese. Like, Teriyaki noodles. Ramen. You know. Dinner. There’s a place that delivers to the office all the time. I’m thinking of having some sent to us. What do you think?”

	“Well,” Fluttershy starts, her cheeks flushing wildly. “T-that sounds really nice. B-but wouldn’t that be… unprofessional?” she asks.

	“Uh, why would it?” you ask. “We’ve been doing some crazy overtime. The least we can do is have a meal on the company dime. We gotta get this stuff done and we aren’t leaving until it’s finished. I dunno about you, but I’m cranky when I’m hungry.”

	Fluttershy smiles, closing her eyes for a moment, deep in thought.

	“I think I’d really like that,” she says. “I’ll just have whatever you think I’d like.”

	“Two ramens then. It’s like soup. Trust me,” you say. I’ll bring it over when they call up for me. Keep it up.”

	And then you turn, ready to get back to the grindstone.

	“Uhm, Anon?” Fluttershy calls back to you.

	You pause, turning on the spot, your expression blank.

	She pauses for a moment, her voice caught in her throat.

	“... T-thanks.”

[hr]

	And period. There. The final note of the final consensus. If the company lays off 500 employees, they could run for another five years. If the company lays off 650, they could run for five years and give the executives a solid bonus.

	You take a deep breath and lay back in your chair. As you do, Fluttershy trots into your office.

	“There, and that’s the last of the cover sheets.”

	“Wonderful,” you say. “Well. We did it. We got it done.”

	“Yeah,” she says, looking down at the forms. “Although… it doesn’t really… feel good, does it?”

	“Not even a little bit,” you groan. “But I’m going to go home, have a stiff drink, and go to bed. I’d suggest you do the same.”

	You rise from your seat and place a cover sheet in each of eight identical folders of papers. All that’s left is to take this to Brand’s office and head back. You pull out your phone and begin to find Autumn’s number.

	“Is there anything else you need, Anon?” Fluttershy asks, leaning against the door frame of your office.

	“Hm?” you ask. “Oh. Nah. Go ahead and head home. Give that dog a nice pet. He’s earned it after being this patient. Also,” you take a moment to set down your phone and give her your full attention. “Thank you so much for helping me tonight. I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

Fluttershy’s cheeks go flush and her ears turn down as she straightens herself.

	“Alright Anon, well, have a nice night,” she says quietly before walking out of your office.

	You look back down to the papers and feel a hollow dread overtake you. You step out of your office to cross the building to Brand’s office. You walk slowly, the lights on emergency lights only, since it’s after hours. Your eyes scan the cubes, and you recognize names.

	“You’d be gone,” you mutter. “You’d be gone. You got me a coffee once…”

	You are enabling this. Well, no. You are executing it. If asked to shoot a man, and handed a gun, another person would take the gun and pull the trigger themselves. You simply elected to pull the trigger in lieu of more fatalities.

	You step into Brand’s office and set the folders on his desk. And like that, it’s done.

	You pull out your phone and find Autumn’s number. With a quick dial, the phone begins to ring.

	“Hello?” your marefriend asks.

	“Hey there babe,” you sigh. “I’m all done.”

	“Kay.”

[hr]

	The elevator clatters open, and you walk onto the floor of your apartment. You casually glance at the time on your phone and involuntarily click your tongue. 9:30. Shit. You really wanted to be here sooner. The feeling of not being there for a friend when they need it… well, it’s the sort of thing that keeps a mind thinking in the middle of the night.

	You quicken your pace and walk right up to Mulberry’s door.

	A shuffle of hoofsteps from inside.

	The door peeks open, and you see the concerned emerald eyes of your mare friend peek out from the door, including a shiny new chain lock between the door frame and the door. Her expression furrows and the door closes, the lock slides open, and Autumn opens the door wide for you.

	“She just fell asleep,” Autumn whispers. “Want to help me move her to the bed?”

	You feel a crushing feeling overwhelm you. You missed it. Of course you did. You knew this could happen. But what choice did you have? If you lost your job today…

	Well… now probably isn’t the best time for over analyzing your situation. There will be an answer soon.

 	“Yeah, sure,” you mumble, stepping inside the apartment and closing the door behind you. You head into the living room and spy her lying on the couch. Autumn did a good job of helping her clean up, even if she’s still in her work clothes. No sign of streaked make-up or anything are on Mulberry. Then again, you don’t even know if she cried. Maybe she was just too, shocked. Too broken by recent events to fully realize what happened.

	She’s an easy enough creature to lift into your arms, Autumn lifted a hoof as if she intended to help, but ponies aren’t particularly heavy creatures. You move into her bedroom and lie her down on the bed and cover her with the covers.

	The pain on her sleeping expression brings back a memory of a heart beat monitor… dripping IV bags. You blink hard, focusing on absolutely anything else on your mind.

	You look away from the bed, as if the image itself were touching a hot stove. You exit the bedroom and shut the door behind you. Autumn stands there, looking up at you, a mixed expression on her face.

	“Did everything go alright?” you ask.

	“Yeah, I guess,” Autumn says, a clear tone of disappointment in her voice. “It would have been easier with you here… but there’s only so much that can be done. I still think she’d like to see you at some point.”

	“I bet, yeah,” you say, walking into the kitchen and examining a wine bottle sitting on the counter. “Did she get drunk?”

	“No,” Autumn replies. “She’s been holding herself to cutting down. That’s the only bottle we opened tonight.”

	You tip the bottle into your mouth to suck out the last few drips at the bottom. Suddenly you’re aware of how much you really wanted a mouthful of alcohol. You set down the bottle and refocus on your marefriend.

	“Well, that’s good. Wanna head back to my place? I’m just… exhausted.”

	“Sure thing.”

	Your body feels as if it goes on autopilot as you pull out your key, lock the door to Mulberry’s apartment behind you as Autumn follows behind, and head into your own apartment. Once the two of you are inside, you toss your coat onto your couch and head into the bedroom, instantly shedding your clothing. Each article that you toss into a hamper feels as if your tossing off the chains that work had thrust upon you this evening. You feel more and more free.

	Autumn stands in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you.

	“I think I laid off 500 employees today,” you say to her.

	A silence fills the room as you lay on the bed in just a shirt and underwear.

	“Five… hundred?” she replies in shock.

	“That’s the low number,” you reply. “If the execs want a nice fat holiday bonus, it’ll be higher.”

	“That’s… so many ponies.”

	“You’re telling me. I feel like I was rejected for being scum of the year award for crimes against equinity,” you sigh. “I’m beginning the new job search tomorrow. Just like you said.”

	“Good,” she says, trotting into the room and laying beside you. “I think it’ll be good for you.” A silence falls between you and her. Then, she wets her lips. “Did everything go okay with… well…”

	Her words trail off, and her words move away from your face, you look to her in confusion.

	“You know,” she says. “Fluttershy.”

	“Oh, yeah. She stayed at her desk. I stayed at mine. Ordered some ramen bowls to eat at our desks to get through the night. It was quiet. We probably didn’t exchange more than a few words of conversation the whole night.”

	“That’s good at least,” Autumn says, looking up at the ceiling.

	Another silence falls over the room, and this time you can feel the discomfort begin to form. She places a hoof on your hand, then turns her gaze to you.

	“Anon, can we talk?” she asks.

	Fuck. You feel every ounce of your stomach ready to spill onto the bed. What did you do? What happened? You’ve been so good. You’ve been trying to help everypony. Make the best decisions possible. You’ve done everything right. Your eyes close and you turn to her, feeling the weight of the world crash down on your shoulders. Your back cracks.

	“Of course, babe. What’s up?”

	“Well,” she says, sighing to herself. “This is… really hard for me to talk about. But just… we’ve been dating for a few month’s now. Things have been really weird and unusual and fast.”

	You feel as if a knife is repeatedly stabbing your windpipe.

	“Sometimes you gotta take a step back and look at the cards that life has given you, and sometimes you have to evaluate things--”

	“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper.

	The words are involuntary. The voice in your throat barely resembles your own. Your mind is blank for fear of thinking anything at all. But in the last 24 hours, you’ve caused hundreds of ponies to lose their jobs, you’ve let down your closest friend, and decided to quit your job. This… this is just too much.

	Autumn stares up at you in shock, her eyes the size of pinpricks.

	“What? No. No, baby. No. I want to move in together. Nonono. Baby,” she coos, wrapping her hooves around your body. “No, that wasn’t what I was suggesting at all.”

	And then it all comes out. All of the resentment for your job. The insecurity. The anger at the position you put Mulberry in. The resentment for Fluttershy refusing to change. All of it. You breathe in the scent of her bright green hoodie and pull her closely to you.

	The night is silent as the two of you hold each other closely. On this day, a new chapter opens up in your lives.  Romance is hard. The process of falling in love and those early sweet nothings are wonderful to cherish and to hold. They’re what help a relationship glue themselves together when the world decides to test the strength of that bond.

	The sky is dark over the brightly lit city of Manehattan. And you find yourself slowly drifting off to sleep in the arms of the mare you love the most.