They were looking.
Again, thought Fluttershy with a wince. It was like being Photo Finish's model once more, only much, much worse. This time, they weren't looking at her with admiration or envy – repellent enough as they were – but barely-restrained curiosity. The timid yellow mare was used to ignoring everypony around her, but any thoughts she might have had about getting some respite when she reached Golden Oaks library were shattered when, just for a fleeting moment, she saw that same expression on Twilight Sparkle's face.
It was there and gone in a second, but to somepony who had spent their entire life looking at faces until every cruel leer and vicious snarl was etched indelibly in their memory, the brief movement of her eyes and the flicker of meaning in her visage might as well have lasted a thousand years.
If only I was a slightly more assertive pony … but Fluttershy had learned all too well what happened when she was given even a taste of self-confidence; those who had deserved it least had felt her pent-up ire, and she had no desire to put anyone through that again. So. She had gone back to bottling her frustrations up; it was far from healthy, but it had been working just great so far.
Still, the hushed comments and snide glances of random strangers were one thing; it was quite another to think that her five closest friends – the only ponies in Equestria that she trusted with her fragile heart – were gossiping, speculating, behind her back. If only they'd ask me outright.
“Sorry I'm so late returning this,” Fluttershy said, her words only slightly muffled when she reached into her saddlebag to retrieve a book. “It was just so good that, when I was finished, I had to read it again. I hope it wasn't a problem for anypony?”
Even if she had been mad about the one-day overdue copy of How To Train Your Gévaudan – which she wasn't, as Fluttershy was about the only citizen of Ponyville who ever had need of Golden Oaks' tiny collection of animal welfare manuals – Twilight Sparkle's anger would've been quelled by the earnest expression on her friend's face. “That's all right,” the purple-coated librarian said, using a levitating spell to return the volume to its proper place on the shelf. “Can I get you anything else? Princess Celestia forwarded me a bunch of books on the fauna of Tartarus. Can you believe they were just gonna throw them out?”
“No, thank you,” Fluttershy said softly, shaking her head. Even to her, the stack of dusty tomes looked inviting – she loved learning about new animals, after all, especially how to care for them – but she just wasn't in the mood right now. “What?” she suddenly snapped, far more sharply than she'd ever intended. “I'm … sorry, I didn't mean to shout,” the yellow mare added meekly, her head just about on par with her hooves.
Twilight's face reddened slightly, and she tried to stammer out an apology of her own; the purple mare hadn't meant to stare, but as one tends to do, even when they don't believe a story – especially if they don't believe a story – she had tried to find evidence. In favour or against. Had Rarity's trained eye been fooled for so long? It seemed absurd to think so, especially after all the time they spent at the spa together. It was more than that, though; they just didn't think of her as that type of pony, and … it was startling to think you could be so wrong about somepony. That you may not have known them as well as you thought you did.
Fluttershy's exhalation of irritation was almost a hiss. “Ever since that stupid article in the Foal Free Press ...” The story itself had been a piece of nonsense concocted by the Cutie Mark Crusaders; she had eventually forgiven them, though somewhere in the deepest, darkest pits of her soul – the parts of her that still remembered every playground taunt, every jeer, every practical joke to make her slip-up – she was still cross. “Oh, there goes Fluttershy,” the yellow mare said in an unconscious imitation of every muted remark she'd overheard, “you wouldn't have expected it from a nice pony like her.”
Even when I'm not doing anything, I still manage to mess things up somehow. Fluttershy had learned uncomfortably young that it wasn't good to disappoint some ponies' expectations of you; by birth, she was a Pegasus, but one afraid of heights, one afraid of flying, and every mocking laugh and savage jab was going to be with her forever. By stupid happenstance, she was going through all of that again.
“As Rarity would probably say,” Twilight Sparkle was saying, hoping to ward off the gloom that had settled around her demure friend's head, “It's nothing to be ashamed of if you want to make yourself look fabulous, darling.” She finished off with a tiny flourish of her hoof and a wink.
The yellow mare managed to chuckle gingerly at the purple mare's uncanny impersonation of their fashion-obsessed friend. “It's not that I'm ashamed, it's that I'm … annoyed,” Fluttershy admitted, wishing there was something soft and spongy around that she could gently kick. “I feel like everypony's eyes are on me all the time. They wonder if it's true, but none of them want to ask the question.”
Twilight nodded, understanding. “It's because you're the normal, down-to-earth pony next door. You don't throw crazy parties at the drop of a hat. No magic spells. No cloud-bursting. Ponies just see you as … Fluttershy. The kind, compassionate one who has no overwhelming need to make herself stand out.” The purple librarian could see that her friend looked confused. “It's like,” she smiled, “looking in a newspaper and seeing your Goddess-like mentor messily chowing down on a cupcake. Even if you're not doing it consciously, you make a thousand-and-one judgements about other ponies all the time. The truth of it is, we're shocked when something happens that runs contrary to our impressions.”
“That's just it, Twilight,” Fluttershy said sadly, “it was never about making myself stand-out. I didn't do it out of vanity, or pride, or the need to feel beautiful.” She idly stroked her mane. “To be honest, I've had them for so long now that I don't even think of them as extensions any more.”
“So. It is true?” Twilight Sparkle was a little taken aback. Fluttershy's reaction to the story had almost been evidence enough in itself, but to actually have it confirmed by her so freely was a little … surprising.
With a defeated expression, the yellow mare walked over to the main entrance of the library and closed it. “Is Spike around?” she asked, crossing over to the windows and closing all the shutters.
“He's with Rarity on a gem-hunting expedition. They shouldn't be back for hours,” Twilight replied, swallowing a little nervously, not exactly sure what Fluttershy was up to.
Once she was satisfied that the library was totally secure against prying eyes – not that she ever could be entirely confident of that, as her experience with her fans had shown her that spies could be anywhere – Fluttershy unclipped the mane and tail extensions without ceremony; she blushed slightly at Twilight's scrutinising gaze, feeling at her most unguarded and vulnerable.
“It's, um, it's quite a difference, isn't it?” Twilight Sparkle said stupidly, not knowing how else to react. Barely a third of Fluttershy's hair was her own, and what was there was rather thin and frail.
“Do you promise that what I say now will stay between us?” The look in the yellow mare's eyes was totally different from what had come before; it was a mixture of The Stare and outright pleading, and it was a mien that brooked no argument.
“I promise,” the purple librarian affirmed, making an ad-hoc version of the Pinkie Promise. She then gestured to a couple of chairs so they could sit and be more comfortable.
“When I was a filly, I had quite a long mane and tail already,” explained Fluttershy, grateful to be sliding into the seat. “It was … well, it was kinda in the way a lot, but I loved it for hiding behind whenever I was being bullied. It was like a suit of armour I could stick on and everything would be deflected away.”
“I know the feeling,” Twilight said with a half-smile. “I was much the same with books. It didn't matter what anypony else said about me when I could just bury my muzzle in some good stories.”
Fluttershy returned the smile, grateful that her friend understood. “Shortly after I moved to Ponyville, I contracted an illness. The doctors here … well, they weren't used to treating Pegasi. There are some small biological differences, as I'm sure you know. I did eventually get better, but one of the side-effects was that I lost most of my hair. They said it'd grow back, and it did, sort of.”
“But it was never the same again.”
“No,” the yellow mare professed with a tiny sigh. “It never grew past my neck, and it always broke so easily.” She paused, remembering how naked and exposed she'd felt in the weeks following her recovery; there was nothing to hide behind, and without Rainbow Dash's comforting presence, she'd felt even more defenceless than normal. “It was never about vanity, at least not in the way you might be thinking. I wasn't trying to attract attention, I was trying to keep it at bay. Having long hair was just natural to me, and I wanted that feeling of security back.”
“The article, the comments you heard, must've brought back some unwelcome memories,” Twilight noted, affected greatly by her friend's plight. She'd known in general terms about Fluttershy's rough childhood, but that it was even worse than she'd imagined left her feeling very bitter. “I'm so sorry,” she said lamely, “about … well, everything.”
“I didn't want sympathy,” Fluttershy replied, not unkindly. “I didn't want to be treated any differently. I just wanted to go on being me.” She let out a breath she didn't even realise she'd been holding. Her eyes alighted on the clock and they widened perceptibly when she noticed she'd been here for over an hour. “I really have to get back and feed the animals,” she mumbled, “I only meant to come here to return the book.”
“If you ever want to, if you ever need to talk, I'm here,” Twilight said to the departing mare. “You don't need to deal with things by yourself any more.”
“I know,” Fluttershy said with a sincere smile.
