Enigma sat against the wall in a small, almost empty room. The walls were painted eggshell white and the carpet was a common teal. The window opposite the door was closed, the blinds shut to hide the room. The carpet held dozens of small indents where heavy things had been applying their ceaseless pressure for months, though now nothing remained aside from the small pieces and fragments from the work he had once down. He'd picked up all he could, but was far too afraid to use a vacuum and draw attention to his one time sanctuary.

The red coated stallion whimpered before glancing towards the closed door. She was asleep, he was sure of it. He hoped she was, at least. The stress coiled and bubbled around in his stomach, making him lightly belch an acidic burp. He whimpered and rolled onto the ground, curling into a little ball. She's right. I'm a mess. A useless, pathetic mess. I shouldn't do this. I can't do this. She deserves better. She's right, just like always. A hoof gently moved up to rub his cheek as a few tears welled up in his eyes.

He got to his hooves and trotted to the door, reaching out to pull it open. He then froze and recoiled, shaking his head. His head turned to the middle of the room, where a small, white envelope rested. No. She deserves better, but so do I. The rumbling in his stomach was temporarily suppressed as he slowly pulled the door open. I'm not... all those things. I have just as much right to be happy as she does. He slowly turned back towards the door and froze as the mirror stared back at him.

He was small, as stallions went. A unicorn with a short, black mane. He slowly laid his head forward, letting out a soft whimper as he rested his head against it. Small tears welled up in his eyes. “I... I can't do this. I can't,” Enigma whispered to himself. “S-she's right. I don't know how to take care of myself. I'm not smart, or good, I-I'll never find anypony else. I'm not good enough. I'm horrible with other ponies. I'm lucky to have her, lucky to have anypony.” His body shook and the mirror rattled from his trembles.

Finally, he pulled his head back and stared defiantly into the mirror. He took a slow, steady breath. “N-no. You can do this. You WILL do this. You're not... you're not weak. You're not bad. You're not... there are worse things than being alone,” he whispered to himself before slowly pulling the door open. It creaked, making him jump as he looked across the hall.

Another door, a large white one, stood waiting for him. Behind it he could hear the soft, gentle snores. Her snores. He nearly collapsed, recoiling from it. It would all be so easy. So very, very easy. All he had to do was step into the room, slide back into bed. He could move all his things back in a few days. She'd never even notice. He took a few steps closer. I bet she'll be sorry in the morning, too. It was an accident. She didn't mean to. She just got... upset. It was a one time thing. Just a one time thing. She won't even be mad in the morning, probably. The last few days had to have been enough. She can't still be mad. He reached out for the door, before pulling his hoof back. He gave a little shake of his head and turned away. No matter how much he wanted to believe it, he couldn't.

He started walking down the hall, thankful they had carpeted floors. Every creak made him cringe and stop for a few seconds, though he knew she had no reason to be up. She wouldn't know until the morning, if even then. He passed the kitchen and paused, glancing out the window. There was a clear sky, the moon hanging brightly above. He wished it was pouring rain, the extra noise could cover his retreat. He looked around frowned. The place was well stocked, the counters had a few bags of newly opened bread on them too. He glanced at the sink. Maybe I should do the dishes before I go? He took a step closer, but shook his head and started walking away. She'd probably just yell at me for not properly cleaning them or drying them, he thought bitterly.

He finally made it to the front door and pulled it open. He gently placed his key on a little mini-desk inside, before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He checked to make sure it was locked, before taking a deep breath. It's done. It's over. I'm locked out. Couldn't get in even if I wanted to, not without waking her. She's still mad, she'd be furious if I did. Probably even... He slammed his thoughts closed and shook his head, slowly trotting away.

He trotted down the small path from the door to the sidewalk. He took a deep breath and looked around. All the little houses on the street were the same, single story buildings with a few rooms and windows. At the end of the street he saw the one with the words 'Manager' over the door and a large sign that read 'Princess's Sunlight Apartments' besides it. He trotted to the building and pulled out a thick envelope. He peered inside and made sure everything was right.

Okay, note explaining me leaving. Rent until our lease is up. Apologies. She already has my cell phone to call if there are any additional... damages. He shivered then. He didn't think she'd trash the place, but if she did, he knew it would be his fault. It was all his fault. He was the weak one. He was the coward. He was the one who was running away. Why am I doing this? I'm weird. I'm a freak. I don't have many friends. No mare would be interested in a pony like me. What if I end up alone forever? It was just one time. The other things aren't important, they were just small things. I'm sure this was the one time. The last time. The envelope shook in his magic, but he finally took a deep breath and shoved it in the small mail slip on the front door.

The world crashed in around him. He felt his knees give out and he crumbled to the ground. Oh Celestia what am I doing? She's right! I'm a freak, a weirdo. No pony would ever want me. I'll be alone forever, no friends, no mare. I should go back, beg her for forgiveness. It was my fault, I deserved it, I was the bad one, me. Not her. She should be leaving me, not the other way around. I can't survive on my own, I just can't. She tells me all the time, I'm clueless, forgetful, I constantly leave messes. I'll be crawling back in a week and she'll never take me back.

He trembled on the ground before shaking his head. “N-no. Even... even if I'm alone, it's better than being trapped in a relationship like that. I don't... I don't deserve that. I don't want that.” He slowly got to his hooves and looked back towards their home. Her home now. He then turned and ran. He felt it tugging at his heart, but he didn't stop. If he did, he knew he'd run back to her. It took everything he had to just escape this once, he couldn't do it a second time.

He didn't stop until he was a block away. The air was cool, though he felt far too hot. The streets were almost bare, but after a few minutes he was able to flag down a taxi. He hopped inside.

“Where to?” the puller asked.

“I... I need...” He let out a small acid filled burp, covering his mouth. “Errr, someplace to get a milkshake. A Hayburger, please. Then to... my new apartment.” He took another slow, deep breath as the vehicle took off. He was finally escaping. He looked out the window but didn't dare look back. He was free. Finally, he'd escaped. That's what it felt like at least. His stomach churned and he felt like he might throw up, but he was finally doing it. He soon had a small vanilla milk shake and downed it, letting the cream calm his stomach. As the taxi took him across town, he started to feel better and gently mumbled to himself.

“It's fine. She won't come after me,” he whispered. “She's threatened to do this at least a dozen times. She'll be happy I'm gone. She'll let me go. She won't care. There's no way she'd come looking for me.” Still, his eyes wandered to his saddlebag that held his phone as if he expected it to start ringing at any moment. He should have left it behind, he knew. But he couldn't. It was still his only connection to her. But he was torn between tossing it out the window and calling her now and begging for forgiveness.

Before he knew it the taxi came to a stop and the stallion called back. “We're here!”

“Huh? Oh, right,” Enigma said before sliding out of the carriage. He held out the bits to the pony before watching him trot off. He then turned back to his new home.

It wasn't the nicest place, about ten stories tall and lined with apartments. But there was a gate outside he had to use a key to get through, so no unwanted visitors. It had also been the only place that he could get a hold of on such short notice. He walked quickly through the lot and then into the building, nearly in a full gallop by the time he made it up the stairs to his new home. He opened the door, ran inside and closed it.

It was done. Official. He was out. Escaped. The door closing behind him felt as if the last wires and threads connecting them had finally been severed. He was free. He felt a giddy excitement billow within him as he fell onto the ground and rolled around a bit.

He was free. He could do whatever he wanted. She wouldn't yell or scream at him. He wouldn't annoy her anymore. His job wouldn't embarrass her. She had no reason to chase him, after all she had told him more than a few times to just go. He'd never had the courage, but now he did. It felt wonderful, the world was a bright and cheerful place.

Within a few minutes he was on his side, his legs curled up close to his body and little sobs coming from him. I'm an idiot, a fool. She'll never take me back. Why would she? I'm selfish, an idiot, a slob, weird, inconsiderate, a complete coward. A normal pony would have just talked it out. A normal pony wouldn't run in the night because she hit him. Besides, it was barely even a hit. That's all, she was angry. We all get angry sometimes. It was my fault, I deserved it. I shouldn't have made her angry. Enigma rocked back and forth, little tears in his eyes as he tried to contain the sobs.

So what if I don't feel safe with her? Don't trust her? It's my fault, not hers. She's a lot smarter than me. She's had good reasons for everything she does. I'm the bad one, me. If I was a better person, she wouldn't be so mad all the time. I'd be more understanding, not act like such a little... like such a little bitch. He slowly pulled out his phone in his magic. He was halfway through dialing her number before he flung it against the wall.

“No. I don't... I don't trust her. I don't feel safe around her. I don't... want to be with her. I can't be. I... I...” He wiped the tears from his eyes and got to his hooves. His apartment was small, a single large room with a kitchenette. There were a few red and black plastic boxes and a futon, but aside from that the room was empty. There was only one door that led to the bathroom. He trotted to it, shoved the door open and walked inside, turning on the water full blast and as hot as he could bear. It turned his skin red under his coat, but he didn't care. He deserved a little pain. Once he was done he climbed out, using his magic to pull over one of the boxes and yank out a towel, drying himself of haphazardly.

He considered going straight to bed, but shook his head and pulled over another box. It was filled with all kinds of products from waxing to hair gel. He stared at them for a few seconds. How often had they fought just about these? How weird it was that he used some of them? He had to, though. The things he created could be dangerous if made improperly and that meant he had to test them himself. Since most of his designs used materials that didn't breath well and could be the enemy of badly maintained coats and hairs, it meant he had to take very, very careful care of himself to make sure he didn't get mangy. Besides, it made him feel nice when he got prettied up.

He thought about the times he'd gone to a spa before he'd figured out how to do most of them himself. How she'd yelled at him. How it was weird, how he was embarrassing them both. How ponies would talk. She'd eventually relented, so long as he promised to keep it a secret from others and not let her see all the things anymore and kept them boxed up. At least it had made getting out easier.

The little bit of pleasure he'd gained from the shower evaporated with those thoughts. I really am a weirdo... Enigma shoved the box aside and trotted into the room, collapsing on the bed. His stomach rumbled a bit, but he ignored it. Everything had happened so fast, heck, it was a miracle he even had a place he could go or a few boxes of things. He hadn't even thought of going shopping. He glanced towards the empty kitchenette.

“I'll go tomorrow...” he muttered before closing his eyes and drifting mercifully to sleep, the exhaustion overtaking him.

Author's Note

For those interested, well, while I do not plan to have clop, there will be a lot of adult themes. The main character is a designer of fetish garb, so it's to be expected. I hope you enjoy.