He sat.
He always sat.
Day in, day out.
He always sat.
And as he sat, he thought.
And vice versa; as he thought, he sat.
It was his daily routine.
Wake up.
Get out of bed.
Walk out his front door.
And walk over to the hill.
Day in, day out.
It wasn't necessarily a hill.
But at the same time, it wasn't necessarily a mountain either.
To him, it was a hill.
And he always called it a hill.
Day in, day out.
He had discovered it one day so many days ago.
And since then, he had gone up to the hill.
And since then, he had sat, and thought.
Day in, day out.
The hill was a big hill, but it was still a hill to him. And the hill overlooked the entirety of it.
All of it.
The hill overlooked Ponyville.
Ponyville.
The residence of Noteworthy, and the other ponies around him.
Nowadays, Noteworthy spent more time in than out, despite the hill.
His day consisted of nothing but sitting and thinking, despite the hill.
He had a job, a well-paying job to go to, but still the stallion did nothing but stick to his house or the hill.
His boss was a long-time friend of his, an Earth Pony mare by the name of Roseluck. His job consisted of nothing but sitting and thinking, until the mare kindly asked him to do something, anything, so he could earn his pay. Usually, it would be a simple task; washing their wares, giving out free samples, or even as simple as placing the bits the two had received into the cash register.
Roseluck had known him since the second grade.
And he her.
And Roseluck knew what the stallion was going through, had been going through for years, the very idea of it frightening the mare and giving her relief to have her own special somepony.
Roseluck was quite possibly one of his best friends, and Roseluck was more than glad to let her employee take a few days, or even a few weeks off, just to clear his head, as she had put it simply. She knew what truly troubled him, and bringing it up would only lead to his further sadness, to which she would feel great emotion toward, before she would feel tears begin to prick at her eyelids, and she would send the stallion home for the day.
She knew it wasn't right.
To pay an employee who doesn't work.
But she still did it, despite.
All for her close friend, Noteworthy.
The stallion.
The gentlecolt.
And Noteworthy would do the same for Roseluck; he had done so countless times before when they were in school together. Poor relationships, her parents' divorce, the chaos and confusion that followed, all of it.
Noteworthy was one of the few ponies she would actually call True.
Ponies who would do anything for anybody close to them, ponies who would go to great lengths to please someone they love, and ponies who would chase down what they wanted to the ends of the Earth.
And Noteworthy was a prime example of it.
She knew.
Noteworthy was True. She had seen it all with the mare he had loved for years.
Noteworthy loved Octavia.
And Roseluck knew that more than anyone.
The mare knew that she was constantly on his mind whenever he came to work, or whenever she even saw him out and about. He walked with a slow pace, his head low and his ears drooped. Ever since the mare had moved to Canterlot years after high school, Noteworthy could do all he wanted to show his sadness without fear of being seen by her.
And the only emotion he showed nowadays were nothing but a deep, deep sorrow.
His voice was barely above a whisper whenever he talked, his eyes always looking toward the ground by their hooves and his tail sitting idly behind him, gathering dust that had accumulated for ages.
The mare he loved was in another city, miles away from him. He could very easily move on and find another mare, form a relationship, get married, have foals.
And yet, the stallion's thoughts only went out to Octavia.
Roseluck didn't understand it, but she didn't need to.
It wasn't her job.
She was his friend, she wanted what was best for him.
But it wasn't her job.
But, the stallion still talked to her about it.
Nowadays, her job wasn't only just selling flowers.
It was listening to her friend.
Noteworthy was nowhere. He didn't know what to do with anything in his life.
And it wasn't like he was having a bad life in Ponyville. Ponies around him cheered him up whenever they saw him, he had a well-paying job that he didn't even have to go to, and yet the stallion wasn't happy.
Noteworthy could never feel happy about those things.
Not his job.
Not his friends.
Not anything.
No.
Only she could make him happy.
Because she did.
Octavia made him happy, no matter what.
Noteworthy knew that more than anybody, and Noteworthy was always right.
Noteworthy liked to believe that he was a good pony. A good pony that anypony would want close to them.
But not Octavia.
And the stallion always found himself rambling about her, his mouth on an automatic mode that he just couldn't shut off. He was in love, and he couldn't do anything to make it better. He had tried so many times before.
One rather breezy summer day, Noteworthy got out of bed.
He walked to his front door.
And he stopped, his eyes scanning two different directions.
The hill was to his left, past the avenue of houses and across the bridge.
And to his right was his job, the job he had that the stallion didn't even have to go to.
Noteworthy was stopped, un-moving in the middle of the street, the stares of the town's passing ponies not even fazing the stallion as he turned his head slowly.
And Noteworthy contemplated for one, two, three seconds.
And turned right.
And the hill was forgotten.
And when he arrived at the stall, the mare in charge giving him a look of surprise, he trotted around the stall, gave the mare a nod, and sat next to her, reaching a hoof out to receive the bits for the interrupted sale, the customer trotting off with a wide grin and a bouquet of dandelions poking out of his white saddlebag.
Roseluck could only stare at Noteworthy as he tended to her customers, the mare assisting him as much as she could while in her petrified state.
Work was a long day to Noteworthy.
He wasn't usually there, he didn't even have to be there, but he did, and it was a long day to Noteworthy every time.
He kept quiet about this, but his boss, his friend, and his business partner knew.
They kept quiet about it as well, but still the thought of it crept into her mind and conquered the capital.
Octavia.
Noteworthy still loved her, more than anything.
Bits.
A nice house.
Plenty of single, willing mares all around him.
And yet, he loved a mare who lived miles away.
And yet, he loved a mare who didn't love him back.
And yet, he loved Octavia, because that was just the way it was, and Noteworthy understood that, dealing with it on a day-to-day basis that had both evolved and devolved over the years. Noteworthy hated loving Octavia, but he loved the feeling that he had whenever he thought of her, the feelings that would course through him whenever a past memory of interaction with her went through his mind.
Noteworthy loved Octavia.
And everypony knew it.
It seemed that all of the ponies in his grade school continued to reside in Ponyville after more than ten years; the carrot grower, the biped hunter, the tooth enthusiast. They all lived in Ponyville, and they were all friends of Octavia at some point in their lives.
It was a true fact that Noteworthy didn't hate himself to point out.
Octavia was friendly towards others, and others were friendly to her in kind.
Noteworthy remembered that bit frequently, knowing that the way she was towards him was just because she simply did not like him.
And then, Noteworthy's head snapped up in realization of his long-rehearsed dreaming, his boss turning toward him suddenly as he broke from his train of thought.
And there, as his eyes darted from left to right as he sat in complete silence, he knew.
He understood.
And he was right.
Because Noteworthy was always right.
He was accepting it now. He was accepting the lack of love from the mare he loved dearly.
The final stage of grief, which he knew all too well.
He hated to admit it, but he was accepting it.
He was accepting the lack of love he had received for all of his efforts. For all the times he had helped her through depression. For all the times he had gone to one of her concerts to support her. For all the times he had slaved over doing something special, something unique, something for her.
For all that he had done for her, Noteworthy got nothing in return.
Dark clouds had formed by the time that Noteworthy had realized his mistake, his idiocy, his complete failure and began bowing his head toward the ground, a long rehearsed act, and clenched his eyes shut, trying so hard to stave off the tears that pricked at the back of his ducts, threatening to flood the world in an onslaught, a consequence, a venting of sorts for the incredible amount of stress he had been through.
His boss noticed this, and reached a hoof out to comfort him, knowing full well the pain that he was experiencing, having been subjected to watching a single mare slowly destroy a stallion's life unbeknownst.
The subject of her thoughts noticed this, a single golden iris slowly gazing at her, the long permanent saddened frown on its owners face unchanged as the two ponies sat in silence, the clouds above persuading ponies to stay indoors and to not venture outside, and so the two friends looked at each other quietly, ones hoof raised, the other barely looking at them.
The hoof faltered, then fell, before retreating back to its owners side, said owners expression slowly changing to one of sorrow, one of a thousand sorry's that she could never, ever explain to her life-long friend.
Noteworthy cocked his head slightly, watching as his boss' forelegs slowly, carefully, slid onto the flower stand, in perfect positions to hang off in perfect parallel angles.
The position stopped, changed, and the mare let her head fall into criss-crossed arms, before Noteworthy could make out the same sounds that would signify a young colt's cold, or a grown adult's depression.
Noteworthy turned to his boss, and watched as she began to cry. He felt neither awkward nor guilty as he sat, gazing in silence at his boss as she wailed in sorrow, the stallion not knowing nor understanding whether it was for her or for him.
Noteworthy's eyes glanced to the bottom right, his eyelids narrowing and his frown intensifying.
He looked back at his boss and spoke two words.
"I'm sorry."
And that ended that. His boss suddenly lurched, almost throwing herself into him as she gripped him tightly, the two ponies hugging in the street, behind the flower stand, next to the local confection shop, across the road from the library, one crying for her friend, the other frowning at nothing in particular.
Rain suddenly fell from the sky.
And Roseluck hugged her friend Noteworthy, burying her head into his shoulder and weeping freely, her tears cascading down her cheeks from her clenched eyes, rolling across her pale yellow coat and dropping onto her friends blue coat, staining the fur and darkening it to an almost discernable black.
Noteworthy frowned at the air, sitting in utter silence as his boss wept against his body.
It wasn't an angry frown.
Nor was it a mischievous frown.
Noteworthy bore a frown as he stared off into the distance, the rain drenching him, but not discomforting, nor freezing him. Noteworthy bore a frown as his boss cried for either him or herself.
Noteworthy bore a frown, a frown that a stallion that had been right about being wrong for so long had kept, had bottled up for years, ages, ever since he had decided his feelings for a single mare, a single Earth pony mare that he wanted to be with, a single Earth pony mare that gave him the greatest joy in life, and a single Earth pony mare that had wrought upon him and his world a sadness, a loneliness, a longing so unbearable that it had caused him and his world the loss of the bubbly, funny, charismatic blue stallion by the name of Noteworthy.
Noteworthy loved Octavia.
But Octavia didn't return his feelings.
And Octavia had caused him and his world this loss.
Entirely unintentionally.
But Noteworthy didn't know that. Not for certain.
For his entire endeavor, Noteworthy had neither in knowledge. Neither in fact, that he subjected to himself and trusted petty rumors, guesses, and assumptions. All for naught. Where they had gotten Noteworthy, he had no idea. And it wasn't like he had any way to tell either, success or failure.
Noteworthy was a pessimist at heart. In fact, to the blue stallion, pessimism was practically bliss. He wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to succeed so badly, or if he believed it to be true, but he believed that, if he always had a negative outlook on life and everything in general, if something good, something great, or someone beautiful were to emerge in strength into his life, he would experience genuine, sudden happiness for it.
He believed it, and held it closely. Anything he could do to win. Anything he could do to be with her.
Noteworthy always thought badly of himself. Even in the beginning years of his struggle, he had always thought of himself as moderately creepy when it came to what he did for Octavia. No matter what he did, even so much as saying a simple greeting to her whenever he saw her at school gave him an undeniable chill that glowed with something not so nice.
But, ponies assured him that it wasn't creepy after all. Sparrow, Roseluck, even a few of the mare's friends, all telling the stallion that he was sweet for doing all those things for her, that he was willing enough to throw himself into danger for her, that he was willing to throw his entire life away to be with her. That Noteworthy was willing to go to the ends of the earth for one mare.
And after fourteen years since meeting her, Noteworthy had only achieved but one of those, in the form of the bastard grey stallion that Noteworthy had almost been murdered by back in the eighth grade. Noteworthy had never truly found out what had become of him, but, as time went, Noteworthy realized that he couldn't care less. The bastard was gone, and gone was good.
At least, it was to Noteworthy. Gone was good, but gone was gone as well, which didn't mean that they wouldn't be back. Even in the present, now a twenty-five year old stallion with a boss that paid him for a job that he didn't even have to go with problems on his mind that he had bore for fourteen straight years in a row that gave him extreme depression with his only companionship being a lone tree atop a lone hill overlooking a lone town, Noteworthy thought constantly about whether or not the grey pegasus would return, his sole goal being in finding the stallion responsible for embarrassing him back in the eighth grade, especially after the fact that the pegasus had had to repeat the grade for his previous year's failure.
Noteworthy laughed, a short, low laugh, but still nevertheless a laugh, whenever he thought about the embarrassment he had wrought upon the bastard pegasus, all the times that he had swindled, tricked, rused the pegasus into causing only his own downfall.
Once, during second period, as Mister Bley was teaching his students about the properties of matters, Noteworthy was roused from his grogginess when the door to the main hall had opened, one of the ponies in the security staff walking in and asking for Noteworthy. Following her down to her office, Noteworthy was worried that he was in trouble.
The security guard sat him down and told him something that caused Noteworthy to question how far the bastard would go to ruin his life. The guard, a pegasus mare, told him that somepony had told her that fourteen year old Noteworthy was planning to sabotage the bastard's performance at the upcoming talent show. Noteworthy immediately denied the claim, not even knowing of the bastard's involvement in the event, and to his happiness, the guard believed him on the spot, knowing that he was a good colt, and that the bastard was a bad colt.
Sending him off on his way, back to Mister Bley's class, Noteworthy thought of the bastard.
Thinking about him only fueled his rage for him more.
He deliberately, honestly, and purposefully ruined many of Noteworthy's friends. All of which involved stealing. The unfortunate mare's dignity, her first kiss, her first coltfriend. Everything. All ruined by one disgusting, perverted bastard. He was Noteworthy's Most Hated Stallion for two years in a row, quite a record in that department of Noteworthy's. There were only a select few who even managed to make it to the achievement, and none were held as long as the grey pegasus by the name of Field Hoof.
Contrary to his name, he was not what any would even think of considering a field hoof. Lazy, sex-crazed, perverted, and drug-addicted were not things considered field-hoof material, as far as Noteworthy knew.
And as it went, Noteworthy always knew right.
That was just the way it was.
And as always, Noteworthy accepted that.
Noteworthy hated himself, when it came down to it. Deep down, he felt a burning disliking toward his own person, and one day decided that he had no self-esteem to speak of. That was just the way it was, and others seemed to accept that. And when it came down to it, it was easy to do that. Think something of yourself as something, then bring it into your social life, and people will accept it.
Not that he followed his own advice, anyway.
He did hate himself.
And honestly, he didn't think anything he said was worth saying.
Noteworthy hated himself, when it came down to it. The way he talked, his attitude toward subjects, how hard he tried to fit in with his friends, the way he walked, the way he would always become depressed, the way he went about things, the ways he had tried for a mare's heart, and the ways he had coped with it.
And he couldn't say they weren't his fault either. In fact, they were entirely his fault. If he hadn't've fallen for just a single mare, he would've been happy ages ago. He wouldn't have risked his own life. He wouldn't have risked his grades, or his friends, or his family, or his future. Only when he fell for Octavia did conflict enter his life. Before then, things were great, things were okay. Nothing hurt.
He had a great social life, conversing with anypony he could. He had outstanding grades in school. He had many, many friends, all of whom appreciated Noteworthy's presence, whether he were present or not. He loved life.
And then, one early September, he risked it all and doomed himself to the worst time of his life.
One day he told her he loved her. And one day, he told her again. And another day, he was taking trips just to see her concerts in Canterlot for the illustrious and prestigious Orchestra that the mare herself had made it into after so many years of her parents telling her she couldn't do it because of a mixture of poor academics and their own supposed obliviousness to their own daughter's incredible talent where she had landed the highest career in bass-playing with some of the best players in Equestria with a familiar stallion from her fillyhood always sitting in the crowd and watching as she played each note perfectly in perfect rhythm that perfectly fit the song that perfectly filled the famous theater and would remain the talk of the perfect city for weeks, a familiar stallion from the Lead Bassist's fillyhood always walking to the train station, alone.
That was just the way it was, and the train station was long since forgotten about. There would be no more concerts worth attending.
And now, Noteworthy was beginning to accept that.
And no matter how much he hated it, how much he despised it, how much he wished so much each and every single day of his waning life that it wasn't true, he began to understand.
Noteworthy looked up, and the dropping of thousands of raindrops met his face, the precipitation barely fazing him as he stared toward the sky, the dark cloud family high above him meeting his blinking gaze.
Noteworthy looked back down, and found his boss gone, the small seat next to him barren and cold, but nevertheless empty. He raised a brow. He didn't even notice his boss' sudden departure, though, looking back on it, he pointed blame to his inner thoughts, a first in his life.
A first, for Noteworthy had always pointed an accusing hoof toward his own stupidity, his own anger, his own depression. Hay, he would even point blame toward himself if he wasn't even involved.
Noteworthy would do a lot for his friends. And having no self-esteem really helped him take the blows for anything those friends would do.
And yet, he would do anything, anything, for Octavia.
Risk his life.
Suffer.
Become an alcoholic.
Attempt to take his own life.
Suffer.
Suffer. Suffer. Suffer.
Those were all things he had done for Octavia, and he would go above even those things for the mare's heart.
He loved her. And that was just the way it was.
Noteworthy had always wondered if what he was doing was destined. If it was supposed to happen. Sparrow and Roseluck both had told him countless times that it was, that he would eventually win over her heart and be happy for once in his life.
They knew he deserved it, and Noteworthy himself even found himself pleading the same case as well.
It seemed that life itself wasn't fair for Noteworthy, when it came down to it.
Luck wasn't too strong of a suit for him, when it came down to it.
Noteworthy knew it well in his heart, his strong but waning heart, that luck was, and had never been, on his side.
Not with Octavia. Ever.
And he knew that, well in his heart.
He was sick. He was a creep. It dawned on him in the same way as a train hitting an unfortunate pony on the tracks. He was creepy.
How he always thought about her. How much he would do for her. His loyalty to a mare who was not his to begin with. Just the way he was when it came to her, was just creepy, and unattractive. Noteworthy hated himself for it. He thought of himself as everything but the pony who deserved her. And Noteworthy was always right.
No matter what.
Noteworthy sighed. The rain beat down onto him, his fur absolutely soaked, the stallion knowing full well from years of experience that he would soon get sick and catch a cold. Not that he minded.
Golden eyes suddenly darted upward, looking to the left and right as if sensing something amiss. His head still lowered, Noteworthy sighed once more, returning his gaze to the ground underneath his hooves. The rain continued its torrent as he sat there, motionless, almost dead. It bore down on him, and soon enough, the stallion found himself struggling to clench his mouth shut, letting out a loud sneeze as he failed to do so. Reaching a hoof up, he wiped his nose clean, the appendage quickly returning to its previous position as a column that kept the stallion from simply collapsing on the floor.
It took everything of Noteworthy to not do so, the idea of lying in the mud for eternity sounding all too pleasurable to him.
His head suddenly snapped up, the sound of a door quietly shutting emanating from behind him.
He didn't have to bother looking to know who it was.
A hoof gently touched his shoulder. The golden eyes turned to their left, finding the pale yellow hoof sitting idly.
He turned his head.
His boss stood, worry in her eyes and a frown on her lips.
Lips that wobbled feebly in an attempt to form words. Lips that mouthed a beckoning for the stallion to come inside.
Noteworthy stood up, gave a low grunt, and turned tail, trotting off and away from his boss. He would see her again the next day, she need'n't have worried.
His hooves led him across the town, through the thick mud and the pouring, drenching rain. His hooves led him across the white bricked bridge, over the stream, and back onto mud. His hooves entered his neighborhood, then trotted toward his house, finally stopping in front of his front door, allowing their owner to gently push it open, then led him through the entryway, turned the corner from his kitchen, and finally collapsed under him as he went on his way to the living room.
Noteworthy fell against the drywall, wincing in a mixture of pain and regret as his right foreleg made contact with a painting, the work of art sailing quickly to the floor before it gave a tremendous crack, the glass covering the paper shattering on impact, scattering the pieces to the floor around it.
Golden irises turned their way, before hiding behind a cobalt sheath as Noteworthy groaned a low, annoyed groan and seethed, legs moving against the wooden floor as if to push it away from himself. His ears fell back upon his head as he lay on his hardwood floor, nothing but the sound of crinkling glass against his hooves resounding through the cold, empty house.
Noteworthy whimpered in pain as he sat there in silence, listening to the low sound that signified the loss of one of his own paintings, something that he had worked on for weeks upon weeks to perfect, something he had shut himself in for, never allowing anyone to see it until its completion. And, with its ironic loss to the glass of its casing and the cold, hard floor below it, Noteworthy found himself beginning to let his head fall limp, before it suddenly crashed against the grey wall with enough force to make a small dent in it.
He lay there for what felt like hours, only realizing that it was half that once his eyes flew to the clock hanging across the room.
Those golden eyes then traveled down toward the fallen painting, the wooden frame snapped in two and hiding the painting their owner had created in a mess of glass. Blue hooves slowly reached for the object, shakily picking it off the floor and discarding it a few inches away, revealing the battered backside of a small piece of paper. Noteworthy bit his now trembling lip as he stared at it, knowing full well what it was, and what it meant to him.
A blue hoof slowly floated onto it, before dragging it toward Noteworthy in a similar manner, the shards of glass politely parting in its wake and creating a trail that showed the damage on his floor to the whole world, deep scratches and jagged scars creating a somewhat horrible sight to take in all at once.
Noteworthy watched as the blue hoof retracted, taking the painting with it.
And, as another hoof reached out to grasp it, the soft crinkling of the rough paper made its presence known. And with that, a low noise was issued from the stallion's clenched maw, akin to a small colt or filly trying their damndest to act tough in the face of a small cut or bruise accumulated during a school day. Noteworthy had experienced that before, and he was experiencing it now, the only difference being the cause, which had formed that one fateful day so long ago.
And as he shakily brought the picture up to golden irises, Noteworthy began to blink rapidly, as if doing so would somehow snap him out of his stupor, or perhaps better his life.
Noteworthy sniffled, and gazed at the crinkled, crumbled, torn, ragged, long-dried piece of paper in his hooves as he lay on the cold, clammy, tried, rugged, long-since-crafted hardwood floor of his lonely household.
A small hill, two figures, and a brilliant, starry night sky met those golden eyes.
And so, after five-thousand, one-hundred and fourteen days, seven hundred and thirty weeks, one-hundred and sixty-eight months, one-hundred twenty-two thousand, seven-hundred and twenty-four hours, and fourteen long, hard, lonely, depressing years of his life, Noteworthy slowly let his gaze fall to the floor, clenched his eyelids shut, lower lip wobbling violently, and let loose a sob that had accumulated for years, ages, ever since he had decided his feelings for a single mare.
A single Earth pony mare who gave him the greatest joy in life.
A single Earth pony mare who had been his attention for fourteen full years.
And a single Earth pony mare that he loved.
He was creepy. Unattractive. Odd. Anti-social. Depressed. Alcoholic. Suicidal. Solitary. Rude. Bitter. Sad. Depressed. Hopeless. Pessimistic. Out-of-luck, and out-of-mind.
But she made him happy.
Despite the trials, errors, tribulations, hardships, depressions, heartaches, failures, successes, hopes, dreams, wishes, and wants.
Despite how far he had come to find himself where he was at, it was true.
She made him happy.
Octavia made him happy.
Noteworthy knew that well.
And Noteworthy was always right.
